Chapter 2 Audacity

Jasper watched through the rear view mirror as the Police Constable got out of his vehicle and took his time strolling down the motorway's hard shoulder to the now parked up Ducati Multistrada. Puffs of vapour rose into the freezing air as the rider muttered several obscenities. He removed his helmet, shoving a hand through his thick dark hair in frustration.

"Morning, Sir, in a bit of a hurry, are you?" the constable asked. His thumbs were tucked casually into his jacket pocket like some John Wayne cowboy character all he needed was a piece of hay sticking out of his mouth.

Jasper Neyve gave a sigh of resignation if only he could have got in front of the Eddie Stobart truck he would've been home by now.

"Good morning, constable. Yes, I am in a great hurry," he said, looking up at the policeman hoping that he would recognise him.

Unfortunately for him, there was no recognition whatsoever.

"And where might you be going?" The sergeant said, getting his pen ready.

"I'm going to Shettleham Manor, and I need to get there very soon, or I will be late and cause everyone huge problems."

"Oh going to the manor are you. What are you, one of the serving staff, big funeral up there today? Late for your shift, are you?"

"No, I'm not," Jasper gave a half-hearted laugh, "But I will be late for the funeral if we stand here much longer."

The policeman chuckled. "License please, I hope you're insured for this death trap?"

"Yes, of course, I am. What do you take me for?" Jasper asked, sounding aggrieved and reaching into his inside pocket for his wallet.

"I take you for what you are, Sir. A speeding motorist."

The policeman carried on writing in his notebook and then took the breathalyser machine out.

"Have you been drinking Sir?"

Jasper's heart dropped, he'd been drinking last night, in fact, and it was the early hours of the morning when he'd gone to bed. No doubt the alcohol was still in his system.

"Last night I had a drink."

"Blow into this please Sir, keep blowing until I tell you to stop."

Jasper breathed in and blew into the machine, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would turn the light red.

The radio crackled on the sergeant's shoulder. All Jasper heard was the name of the person who owned the bike, and it wasn't his.

Eddie looked at the license.

"So you are not the owner of this motorbike Sir?"

"No constable I'm not, it belongs to a good friend mine, and I borrowed it because I thought it would get me to my father's funeral on time."

"Your father's funeral?"

"Yes, my father, the 10th Duke of Shettleham."

"So you are...?" Eddie looked at the license again.

"I am..." Jasper stopped, and hitched a breath, he'd never actually voiced his new title to anyone yet, it just seemed to be an odd thing to say out loud, and it brought home the godawful fact that his father had indeed died and that his life was now full of enormous responsibilities.

"Yes, I am the 11th Duke of Shettleham, and I really need to get home to comfort my mother and see to my guests, who I might add, includes your boss the Chief Constable. Would you like to phone him?" Jasper held his phone out with the chief constable's private number showing on the screen.

"No Sir, I don't think that will be necessary. Do you have a lock for the bike?"

Jasper nodded and pulled the pillion seat up to retrieve the heavy bike lock and secured it to the railing on the hard shoulder.

It wasn't far to the manor, less than ten minutes in fact, and Constable Eddie Edwards had put his blue light on while they were on the motorway. Sitting in the back of the police car, Jasper was feeling very awkward. He had been arrested and handcuffed. The constable had been apologetic about the cuffs, but he said rules were rules.

"Constable, would you mind releasing the cuffs before my mother sees them, the fact that I am arriving in a police car will be bad enough."

However, it was not Jasper's lucky day. His pale and stressed out mother was standing in front of the house.

The chief constable and the Lord Lieutenant of the county standing with her.

"Jasper!" his mother gasped, seeing the police car. "Oh my god, what's happened to him?"

"It's alright, my dear, he's in the back of the car. Samuel Chichester, the chief constable, assured her. He gently put his arm around her to comfort her as they watched the driver unlock the handcuffs and help Jasper out of the car.

Rosslyn shrugged the CC's arm off her and waited for her son.

"Oh Jasper," she said breathing in the stale alcohol that he was breathing out, and shaking her head in disappointment, and not giving him time to blurt out his sorry excuse, she turned and stalked back into the manor.

"You have five minutes to get changed and meet me in the hall ready to take on your duties and bury your father," she called over her shoulder.

Samuel Chichester and Gerry Mortimer glared at Jasper as he came towards them.

"Now look here Jasper this is not..."

Jasper stopped in front of Samuel Chichester, and looked him up and down, he'd never liked the man, and now that he had put his arm around his mother, he liked him even less.

"You seem to have forgotten how to address me in the appropriate manner," he said with a voice that could cut glass. He looked down at the now blustering man. "In case you need reminding Chief Constable the correct term when addressing a Duke of the realm is 'Your Grace'."

Jasper shouldered him aside and vanished through the massive oak door of the manor kicking it hard with his foot, so it slammed shut, blocking out the red-faced Samuel Chichester and his blustering about his sheer audacity.

Francis Braxton, his butler, was waiting for him inside, he followed him up the grand staircase collecting the clothes that Jasper was taking off and dropping as he made his way to his bedroom.

"Get in the shower, you stink like a brewery." Francis barked, knowing that he was the one person who Jasper would never turn on.

Jasper ran for the bathroom; his hand clamped tightly over his mouth.