by Carola Dunn
“My lady is experienced in the ways of young people,” Daisy agreed, laughing, remembering the excruciating boredom of grown-up dinner parties.
Daisy and Alec followed the Vincent Dalrymples and the children upstairs. Belinda was waiting at their bedroom door.
“Should I wear my best frock, Mummy?”
“Second best, pet. Save the best for Uncle Edgar’s birthday. And come and see me before you go down. I’ll help you with your hair.”
“Oh yes, I want to go down with you and Daddy.”
“Of course. Would you go and ask Aunt Martha whether she needs any help? Let me know if it’s something you can’t do for her. You know which is her room?”
“Yes. Did you know Aunt Geraldine put Ben in the turret room? She says it’s perfect for boys.” It had been Gervaise’s room in the all-too-short years between nursery and war. “It’s not really fair, because I think it’s perfect for girls, too, but it’s nice of Aunt Geraldine, and Ben’s happy.”
“You like Ben?”
“Oh yes. He was telling Derek and me all sorts of interesting stuff about Trinidad. We’re going to go and visit him there when we’re grown-up, unless he’s the next Lord Dalrymple.”
Pondering this possibility, Daisy took a moment to write down Ben’s family branch:
Julian?
Josiah m.?
John m. Dolores
Lucas m. Susanna (m. 2 Frank Crowley)
Anita Benjamin ++
Benjamin, Viscount Dalrymple? No more improbable, really, than Raymond, Vincent, or Martha’s Sam.
FOURTEEN
What with one thing and another, Daisy felt as if she scarcely had time to draw breath until after Sunday’s lunch party. Everything had gone remarkably smoothly, considering the possible causes for antagonism. Even Daisy’s mother was on her best behaviour, perhaps mindful that if Edgar predeceased her, one of those present might become her nearest neighbour.
Not that she’d ever shown the least desire to conciliate Edgar and Geraldine. But, to be fair, when they arrived at Fairacres she was still suffering from the shock of losing her husband and her son.
She and Vi and John had gone back to the Dower House. Martha went upstairs for a rest. Edgar took Pepper and the children to hunt for dragonfly nymphs. Geraldine and Crowley—unlikely companions—went out together to sit on the terrace, discussing Benjamin’s education. Raymond and the Vincent Dalrymples had vanished, Daisy cared not whither.
The afternoon was warm, with a cooling breeze and huge white cumulus floating in a summer-blue sky. Daisy and Alec took the twins and Nana out in the park, where they could run and roll on the grass and make as much noise as they wanted, until Nurse Gilpin whisked the babies away for their afternoon nap; then they took the dog for a walk along the river, in the opposite direction to that taken by Edgar. Reaching the boundary of the park, they turned away from the Severn, through fields and orchards.
A Sunday afternoon hush embraced the countryside. Even the birds were silent, except for the distant cawing of rooks. Daisy and Alec saw no one but a pair of hikers until, climbing a stile and turning along a hedge to circle a field of onions, they came face to face with Raymond.
He was wearing a safari suit, such as Daisy had seen in photographs of big-game hunters: a khaki linen jacket with a multiplicity of pockets, breeches, calf-high boots, and a broad-brimmed hat that he raised in greeting. He had binoculars hung around his neck and carried a walking stick propped on his shoulder, as if it were an elephant gun.
“A beautiful afternoon. Does this farm belong to Fairacres, Mrs. Fletcher?”
“Daisy, please. Yes, this is part of the home farm.”
“Home farm?”
“It’s run by Edgar’s bailiff, not leased to a tenant.” She hoped she was not providing more information than Tommy would approve of—but it was information easily come by elsewhere.
“Good, rich land,” Raymond commented.
“You’re a judge of farmland?” Alec asked. “I took you for a city dweller.”
“We kept the family farm—my mother’s family—when we went into business. One of my cousins runs it, but I grew up there and I visit when I can. I know good soil when I see it.” He raised his hat again and stood aside to let them pass.
As soon as he had lumbered over the stile and out of sight, Daisy said, “He’s totting up whether it’s worth his while to inherit Fairacres.”
“But nothing he does or doesn’t do will make any difference,” Alec reminded her.
“Unless he’s plotting to get rid of the others.”
“Daisy, honestly, do try to curb your imagination!”
“Don’t you think Fairacres is worth killing for?”
“That’s got nothing to do with it. Besides, they all have sons, or brothers.”
“Not Martha’s Sam.”
“He’s not here. In any case, he may have a brother or two, for all you know. Or has Martha told you he’s an only child?”
“No. She may have told Tommy. I’ll ask her.”
“You’re talking about international assassination!” Alec protested.
“It doesn’t sound very likely,” Daisy said with a touch of regret, “but you never know. The diamond business is pretty cutthroat, isn’t it? Raymond may know an international assassin or two.”
Alec laughed. “Better not say that in anyone else’s hearing or you’ll be sued for slander. He seems to me the litigious sort.”
“Definitely.”
“Look, a caterpillar.”
“Pretty.” Daisy allowed him to distract her from her train of thought. “We’d better take it home to Edgar.”
By the time the black-and-yellow striped creature had been removed from a ragwort plant, along with several leaves, and tied up in Alec’s handkerchief, he regretted having mentioned it.
They returned to the house in plenty of time for tea. Alec took his specimen to the conservatory/insectarium while Daisy and Nana went out to the terrace. Geraldine and Martha were there already, Martha looking much refreshed.
The dog curled up in the shade of Daisy’s chair. They were left in peace for a while, before Belinda, Derek, and Ben arrived. The children looked recently well-scrubbed—Daisy wondered just how much filth they had picked up while “helping” Edgar. Bel was wearing her new yellow sundress; Daisy hadn’t been sure of the colour for her, but Lucy said the only thing to do if one was cursed with red hair was to carry it off with flair.
“We found some Brilliant Emeralds,” Derek said enthusiastically.
“Emeralds?” Frank Crowley came out of the house. “Buried treasure?”
“Emeralds?” echoed Raymond, following him.
“Dragonflies, Uncle Frank,” said Ben.
Both men lost interest.
“Ruddy Darters, too,” Derek persevered, somewhat deflated.
“Oh là là!” exclaimed Laurette, appearing in her turn. “This word I do not let my children speak.”
“But that’s what it’s called, Aunt Laurette,” Belinda enlightened her. “Uncle Edgar told us.”
Laurette pursed her lips. “Alors, if Lord Dalrymple…”
Geraldine said kindly to Derek, “Not in company, dear.”
Lowecroft chose that moment to escort Ernest and a parlourmaid with tea trays out to the terrace. As teapot, cups and saucers, plates, and cake stands were transferred to a table, Derek forgot his momentary pique.
“Golly, what a smashing spread!” Cucumber sandwiches, watercress sandwiches, bread and butter, five different biscuits, and four kinds of cake.
His grandmother, the dowager, fell short in catering to the appetite of a growing boy, a mistake Geraldine was unlikely to make.
“Is Mr … Is Vincent joining us?” Geraldine asked Laurette.
“He said he intended to be back for tea.” Laurette looked at her watch. “He went for a short walk an hour or so ago.”
“I expect he’ll be along any minute.” She started pouring tea.
The children—Ben taking his cue from Derek and Belinda—handed round cups and plates and then took their own milky tea and heaped plates and sat on the wide, shallow terrace steps. Nana joined them.
Martha watched them wistfully. “They’re very good kids,” she said to Daisy. “I hope Millie and Rosie will be as well-behaved at that age.”
“Well behaved in company,” Daisy agreed, “and Ben seems well schooled. I hope the other two don’t lead him into mischief. Derek is very inventive when it comes to finding things to do that haven’t been absolutely forbidden because no one imagined the possibility.”
“Oh, I know! My sister’s children are just the same.”
“You have just the one sister? The one your girls are staying with?”
“She’s the only one.”
“Any brothers?”
“I had a brother. He was killed in the earthquake.”
“Earthquake?”
“In 1907. The school fell down and ninety children were killed. My other sister, and Sam’s brothers, as well.”
“I’m so sorry,” Daisy said inadequately.
“It’s a long time ago, but I still have nightmares sometimes. There was a big fire after the quake and most of Kingston was destroyed. Sometimes when I smell smoke in the evening, I dream about it. Otherwise, I don’t think about it much.”
Ernest brought out a fresh pot of tea and jug of hot water, and removed the old ones.
“More tea, Martha?” Geraldine offered, in a bright voice that suggested she had overheard and wanted to distract Martha from sad memories—or perhaps hoped merely for a momentary relief from Raymond’s interrogation.
Daisy had been distantly aware of his nosy questions about the Fairacres farms, and Geraldine’s polite, adroit answers lacking any specifics. Laurette, on her other side, seemed to be distracted. She kept glancing at her wristwatch. Alec was talking to Crowley.
Ben had heard Geraldine. He popped up from his seat on the steps and came to fetch Martha’s teacup, taking Daisy’s for a refill, too. As Geraldine poured, Edgar came onto the terrace, looking reasonably presentable though somewhat less thoroughly scrubbed than his young acolytes. Pepper, as usual, was at his heels.
“An excellent collecting day,” he announced. “I haven’t yet identified the nymphs.…”
“Nymphs!” Laurette exclaimed, staring at him as if he was even pottier than she already suspected.
Edgar’s eyes twinkled. “My dear lady, not the kind commonly depicted as being chased by fauns or satyrs. These are the larvae of damsel- and dragon—”
“Damsel! Dragon!” Her eyes popped.
“Oh dear,” sighed Geraldine. “Laurette, you haven’t stepped into a mediaeval romance. Edgar’s talking about insects.”
“Unlike the Lepidoptera,” Edgar informed them, “the Anisoptera and Zygoptera do not pupate.”
“No chrysalis,” said Ben.
“That’s right, my boy.” Edgar beamed.
“How can you talk about insects,” Laurette cried, “when Vincent is missing?” She jumped up and hurried over to the low parapet to scan the gardens.
“Vincent missing? Bless my soul!”
“I’d hardly go so far,” said Geraldine dryly, handing Edgar a cup of tea. “Apparently he went for a stroll. I expect he walked farther than he intended. I see no cause for alarm.”
Edgar picked up the plate he had absentmindedly loaded with tidbits. “I’ll go and talk to her.”
He crossed the terrace. Daisy couldn’t hear what he said to Laurette, but she shook her head, checked the time again, and went back to staring out over the gardens. Edgar sat on the wall. Setting down his cup and his plate on either side of him, he proceeded to enjoy his tea. Pepper sat facing him, his hopeful gaze on the plate.
Laurette screamed. Edgar’s plate crashed to the crazy-paving, scattering shards and crumbs.
“We never use the best china on the terrace,” said Geraldine, but she, like everyone else, rose to her feet and gazed in the direction Laurette was pointing.
Vincent had lost his hat and acquired a limp. He hobbled along the gravel path from the south corner of the house towards the steps, leaning heavily on a walking stick.
Alec and Crowley ran to help him. As they reached him, he staggered. Each seized an arm to support him. Slowly they came up the steps, Vincent stumbling between the two larger men. He was dishevelled, his clothes soiled with leaf mould all down one side; it was even stuck in his brilliantined hair.
“Hop it, you three,” Alec said to the children.
“Oh, Daddy!”
“Go along.”
The trio, plus dog, reluctantly took themselves off.
Vincent slumped into a chair. Laurette hovered over him, bleating with dismay and flapping ineffectually with a napkin at the dirt on his jacket.
“My dear fellow!” said Edgar. “My dear fellow!”
“Tea,” said Geraldine, pouring a cup. “With plenty of sugar for shock. And you must send for the doctor, Edgar.”
“No,” Vincent gasped. “I don’t need a … doctor. I’ll be all right in a minute.”
Martha, distressed, said to Daisy, “Ought we to…?”
“No,” Daisy said firmly. “We’d only be in the way.”
Lowecroft appeared with a silver tray holding two decanters, a soda siphon, and a glass. He moved at his usual stately pace but was visibly out of breath. Ernest, now hovering on the threshold of the French windows, must have witnessed the scene and notified the butler. “Brandy, sir?” he enquired of Vincent. “Or whisky if you prefer.”
“Brandy … yes … neat.” The brandy chased down the sweet tea, already dispatched, and Vincent held out his glass for more.
Daisy wondered whether to suggest some bread and butter to sop up the resulting cocktail in his insides.
Alec sat down beside him, while Frank helped himself to a slice of cake and went to sit on the parapet, where he had a dress-circle view.
“What happened?” Alec asked.
“I went for a stroll in the park and into the woods. I was walking among the trees when a branch … fell. I saw it from the corner of my eye and was able to dodge, so it didn’t hit me. It made me lose my balance and I tripped over something.”
“A branch fell? You don’t sound very certain of that.”
“It must have, mustn’t it? A limb broke off a tree.…”
“But…?”
Vincent frowned. “But I have a sort of vague impression that it actually came whizzing at me out of the bushes. It was quite overgrown along the path I was following.”
“Edgar,” said Geraldine severely, “you really must allow some clearing in the woods. I know your caterpillars like undergrowth but when it comes to a guest being injured—Enough is enough.”
“Yes, dear. I’ll speak to Wharton.”
“See that you do!”
Raymond, who had remained silent and apparently uninterested since Vincent’s arrival, suddenly put in a truculent oar. “What do you mean, whizzed at you?”
“We-ell, I must have imagined it. I was taken by surprise, pretty shaken up, in shock really.”
Geraldine frowned. “Are you sure you oughtn’t to see a doctor?”
“Oh yes, chéri, do!” Laurette urged.
“No, I don’t need a doctor. I’m just a bit bruised.” He patted his left hip. “Nothing to it. I’ll be right as rain in no time.”
“Lowecroft, a hot bath with Epsom salts for Mr. Vincent, in a quarter of an hour.”
“Certainly, my lady.” Lowecroft took the decanters with him, apparently thinking Vincent had had quite as much restorative brandy as he needed.
“How long ago did this happen?” Alec asked.
“I don’t know. I lay half-stunned for some time—”
“You didn’t lose consciousness completely, however.”
“No.”
“That’s good. No concussion. Sorry, go on.”
“Then I sat awhile till I felt able to move. And I
couldn’t move very fast.”
“Did you notice what tripped you?”
“I can’t say I paid any particular attention. Another branch, I suppose, or a stone. Just something lying there on the path.”
“Perhaps I’d better go and have a look, to make sure whatever it was isn’t going to trip some other unsuspecting stroller. Could you describe the spot? Tell me how to get there?”
“I’m afraid not. I started out wandering at random. Coming back, I was still a bit dazed. I took the nearest path that seemed to go in the right direction, until I was out of the wood. Then I saw the house and followed the path that brought me here.”
“My dear fellow,” said Edgar again, “I will certainly make sure all the paths in the woods are cleared and all dead branches trimmed off. I must apologise for my hobby having led to your accident.”
“A hot bath will prevent any stiffness,” said Geraldine firmly. “Alec, would you be so kind—”
“I’ll give him a hand up the stairs,” offered Crowley, sauntering across the terrace from his seat on the parapet. “Come along, old chap.”
Alec looked at him with narrowed eyes, but made no comment.
Crowley hauled Vincent out of his chair and gave him an arm to lean on into the house, with Laurette fussing over him all the way. He was already moving more easily.
“I think I’ll take a stroll,” said Alec, “to work off that magnificent tea, of which I ate far too much. Coming, Daisy?”
“Darling, I was going to go and see the twins before they’re put to bed.”
“I’ll come with you, Alec,” said Edgar.
The two of them tramped off and the tea party broke up.
Daisy next saw Alec when she went to their room to change for dinner. Plumping down on the bed she said, “You think there’s something fishy about it, don’t you?”
