Chapter Five
FIVE
Daisy wanted to reciprocate for the Jessups’ drinks party, but with Alec’s schedule so erratic, a similar evening do was impossible.
Besides, the Fletchers simply could not compete in variety or quality with the wine merchant’s vast selection.
Worse, she’d have to choose between inviting the Bennetts, who would ruin the affair, or offending them by not asking them.
She decided afternoon tea for the Jessup ladies would be the proper response, especially if she included an invitation to the children for nursery tea. Her St. John’s Wood friends, Melanie and Sakari, would round out the party.
Sakari couldn’t come because of a prior engagement at India House, where her husband was something important. Daisy rang up Madge.
“The people with the Versailles room? Darling, I’d love to meet them.”
“Here, not at their house.”
“Of course. Just watch me wangle an invitation. Will Lucy be there?”
“Lucy? Gosh no. Afternoon tea in suburbia is definitely not Lucy’s … well, cup of tea.”
Madge laughed. “True. I’m not so choosy. I’ll be there. Shall I be Lady Margaret, do you think? Are they that sort of people?”
“I don’t think so,” Daisy said doubtfully. “I suspect they’d be less likely to invite you. But I don’t know them very well yet.”
“Then Mrs. Pearson it is.”
“Bring Robin, too, if you like. There’s to be nursery tea, as well.”
“Heavens, darling, you are becoming positively domesticated.”
“It’s all right, we don’t have to watch feeding time at the zoo. There will be nurses aplenty to scrub their jammy faces. But the little Jessup girl adores the twins, and Mrs. Jessup—Mrs. Aidan Jessup—is very motherly, so I thought it would please her.”
“You want to please Mrs. Aidan Jessup? What are you up to, Daisy?”
“Nothing!”
“Aidan? Isn’t that Irish?”
“I believe so. The elder Mrs. Jessup was Moira Callaghan when she was on the stage.”
“A chorus girl?” Madge sounded amused.
“Shakespearean,” Daisy said severely.
“And Irish. Have you moved in next door to a nest of Republicans?”
“Not at all! Aidan is frightfully English, in spite of his name. So is his father, in spite of all his travels on the Continent. It’s the younger son … Irish Republican—I hadn’t even considered that possibility. I think he’s in America, not Ireland.”
“I’ll come early and you can tell me all about it.”
“Right-oh. Yes, I’d better ring off now or Alec’s going to be asking nasty questions about the telephone bill. Cheerio, darling.”
Hanging up, Daisy went down to the kitchen to discuss the tea party with Mrs. Dobson.
The cook-housekeeper was delighted at the prospect of showing off her baking skills.
Daisy left her to make out a shopping list, and went up to the nursery to tell Oliver and Miranda about their coming treat—and to warn Nurse Gilpin.
Oh dear, she thought, realising she ought to have consulted Nurse first. Mrs. Gilpin would be offended, but then, she was offended with Daisy most of the time anyway.
The new nursery was light and bright, with plenty of room for two cribs, dressers, toy chests, a rocking horse, and all the other necessary accoutrements.
The walls were hung with paintings by Belinda of bunnies, kittens, squirrels, and puppies, some more recognisable than others.
A small room connected to it was Mrs. Gilpin’s bedroom, so that she had some privacy but, with the door open, could hear the slightest sound from the babies at night.
She had grudgingly approved the arrangement.
It meant Alec could go into the nursery with good-night kisses even when he got home very late.
Nana, the subject of one of Belinda’s paintings, lay sprawled on the floor.
She had been allowed into the nursery occasionally on sufferance for several months.
Then Daisy thought to mention to Mrs. Gilpin that, during her own childhood, a couple of dogs were always to be found in the nurseries at Fairacres.
After that, Nana was made welcome. Oliver and Miranda crawled over her, cooing with delight, the way they had over Lambert.
Watching them, Daisy found it impossible to believe in a nest of Irish Republicans next door. Did they still go around blowing up English policemen, now that they had their own country? She hadn’t heard of any such incidents recently, but she’d never been much of a newspaper reader.
When she was growing up, any young lady taking an interest in politics was assumed to be a suffragette—horror of horrors!
Men still had a tendency to go into a female-excluding huddle when the subject arose.
But the suffragettes had won, and there were already several women MPs.
Daisy was twenty-eight years old. In two years, she’d be thirty (more horrors!) and able to vote in national elections, and she hadn’t the foggiest what it was all about.
She decided she had better start reading Alec’s morning paper.
In the meantime, with Miranda crawling towards her crying “Ma-ma”—indubitably “Ma-ma”!—Daisy couldn’t put off much longer broaching the delicate subject of nursery tea.
Oliver raced after his sister, shouting “Ga-ga-gak.”
Daisy sat down and the babies climbed onto her lap. Inhaling the sweet milk and talcum smell of them, she gave each a kiss and said over their heads, “I’ve invited the children next door to tea, Mrs. Gilpin.”
“Indeed, madam!” said Nurse with a sniff. “I hardly think Master Oliver and Miss Miranda are old enough to entertain guests.”
“Their nanny will come, too, of course.”
“Indeed, madam.”
“Besides, I expect Miss Marilyn will entertain the twins. You know how she dotes on them when they meet in the gardens. And there will be another two-year-old to play with Percy Jessup—Mrs. Pearson’s Robin.”
“Lady … Mrs. Pearson’s little boy? How nice for our little ones to make his acquaintance.”
What a change of tune! Daisy assumed Mrs. Dobson must have told her that Madge was Lady Margaret.
If Nurse knew, then the nursery maid surely knew, and what Bertha knew the parlour maid knew, and what Elsie knew, her sister next door was bound to know.
So no doubt the Jessups would also find out within a short time.
It would be interesting to see whether they were more impressed by someone with the genuine title of “Lady” than by someone with a mere “Honourable” before her name.
Alec came home early for once. He had obtained tickets for that night’s concert at Queen’s Hall, a rare occasion, given his erratic schedule.
Daisy didn’t want to spoil the evening, so she postponed asking him whether the Irish Republicans were still in the habit of blowing up policemen.
Perhaps she’d learn enough about the Jessups at the tea party not to have to ask him at all.
It was quite late when they got home. As it was drizzling, Alec stopped the Austin right in front of the house to let Daisy out, then went to put the car in the garage in the alley.
As Daisy started up the steps, the Jessups’ front door opened, silhouetting a man against the lighted hall.
Then the door slammed shut and the figure hurried down the next-door steps.
Daisy couldn’t see his face, but something about the way he moved seemed familiar.
She was in the house and taking off her coat before she made the connection: Surely he was the American visitor who had so upset Mrs. Jessup. Judging by his hasty retreat, his reception hadn’t been any better today.
When Alec came in, rain dripping from his hat, Daisy almost told him. But he had other plans for what was left of the evening.
“Time for bed,” he said firmly, and with his arm snug about her waist, she wasn’t going to argue.
The next afternoon, Madge arrived in good time for a chat, as she had promised.
They went straight up to the nursery, however, and by the time Robin, Oliver, and Miranda had been introduced and induced to play more or less nicely with one another, it was too late for Daisy to tell Madge any details of the mysteries surrounding the Jessups.
She did warn her, though, that her title was no secret.
When they went downstairs, Elsie was just opening the door to Melanie.
Madge had met Mel a couple of times but didn’t know her at all well.
Besides, Melanie, the very proper wife of a bank manager, was rendered acutely uncomfortable by gossip that involved speaking ill of anyone.
Though Daisy had no intention of maligning the Jessups, discussing the possible involvement of one or more members with the Irish Republicans was bound to distress Mel.
The Jessup ladies, children, and nanny arrived a few moments later.
After greetings and introductions and the despatching of the nursery party upstairs, Daisy poured tea.
Elsie passed it around, along with watercress sandwiches (Mrs. Dobson was a genius at cutting bread practically paper-thin) and a variety of homemade biscuits (including Daisy’s favourite macaroons, which she allowed herself only on special occasions).
Once everyone was served, Daisy dismissed Elsie. Madge and Audrey Jessup, both cheerful, practical women with two-year-old boys, were already getting on like a house on fire. Mel and Mrs. Jessup, on the other hand, were making polite conversation, so Daisy joined in.
It wasn’t difficult to introduce the subject of foreign travel.
The Germonds had taken the whole family to Brittany in the summer.
Daisy asked Melanie about the difficulties of travelling with children, and went on to mention quite naturally that Mr. Jessup took his younger son with him on his business trips to the Continent.
“How old was he the first time he went abroad with your husband?” she asked Mrs. Jessup.
“Fifteen or sixteen.” Mrs. Jessup did not elaborate.
“And now he goes by himself,” said Daisy.
“You must worry about him,” said Mel.