Chapter 19 #2
“Was you wanting me, sir?” Ernest advanced eagerly, tray in hand. “Her ladyship said to bring sherry.”
Daisy hurried out, leaving Alec to recruit the footman and deal with the question of sherry.
In the hall she met Lowecroft, coming from the direction of the family sitting room, where Edgar and Geraldine must have taken refuge.
“Will Mr. Arbuckle be dining, miss?” he asked, obviously put out. “And do you expect Mr. Petrie to return in time for dinner?”
“No, and no, and I should think Mrs. Pearson and Miss Fotheringay will be the only ones joining my cousins. If you could organize sandwiches for eight in a big hurry—say ten minutes?—it would be much appreciated. Oh, and we’ll be taking Ernest with us, I’m afraid.”
She dashed on to the ’phone, leaving the butler with his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.
Truscott promised to be ready to be picked up at the lodge in fifteen minutes, and Morgan would wait at the Dower House gates.
Daisy sped up to her bedroom and flung on a warm tweed skirt and jacket and walking shoes.
Alec was bound to try to stop her going along.
After all her efforts she was determined to see the thing through, and Gloria would surely be glad to see a female face.
Daisy refused to be left behind because they would not wait while she changed.
She had other cards up her sleeve.
Grabbing her mac, she headed for the drawing-room. She entered on the heels of Ernest, whose arms were full of electric torches.
He glanced back at her with a grin. “Sandwiches coming up, Mr. Lowecroft says, miss. I never seen him in such a pother.” He laid the torches on a table.
“Thanks, Ernest,” said Alec. “Go put on your oldest clothes and stout boots now. Hurry.”
“Yessir!”
“You two bring the Lagonda and my Austin round to the front, please,” he directed Tom and Binkie, who strode out. They had already changed, as had Alec. “Daisy, come and show me.…” He stopped as he noticed her costume. His fearsome eyebrows lowered. “Oh no, you’re not coming with us!”
“I can’t show you on the map. It’s too complicated. I’m not even sure I remember the way to Brock Farm well enough to describe it, but I know I’ll recognize it when I see it.”
Alec turned on her the piercing grey eyes which made crooks quiver and subordinates leap to attention. Daisy was glad she was telling the truth. Nonetheless, she brought out another ace.
“Even if you found Brock Farm without me,” she said persuasively, “the farmyard’s the only place to leave the cars and the people there don’t know you. They’ll remember me. Besides, you’d never find the path without help. It’s easy to get lost in the wood before you get to the hillside.”
“Oh no, if you come as far as the farm, you go no further. Someone there will show us the way.”
“How long would it take to explain the situation to them?”
Alec glanced at the clock and grimaced.
Ten minutes later, Daisy sat in the front passenger seat of the Austin as Alec drove down the avenue. The little car shuddered as wild gusts of wind hit it. Though dark, ragged clouds raced overhead against the paler grey overcast, the rain had stopped for the moment.
The Lagonda was close behind, Tom driving, Binkie next to him, Ernest in the back. At the lodge, Truscott stood at the door with another man, older, grizzled, but still robust.
“Carlin,” said Daisy. “Father’s gamekeeper.”
The chauffeur stepped up to the Austin. “Mr. Carlin dropped by for a chat, sir, and wants to know can he go too?”
“The more the merrier. You two join the Lagonda—the extra weight won’t slow it. We’ll take Morgan.”
They picked up the gardener at the Dower House gates and drove on. Daisy fed sandwiches to Alec as they continued through Pershore and Evesham and up the flank of the Cotswolds to Broadway.
“Turn right at the church,” she said as they entered the village, its amber stone drab dun in the gloom of the early twilight beneath the clouds.
“Off the main road already?”
“There might be a quicker way turning off further on, but I don’t know it. We’d only get lost.”
“You’re in charge. Morgan, the Lagonda’s still there?”
“Chust behind us it iss, sir.”
Alec stuck out his hand and turned. They plunged into a labyrinth of serpentine lanes. For a while Daisy was frightfully afraid she had bitten off more than she could chew, but as crossroads and forks fell behind them, she grew more confident.
“Sharp left at the end of this hamlet,” she said as they came to a huddle of cottages, “and then the first right. There used to be a finger-post.… Yes, there it is! ‘Brock Farm Only.’”
“Well done! I can see why you couldn’t have explained the route.”
The farmhouse and its outbuildings stood close to the edge of the wood where dwelt the badgers which had given the farm its name. The moment the Austin pulled up next to the barn, Daisy jumped out and ran to the house. Barking dogs announced her before she knocked.
A hefty young man came to the door. Daisy didn’t recognize him, but he knew her at once in spite of the years and the shingled hair.
“Why, it’s Miss Daisy! Mother, Dad,” he called, “it’s Miss Daisy.”
“Good gracious, you can’t be little Charlie?”
He grinned. “That’s me, miss, and not so little no more, neither. Step in, do.”
“Not just now, if you don’t mind. Good-evening, Mrs. Clay, Mr. Clay,” Daisy said to the couple who came up behind Charlie. “I’ve brought my fiancé and some friends to see the old camp. We’re running late and it’ll be dark soon. May we leave the cars in the yard and cut through your wood?”
“O’ course, Miss Daisy,” said the farmer’s wife. “You just hurry along afore the rain come down again, and stop in for a glass o’ cider on the way back, if ye’ve time enough.”
“Spiffing,” said Daisy.
With a wave, she dashed off, but not before she heard Mr. Clay observe sagely, “They’m all barmy as new beer, the gentry.”
An ominous splatter of rain struck Daisy’s face. Shivering, she turned her mind at last to their real errand. If the farmer knew they were out not for a jaunt but to tackle a vicious gang of kidnappers, would he think them less barmy—or more?