Chapter 2
Afternoon tea was served on the terrace.
All the crew were present. Their donning of flannels and blazers seemed to Daisy to reduce them to manageable proportions.
Still, even after being introduced to those she had not yet met, she wasn’t sure she’d know one from the next if she met them on the river-bank.
Cherry and Rollo stood out not only in their relationship to her cousin, she realised. They were older than the others, about her own age, having fought in the War before going up to Oxford. They were third-year men, as were Horace Bott and Basil DeLancey, the rest being first and second.
Some on garden chairs and benches, some sprawled on cushions on the crazy paving, they lounged about the terrace. Tish presided over the urn and teapot as her mother had not turned up.
“Shall I go and find Aunt Cynthia?” Daisy offered, suddenly anxious as she recalled the splotches of insecticide on Lady Cheringham’s blouse.
Tobacco-water didn’t sound very dangerous, however noxious the fumes from cheap cigarettes. But it must contain nicotine
and that, she had a feeling, was a deadly toxin in certain circumstances. She had read a book on poisons after the Albert Hall affair, though she couldn’t remember the specifics.
“I saw Lady Cheringham out in the front garden when I came down,” Rollo said, “taking a pair of shears to one of the topiary swans.”
“Mother’s so thrilled to have a proper English garden, she finds it hard to drag herself away,” Tish explained.
Cherry grinned. “And Uncle Rupert can’t be pried from his manuscript.
You know he’s writing his memoirs, Daisy?
It seems to be de rigueur for retired colonial administrators, a sort of tic, like giving their houses frightful names like ‘Bulawayo.’ I’ll take him a cup.
The servants are run off their feet with this heathen lot to cater to.
” He waved a careless hand at his guzzling crew-mates.
“I’ll go,” said Daisy. “I haven’t said hullo to Uncle Rupert yet. He’s keen on cucumber sandwiches, isn’t he?”
She started to pile a plate with the thin-cut, crustless triangles, but Tish, momentarily distracted by handing cups to two suppliants, turned back to stop her.
“I’m afraid Daddy’s made a bolt for it,” she said, as guiltily as if she was personally responsible for her father’s dereliction of his duty as host. “He said he couldn’t hear himself think with dozens of galumphing athletes in the house, so he packed up the great work and departed for his club.
Bister took him to the station when he met you, Daisy. You must have just missed him.”
Cherry laughed, but Rollo looked dismayed.
“Dash it, I’m most frightfully sorry, Tish,” he said. “You should have told me. I’d have made them shut up.”
“It’s all right, you great oaf,” Tish told him lovingly.
“Mother says it’s his own fault for agreeing to put up the crew. She’s used to accommodating any passing Europeans, of course. To tell the truth, I don’t think Father was listening when I proposed inviting you all, so perhaps it will teach him to pay attention to his daughter’s words in future!”
“Typical man!” said Dottie, and added something Daisy didn’t understand.
Cherry responded in what sounded like the same language.
“Greek,” said Tish, seeing Daisy’s blank look, as Dottie and Cherry moved away together to stand by the balustrade, obviously engaged in all-absorbing debate. “Ancient Greek, not modern. I don’t understand it either, just recognise it.”
“It’s all Greek to me, too,” Rollo admitted, looking modestly pleased with his little joke. “I had to do a year of it at school but I never quite got the hang of it. Latin was bad enough.”
“I take it your degree isn’t in the Classics,” Daisy said, laughing.
“Not me! Modern Languages. I picked up French like billy-oh when we were over there, and then German in the Army of Occupation. I ended up in liaison, in fact.”
“That must have been jolly interesting.”
“Frightfully. I was really keen. The trouble is, speaking ‘em isn’t the same thing as writing ’em, let alone reading and discussing the literature, and all that guff.
I’d never have got into Ambrose if it weren’t for the allowances they made for exservice men.
That and my father having been an Ambrose man.
And now I’ve been ploughed for Schools,” he finished disconsolately.
“Rotten luck,” said Daisy.
“Not really. I should have dropped rowing and concentrated on exams. I know I’m not clever, not like Cherry, who managed to row and swot enough to get a decent First in Greats.
” Rollo glanced round and lowered his voice.
“Let alone that beastly little squirt Bott, who sailed through with a brilliant Double First without even trying.”
Daisy saw the unfortunate Bott sitting all alone on a bench on the far side of the terrace, moodily sipping his tea. Though once again she was sorry for him, she had no desire to join him. She turned back to Rollo.
“Are you going to try again?” she asked.
“No.”
“Yes,” said Tish at the same time. They exchanged a glance.
Before Daisy could request an explanation, DeLancey came up and presented his cup to Tish for a refill. “Be so kind, fair lady,” he said, his insinuating tone stripping the words of their innocence.
Stony-faced, Tish complied.
With a mocking laugh, DeLancey turned away from her, picked up a nearly empty plate of macaroons, and offered it to Daisy. “Better have one of these before the ravening hordes finish them off. Sweets to the sweet,” he said unoriginally.
Daisy might not be learned, but she knew her Hamlet. “Do you propose to strew them on my grave, Mr. DeLancey?” she enquired sweetly. “I assure you, I’m not going to drown myself for unrequited love.”
She took a macaroon—they were, after all, one of her favourites—deliberately with her left hand, making sure her sapphire engagement ring flashed in the sun. The stone was not large, but it was exactly the colour of her eyes, Alec said,
the guileless blue eyes which led people to confide in her, including him. Their depths had more than once led him to indiscreet revelations about his cases.
Not an hour ago, Bott had unbosomed himself to her after two minutes’ acquaintance. Daisy hoped DeLancey was not going to bare his soul. She didn’t want to see it. He was as disagreeable as Bott, and without that miserable little man’s excuse.
DeLancey looked rather nonplussed by her riposte. Whatever his course of study, it had presumably not included Shakespeare. He did, however, comprehend the sapphire’s significance.
Casting a derisive glance at Dottie, still deep in discussion with Cherry, he said, “You’re engaged too, Miss Dalrymple?” At least he didn’t sound insultingly surprised.
“To a policeman,” Daisy informed him.
“To a … ! But I thought … . That is, isn’t Lord Dalrymple your brother?”
“No,” she said baldly, awaiting his reaction with interest.
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re just another of these bally would-be intellectual women, are you?”
“I’m a writer.”
“Heaven help us! Where did I get the idea you were the Hon. Gervaise’s sister?”
“I was.”
“What? Was? I say, he didn’t buy it, did he?”
“Yes.” Daisy paused to allow some expression of regret, in vain. “But you can’t have known him. You were only a little boy.” And a very spoilt one, she suspected.
At her dismissive tone, DeLancey flushed. “Cedric—my brother—knew him in France and used to talk about him
when he came home on leave. But Ceddie was invalided out before the end, so I didn’t hear … . He’s staying at Crowswood Place for the Regatta.”
“He’s keen on rowing, too?”
“Not particularly, nothing more than messing about in a punt or a skiff on the Isis. But it’s quite a social occasion, after all. I say, he and I and some others are going dancing at Phyllis Court Club this evening. Would you like to come?”
“No, thanks,” said Daisy. A pity, for though she wasn’t keen on dancing, it was just the sort of do she ought to write about. But nothing could induce her to go out for the evening with DeLancey.
Rollo broke in. “You’re not going either, DeLancey. Our Thames Cup heat’s first tomorrow. No larking about tonight for anyone. And I want the four in the boat in quarter of an hour to practise a few starts. Tell the others, will you?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t care to break up such a charming tête-à-tete.” the stroke said sarcastically.
“I’ll tell Cherry,” said Daisy, standing up, “and I’ll take a cup of tea to Aunt Cynthia, since it doesn’t look as if she’s going to turn up.”
As she approached the pair by the balustrade, she heard Dottie say vehemently, “And in the ninth place …”
“My apologies for nipping your ninth point in the bud,” Daisy interrupted with a chuckle, “but your captain calls, Cherry. A practise for the four in fifteen minutes.”
“I’m on my way.” He dropped a kiss on Dottie’s cheek. “Don’t lose track of number nine, darling. You may persuade me yet.”
Looking after him, Dottie said affectionately, “The oaf would have conceded by now if I wasn’t a year behind him. I’ll
say this for him, he doesn’t refuse to take my arguments seriously just because I’m a woman.”
“He wouldn’t dare, would he?” Daisy observed. “What with his mother being a don.”
Dottie laughed. “True. He’s been properly brought up. Blast, my tea is stone-cold and I’ve barely had a sip. I hope there’s some left.”
They returned together to the tea-table. Daisy hunted in vain for a biscuit, a slice of cake, or even a sandwich to take to her aunt. Every last crumb had vanished.
“And what’s more, guzzling now won’t spoil their appetites for dinner,” said Tish, presiding over the ruins. “Here’s a cup of tea for Mother, Daisy. She’ll have to make do. Oh, by the way, no fun-fair today, I’m afraid, as they’re taking the four out now.”
“Never mind. I’d as soon wait for Alec. As for going dancing with that beast DeLancey—catch me! Do you know his brother?”