Chapter 5
“I’m frightfully glad the four won their heat,” said Tish, cautiously climbing into her bed, which was liable to tip up if approached unwarily.”I think Rollo would be happier about another year at Ambrose if he had won a cup for the college.”
“I like him.” Yawning, Daisy scratched her mosquito bites. A new one had made the old one start to itch again. “I hope things work out for the two of you, win or lose.”
“Just one more elimination before the final. Keep your fingers crossed. Daisy, you don’t suppose there’s anything in what Basil DeLancey said, do you? About Bott sabotaging the boat?”
“I shouldn’t think so. Lord DeLancey was rather queer about the whole affair, wasn’t he? Practically in a blue funk. Admittedly, it must be pretty foul having a brother like dear Basil, but people can hardly blame him for it.”
“No.” Tish hesitated. “Actually, Dottie said much the same and Cherry explained to us. I shouldn’t be surprised if it gets about anyway, but I wouldn’t want to be the one to start the talk.”
Intrigued, Daisy protested, “Have a heart! You can’t tell
me so much and no more. If Scotland Yard can trust me with its secrets, you jolly well can, too.”
“Does he? Does Mr. Fletcher tell you things?”
“Sometimes. As a matter of fact, I’ve helped him with one or two cases. But we’re not talking about that now. Tell me about Cedric DeLancey, or I’ll tip you out of bed.”
“Don’t! I’d have to make it up again. All right, Cherry said Lord DeLancey is scared to death of arousing any gossip about the family in case his War record comes out.
It seems he panicked and lost his head and led his company into a massacre, only he led it from behind, like the Duke of Plaza Toro … ”
“‘He led his regiment from behind,’” sang Daisy, “‘He found it less exciting. That celebrated …’”
“Hush!” Tish hissed, glancing at the door.
“There were only three survivors and he was the only one to come out with a whole skin. He was cashiered, but it was hushed up, his father being an earl and in the government. The family put it about that he was invalided out. But Cherry and Rollo were both in the same battalion so they knew what really happened. Cherry said if it got out—Society gossip, or even worse, the Press—he’d be ostracised. ”
“Gosh, he’d probably be blackballed at his clubs and not received at Court.
I dare say his father might even be eased out of his post as an embarrassment to the government.
Not,” said Daisy austerely, “because anyone would care two hoots that he got his men massacred. After all, the generals did that by the thousands. But people won’t forgive his panicking, which seems to me an altogether natural reaction to being caught in the middle of a battle. ”
“I would,” Tish agreed with a shudder, “but men aren’t supposed to show they’re afraid, let alone act as if they were.
Maybe that’s why they start wars, to prove to each other how brave they are.”
“Like little boys daring each other. Are you ready? I’ll turn out the light.”
In the dark, Tish said, “I almost forgot to ask how your research is going.”
“Very well. I met an American who rowed in the Harvard crew which won the Grand in 1914. He brought his wife over to see the Regatta. Their views will interest American readers. And my friend Betty—her husband, Fitz, is a member of the Stewards’ Enclosure—has offered to present me to the Duke of Gloucester tomorrow.
Isn’t it too spiffing? The Americans adore British royalty, don’t ask me why. ”
“You’re going to meet Prince Henry?”
“Yes, tomorrow afternoon. Alec told me some of his plainclothes colleagues will be circulating in the crowds to keep an eye on things. Alec has to pretend not to recognise them, but of course they’ll recognise him. I just hope nothing happens to make them need his help.”
“Let’s hope not. It’s a pity he reached Henley too late to go to the fair with us.”
“It was too sweet of Fosdyke to escort me, but he made me feel like an aged aunt! At least Alec has arrived. You never can tell with policemen. He’s going to pick me up in the morning in time to watch the start of the Ambrose four’s heat.”
“Dottie and I decided to watch the start, too. If they lose, the finish will be too depressing for words, and if they win, we’ll watch the finish of the final.
” Tish was silent for a moment, then said, “I do so hope they win. Do you think Basil DeLancey will go and guard the boat in spite of his brother telling him not to?”
“I don’t know,” Daisy said sleepily, “but he hasn’t much self-control at the best of times and that was a pretty stiff whisky-and-soda I saw him put away, not to mention starting on a second. If he does, I hope Bott doesn’t take it into his head to go down there, or there’ll be murder done.”
Startled into wakefulness, Daisy lay for a moment straining her ears. Heavy, blundering footsteps, harsh breathing—someone was in the room! She snapped on the bedside lamp.
Basil DeLancey stood there, swaying, one hand to his head, the other held out as if groping for support.
Tish lay wide-eyed, terrified, clutching the bedclothes to her chest. DeLancey took a staggering step forward. With a squeal, Tish sat up. Her camp-bed collapsed and DeLancey tripped over a protruding corner.
Jumping out of bed, Daisy ran to extricate Tish from the tangle of sheets and blankets.
“He came after me!” Tish whimpered.
But DeLancey lay sprawled on the floor, groaning, making no attempt to rise and ravish.
Daisy frowned. “Perhaps. I suppose he might have drunk enough to try to seduce you, forgetting I’m sharing your room. But I suspect he’s just drunk enough to have turned the wrong way at the top of the stairs. His room is the first on the other side, isn’t it?”
“Oh yes,” Tish said thankfully. She was white as a sheet, and she stared at the recumbent intruder like a rabbit fascinated by a stoat.
DeLancey was fully dressed in a pullover and flannels. Daisy glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. Past two o’clock! He must have stayed downstairs drinking by himself.
Or perhaps he had fallen asleep downstairs, she thought, trying to be charitable, and was as much fuddled by sleep as drink. She hoped so, or tomorrow’s race would be another disaster.
Either way, she and Tish could not manage him. She grabbed her cousin’s dressing-gown. “Here, put this on and go and wake his room-mate. It’s Fosdyke, I think. He’ll get him to bed.”
“You can’t stay alone with him.” Tish’s voice trembled.
“Of course I can. He’s in no state to attack, and anyway, it’s you he’s been making up to. Don’t for pity’s sake wake Rollo and Cherry. They’d have his blood without waiting to ask questions. Just Fosdyke. Go along now.”
Tish left. Daisy put on her own dressing-gown and turned back to DeLancey. He looked more like victim than villain now, trying ineffectually to push himself up.
Distastefully, Daisy helped him to roll over and sit up with his back to the wall.
“C-can’t see straight,” he mumbled, thick-tongued. His eyes had an unfocussed look and his face was livid, his dark, pomaded hair sticking out in all directions as if he had run his hands through it. His breath smelled of spirits. “God, my head hurts. Wha’ happened?”
“Whisky happened,” Daisy informed him severely, wishing the room had an old-fashioned wash-basin, “unless you went on to something else. Don’t you dare be sick in here.”
“Not going … . Where … ?”
If he was unaware of being in Tish’s bedroom, Daisy was not about to enlighten him. With luck, by morning he’d have forgotten his detour on the way to bed.
Tish returned with Fosdyke, sleepy-eyed and blushing in
a daffodil-yellow dressing-gown over daffodil striped pyjamas, his feet bare.
“Awfully sorry,” the youth muttered, turning a brighter red when he saw Daisy. “Miss Cheringham said not to dress.”
“She was quite right. Do you think you can get Mr. DeLancey to bed without waking anyone else to help you? The fewer people who know about his mistake the better.”
“Crikey, yes! Not a word to a soul. He looks as sozzled as a sucking pig.” Fosdyke stared down disapprovingly at DeLancey, who squinted back in apparent confusion. “Doesn’t look too good for the Visitors’ heat, does it? Yes, I’ll manage him all right, Miss Dalrymple. Come along, old chap.”
He heaved DeLancey up onto his feet. Tish wouldn’t go near them, but Daisy arranged DeLancey’s arm across Fosdyke’s shoulders. With Fosdyke’s arm around his waist, DeLancey stumbled out.
“Gosh,” said Daisy with a sigh, shutting the door behind them, “to think I expected all the drama of my visit to come from the boat races! Come on, let’s get your bed put back together. Fosdyke’s a dear, isn’t he? And luckily the strong, silent type.”
“It took forever to wake him. I had to go in and shake him.” Tish said, fumbling at the bed frame with still-trembling hands. “It was awful.”
“I assume you’re referring to DeLancey’s incursion, not to waking Fosdyke. Cheer up, no harm done, as long as you don’t go and let it out to Rollo or Cherry.”
“Oh no!”
“As for the race, I can’t believe he’s such an ass as to drink enough to risk wrecking his performance, not after the way he blasted Bott. I expect he’s one of those people who sleeps it off
and never suffers the morning after. There’s your pillow, in you hop—I mean slither.” She tucked her cousin in. “Sleep well.”
Daisy hopped into bed herself and turned out the light. She had every intention of following her own advice, but sleep failed to come.
Had DeLancey taken into account his capacity for absorbing alcohol? He hadn’t shown much in the way of common sense so far, and he had seemed awfully rocky. At least he hadn’t been sick. More confused than anything else, she thought.
Confusion—one of the chief symptoms of nicotine poisoning. Could Bott, rather than harbouring designs on the fours boat, have put nicotine in the whisky?