Chapter Three #2
“That’s all right,” Lucy said dryly. “I’m sure Rhino was delighted to make himself useful.”
Rydal snorted.
Daisy didn’t hear any more. Mrs. Howell, having dismissed the butler with a brusque “That will be all, Barker,” asked her if she took milk and sugar in her tea. “The scones are all gone. I hope you didn’t want any, because they’re busy with dinner in the kitchen.”
“They’re better hot from the oven anyway,” Lady Beaufort pointed out.
“There’s plenty of Welsh-cakes,” Mrs. Howell went on. “Brin insists on Welsh-cakes. I myself consider sponge cake far superior.”
Daisy politely disclaimed any interest in scones. She accepted a Welsh-cake.
Without any reason that Daisy was aware of, Mrs. Howell seemed to have taken against her, not even having greeted her properly.
Her curiosity was piqued. It didn’t make sense.
For one thing, if the woman disapproved of cocktails at half past five, she should have approved of Daisy’s choice of tea.
She could at least have apologised for the dearth of scones, or better, not mentioned it at all rather than aggressively announcing the lack thereof.
Lady Beaufort cast a mildly malicious glance at Mrs. Howell and enquired, “Well, Daisy, how is Lady Dalrymple? The Dowager Viscountess, I should say. She seemed very well when we met her in town at Christmas.”
“Oh yes, Mother’s flourishing, thank you.
” Even though the lady in question bitterly resented living at the Dower House and still refused to admit that the present Lord and Lady Dalrymple had any right to Fairacres—but Daisy’s mother wouldn’t have been happy with nothing to complain about.
“Did you see my sister, Violet, and Lord John? They didn’t bring the children up on their last visit, alas.
I don’t see enough of my nephews and niece. ”
“Lady John was there, but her husband had already gone back to Kent. I understand you have little ones of your own to keep you busy.”
“Twins, a girl and boy. They’re just over a year. And my stepdaughter, of course. Belinda is nearly thirteen already and away at school.”
“I wish Julia would hurry up and give me grandchildren.”
During this conversation, the most extraordinary change had come over Mrs. Howell.
Scarlet in the face and pop-eyed with indignation, she had jumped up and rung the bell (an electric button rather than a tasselled rope, as befitted Pritchard’s discreet modernisation).
When the butler came in, she berated him.
“Barker, why didn’t you bring scones for Mrs. Fletcher?”
Surprised, Daisy was about to assure her she was perfectly happy without, when Lady Beaufort gave her a slight shake of the head. While the butler apologised with proper impassiveness and went off to repair the deficiency, Daisy finished off her Welsh-cake.
The reason for Mrs. Howell’s change of heart was all too obvious.
Until Lady Beaufort enquired after the Dowager Viscountess, their hostess hadn’t realised that Daisy was a sprig of the nobility.
The daughter of a viscount must not be denied scones just because the kitchen staff were busy preparing dinner.
On the whole, Daisy preferred Mrs. Howell’s discourtesy to her sycophancy. However, she felt obliged to eat a buttered scone, though she really didn’t want it after the delicious but rich and sugary cake.
Bolstered by Lucy’s admonitory gaze—Lucy was sure she could slim if she tried—Daisy adamantly refused a second scone. She returned the admonitory gaze, however, when it looked as if Lucy was about to accept a second cocktail. It really was a bit early for drinks.
“Hadn’t we better go up to our rooms, Lucy?” Daisy suggested. “You wanted to get your frock ironed before changing for dinner, didn’t you?”
Mrs. Howell looked horrified. She prised herself from her chair, saying, “Oh dear, Mrs. Fletcher, I’m afraid your room may not be ready. I must go and have a word with the housekeeper.”
“Why don’t I take you both up to Lucy’s room?” Julia gracefully extracted her arm from Rydal’s grasp. “It’s next to mine. Willett can iron Lucy’s frock for her, can’t she, Mother? They came in Lucy’s sports car and didn’t have room for her maid.”
“Of course,” said Lady Beaufort with a gracious nod.
Mrs. Howell scuttled out ahead of the three young ladies. She was disappearing into the nether regions as Julia led the others into the hall and up the grand staircase.
“What was all that about, Daisy?” Lucy demanded as they ascended. “When that woman said your room wasn’t ready, you looked as if you were about to burst, trying not to laugh. It’s disgraceful. They’ve known we were coming for ages!”
Daisy let a giggle escape. “It was so funny! Mrs. Howell apparently hadn’t realised my august antecedents, until Lady Beaufort asked after Mother. She’s probably put me up in the garrets with the servants. It suddenly dawned on her, when I said we’d go up, that it wouldn’t do.”
Julia smiled, but Lucy was inclined to take umbrage on Daisy’s behalf.
“Calm down, darling. The garret room is pure fantasy.” Daisy wished she’d kept it to herself. “Besides, if you want to stay long enough to photograph the grotto, you can’t go accusing Mrs. Howell of insulting me. She can’t help being a snob.”
“She is one, though,” said Julia, turning left on the landing. “You wouldn’t believe the treatment she puts up with from Rhino, without a murmur. He acts as if she’s the housekeeper she’s so anxious not to be taken for.”
Daisy slipped her arm through Julia’s. “I hope you’re going to tell us all about Rhino and everything. I’m dying to hear what’s up.”
“Nothing’s ‘up,’ ” Julia said grimly, as she opened a door off the passage, “and won’t be if I can help it. Here’s Lucy’s room. I’ll just pop into to mine and ring for Willett. Back in half a tick, then we can catch up on each other’s news.”
Lucy went ahead into her bedroom. “The Beauforts know you married a policeman,” she said. “I didn’t tell them, but Lady Beaufort kept up with the English papers while they were living in France.”
“Darling, half the world knows I married a policeman.”
“What they don’t know is that you keep getting mixed up in his cases.”
“You’re the only person who knows about more than one or two of those. Except Scotland Yard, of course, and they do their best to hush it up.”
“Thank heaven!”
“Don’t you think it’s really very unfair that I never get any credit for all the help I give them?”
“No! You’re not going to tell Julia, are you?”
“Why not? I’m sure she’s not the gossipy kind.”
“Daisy!”
“Just teasing, darling.” With a mournful sigh, Daisy continued, “I’m quite used to hiding my light under a bushel. I don’t suppose anyone at Appsworth Hall will ever have a chance to find out what a brilliant sleuth I am.”