Chapter 3
Mrs. Tebbit led the ladies out of the dining room, leaving the gentlemen to smoke and discuss Tower business.
At the bottom of the stairs up to the Council Chamber, Fay said, “Mrs. Fletcher, do let me show you Ralegh’s Walk, where he used to take the air when he was a prisoner in the Bloody Tower.
There used to be a door through from upstairs, before the Victorians built those hideous houses on the Governor’s garden. ”
Daisy was sure to see Ralegh’s Walk on her tour, so why on earth did Fay want to show her now? She was sufficiently curious to agree. “Thank you, I’d like to see it, if you don’t mind us disappearing for a few minutes, Mrs. Tebbit.”
“Sorry, Aunt Alice. We’ll be back by the time Daddy comes for his coffee, promise.” Down in the hall, she took a jacket from the coat tree. “Better grab your coat, Mrs. Fletcher. It’s always windy up there.”
As Daisy followed her out past the sentry, Fay went on: “I expect I should have asked Aunt Alice before I invited you, but all that’s frightfully vieux jeu, isn’t it?”
“Is it? I’d have called it common courtesy. But perhaps I’m old-fashioned.”
“Oh no! You being a writer and marrying a policeman—wasn’t your father a lord?
—not that that makes any difference these days, of course.
But still, Brenda and I think you’re frightfully up-to-date.
As a matter of fact, we’re having a bit of a time of it, trying to work things out.
You see, so much of what they taught us in Switzerland was utterly pre-War, we’re never quite sure. . . .”
“Your aunt . . . ?”
“Aunt Christina taught us proper manners before she married the colonel, but we were younger then and things are a bit different when you’re grown-up, aren’t they?
And now there are always officers in their quarters and everything is rather free and easy, if you know what I mean.
Not a bit formal. I don’t suppose you’d give us a few hints, would you?
As you’re going to be around here for a while? ”
“I’m perfectly willing, but I don’t know that I’m the best person to ask. You and your sister may think I’m ‘up-to-date,’ but lots of people would call me unconventional.”
“That’s all right. We don’t want to be rude, but we don’t want to be conventional, either.”
“Then, if I may be so blunt, don’t go running after officers.”
“There’s nothing else to do here. And they’re so adorable in their fancy uniforms.”
“If you’ve read your Jane Austen,” Daisy said tartly, “you know that’s as old-fashioned as the hills.”
“Jane Austen? I’ve heard of her, I think, but we didn’t read anything by her at school. It was mostly poetry, hence our facility at producing quotations. Novels were rather frowned on.”
“Since, I assume, you have no need to earn your living as I did, you might try expending some of your time and energy in filling the holes in your education. No modern young woman should be content with an inferior education. Oh dear, I do sound pi!”
“Only slightly,” Fay said with a giggle. “But we honestly do admire you, so . . .” She waved to the yeoman on guard at the Bloody Tower entrance and he saluted her with a grin. Popularity with the Hotspur officers apparently didn’t preclude popularity with the warders. “Here, it’s up these steps.”
More steps. They climbed up onto the wall of the inner bailey.
The top was wide enough for two people to walk abreast, with the upper door to the Bloody Tower at one end.
The other end was closed off by a gate marked private.
Beyond this, potted plants created a pleasant, if small, balcony area, with windows and a door opening onto it from the dwellings built for the warders by the despised Victorians.
The shoulder-high parapet provided some protection from the wind.
“All right,” said Daisy, “what’s this all about?”
Fay looked guilty. “I’m dying for a gasper.” She took a silver cigarette case from the pocket of her jacket and offered it to Daisy.
“No thanks, I don’t.”
“You see, Aunt Alice is a game old bird, but she won’t stand for me smoking, and nor will Daddy.
They’d notice the smell indoors, in spite of those foul cigars he smokes.
It’s no good just stepping out of the front door, because they might see me through the window, and there’s no back door to the King’s House because of it being built against the wall.
” She lit a cigarette and leaned against the parapet, smoking.
“So that’s why you were so keen to bring me up here.”
“I suppose that’s not very couth, either, come to think of it. Sorry. But I did think, too, that you’d like to see Ralegh’s Walk.”
“Certainly. I hope you’re going to explain it to me.”
Fay pointed to the building at the far end of the section of wall.
“That’s the Bloody Tower, where he was imprisoned.
Sir Walter Ralegh, I mean. They let him come out through that door there to take the air on the wall, and he’d walk along to call on the Governor at the other end.
There are flats for warders in this house here that’s in the way now, and I don’t suppose Sir Walter would care to visit them.
That’s really all I know about Ralegh, except that he dropped his cloak in a puddle so that the Queen wouldn’t get her feet muddy—frightfully romantic! ”
“And he was the one who introduced tobacco from the Americas,” Daisy told her dryly.
“No, was he? Jolly good for him! This is really the best place for a smoke. One doesn’t want to huddle in a hidden corner—too uncouth! Here one can always pretend to admire the view.”
“Tell me about it.”
Fay peered over the parapet. “There’s St. Thomas’s Tower, where that frightful Sir Patrick lives, when he’s around.
It’s built over Traitors’ Gate. And that monstrosity is Tower Bridge, of course.
” She waved her cigarette at the scene, then took another puff.
“Oh blast! That awful, slimy man is watching.”
With one hand, she stubbed out the cigarette behind her back, while with the other she waved to a man in the Yeoman Warders’ blue and red who was standing on top of the nearby Wakefield Tower. Daisy recognised the bushy beard of the man who had showed her and Melanie the way to the King’s House.
He sketched a salute and turned away.
“From that distance,” said Daisy, “I doubt if he could tell you were smoking, even if it was any of his business.”
“I swear he can see through walls,” said Fay gloomily, “and you never know, he just might happen to mention it to Daddy.”
“Who is he?”
“The Yeoman Gaoler. Sergeant Major Rumford. They’re all sergeant majors, come to that, but he’s second in charge after the Chief Warder. Oh, blast that bugle,” she said as a call rang out. “It always reminds me of the Rupert Brooke poem.”
“ ‘Bugles calling for them from sad shires’? Wilfrid Owen.”
“That’s the one. I don’t think I really want to marry a soldier.” Fay shivered. “It’s cold. Let’s go down.”
When Daisy and Fay reached the Council Chamber, Sir Patrick, the General, and his ADC had just arrived. They drew back to let the ladies pass, then followed them in.
Brenda jumped up. “Fay, Mrs. Germond has invited us to a tennis party! Isn’t it kind of her? Aunt Alice says we may go. Daddy, you should be thrilled to death. We’ll actually meet some young men who aren’t soldiers.”
“That is indeed very kind of you, Mrs. Germond.”
“Spiffing!” Fay exclaimed. “We’d love to come.”
“It depends on the weather,” Melanie warned. She looked a trifle harassed. Daisy wondered whether Mrs. Tebbit had somehow managed to make it impossible for her not to issue the invitation.
“The sun is shining madly,” said Fay with conviction. “Not a cloud in the sky. It’s going to be fine for days.”
The maid brought in coffee. General Carradine, having brought Daisy her cup and sat down beside her with his own, said, “I’ve been thinking about who’s best to show you around the place.
I believe Rumford’s the man, my Yeoman Gaoler, second in command of the warders. He knows everything there is to know.”
Daisy gave a murmur of appreciation, managing not to say she’d been told Rumford could see through walls. Fay caught her eye and pulled a face, Webster looked even more melancholy than usual, and Sir Patrick pulled a comic face expressive of distaste.
“I’m afraid he’ll expect a gratuity,” the general warned Daisy.
“Oh yes, for the chapel.”
“I wonder,” Brenda mused, “how much of Sergeant Rumford’s gratuities actually reach the chapel.”
“You mustn’t say such things,” her father snapped, “even in jest. It’s a serious matter. Pocketing tips can get a man dismissed.”
“Sorry! I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Anyway, that’s all right,” Daisy put in hastily. “My American editor is pretty generous about expenses.”
“Good, good.” Carradine rubbed his hands together. “I’ll have a word with Rumford this afternoon. Would tomorrow suit you? We’ll hope the weather holds.”
“Arthur,” said Mrs. Tebbit commandingly, “I trust you mean to invite Mrs. Fletcher to watch the Ceremony of the Keys. You’d have to stay the night here afterwards, my dear, as it takes place at ten o’clock and all the gates are locked.”
“I’ll have to consult Alec about that.”
“Anytime. Just let us know. We’ll be here.”
“Thanks. I expect I’ll be popping in and out for at least a week to make sure I’ve got it all right.”
Then Melanie started making time-to-leave noises. General Carradine offered to send the ladies home in his car and sent his batman to fetch it.
Fay and Brenda escorted Daisy and Melanie back to the exit under the Bloody Tower.
“Mrs. Fletcher,” said Brenda, “we’d like to introduce you to our aunt. Will you come and have lunch or tea or dinner or something one day when you’re here?”
“If she invites me, I’d be happy to.”
“And you, of course, Mrs. Germond,” Fay put in quickly. “You could come specially. I know Aunt Christina will want to meet both of you.”