Chapter 9 #2
Ilkton pulled up by the clock-topped tram shelter in front of the Crown Hotel.
Approaching down the hill was a double-decker tram.
As Myra had said, it looked decidedly precarious as it came clanking and grinding down the steep slope.
Daisy decided walking down would definitely be the better part of valour.
Myra and her aunts made arrangements for meeting later on, then the two older women went about their business. Simon moved across to the rear seat, beside Daisy.
“I wonder where Neil is?” Myra said.
“You didn’t arrange a place to meet?” Simon scoffed. “How’s he going to find us?”
“It’s not a very big town,” Ilkton said soothingly. “He’ll find us. Unless he’s decided to go off about his own affairs. He doesn’t strike me as a particularly reliable type.”
“He wouldn’t! He promised to take me home on the motor-bike.”
“He knows we’re going to the Hydro,” Daisy pointed out. “He’s probably waiting for us there.”
“If he didn’t slide off the road and bash up his machine.” Ilkton started the Packard up the hill. The engine’s purr became a rumble as it carried them smoothly up the incline. They turned left into Smedley Road, whose whole purpose appeared to be to give access to the hotel and spa.
Close to, the Hydro was even more impressive, a long, five-story stone building topped by a balustrade on one side of the central tower and crenellations on the other. The car stopped at the main entrance. A uniformed attendant came smartly up to it.
“I’m visiting a resident.” Ilkton got out. “My friends would like to walk on the promenade terrace.”
As the attendant opened the door for Myra, she said, “We’re expecting to meet a gentleman with a motor-bike. Has he arrived?”
“I believe so, miss. A person … A gentleman rode up on a green machine a short time ago. I advised him to leave his … er … outer garments in the cloakroom and await his friends in the lobby.”
Myra giggled. “Outer garments! I suppose you mean his helmet and leggings. You see, Walter, I knew Neil wouldn’t let me down.”
By this time, Simon had handed Daisy down.
They went into the reception area, which boasted arches, an elegant staircase up to a surrounding gallery, and a palm tree on a pedestal in the middle.
Myra spotted Neil at once. He was sitting on the bench that surrounded the palm tree, chatting in the friendliest manner with a middle-aged woman and her pretty daughter, presumably strangers. Myra went straight over to him.
Frowning, Ilkton said to Simon and Daisy, “I can’t very well get away in less than an hour, probably longer. You’d better not wait for me.”
“We never intended to,” Simon pointed out. “We’re going to walk down.”
“Mrs. Fletcher, you won’t let Myra ride down that hill on the motor-bike, will you?”
“I shouldn’t think she’ll want to, considering what she said about the tram, but if there’s any such suggestion I’ll do my best to scotch it.”
“Myra will do exactly as she pleases, as usual,” her cousin said.
Seeing Ilkton’s frown deepen, Daisy said lightly, “Are you slighting my powers of persuasion, Simon?”
“Not at all, but to paraphrase that American hit song, if you knew Myra like I know Myra…”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Ilkton, we’ll cope with her. I hope you’ll find your cousin in good form. We’ll see you down in the square.”
“All right. I’ll meet you at half past noon, as arranged with Mrs. Birtwhistle.”
Daisy smiled at him and he went off looking unhappy.
She thought he ought to look happier, considering Myra had found his rival on excellent terms with another young lady.
But when she and Simon joined them, they found that Myra, far from being jealous, had already invited Miss Usher to walk with them on the promenade.
Mrs. Usher, her mother, had an appointment for a Diathermy Bath, which sounded to Daisy like some form of mediaeval torture.
They went out to the terrace. The air felt decidedly chilly after the warmth of the building. The row of chairs was untenanted as yet.
With an expansive, proprietorial gesture towards the scenery before them, Myra said, “Look! Isn’t it ripping? Some people call it Little Switzerland.”
Daisy duly admired the view. The small town spread down to the bridge and beyond rose hills and cliffs on either side of the winding river, not quite of Alpine magnificence—or Rocky Mountain, come to that—but with its own rugged appeal.
Myra and Simon pointed out High Tor and the Heights of Abraham, and farther south, the Black Rocks, though they disagreed about the names of some of the less noteworthy features of the landscape.
“What’s that extraordinary castle?” Daisy asked.
“It’s not a real castle,” Simon said dismissively.
“Yes it is,” Myra defended the multi-towered monstrosity dominating one of the hills.
“No it’s not. Real castles are mediaeval, built for defensive purposes. Riber Castle’s Victorian and was never intended as anything other than a grandiose house. It was built by Smedley, the founder of the Hydro, Mrs. Fletcher.”
“It looks like a castle to me,” said Carey, smiling at Myra, “and it’s called ‘Castle,’ so you’re both right. Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Usher?”
“Oh yes!”
It was virtually the only thing Daisy had heard her say so far. She was a pretty girl, but pale and washed-out in comparison with Myra’s vibrancy.
Carey and the two girls stepped aside as a bundled-up patient was pushed along the terrace in an invalid carriage.
“Carey’s trying to make her jealous,” Simon muttered to Daisy. “Waste of time.”
“Why? You don’t think she’s interested in him?”
“No idea, but whatever her faults, Myra’s not the jealous sort. She has a superabundance of choice, after all. We’ve had this situation before, what with lovelorn swains ‘dropping in’ and staying for days. Not that I believe Carey’s lovelorn.”
“No?” Daisy and Simon followed the others down the steps to the promenade gardens.
“Money’s all he’s interested in, if you ask me. If he knew hers is all tied up safely so no one can touch the capital…”
“You don’t rate your cousin’s charms very highly.”
“She’s all right, and I’m not saying there aren’t plenty who do fall for her. I dare say Neil Carey’s one of ’em, but he wouldn’t stick around if he knew.”
Daisy had already come to the same conclusion. “Wouldn’t it be kind to drop a hint?” she asked.
“Why should I be kind to Carey?”
“I was thinking of Myra.”
Simon cracked a laugh. “You needn’t suppose she’s living in cloud-cuckoo land. She’s quite shrewd, you know, underneath the fluff. I’d bet all the tea in China she’s taken his measure quite accurately.”
They reached the bottom of the steps, where the couple under discussion, plus Miss Usher, were waiting for them.
Daisy saw that the chair-bound patient was halfway down a ramp a little farther along.
The Hydro certainly had every amenity and no doubt charged accordingly.
Carey could hardly have failed to draw the conclusion that the Ushers were well-off.
His attentions to Miss Usher probably had more than one purpose.
Ilkton’s aged relative must also be well-to-do, even more so than the Ushers if he could afford to live at the Hydro. On the other hand, by the time he went to his reward he might have spent most of his wealth on hotel bills, which would be hard luck for Ilkton.
Daisy was inclined to credit Ilkton’s claim that he was not short of funds.
However, no one ever complained of having too much money.
It was quite possible that he visited the old man in hopes of inheriting whatever was left when he died, yet was entirely without mercenary motives where Myra was concerned.
He loved her, Daisy was certain. Whether his love would last if they married …
Luckily it wasn’t her problem. Nor did Myra seem likely to make up her mind anytime soon.
“Miss Usher, you must be freezing,” Myra exclaimed. “You should have fetched an outdoor coat.”
“I didn’t want to keep you waiting. Perhaps we could walk in the Winter Garden?” she proposed shyly.
“Yes, do let’s. It’s that building at the end, Mrs. Fletcher, the glass one with a dome, not the church.”
“The church is part of the Hydro, too,” Simon said. “Old Smedley was a Primitive Methodist. They still don’t allow alcohol on the premises.”
“Perhaps that’s why Ilkton’s great-uncle, or whatever relation he is, is still going strong in his nineties,” said Daisy.
Carey laughed. “I’d rather die young.”
“The motor-bike rather gives one that impression,” Simon drawled.
“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t like one, Si,” said Myra.
“Are they very dangerous?” Miss Usher asked anxiously.
As they strolled on, chattering, Daisy felt more and more chaperonish. She was glad when, after walking the length of the Winter Garden and back, Myra declared herself utterly bored with palm trees. “Get a coat, Miss Usher,” she urged, “and come down to the market with us.”
“Oh, I couldn’t, not without asking Mother, and I can’t talk to her while she’s having her treatment.”
“What a shame! Neil, why don’t you stay for a bit and keep Miss Usher company? On your motor-bike, you’ll be there as soon as we are.”
Carey obligingly agreed, claiming to be delighted though looking nonplussed. A few minutes later, Myra, Simon, and Daisy set off down the hill.
“You see?” Simon said to Daisy.
“I do,” said Daisy, laughing.
“See what?” Myra demanded.
“Just that you don’t particularly care for Carey,” said her cousin.
“I’m very fond of Neil!”
“You aren’t exactly heartbroken by his interest in Miss Usher.”
“I didn’t say I’m madly in love with him. Besides, he’s not really interested in Miss Usher. He’s being kind to her and trying to make me jealous.”
Simon and Daisy burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“I told Mrs. Fletcher you’re not the jealous sort.”
“I can’t see the point in it.” Myra frowned. “Perhaps it’s different if you are madly in love, but I never have been. I expect I’m not the falling-in-love sort, either.”
“Give yourself time,” Daisy advised. It looked as if Walter Ilkton was out of luck.