Chapter 2
TWO
A fresh crop of envelopes, the first post, was waiting beside Daisy’s place at breakfast next morning.
“Heavens, what a pile!” she exclaimed, sitting down.
“There’s some of yesterday afternoon’s post, too, madam,” said Elsie, the Fletchers’ parlourmaid, “that you didn’t open last night. You left it in the sitting room. I put it on your desk. Tea or coffee, madam? And how would you like your eggs?”
“Just tea and toast today, thank you.” Daisy was beginning to fear that bosoms and hips had gone out of fashion forever. She tried, she really did, but her curves just would not go away.
As Alec and Belinda decided what kind of eggs they wanted, she flipped through the post. Mostly tradesmen’s bills and circulars—she’d deal with those later.
As Alec disappeared behind his Daily Chronicle, she slit open an envelope addressed in her Indian friend Sakari’s beautiful and beautifully legible hand.
“Bel, Mrs. Prasad’s invited you to go to the zoo with Deva today. She’s invited Lizzie as well, and two other girls. Brenda and Erica, Do you know them?”
“Oh yes, Mummy, don’t you remember? They were at school with us before we went away to school. May I go? Please?”
“Anyone would think you’d never been to the zoo before,” said Alec.
“Darling, it’s as much about seeing her friends as seeing the animals. Yes, of course you may go, Bel. Eleven o’clock, she says. Do you want to bike down or would you like a lift?”
“I’ll bike. It’s fun going downhill, and I expect Mrs. Prasad will have Kesin put my bike in their car and drive me home.”
“All right, but if she doesn’t think to offer, make sure you set out in time to get home before dark. You’d better ring up right after breakfast to accept.”
Daisy had three postcards and a couple of letters from friends, which she read as she absentmindedly consumed several slices of buttered toast. When Alec left for the Yard, she and Belinda went up to the nursery to play with the twins.
At two and a bit, Oliver and Miranda were very active.
Their stepsister was very good about letting them climb all over her, even when the dog, Nana, joined in.
When they quieted down, Miranda liked looking at picture books and listening to stories, her dark head resting warmly on Daisy’s shoulder.
Oliver’s rusty-brown head was more often bent over his wooden blocks.
Belinda helped him build, fending off Nana and straightening his towers before they tumbled.
Belinda departed at ten. Daisy went to the kitchen for her daily consultation with the cook-housekeeper, Mrs. Dobson, then settled in her office to tackle the bills.
As always, when she set about this task, she was grateful to Alec’s estranged great-uncle for the legacy that made it unnecessary to juggle creditors.
Business dealt with, she finished reading Cousin Geraldine’s letter.
However, just looking at the envelope from her mother made her feel craven.
She put off opening it till the evening.
In Alec’s presence, she didn’t care a farthing for the Dowager Lady Dalrymple’s inevitable disapproval of her younger daughter’s every action.
Besides, she had to translate from shorthand to typescript the notes she had taken yesterday at Westminster Abbey, before she forgot what the squiggles meant.
When she had sorted them out, she got down to writing the article for her American editor.
She decided she had plenty of information to make two articles, one on famous people buried in the Abbey, from Oliver Cromwell and Henry Purcell to Charles Darwin and Alfred Lord Tennyson, and one on kings and queens.
Americans, having rid themselves of the monarchy, apparently found it fascinating.
After lunch, she went for a walk on Hampstead Heath with the twins, the dog, and the nurserymaid. On their return a message was waiting for Daisy. Mr. Pearson had rung up and would like her to ring back, at her convenience.
Had he, too, received Geraldine’s suggestion? Was he about to squash any notion Daisy had of attending the interviews with the claimants to her father’s title? Surely not. He wouldn’t have telephoned to tell her in person that she was unwanted; he’d have written a polite, discouraging note.
Elsie had carefully written down his telephone number. Daisy sat down on the chair by the hall table, took the receiver from the hook, and dialled.
“Pearson, Pearson, Pearson, and Brown,” said a crisp secretarial voice.
Daisy knew that the first Pearson had retired, but she wasn’t sure about the second. “Mr. Tommy—Thomas Pearson, please. This is Mrs. Fletcher, Mrs. Alec Fletcher. He rang me while I was out.”
“Oh yes, Mrs. Fletcher, would you mind holding the line a moment while I see if Mr. Pearson’s free?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. Daisy wondered what would have happened had she been given time to say yes, she’d mind, and Tommy could jolly well call her back. However, she wasn’t given much time for pique, either.
“Daisy? Tommy speaking. Thanks for ringing back so quickly.”
“Hello, darling. I—”
“Daisy, not ‘darling’ in business hours, please!”
“Sorry. Is ‘Tommy’ all right?”
“I suppose so, as I find myself addressing you as Daisy,” he said ruefully.
“No, let’s start again. I take it, Mr. Pearson, that you’ve heard from Cousin … from Lady Dalrymple?”
“Several times. And her latest suggestion is actually quite sensible. We can’t discuss it over the phone, though. Do you mind coming in to Lincoln’s Inn, or would you rather dine with us and talk afterwards? The invitation has Madge’s blessing, of course, and includes Alec.”
“Which suits you better?”
“You coming to chambers.” Tommy, a daring, much-decorated soldier in the war, had become rather staid and proper since joining the family firm, but Daisy heard the grin in his voice.
“That way our meeting can be billed to the estate with a good conscience. Difficult to explain away a dinner party on the account.…”
“Besides, much as I love Madge and Alec, it will be easier without them putting in their two pennyworth.”
He laughed. “True, though I hope you’ll consult Alec before coming to a decision.”
“Assuming this is about what I assume it’s about, he’s already granted his approval.”
The cautious lawyer came to the fore. “Oh? I wouldn’t have expected … But that’s not my affair. Let’s set a date and time, and Madge will get in touch about a business-free date for dinner.”
Daisy checked her diary and suggested the following afternoon. Tommy was going to be in court all day.
“There’s no hurry,” he assured her. “This is going to drag on for months.”
“Jarndyce and Jarndyce?” she asked forebodingly.
“No, no. There’s no question about the will, or rather the letters patent.”
“Letters…? No, don’t tell me!”
“It’s just a matter of carrying on until we’re as certain as possible that we’ve heard from all claimants and discovered the proper heir.”
“More like the Tichbourne claimant, then. That dragged on for years, didn’t it?”
“We’ll just have to hope it won’t come to that.”
They made an appointment for the following week.
Daisy returned to her office. Having decided to give famous people precedence over monarchs, she now had to write about Mrs. Aphra Behn, who died in 1689 and whose monument, according to Daisy’s notes, read Here lies a Proof that Wit can never be Defence enough against Mortality.
She didn’t remember learning about Aphra Behn at school.
She turned to Nelson’s Encyclopaedia, Volume 3, B-Ble.
A spy for Charles II and a successful professional playwright, making her living by her writing in the seventeenth century!
Daisy wanted to know more, but the encyclopaedia entry was quite short.
Reminding herself that all she needed was a snippet for a travel article, she moved on to Sir Isaac Newton.
His monument was much grander, with a much longer inscription, which unfortunately was in Latin.
Her school had considered the study of Latin to be too much of a strain for the brains of young ladies.
Science, also, and higher mathematics, so she didn’t understand Newton’s work any better than she understood his epitaph, but good old Nelson—the encyclopaedic one, not the sailor—came to the rescue.
Elsie brought in tea and biscuits. “Lemon jumbles, madam. Mrs. Dobson made ’em because Miss Belinda does like ’em so. Only she rang up just now, Miss Belinda did, and said not to disturb you, madam, but Mrs. Prasad’s invited her to stay the night and could you please ring back.”
Daisy rang and talked to Sakari, who was dying to know all about Lord Dalrymple’s search for his heir. She’d picked up hints from Belinda, of course.
“I’d better not talk about it, darling,” Daisy apologised. “One never knows when legal business might turn out to be confidential. Don’t let Bel be a nuisance or overstay her welcome.”
“Belinda is never a nuisance, Daisy. But the zoological gardens are utterly exhausting! I confess, after half an hour I retired to the tearoom with a book and let the girls escort themselves.”
“I don’t blame you,” Daisy said, laughing. “Though I’m looking forward to taking the twins when they’re a little older.”
* * *
That evening, for once, Alec escaped from the Yard on time. He had spent a boring day on paperwork and meetings, with no interesting new cases on the horizon. Looking forward to spending some time with his children, he was disappointed to find Belinda away from home for the night.
A visit to the nursery and a romp with the twins cheered him up a bit. Having changed out of his suit, he played horsie and they took turns riding on his back.
Mrs. Gilpin was scandalised. “Fathers ought to command awe,” she told him, not for the first time. “How can they respect you, sir, when you let them—”
“They’re only babies. Down you get, Manda. Your turn, Oliver.”