Chapter Twenty
TWENTY
Having seen Mrs. Gilpin off, Daisy reluctantly returned to the telephone to ring Lucy back.
She liked Angela and was sorry for her. Lucy had been her best friend since early schooldays.
But she did not feel it was up to her to mediate between them.
They were cousins, after all, though there was no love lost between them.
She couldn’t help wondering what on earth Angela wanted of Lucy.
Picking up the receiver, she gave the operator Lucy’s number.
“Lord Gerald Bincombe’s residence,” said the butler’s resonant voice.
“Galloway? This is Mrs. Fletcher. Lady Gerald is expecting my call.”
“Indeed, madam. I fear her ladyship is presently unable to come to the instrument.”
“Not another attack of you-know-what, Galloway? I thought she was over that.”
“So I believe, madam. I understand her ladyship is—ah—indulging in a mud mask.”
Daisy went off into peals of laughter. “Not really? I thought those were for ancient dowagers.”
“I believe not, madam. The idea, I understand, is to preserve the youthful suppleness of the complexion so as not to suffer the ravages of age. Or so her ladyship’s maid informs me. But I must not keep you, madam. Do you wish to leave a message?”
“No, thanks.” Once she had seen Cousin Geraldine and her brood on their way, she’d have time to consider at leisure whether she wanted to embroil herself in what promised to be a decidedly fraught tea party.
The luncheon party, at least, went well.
Lady Dalrymple and her two adopted daughters had enjoyed their stay in London as thoroughly as had her two sons.
Amidst the chatter, Daisy was surprised that neither Ben nor Charlie mentioned the subject that absorbed her thoughts.
They had plenty to talk about without the adventure at the Crystal Palace.
She could only be glad that the proximity to murder so easily slipped from their minds.
It took a reminder of the time relayed by Elsie from Truscott to move the departing family. At last everything and everyone was packed into the Wolseley. Daisy and Belinda stood on the front steps waving until the car turned into Well Walk and disappeared from sight.
“The house will seem awfully quiet and empty,” said Belinda, sighing.
“What are you going to do this afternoon? Get together with some of your local friends? Deva’s probably well enough by now, and you haven’t seen Lizzie in ages.”
“No, I’ll see them at school all term. I want to play with the twins and go for a walk with them and Nana. Then I’ll read. I’ve got two set books I haven’t even opened yet.”
“All right, darling. I may have to go to tea with Aunt Lucy, but I’ll be home till then.”
“Mayn’t I go with you?” Bel asked eagerly. “I wouldn’t get in the way, promise, and Aunt Lucy has the best cakes—Oh! Don’t tell Mrs. Dobson I said so. And after tea I could go down and look at the stuff in the dark room. I wouldn’t touch.”
Daisy was tempted. Belinda would be an added buffer between Lucy and Angela, and she was reaching the age when such visits would be acceptable. But the very fact that her first thought was the cakes showed that she hadn’t quite reached that age.
Besides, she really shouldn’t risk Bel being caught in the crossfire. “Not this time, I think, darling. Aunt Lucy wants to discuss something that’s on her mind. I’ll tell her you’d like to see her one of these days.”
“Oh well, at least I can get started on those books.”
Daisy rang Lucy again only to be told she was taking a nap, as recommended by her doctor. She left a reluctant message that she would be there at four o’clock.
She had a busy afternoon catching up with letters and household matters that she’d put off while the boys were staying, even though Belinda had taken most of the entertaining off her hands.
Forgetting to watch the time, she found it was too late to change into a tea frock.
The grey-blue costume she was wearing would do for Lucy and Angela, she decided, dashing upstairs to fetch a coat and her handbag and powder her nose.
She popped into the nursery to give the twins a kiss each and stuck her head into Belinda’s room, finding her lost in Jane Eyre.
“I’m off, darling. I expect I’ll be home by six, but if by any chance I’m delayed and Daddy isn’t home, go ahead and have your supper. You can have a tray or eat with Bertha or in the kitchen, as you prefer.”
“All right, Mummy. Jane’s aunt was perfectly beastly to her. It makes me realise Granny wasn’t so bad after all. Have a nice time and give my love to Aunt Lucy.”
Pulling on her gloves, Daisy descended the stairs. She had just reached the hall when the doorbell rang.
“Oh botheration, who can that be? Just see who it is, Elsie,” she added as the parlourmaid appeared, setting her cap straight. “I’ve got to get away.”
Daisy hung back as Elsie opened the door. She saw the figures on the doorstep as silhouettes but she’d recognise the voice that asked for her anywhere.
“Phillip! What … Oh, hello Fenella. How nice to see you, how nice of you to call, but I’m afraid I’m just on my way out and already running late.”
Phillip shot her a desperate look. “Daisy, I—we have to talk to you.”
Fenella seemed ready to burst into tears. But Lucy—Daisy reminded herself—had sounded as desperate as they appeared.
“Honestly, darling, I can’t stop. Can you come back this evening?”
“Will Fletcher be home?”
“Possibly. Probably.”
“Please, Daisy,” cried the woebegone young matron. “I simply must talk to you now or I’ll burst!”
“Then you’ll have to come with me and tell me in the car.”
“I’ll drive you,” offered Phillip, turning towards his new Rolls-Royce sports tourer.
“Phil, it’s a two-seater. That’s mine.” She pointed at her sky-blue Gwynne Eight. “Elsie brought it round—”
“Elsie? Your maid?” The car fanatic was interested.
“Yes, she wanted to learn so I taught her.”
“Did she—”
“Phi-i-illip!” wailed his sister, climbing into the front passenger seat of the Gwynne.
Daisy went to the driver’s side, opened the door, pulled the seat forward, and stood back to let Phillip squeeze into the back seat.
He started to protest. Both the women glared at him and he shut up.
With considerable wriggling he crammed his long legs into the narrow space.
Even slewed sideways, his knees were under his chin.
“You call this a four-seater?” he snorted.
“For a young family,” Daisy defended her beloved car.
“An infantile family! Don’t tell me Fletcher squashes himself in here.”
“He drives it sometimes.”
“With his knees?”
They bickered amiably as Daisy drove round the Circle and down Hampstead Hill.
Fenella kept trying to get a word in, and Daisy gathered she wanted to talk about her husband.
Why she imagined Daisy had any interest in let alone influence upon Elliot Kerston, Daisy could not fathom.
She was happy to encourage Phillip’s chatter.
It wasn’t until she stopped in front of Lucy’s house that the name of Fay Fanshawe emerged from the babble. Her interest in Fenella’s marital difficulties suddenly doubled—or rather, suddenly came into being, as it had been virtually zero before.
“I’m sorry, Fenella, Lady Gerald is expecting me.” She got out and leaned in to suggest, “I do wish you’d have Phil bring you round this evening. Even if Alec’s home, he doesn’t have to sit in. If that’s no good, come for coffee tomorrow morning.”
“But Daisy—”
“Phil, you’d better take my car back to pick up yours, if you think you can steer with your knees. I’ll take a cab home, or the underground.”
“We’ll take a cab,” said Phillip, extricating himself with difficulty. “And I’ll bring her round this evening. You can skip the party, Fen. Come along.”
“But Phil—”
Daisy ascended the steps, leaving them to wrangle it out.
Or so she intended. As Galloway opened the door, she heard footsteps behind her.
“Daisy!”
“Mrs. Fletcher.” The butler bowed, and looked past her. “Mrs.—er—Kerston, I believe.”
“Yes,” said Fenella breathlessly. “I came with Mrs. Fletcher.”
“So I see, madam.”
“Fenella, for pity’s sake—” her brother entreated.
“And Mr. Petrie.” Galloway, omniscient, was manifestly enjoying himself. “Please come in.”
Phillip uttered a last heartfelt plea: “Fenella!”
His sister ignored him and followed Daisy into the hall, with Phillip, scarlet-faced at this blatant disregard of etiquette, close at her heels. Daisy unfortunately caught Galloway’s eye and had to suppress a fit of somewhat hysterical giggles.
With stately tread, the butler showed them up to the drawing room. On the way he murmured discreetly to Daisy, “Her ladyship and Miss Devenish are in her ladyship’s sitting room. I shall inform her of your arrival.”
Obviously, as Daisy had expected, Lucy had intended a private meeting with Daisy and Angela, not a drawing-room tea to which any callers were welcome. On the other hand, if she’d been alone with Angela and Mr. Fisher for a while, she might be ready, even desperate, for an interruption.
As soon as Galloway closed the drawing-room door behind him, Fenella dropped into a chair and burst into tears. Phillip stood over her and scolded, which only made her cry harder.
“Phil, there’s a tantalus over there. Go and get yourself a drink. I’ll make it all right with Lucy. And stay there, or go and look out of the window or something. Anything! But stay away from your sister till she’s calmed down.”
“All right,” Phillip said meekly, and fled.
Daisy thrust a handkerchief into Fenella’s hand. “All right, that’s quite enough, Fenella. You’ll make yourself ill. You’ve only got a minute to tell me what’s wrong before Lucy and her other guest come in. For pity’s sake, pull yourself together and keep it short.”
Fenella sniffed, dabbed at her eyes, and blurted out, “It’s Elliot.”
“So I gathered.” Daisy struggled to sound patient. “What’s he done? And what makes you think I can help you?”