Heirs of the Body: A Daisy Dalrymple Mystery (Daisy Dalrymple Mysteries)

by Dunn, Carola

  “Ben has two older sisters and a younger brother.”

  “Luke Dalrymple was killed in the war, I assume.”

  “The Palestine Campaign. Your brother, too, I heard?”

  “In Flanders.” Ten years later, Gervaise seemed to belong to another world. “Hence the search for an heir. A legitimate heir,” Daisy added.

  Crowley grinned. “Don’t worry, Susanna and Luke were properly married, I assure you. In church. I was Luke’s best man. Susanna was a mulatto, a beauty. Her father was a Frenchman. We’ve got all sorts at home. I won’t say mixed marriages are common, but matches between white men and black women aren’t as uncommon as you may think.”

  “You married Susanna, after Luke died?”

  “A couple of years later. She was going to have my baby. They both died.” After a sombre pause, he went on, “I don’t know why I’m boring you with all this.”

  “You’re not boring me, I’m interested. I’m so sorry about Susanna and your child. How on earth have you managed with the children?”

  “My brother’s wife’s sister, Carlotta, has been helping, taking care of them after school and so on, and I’ve paid her what I can. But now … Look here, if I tell you something, you won’t pass it on? It’s personal, nothing that will change Ben’s prospects.”

  Why people insisted on confiding in Daisy she had no idea. Alec blamed her deceptively guileless blue eyes, which she considered very unfair. More likely it was because her insatiable curiosity, her besetting sin, made her interested in whatever people told her, and in turn her interest made them want to confide. Was that circular reasoning, such as Alec had been known to reproach her for? She was still never quite certain.

  “Tell me,” she invited. “I won’t gossip.”

  “I want to marry Carlotta. I’m fond of Susanna’s brood, and we’ve done our best for them, but we want to settle down and have a family of our own. Carlotta won’t marry me if it means becoming mama to four kids from eleven to fifteen.”

  “It’s quite a lot to take on,” Daisy said doubtfully.

  “Carlotta thinks Anita, the eldest, is old enough to take responsibility for them all—with a hand from the family. But Anita won a scholarship to Bishop Anstey High School and she wants to get her School Certificate, even the Higher Cert. The rest are bright, too. I promised Luke … To cut a long story short, when I heard about the lawyer looking for a Dalrymple heir, I decided it was worth a gamble. I reckoned that if Ben turns out to be a lord, or an honourable or whatever, they’ll all be taken care of.”

  “I’m sure they would be, if…”

  “If.” Crowley nodded ruefully. “I didn’t count on so much competition. I don’t like the odds. What happens if the lawyer man can’t find the proof he needs?”

  “I can’t imagine.” Daisy looked up as Belinda came towards her, Ben trailing behind. “What is it, darling?”

  “Mummy, Uncle Edgar wants to go and look at the butterflies right now because Ben’s been telling him about the giant butterflies in Trinidad, so may I go and fetch the twins and then afterwards is it all right if Ben and I go to the Dower House to see Derek? Ben hasn’t met him yet. I wish Derek was staying here. Do you think Aunt Violet would let him? We—”

  “Slow down! You may do all that provided you get permission from Aunt Geraldine to leave the room and to invite Derek; and from Nurse Gilpin to take the twins; and from Grandmama Dalrymple as well as Aunt Violet to ask Derek to move up here. I take it you’ve already consulted Benjamin, not dragged him along in your wake?”

  “Oh yes, ma’am. If I may go with Miss Belinda, Uncle Frank?”

  Crowley gave his permission.

  “Bel, let me know when you’re going to the Dower House. I’ll go with you. I want to see your Aunt Violet. And I must say hello to Mother.” She hoped Belinda hadn’t noticed her priorities.

  From what little she’d seen of him, Benjamin’s manner and manners appeared to be excellent, perhaps due to the influence of the male equivalent of Bishop Whatsit’s High School. All the same, if he was Edgar’s heir, a black viscount would be a real turnup for the books!

  Crowley watched Bel and Ben cross the room to Geraldine, who was now engaged in laborious conversation with Mrs. Vincent Dalrymple. Daisy thought Crowley looked part speculative, part calculating, and part satisfied. She wasn’t sure how much of his story she believed. Was he a plausible rogue, or a man in a difficult position trying to do his best for his wards? Or a bit of both? Though his relationship with Benjamin seemed to be good, at best his motives were decidedly mixed.

  She couldn’t make up her mind whether she liked him or not, far less whether she’d trust him an inch further than she could see him.

  THIRTEEN

  The Vincent Dalrymples decided it behooved them to make their bows to the dowager viscountess and so proposed to join the walk to the Dower House. Daisy didn’t particularly want their company, but their presence might deflect attention from herself, always a good thing. What her mother’s reaction to Ben’s dark face might be she resolutely put out of her mind.

  “Should I come along?” Alec asked her, when she told him of the expedition. “I ought to make my bow to your mother, too.”

  “Do, darling. You know how it is. She has to complain about something, and given a choice of your negligence or too many people invading her tiny house, I’d prefer the latter. Especially as the house is quite big enough to absorb all of us. Besides, she does have some respect for you. Perhaps you can prevent her being rude to the Vincents and poor Ben.”

  “Don’t count on it, love.”

  “All right, then, you can protect me from the Vincents en route. I can’t go on calling them that. We’re going to have to come to an agreement on christian names all round. After all, we’re all family.”

  “Your family,” Alec reminded her.

  “Don’t rub it in!”

  “Martha’s not coming?”

  “It’s a bit far for her to walk, with the hill to climb, and she’s tired from the journey. She’s going to lie down till dinnertime.”

  “And Raymond?”

  “He’s already met Mother, remember, and got rather the worst of that encounter. I expect the longer he can put off seeing her again, the happier he’ll be. It’s different with Edgar, who completely routed him. He can’t very well avoid his host, and refusing the invitation would have looked like turning tail. Did you talk to him at all?”

  “Yes. Very full of himself, as you said, and disparaging about the viscountcy. I’d argue that his presence suggests he’s less indifferent than he wants to appear. He was disparaging about my supposed profession, too, when I told him I’m a civil servant. Too much red tape in this country. They won’t stand for it in South Africa.”

  “You’ve been known to complain about red tape.”

  Alec grinned. “True. And I have no desire to be a lord.”

  “You should be best chums. I like Vincent better than Raymond, but his wife is a bit hard to take.”

  However, Mrs. Vincent Dalrymple seemed to have worked out, or had pointed out to her, Daisy’s position in the family. Not that Daisy had a high opinion of her own importance, but she did dislike being condescended to. On the other hand, she was no keener on fulsome flattery. As they walked across the park, Laurette—she’d instantly agreed to first names—gushed about how wonderful it was, and the house as well, and how envious she was of Daisy for growing up there.

  “I mean to get to know every corner this week,” she said, with an arch laugh, “because, considering the tohu-bohu of his lordship’s affairs, I may not get another chance. I can’t imagine why the lawyer hasn’t sorted it out yet.”

  “Mr. Pearson is doing his best,” Daisy defended him. “It’s not his fault no one has yet provided the needed documents.”

  Warned by her tone, Laurette reversed course. “Ça se voit. Of course not. I’m afraid he’s having a difficult time. Vincent is still hoping his relatives in France may be able to find proof
that his grandfather was the eldest son. I don’t know what Vincent’s father was thinking of, to throw away the old man’s passport when he died.”

  “Luckily no family papers ever get thrown away at Fairacres. Otherwise we wouldn’t have known about Julian Dalrymple going to Jamaica, and none of you would be here.”

  “I suppose Mr. Pearson has checked that everyone is descended from Julian?” She nodded significantly at Benjamin, walking just ahead with Belinda. “I wouldn’t have thought—”

  “Ben has French blood, I understand,” said Daisy, “like your husband.”

  Irrelevant, perhaps, but it shut Laurette up on that subject. She chose instead to say how happy she would be to meet the dowager. “Because, though Lord and Lady Dalrymple are very worthy people, they were not, after all, brought up to the position, as your mama was. And you, of course, and Lady Violet.”

  “My sister is known as Lady John, Laurette. Like me, she has no title of her own. She married Lord John, who is the younger son of a marquis.”

  “How kind of you to explain. That’s exactly what I mean—you grew up knowing that sort of detail. I’m sure you and Lady John and the dear dowager will be able to give me and Vincent any number of hints when he … if he is acknowledged to be the heir.”

  The “dear dowager” was most unlikely to do anything of the sort, Daisy reflected. Nor could she imagine herself or Vi ever becoming mentors to Laurette and Vincent. One of the things she liked best about Edgar and Geraldine was that on the whole they set their own style—Edgar especially—and didn’t fuss about the county’s opinion, still less that of London society.

  Laurette chatted on. Daisy listened with half her attention, answering occasional questions automatically. Alec and Vincent had walked on ahead. She couldn’t hear what they were talking about, if they were talking. Alec would probably prefer silence, but she doubted Vincent was capable of keeping his mouth shut. She hoped Alec’s policemanly restraint was not under too great a strain.

  Bel and Ben were closer to her. Bel was telling Ben about all the fun to be had at Fairacres. She pointed down the hill at a stretch of mixed woodland a few hundred yards away, on the far side of the drive.

  “That’s a ripping place for hide-and-seek and building forts. The stream goes through the middle, too, the one I told you about that flows into the river, where we can go boating. Uncle Edgar lets the woods grow wild, mostly, instead of having the undergrowth and fallen trees cleared. He says it’s better for butterflies. Did you know butterflies like stinging nettles? Some caterpillars won’t eat anything else.”

  “What are stinging nettles?” Ben asked with trepidation. “Are they snakes?”

  “No, plants. Don’t worry, if you touch them it smarts like blazes but only for a little while, ’specially if you rub it with dock leaves. We’ll show you.”

  “Are there snakes in the woods? Poison snakes?”

  “Not really poisonous. Adders won’t kill you and I’ve never seen one anyway. Are there poisonous snakes in Trinidad? Deadly ones?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Gosh!”

  Laurette had also listened to them, apparently, with both disapproval and amazement. “You let your daughter go off to play in the woods with her cousin?”

  “They’re both sensible children and they stay on the estate. I suspect this is the last year Derek will care for hide-and-seek, though. He’s just passed his Common Entrance. Once he gets to Harrow, he won’t want to play with girls any longer. I remember how my brother changed at that age.”

  They came to the top of a rise. Away off to the north, Worcester was visible, the square tower of the cathedral dominating the city. Down to their left, in the corner where the drive met the lane, an outcrop of booths and marquees studded the meadow set aside for the fête. Shouts and hammering indicated that preparations were still in full swing, tomorrow being the sabbath, when any remaining work would have to be hushed.

  “Look!” cried Belinda. “I can’t wait for Monday.” She explained to Ben the delights of a village fête.

  “It sounds a bit like our Carnival,” he said doubtfully. Judging by his description of Carnival, as overheard by Daisy, the fête was a far more staid affair.

  To the right, towards the village, the Dower House lay near the foot of the gentle downward slope, a red-brick Georgian house surrounded by its own gardens and orchard. Though small in comparison with Fairacres, the house easily accommodated Violet and John and their children, together with their nanny and Vi’s personal maid, in addition to the dowager and her servants. Daisy’s mother complained bitterly of overcrowding, but she would have complained equally bitterly of being neglected had her elder and favourite daughter and family accepted Geraldine’s invitation to stay at Fairacres.

  Daisy hoped she wouldn’t be too set against Derek moving up to the big house. After all, she was always complaining about noisy boys, and Derek was the noisy one, his younger brother being of a quiet and contemplative nature.

  “I’ll race you,” said Belinda, and she and Ben dashed off down the hill.

  Laurette tut-tutted, but sotto voce.

  The visit went better than Daisy had feared. Both the dowager viscountess and Lord and Lady John Frobisher were accustomed to deference and found no fault in the Vincent Dalrymples’ manners. Belinda and Benjamin were on their best behaviour, and Bel’s request for Derek to join them at Fairacres was met with “If he’d like to, we’ll see.”

  Lady Dalrymple appeared to be blind to Ben’s colour. As she later confided to Daisy, “Obviously Edgar’s lawyer has made some stupid error over the boy; no doubt he’ll soon sort it out. I’m not at all prejudiced against black people, the civilised sort. You will recall that I was of some assistance to the Indian person at Brockdene, when we mistakenly spent Christmas there. But naturally it’s quite impossible that a black could be a member of our family.”

  Daisy didn’t argue. In the first place, arguing with her mother was entirely pointless. In the second place, she had her own doubts of Crowley’s veracity.

  Her brother-in-law also drew her aside. “To tell the truth, Daisy, I’ll be very happy if Derek wants to go up to the house. Violet isn’t well. The journey exhausted her.”

  “I thought she was looking a bit pale and wan. She hasn’t really been well since the baby was born, has she?”

  “I’m afraid not,” John said wryly. “The doctor says no more children. I’ll be glad to see Derek off her hands this week, especially as I’m going to have to go home for a couple of days. The hop harvest is just getting going and it’s the one thing my bailiff isn’t comfortable handling on his own, with all the pickers coming down from the East End.”

  “You’ll be back for Edgar’s birthday?”

  “Of course. But if you could keep an eye on Violet while I’m away, and make sure she doesn’t overexert herself.… You know how she likes to spend time with the children.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on her, and Derek can bring his things over tomorrow after church.” Daisy went to talk to her sister.

  “Has John been telling you I’m at death’s door?” Violet asked resignedly, in a soft voice. “Don’t go spreading it about, will you, Daisy?”

  “Of course not, darling. Is it true?”

  “Just a bit done up from the journey. You know how I hate to travel, and John gets in a fuss. I just need a couple of days of peace and quiet and I’ll be perfectly all right for Edgar’s birthday ‘spree,’ as Derek insists on calling it.”

  “You’ll have much more peace and quiet if Derek comes to the house.”

  “Y-yes. I suppose, if you and Alec think the … that boy is an acceptable friend for Belinda.…” She glanced at the three children, who had their heads together as if they’d known each other for years. “Much as I love him, he’s at that awkward age—active and noisy, but too old to be sent to the nursery. All right,” she conceded with a sigh. “And I won’t even ask you to try to keep him out of mischief. It’s impossible.”

>   Daisy briefly wondered whether she had bitten off more than she could chew. She took comfort in the thought that Edgar and Geraldine were both accustomed to dealing with large numbers of children at that “awkward” age. Derek, Bel, and Ben must be encouraged to work off their excess energy in insect-hunting expeditions.

  As usual, as the party from Fairacres was leaving, Lady Dalrymple had the last word. “You didn’t bring the twins, Daisy. Belinda is a nice enough child, but after all, she’s only a stepgranddaughter.…”

  “Mother, it’s past their bedtime! You’ll see them tomorrow. I nearly forgot, Geraldine’s invited everyone to lunch.”

  “Nearly forgot to pass on an invitation? Well, I must say, modern manners are quite extraordinary! I suppose we shall have to go, though I don’t know how the woman has the nerve to ask me to be a guest in what should be my own home!”

  Daisy dutifully kissed her cheek, rounded up the flock, and left the Dower House with all possible speed.

  On the way home, they met Frank Crowley coming along the footpath from the village, which joined their path. “I’ve always wanted to see an English country pub,” he explained. “That young chap Ernest—the vice-butler?”

  “Footman,” Alec told him.

  “I asked his advice and he told me how to get to the Wedge and Beetle in Morton Green. Nice place. Good beer.”

  “I’ll come with you one evening,” said Alec. “I stayed there a few years ago and found it friendlier to strangers than some I could name.” He hesitated. “Perhaps you’d like to go too … er … Vincent?”

  “Certainly, certainly,” Vincent agreed insincerely.

  Catching Alec’s eye, Daisy was fairly certain the invitation would not have been extended if he had thought for a moment that a country pub held any attraction for Vincent.

  When they reached the house, it was time to change for dinner. Ernest met them in the hall with instructions from Geraldine that black ties would not be worn. Daisy was not surprised. Edgar loathed evening dress as much as Alec did, and the chance of Mr. Crowley owning a dinner jacket seemed slim.