by Carola Dunn
“Good.” His keen analytical brain drifted again and he started stuffing tobacco into his pipe in a meditative way.
Daisy persevered. “Seeing all the beautiful jewelry at the Kit-Cat Club made me realise they’re going to waste. I took them to a jeweller’s Sakari recommended.”
“Mrs. Prasad has excellent taste. In an exotic Indian fashion…”
“The jewelry people aren’t Indian, they’re Russians.”
“Whatever their nationality, I hope you’ll find them satis—Daisy! Russians? You’re poking your nose in again.”
“I didn’t know they were going to turn out to be the ones Lucy mentioned. Have you been looking for them?”
“Of course. We asked all divisions for information about Russian families that include young women of marriageable age. We keep pretty close tabs on the émigrés because of the anarchist threat and the monarchist-communist conflict, but not in that sort of detail. I’m sure reports have come in. Ernie hasn’t had time to collate them yet.”
“Not the highest priority, then,” said Daisy, relieved that her forgetting to mention the jewelry connection had not held them back.
“No. Should it have been? You look like the cat that ate the cream. What have you found out?”
“As it happens, quite by chance—”
“Of course. You wouldn’t walk in and deliberately start asking nosy questions,” Alec said ironically.
“Well, I didn’t. Miss Zvereva—”
“Their surname is Zvereva? Spell it.”
“No, it’s Zverev—Z-V-E-R-E-V. It looks like three-B-E-P-E-B in the Russian alphabet. The feminine version is Zvereva.”
Alec groaned. “Isn’t life complicated enough? All right, go on.”
“She was showing me different styles of jewelry, and she said the new designs would suit me much better than the Victorian. And Sakari said wasn’t that what Teddy Devenish had advised. I didn’t introduce the subject.”
“I’m glad you had the sense not to go alone but I deplore your inveigling Mrs. Prasad into joining your snooping.”
“Inveigle nothing! I didn’t prompt her to say it, it was entirely off her own bat.”
“And I suppose you didn’t ask her to go with you fully intending to—”
“Sakari has been there before. In fact it was she who told me about them. Darling, do you or don’t you want to know what we found out?”
“Sorry. Go ahead.”
Daisy recounted everything Zinaïda had said about Teddy, studiously avoiding her own speculations. “That’s everything of interest, I think. Sakari and I went to have a cup of coffee while she sketched Aunt Gertrude’s jewels. When we got back they were having a row, all three of them. In Russian. If it had been French, I might have caught a few words. As it was, not a hope. I haven’t the foggiest what they were rowing about.”
“You mean you actually didn’t come right out and ask?”
“I hope I’m not quite so ill mannered. I did say I hope the men weren’t upset by anything we’d said, but Zinaïda was very short, civil but a bit snappish, if you know what I mean.”
“Pity. I can only be glad you didn’t press her, though. That’s our job. Not that your whole encounter isn’t properly our job!”
“But…” Daisy said encouragingly.
“But?”
“But what’s done is done and…”
Alec sighed. “What’s done is done, and you have probably saved us considerable time and trouble. And for pity’s sake keep out of it from now on! Come here, you sleuth-hound, you.” Setting aside his pipe, he pulled her onto his knees.
As a deterrent to sleuthing, Daisy thought as she returned his kiss with enthusiasm, it was a tactic doomed to failure.
* * *
The following day, Ben and Charlie were going home to Fairacres. Cousin Geraldine and their sisters were to pick them up, staying to lunch before driving on to Worcestershire.
When Daisy went down to breakfast, the boys were already on their way out of the door for a last walk on the Heath with Bel and Nana.
“There’s packing to be done,” Daisy warned.
“We won’t be long, Aunt Daisy,” said Ben. “We can’t waste such a ripping day.”
“The baby ducks may have hatched,” Charlie reminded her. “We want to see them before we go home.”
Daisy forbore to point out that there would be plenty of ducklings on the Severn at Fairacres. It would be his first spring there. Let him have a delightful surprise.
They dashed off. Alec had already left. She turned to the post and found a letter from Mrs. Gilpin’s sister Myrtle. She would be ever so pleased, she said, to have dear Ivy come and stay for her convalescence. She would get a room ready right away.
Ivy? Daisy had quite forgotten Nanny’s christian name. Somehow it made her more sympathetic, less adversarial.
The parlourmaid came in with fresh toast and tea.
“Thank you, Elsie. Would you fetch me the Bradshaw from my desk, please. And I’d better have my notebook and a pencil. Mrs. Gilpin is going to stay with her sister to recuperate.”
“Oh, that’s good, madam. Bertha told me Nurse is very keen to go if convenient. It’s a healthy part of the country, by what I’ve heard. I’ll get the book.”
She should have known her proposal couldn’t be kept secret from her household.
Armed with tea, toast, and timetables, Daisy quickly worked out the best way for a semi-invalid to travel, with the fewest changes and the shortest waits. After a second cup of tea and a glance through the rest of her post, she went to the office, took five pound notes from a locked drawer in Alec’s desk, and put them in an envelope with the proposed train schedule torn from her notebook.
This she slipped into her pocket. She had no intention of presenting it baldly to poor Mrs. Gilpin with a suggestion amounting to an order that she depart on the next train.
She went upstairs and knocked on the sick-room door. The weak voice that responded was nothing like the nanny’s usually inflexible tone. Going in, Daisy found her sitting in an easy chair by the window, in a pink flannel dressing gown, her face pallid. She started to rise.
“Please don’t get up, Nurse.” Daisy perched on the bed. “How are you this morning?”
“Very well in body, madam, but not easy in my mind.” Her hands clenched on a sheet of notepaper.
“Naturally you’re worried about your lost memories. Have you recovered nothing at all?”
“Not a thing, madam, between telling Bertha she was in charge of the twins for a few minutes and waking up with a terrible headache. The twins— They’re doing all right?”
Daisy realised she didn’t really want to hear that Oliver and Miranda were perfectly happy without her. “Bertha takes good care of them,” she said. “You’ve taught her well.” Hastily she moved on: “I’ve heard from your sister.”
“So have I, madam.” She held up the letter she had crushed in her fist, then carefully smoothed it on her knee. Head bent over it, she said in a low voice, “She thinks a rest in the country will be good for me, like you and the doctor.”
“You don’t want to go?” Daisy asked uneasily.
After a heavy silence, Mrs. Gilpin conceded, “I might as well, I suppose.”
“I’m sure you’ll feel better for a little peace and quiet and good country air. I’ve written out a train schedule for you, not the fastest but one that I hope you will find restful.” She handed over the envelope. “Of course, I don’t mean to bundle you off today if you don’t feel up to it. When you’re ready, I’ll drive you to Paddington or ring for a taxi. There’s cash in with the timetable to pay for a porter, and a taxi when you arrive, and for refreshments en route.”
“I’m sure it’s very good of you, madam.” She looked at the schedule. “I’ve got just time to get dressed and packed, so I might as well be off right now. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind sending Myrtle a telegram to say I’m on my way?”
“Of course,” said Daisy, feeling guiltily that she
’d rather bundled the woman off despite her fine words. “Would you like Elsie to give you a hand?”
“Oh no, madam, I can take care of myself, and I know there’s the young gentlemen’s packing to be done.” She hesitated. “Is it all right if I say good-bye to the twins?”
“I’ll leave it up to you, Mrs. Gilpin. I expect you know better than I whether it’s likely to upset them.”
And that, Daisy thought sadly, more or less encapsulated their relationship. Though she was closer to Miranda and Oliver than her mother had been to her and Violet and Gervaise, their nanny was closer still, yet Daisy always had the final say. No wonder each resented the other.
Daisy sighed. Being a modern woman and a modern mother was in some ways not much more satisfactory than being the old-fashioned sort who left everything to Nurse and never thought twice about it.
She went to the bedroom telephone—the one that rang at inconvenient hours to send Alec haring to the outer reaches of the kingdom—and ordered a car from the local garage to take Mrs. Gilpin to the station.
Then, reminded of the boys’ packing, she went to their bedroom to see what needed to be done. Remembering the usual state of Gervaise’s room, she was not at all surprised to find their belongings scattered over every surface, including the floor. The children came back from the Heath as Daisy and Elsie started tidying up, sorting, and folding.
Ben was apologetic. “You don’t need to do that, Aunt Daisy. We’ll just put everything in the suitcases.”
Elsie was outraged. “If you think I’ll let one of her ladyship’s maids unpack a regular jumble thrown together anyhow, Master Ben, you’ve got another think coming.”
“Where’s my new pencil box?” Charlie demanded.
It turned out that somehow their belongings, plus the souvenirs of their visit acquired in the past week, had migrated all over the house from attic to basement. One shoe of Charlie’s two pairs was found in the scullery, and Ben’s Latin primer, which he was supposed to have been studying, had somehow made its way to the mantelpiece in the nursery. The pencil box, full of extremely sticky peppermint bull’s-eyes, was discovered on the terrace behind the house; a swarm of ants had discovered it first.
Once peppermints and ants had been disposed of and everything known to be missing assembled in the bedroom, it was obvious that the boys’ suitcases could not possibly hold all their acquisitions. A raid on the box room was indicated.
Belinda, Ben, and Charlie went off to look for an appropriate receptacle, while Daisy left Elsie to get on with folding clothes and disposing them neatly in the suitcases. She went down to the kitchen to check on preparations for lunch.
“You look a bit frazzled, madam,” said Mrs. Dobson. “Sit yourself down and have a cuppa. I was just going to have one meself. Everything’s under control here.”
“And smells delicious.” Daisy subsided onto a chair at the kitchen table.
The cook-housekeeper set a cup of tea in front of her and sat down. “We’re going to miss them two boys, that’s for sure. Charmers, they are, and that Master Charlie’s quite a chatterbox. Could talk the hind leg off a donkey, he could.”
“I bet they’ve scrounged a lot more cake and biscuits from you than I’m aware of!”
“Now that’d be telling, madam.” Mrs. Dobson took a meditative sip. “Quite a tale those two’ll have to tell to their schoolfriends when they get back.”
“Oh dear, yes, I hadn’t thought of that. I suppose it wouldn’t be the least use ordering Charlie not to talk about it.”
“Likely they’ll think he’s romancing, that age,” said Mrs. Dobson comfortably. “It’ll be nice to see Mr. Truscott again. Quite the gentleman though he is a chauffeur.”
“I hope you’ve set aside something good for his lunch.”
“Don’t you worry, madam. I wouldn’t want him going back to Fairacres and saying we don’t eat as good as his lordship. He’ll have to eat the same time as the company, seeing they have to get on after, but Elsie and me’ll eat later so don’t you worry about the service at table.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Mrs. Dobson looked as if she didn’t either but was too tactful to say so.
The telephone bell rang. Daisy gulped her tea and hurried up to the hall to answer it.
“Daisy, it’s Lucy. Darling, you simply must come to tea.”
“Why? What’s up?”
“Angela has invited herself. It’s too utterly devastating!”
“Angela Devenish?” asked Daisy, disbelieving.
“Yes, dear Cousin Angela. Plus dog. I haven’t the foggiest what she wants. Promise you’ll—”
“Hold on.” She was facing the staircase, and she saw Mrs. Gilpin coming slowly down, holding the rail, followed by Elsie carrying a large carpetbag. “Let me ring you back in just a minute, darling.”
She hung up on Lucy’s “But I’m—”
Lengthy farewells were forestalled by the driver’s knock on the front door. The nanny had one parting question, imparted in an anxious whisper: “Are the police going to come bothering me at my sister’s?”
“I hope not. I can’t promise. I’ll tell you what, why don’t you send me a postcard every day saying simply ‘No change.’ Unless, of course, there is a change. In that case they’ll want to see you, whether you stay there or come back to talk to them.”
“Oh, all right, madam. I’ll do that. Myrtle would be ever so upset if the police came round.”
“Let’s hope they won’t need to.”
The car rolled away down the Circle and Daisy felt a weight roll off her mind. Not that the problem of Nanny Gilpin was solved, but it was no longer right on top of her, so to speak. Mrs. Gilpin was a sensible woman. If she regained her memory, she’d report right away.
Wouldn’t she?
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.”