“Lady Rose was trying it on and it’s stuck on her finger – they can’t get it off.”
“I should have known,” said Harry, half to himself.
♦
Daisy was elated when Becket told her the news about their future. Both were so happy that they failed to notice that Harry appeared to be sunk in gloom and that Rose kept casting anxious little glances in his direction.
When they got back to the castle and Rose and Daisy had retreated upstairs, Rose said fretfully, “I must get this ring off!”
“Why? I happened to notice the captain was quite pleased you were wearing it.”
“It’s just… oh, did you notice how sour he was towards me when we came back from Inveraray?”
“No. I was too happy about working as a detective and having a little place of our own. Let’s go down to the kitchen. Maybe Cook can suggest something.”
The cook, Mrs Burridge, was a thin woman who looked as if she barely ate. “Goose grease is what you need,” she said. “I’ll warm some up and we’ll get to work, my lady.”
She heated up a little bowl of the grease and then began to work it gently into Rose’s ring finger. Then she pulled hard. There was a plop! The ring shot off Rose’s finger, skittered and flashed over the stone flags of the kitchen and down a drain in the corner.
“Oh, no,” wailed Rose. “I’ll never get it back now. Where does that drain go?”
“Down into the castle cesspool, my lady. I am right sorry. I never thought it would just come flying off like that.”
“I’ll need to tell Captain Harry,” said Rose miserably.
She went upstairs and asked a footman to tell the captain to meet her in the morning room. Rose waited nervously, rubbing her sore finger.
Harry came in and stood looking at her. “You sent for me?”
“Yes. I have some very bad news.”
“That fellow hasn’t come back!”
“No, it’s my ring, the one you gave me.”
“What about it?” he demanded sharply.
“I was wearing it on a chain round my neck and I decided to try it on. I could not get it off. The cook put some goose grease on it and pulled. It came flying off but it rolled away and went down the kitchen drain and it’s now in the cesspool.”
“No doubt a fitting burial for it,” he said harshly. “Is that all?”
She turned her face away. He went out of the room and slammed the door behind him. He stood with his back to the door, breathing deeply. Then he heard the sounds of weeping and opened the door again. Rose was sitting in a chair by the window. She had her face buried in her hands and was sobbing.
He went quickly across the room and knelt down beside her. “I did not mean to be so cruel,” he said. He drew her hands away from her face. Taking out a handkerchief, he mopped her tears. “You see, I had hoped you wanted to wear my ring again.”
“I did,” said Rose with a gulp.
He drew her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her and turned her face up to his. “Oh, Rose,” he said and bent his mouth to kiss her.
“Just what is going on here?” demanded Aunt Elizabeth.
Harry held firmly on to Rose. “Congratulate us. We are to be married.”
“No, that you are not. Not without her father’s permission. Leave her alone until then. There’s a telegram for you.” She held it out.
Harry released Rose and took it from her. He read it and swung round to Rose, his eyes shining. “They got him. They caught Jeffrey Biles. You have nothing to fear any more.”
“Where did they find him?”
“It doesn’t say. I’ll go back to Inveraray and phone Kerridge.”
“I’ll come with you,” said Rose.
“Oh, no, you won’t, miss,” said Aunt Elizabeth. “Not while you’re under my care.”
“It’s all right,” said Harry. “I won’t be long.”
♦
Rose waited impatiently for the next few hours. At last Harry came back. Rose would have rushed to meet him but Aunt Elizabeth made her wait with Daisy in the drawing room.
He came in and smiled at her. “Jeffrey Biles was arrested at a lodging house in Dumfries. He’d put on a false moustache and a maid at the lodging house caught sight of him gluing it on. She told her mistress, who reported him to the police. Biles tried to say he was doing it for a joke, but the Dumfries police had a description of Jeffrey Biles and so they put him in the cells and contacted Scotland Yard. He’s on his way south. He’ll be charged first with the murder of his sister and then with the murder of Madame de Peurey. I sent a wire to your parents, Rose, to say we would all be returning to London.”
“Lady Rose cannot go with you to London without a chaperone,” said Aunt Elizabeth.
“There is Miss Levine,” protested Harry, “not to mention her lady’s maid.”
“Miss Levine is married to your servant and is therefore not a suitable chaperone.”
Harry suddenly smiled. “If you want to come with us to London, why not just say so?”
“Well, I would so like to go. I have become used to all the company and excitement.”
“Splendid!” said Rose. “But we cannot all fit into your car, Harry.”
“I will drive you, Lady Elizabeth and Hunter to Glasgow in a few days’ time to catch the London train and then Becket, Daisy and I will follow you by road.”
Charlie, the footman, entered the room. “Cook wants a word, my lady.”
“Send her in.”
Mrs Burridge came in, followed by a small ragged boy. “Iain here is the pot boy. He said that drain didn’t go into the cesspool but in a pipe down into the river. He ran down there and guess what the lad found in the river. Show them, Iain.”
The boy triumphantly held up Rose’s ring.
“Oh, how wonderful.” Rose took the ring from the boy. Harry handed Iain a half-sovereign. “Too much!” exclaimed Aunt Elizabeth, but Iain had seized the coin and scampered off.
Harry took the ring from Rose and solemnly put it onto her finger. “I’ll keep it safe this time,” said Rose.
♦
The logistics of moving themselves to London proved more complicated than Harry had expected. Aunt Elizabeth had a great deal of luggage. At last, they decided to hire a removal firm from Glasgow to deliver the heaviest trunks to London.
Rose felt happy and carefree on their last night at the castle. Becket played the concertina and Daisy sang music-hall songs, much to the delight of Aunt Elizabeth. The villain was locked up and Rose felt she had nothing more to fear.
∨ Our Lady of Pain ∧
Nine
One of the fiercest reform champions addressed a physician, listed all the detriments of fashionable clothing and the threats it posed to health, and said, “Must we wear that stuff? Must we become ill?” The doctor reflected a while and finally said, “Yes, go on and wear it – better a sick woman than an ugly one.”
– The Agony of Fashion
by Eline Canter Cremers-van der Does
London again. Rose felt she had been away for years. After the bustle of arrival, of seeing Aunt Elizabeth settled in her rooms, Rose was summoned by her parents.
Rose’s first remark was, “Why, Ma, you are quite brown!”
Lady Polly screeched in horror and rushed to the mirror. “I can’t be,” she wailed. “I kept under a parasol the whole time we were in Cairo.” She turned to her husband. “Am I brown?”
“A trifle,” he said. “I wouldn’t worry aboutit. It’ll fade.”
Daisy, sitting discreetly in a corner of the room, marvelled again at the attitude of Rose’s parents. They now knew the perils their daughter had endured, and yet all Lady Polly seemed concerned with was the colour of her skin.
“Lemon juice,” muttered Lady Polly. “This is awful. I shall need to make my calls veiled.”