Daisy would have liked to travel with Rose, but in her new diminished status, she and Becket had to travel with the upper servants.
Stacey Court was a Tudor building, its rose-red walls covered in creepers and with many mullioned windows. In Tudor times, the more windows, the higher the status of the owner.
It was dark and damp inside. The earl ordered fires to be lit in all the rooms although it was warm outside. He had a fear of rheumatism and blamed his secretary for not having had the foresight to air and warm the place before they arrived, unaware that Matthew had suggested it to Lady Polly and had been told that as it was summer, such preparations were not necessary.
Daisy and Becket were given a room on a half landing below the servants’ quarters in the attics.
Another dark place, thought Daisy miserably as she unpacked. In the servants’ hall that evening, she and Becket received a warm welcome from the other servants. Brum smiled and suggested that after dinner, perhaps Mr and Mrs Becket could entertain them as they had done before, Becket playing his concertina and Daisy singing music-hall songs.
Daisy was about to agree but Becket said severely, “I do not like my wife performing in public.”
“It’s not public,” protested Daisy. “We’re with friends.”
Becket shook his head and said firmly, “I’m sorry. It would not be suitable.”
A vision of the chirpy, cheery Bernie rose in Daisy’s mind and again she felt that suffocating feeling of being trapped.
♦
Upstairs, at the dinner table, the earl said to his daughter, “Captain Cathcart will be arriving tomorrow. He wanted to come and I could hardly refuse.”
Rose felt a jolt of fear. She knew Harry was probably going to propose marriage. This is what she had wanted. Why did she not want it now?
After dinner, she sent a footman with a note asking Daisy to join her.
When Daisy entered, Rose hugged her. “I miss you.”
“Me, too.”
“Captain Cathcart is calling tomorrow. I think he means to ask for my hand in marriage.”
“There you are,” said Daisy bracingly. “We’ll both be married ladies.”
“I don’t think I want to get married,” said Rose.
“Go on with you! The pair of you are so well suited.”
“I’m sick of danger, Daisy. I’m sick of being frightened. If I marry Harry, I will be drawn into his life.”
“You don’t need to be,” said Daisy.
“Then what if, after we get married, another Dolores comes along?”
“Or another Roger,” Daisy pointed out.
“Oh, that was such a mistake. But I would never have known how weak he was if that terrible woman hadn’t threatened to kill us.”
“How do you mean, ‘weak’?”
“He wanted to leave me with her to get shot as long as he could escape.”
“Well, they’re not all like the captain.”
“True. Or your Becket.”
Daisy leaned forward and poked the fire. A wind had risen and was howling in the chimney. “I’m in trouble, Rose, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Why? What is the matter?”
“I don’t love him any more. I’ll have to spend the rest of my days in the gloomy flat in Bloomsbury, having one baby after another, and that’s if I can have babies. Who knows? It might be one miscarriage after another. I’ll be an old woman before my time.”
“Daisy, dear Daisy. You’ve had a very bad shock. After a bit of rest and quiet, you’ll feel differently.”
“No, I won’t. I know I won’t. I’m frightened of beginning to hate him. Divorce isn’t for the likes of us. Unless he dies, I’m stuck with him.”
“You can hardly kill him,” said Rose.
“Can’t I?” howled Daisy. “Just you wait and see. And there’s worse.”
“Than wanting to kill your husband?”
“I’ve met someone else. It’s Bernie King who works for the captain.”
“His new servant?”
“No, his new detective. Oh, Rose, he’s light and easy and cockney like myself. He’s fun. He makes me laugh.”
“Daisy, listen to me. It is all a reaction to what you have gone through.”
“Do you think you could ask the captain to suggest to Becket that I go out to work? I’m sure that would make all the difference.”
“Yes, of course I shall. Now, your husband will be wondering where you are.”
♦
Rose waited anxiously the next day for Harry’s arrival. What should she say to him? If she refused his proposal now that he appeared to have her parents’ permission, he would never ask her again and she would probably never see him again.
The weather had cleared up and pale sunlight streamed in through all the windows.
She paced up and down the gardens, hoping to tire herself out so that she would feel calmer.
“Look at her!” said Lady Polly as she and her husband watched from the window as Rose paced up and down. “She’s got permission to marry the wretched man and she looks miserable. If we mention India to her again, she’ll accept him just to get out of it.”
“I’m weary of the whole business,” said the earl. “Rose has been such a disappointment. She’ll have her own money by the time she’s twenty-one. Perhaps we should accept the fact that she’s going to be an old maid.”
“But what a waste of all that beauty,” sighed Lady Polly.
“I hear that motor of his,” said the earl.
Rose had obviously heard the sound as well because she looked alarmed and then fled into the house.
“Better go and welcome him,” said the earl.
♦
Harry took tea with the earl and countess, wondering all the time where Rose had got to. The murders were not referred to. Now that the case was over, the earl and countess considered talk of murder in their drawing room very bad form.
Putting his teacup down in the saucer with an impatient little click and wondering if Lady Polly meant to talk all day about the weather, Harry said, “May I see Lady Rose? You know why I have come.”
They both rose to their feet. “We’ll send her to you,” said the earl.
Harry waited, pacing up and down much as Rose had done in the garden.
Rose came quietly into the room. She was wearing a white lace gown with a high, boned lace collar. Her brown hair was piled up on top of her head and her blue eyes looked larger than ever.
This is it, thought Rose. What am I to do? What am I to say?
Harry took one of her hands in his. “My darling Rose,” he said. “Would you –”
Brum gave a loud cough. “What is it?” demanded Harry.
“There is a police inspector has called and insists on seeing you urgently.”
“Tell him to wait.”
“I fear he has come to arrest you, sir.”
“What nonsense. Wait here, Rose. I won’t be long.”
Harry followed the butler down the stairs.
“I have put the person in the study,” said Brum in lugubrious tones.
Harry opened the study door and walked in. A police inspector rose to meet him, flanked by two police officers.
“Captain Cathcart,” he said, “we must ask you to accompany us to the police station for questioning.”
“What is this about?”
“At the police station, sir. Come along. We don’t want to put the cuffs on you.”
Harry was taken to the market town of Hidwell and ushered into an interview room.
♦
Daisy was sitting in the housekeeper, Mrs Henry’s, parlour, having a cup of tea. She was privately hoping Rose would be successful in persuading Harry to talk to Becket and get permission to work. The news of Harry’s departure had not yet filtered below stairs.
“Must have been awful losing your baby,” said Mrs Henry, a woman as fat and comfortable as a well-worn sofa.