“Most odd. For her sake he should really stop being a tradesman.”
“Being a detective isn’t really trade,” said Daisy defensively.
“The only trades that are acceptable,” declaimed the countess, “are tea and beer. Nothing else.”
Daisy sighed. Her stays were digging into her and the ballroom was too hot.
She rose and curtsied to the countess and made her way to the long windows which overlooked Green Park, slid behind the curtains, opened the window and let herself out onto the terrace and took a deep breath of sooty air. She wondered if she and Rose would ever have any adventures again.
Rose was making her way to the cloakroom. One of her partners had trodden on her train and ripped the edge of it. The maid on duty in the cloakroom set to work to repair the train. The door opened and Dolly Tremaine came in, tears pouring from her eyes.
“My dear,” exclaimed Rose. “May I help you? What is the matter?”
“Nothing,” sobbed Dolly, sitting down on a chair next to Rose. “I’m tired, that’s all. So many balls and parties. I never seem to get any rest. The Season begins next week and things will be worse.”
“If I can be of any help…”
“I need a friend,” said Dolly, scrubbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. Rose noticed with surprise that her beautiful face now bore no mark of tears.
“Perhaps I may be your friend. I am Rose Summer.”
“I’m Dolly Tremaine. You see, I’m a country girl and everything in London is so big and noisy and frightening.”
“I get away from it in the mornings,” said Rose. “I go out early and cycle in Hyde Park.”
“I would love to do that,” said Dolly, “but I don’t think my parents – ”
She broke off as the door opened and a squat woman entered. She was wearing a purple silk gown trimmed with purple fringe. Rose thought she looked like a sofa.
“Dolly, what are you doing here?” she demanded.
“My train was torn and this lady came with me to see if she could help,” said Rose quickly.
“Why? That’s what maids are for. Who are you?”
“I am Lady Rose Summer,” said Rose haughtily.
The change in the woman was almost ridiculous. “How kind of you to look after my little Dolly,” she gushed. “I am Dolly’s mother.”
“I was just inviting your daughter to go cycling with me in Hyde Park tomorrow morning,” said Rose.
“Oh, I’m sure she would love that but, alas, she does not have a bicycle.”
“I will supply one,” said Rose grandly. “Furnish me with your direction and I will send a carriage for your daughter – at nine o’clock, say?”
“You are so very kind. Here is my card. Come, Dolly. Lord Berrow is waiting for you.”
She turned away. Dolly meekly followed.
♦
“But that’s my bicycle!” protested Daisy when she and Rose were being made ready for bed. “The captain gave it to me!”
“It’s only one morning, Daisy,” said Rose. “I would like to do something for that poor girl. I think she is being bullied by her mother.”
“You’re bleedin’ jealous cos she’s prettier than you,” said Daisy, “and you’re trying to cover it up by being nice to her.”
“Go to bed, now!” commanded Rose. “Let me hear no more about it.”
Ever since Rose had fallen from grace by attending a suffragette movement rally and had been banned from going anywhere near that organization, she had longed to do something for somebody, and so she set out for Hyde Park the following morning on her bicycle followed by two footmen, one of them wheeling Daisy’s bicycle. She was determined to find out what had made the beautiful Dolly so sad. Deep down inside her she was motivated by the petty thought that she’d better show society she was above jealousy, but that thought did not even reach as far as her brain.
Nine o’clock was considered an early hour of the day to members of society. Rose would have gone to the park earlier, say six o’clock, had she been allowed to do so. There was something exciting about being up at dawn in a great city and feeling it coming alive with the restless clatter of traffic, the whinnying of horses, and the air briefly fresher before the thousands of London’s coal fires put a thin haze over the sun, even on a fine spring day, and streaked the buildings with soot.
As she approached the Serpentine, one of the earl’s carriages drove up. A footman jumped down from the backstrap and let down the steps. Dolly tripped prettily down them. She was wearing a white lace gown with a high-boned collar and a round straw hat covered in white flowers. Worn open over her gown was a fur-trimmed coat. On her feet were little white patent leather boots.
“Oh, my dear Miss Tremaine,” exclaimed Rose. “You should have worn a divided skirt. You cannot cycle in such clothes.”
Dolly burst into tears. “I – I’m always doing something wrong,” she sobbed.
“There, there,” said Rose, patting her awkwardly on the back. “Do dry your eyes. We shall walk instead.” She surrendered her bicycle to one of the footmen. “Now, do try to be cheery. It is too fine a morning to be sad.”
Dolly complied and took Rose’s arm, a gesture Rose felt was a trifle over-familiar. She drew her arm away. Dolly began to cry again. “I’ve offended you!”
“No, no. Please sit down on this bench. Do compose yourself. Why are you so distressed?”
“I don’t know the rules,” sniffed Dolly. “So many rules. We were taking tea yesterday at Mrs. Barrington-Bruce’s place in Kensington. Such a splendid tea and I have a healthy appetite. I ate an awful lot and then I found the other ladies were looking at me in horror. Worse than that, I’d taken off my gloves. I did not know one was supposed to eat with gloves on.”
“Usually the form is to eat only a little thin bread and butter,” said Rose. “It is rolled, you see, so that one does not get butter on one’s gloves.”
“I talk an awful lot about the country because I do miss it so,” said Dolly, “and Mother says they are all laughing at me and calling me the Milkmaid.”
“I think it would be a good ploy if you were to say as little as possible. Just look enigmatic.”
“What does that mean?”
“Mysterious. Hidden depths.”
“But the gentlemen can sometimes make very warm remarks and I am fearful of offending them.”
“Let me see. You rap the offender lightly on the arm with your fan and lower your eyes and say something like, ‘Oh, sir, I fear you are too wicked for me. But perhaps I am naïve. I shall tell Mama exactly what you have just said.’ Believe me, that will cool their ardour.”
“You are so, so clever! Tell me more.”
Flattered and feeling she was finally being of use to someone, Rose went on to help her pupil further.
But the morning was rather spoilt for her when, just before she left, Dolly said, “I would like to meet your fiancé. He seems to be a most fascinating man. But people do say he is never at your side.”
“People talk a lot of nonsense,” retorted Rose angrily.
Daisy was waiting for Rose when she returned. “You look cross,” commented Daisy. “What did she do to upset you?”
“Nothing. She is a delightful and charming innocent. I was able to give her some tips as to how to go on in society. We shall meet again. She does cry a lot. She is very sensitive.”
“Probably acting,” sniffed the jealous Daisy. “Well, if she didn’t make you cross, who did?”
“It’s just that people are constantly harping on about my supposed fiancé and wondering why he is never with me. I really did think the captain would keep up some sort of pretence.”
“Then let’s go and see him,” said Daisy eagerly. “There’s no harm in calling on a fellow in his office.”
“I would not lower myself to go and beg him.”