“But – ”
“No more, Daisy.”
I’m supposed to be her companion and friend, thought Daisy sulkily, but she still talks down to me. Then her face brightened. She had a soft spot for the captain’s manservant, Becket. She would call on Becket. He would know what to do.
“Do you need me for anything?” asked Daisy.
“I don’t know. What appointments do we have for today?”
“This afternoon you’ve to make calls with your mother. You won’t need me.”
“I suppose not. What will you do?”
“Dunno. Look at the shops.”
“Don’t say dunno,” admonished Rose, but Daisy affected not to hear her and left the room.
As the day was fine, Daisy walked from Belgravia to Chelsea and to Water Street, where the captain had his home. Her heart beat a little more quickly under her stays as she turned the corner of Water Street. It seemed ages since she had last seen Becket. She imagined his surprise when he opened the door and saw her standing there.
But to her dismay, it was Captain Harry Cathcart himself who answered the door. Daisy always found him rather intimidating. He was a tall man in his late twenties with black hair already greying at the temples and a hard handsome face with deep black eyes under heavy lids.
“Where’s Becket?” asked Daisy.
“I am afraid Becket is not well. He has a severe cold and I have sent him to bed. Is that why you came? Do come in.”
Daisy followed him into the book-lined front parlour. “Do sit down, Daisy.”
“You’ve to call me Miss Levine,” said Daisy with a show of spirit. “I’m a companion now. I’m worried about Rose.”
“Why? What’s the matter?”
“You’re supposed to be her fiancé, but you’re never seen with her and people are sniggering and talking. She goes everywhere with that Sir Peter Petrey and people are thinking she might ditch you for him.”
“Petrey? He has no interest in women.”
“You know that, I know that, Rose knows that, but look at it from her point of view. She could marry him and have her own household and not have to worry about producing children. Why should she stick with you?”
“Daisy – Miss Levine – you know very well that our engagement is merely an arrangement. I have been very busy. Well, I suppose I have been remiss. Where does she go this evening?”
“Another ball. The Barrington-Bruces.”
“Tell her I will escort her.”
“Tell her yourself. She don’t know I’m here and she would be furious if she found out. May I see Becket?”
“He has a bad cold and you should not be visiting gentlemen in their bedchambers.”
“Just a quick word,” pleaded Daisy.
She expected Becket’s room to be in the basement, but the captain led her up the stairs to a door on the second landing. “Visitor for you, Becket,” he said and ushered Daisy into the room.
His manservant struggled up against the pillows. “Why, Daisy! You shouldn’t be seeing me like this.”
Harry retreated but left the door open. Becket’s brown hair, which was normally neatly plastered down on his head above his thin white face, was sticking up all over his head. Daisy sat down beside the bed. “Has the doctor seen you?”
“Yes, but he says it’s a feverish cold. I’ll be right as rain in a few days.”
“Captain does you proud,” said Daisy, looking around the sunny room. The walls were lined with bookshelves. There was a leather armchair in front of the fireplace, and by the window, a handsome desk.
“Why did you come?” asked Becket.
Daisy told him about the captain’s neglect and Rose’s anger. “I think my master’s really in love with her,” said Becket, “and that’s why he keeps clear of her because she can hurt him and he doesn’t like being hurt.”
“I think they love each other,” said Daisy. “I think that’s why she’s so unhappy. She’s treating me more like a servant than she’s done in ages. But he said he’d take her to the ball tonight.”
Becket sighed. “Let’s just hope they see sense.”
An hour later, Harry went to his office in Buckingham Palace Road. His secretary, Ailsa Bridge, was typing busily. The window behind her was wide open, but the air still smelt of peppermints. Harry believed his secretary was fond of peppermints, not realizing that Ailsa was fond of gin and drank peppermint cordial to disguise the smell.
“How are things?” he asked.
“Various cases have come in. The most immediate is from Mrs. Barrington-Bruce. She will be wearing her diamonds tonight and fears jewel thieves and wants you to be on duty at her ball.”
“I’ll cancel that one. I’m escorting my fiancée and I do not think she would be pleased if I were there in the capacity of policeman. I will phone Mrs. Barrington-Bruce shortly.” Harry went into his inner office and phoned Rose, only to be told that she was taking tea at Mrs. Barrington-Bruce’s. He phoned Mrs. Barrington-Bruce’s residence and asked the butler if he might speak to Lady Rose Summer.
Rose’s heart gave a jolt when she heard his voice on the phone. “I just wanted to let you know that I shall be escorting you this evening,” said Harry.
Her voice sounded cool and distant. “Alas, you are too late. I have already asked Sir Peter Petrey to escort me. How was I to know that you might remember at the last minute to honour our arrangement?”
“Look here – ”
“Goodbye.”
Harry glared at the phone. How dare she? He phoned again and this time asked for Mrs. Barrington-Bruce and said he would be there to guard her jewels.
Mrs. Barrington-Bruce was an indefatigable hostess. Because her entertainments were always lavish, she could attract the cream of society, people who would not normally take the trouble to travel as far as Kensington.
Daisy was becoming increasingly depressed. On the journey there, Rose had confided her worries about Dolly, saying that she thought the girl had some deep sorrow and was not just worried about the rules of society. Peter, an inveterate gossip, encouraged Rose to talk on and on about Dolly. Daisy was really beginning to fear that Rose was considering Peter as a marriage partner and furthermore she was jealous of Dolly. Somehow Daisy felt the class lines were so rigid that she could never be a real friend to Rose, whereas Dolly, who was acceptable in the eyes of society, had all the advantages.
Although hailed as a beauty, Rose, since her engagement, was no longer in such demand, and to her fury she had to sit out a whole three dances while watching her fiancé prowling around the place. She did not know he was working and assumed he was deliberately snubbing her. Her anger was so great that when Peter came up for his second dance she flirted outrageously, and the shrewd Peter, who knew exactly why she was doing it, played up to her.
Harry was furious. How dare she show him up like this? Mrs. Barrington-Bruce approached him. “I think you should dance with your fiancée,” she said severely. “People do not know you are working for me and it looks as if you are deliberately cutting her dead.”
He had not seen things from this angle but by the time he approached Rose, her flirtatious display on the dance floor had attracted many admirers and her dance card was full. He bowed instead before Daisy. “Miss Levine, will you do me the honour?”
Rose started to protest. “Miss Levine does not dance…” But her new partner had come to claim her and Harry was already leading Daisy onto the dance floor.
Daisy’s little face, which still held a bit of her old pinched Cockney look, turned up to the captain’s brooding one. “You asked for it,” she whispered as they circulated in a waltz.
“I’m working,” he hissed. “I’m supposed to be watching Mrs. Barrington-Bruce at all times in case someone steals her jewels.”