ONE
“Darling, what on earth are ‘heirs of the body’?” Daisy enquired, frowning at the wad of blue Basildon Bond writing paper in her hand. She had been busy all day and was only now, after dinner, opening the afternoon post.
“Postmortem effluvia?”
“H-e-i-r.”
“Coroners?” Without looking up from the Evening Standard, Alec reached for his whisky, an indulgence usually reserved for celebrating the end of a big investigation. “Undertakers? Worms?”
“Ugh, Daddy, that’s disgusting!” Belinda’s Easter holidays had started just a couple of days earlier, and her father was apt to forget to mind his tongue in her presence.
“What, worms? Just think, if they didn’t do their work we’d be up to our necks in bodies.”
“Alec, really! In any case, ‘heirs’ is the important word here. Cousin Edgar’s coming up to his fiftieth birthday and apparently it dawned on him a few months ago that he hasn’t the faintest idea who is heir to the title and Fairacres.”
“Your letter’s from Lord Dalrymple?”
“No, Cousin Geraldine. She’s frightfully scathing about ‘heirs of the body,’ but I can’t make out why.”
“It’d be because she and Lord Dalrymple have no children. It’s just a legal term for legitimate offspring, and their legitimate offspring, ad infinitum.”
Daisy cast an anxious glance at her stepdaughter.
“It’s all right, Mummy,” Bel said indulgently. “I know what legitimate means, and illegitimate. It’s whether the mother and father are married or not.”
How did children find out such things? Daisy wondered. She was sure she hadn’t been aware at the age of thirteen that procreation without matrimony was even possible. Times had changed between 1911 and 1927!
“I read it in a book.” Bel answered her unvoiced question. “And looked it up in the dictionary.”
“Well, darling, I’m glad you’re using your dictionary. But I was rather hoping you didn’t know what it means.”
“Oh, Mummy, how positively Victorian!”
Since Daisy frequently decried the persistent influence of Victorian attitudes in older generations, she was left speechless.
Alec had set aside his paper to fill his pipe. Now, between the vigorous puffs required to get it burning, he said, “I’m not really up in all that stuff, but the ‘body’ bit must mean that step- or adopted children don’t count. And the original entail, or patent, or will, or whatever must have specified heirs male of the body. Otherwise, your brother having died, love, I think your sister’s eldest son would have inherited the estate and title from your father. Or perhaps Violet first, and then Derek. But don’t quote me on that.”
“Derek?” said Bel. “Oh, wouldn’t it be fun if he was Lord Dalrymple!”
“A new law was passed just last year, though, and I’m not sure what effect it has in a situation like this.”
“Tommy Pearson must know.”
“He’s your cousin’s solicitor?”
“Yes. Cousin Edgar always felt Father’s lawyer—the old family firm since forever—condescended to him because he’d been a schoolmaster, not brought up to his new station in life. He was very impressed with Tommy’s part in that kidnapping business.… You didn’t hear that, Bel.”
“I think I’d better go and read in bed,” said Belinda with dignity, “if you’re going to keep talking about things I’m not supposed to hear.”
“Heavens yes, it’s after ten. Past your bedtime.”
Belinda kissed each of them goodnight, then said, “Mummy, may I go and see the twins? Just a peek?”
“Of course, darling. You don’t need to ask. Quiet as a mouse, though.”
“I know. I just like to ask in case Nurse Gilpin catches me. She can’t fuss if you’ve said yes, can she?”
Alec grinned. “I wouldn’t count on it. Every victory over Mrs. Gilpin is temporary.”
“I don’t care much if she does fuss. They’re my brother and sister, after all. Daddy, is Oliver your ‘heir male of the body’?”
“He would be if I had a title, pet, but you can’t inherit a job with the Metropolitan Police. As it is, you’re all my heirs.”
Daisy was not prepared to go into the business of a father’s part in the bodily side of parenthood. “Run along and tackle Nurse, now, darling,” she said firmly.
Looking determined, Belinda left the room.
Daisy sighed. Sometimes life seemed to be a perpetual battle with Oliver and Miranda’s nanny, whose Victorian attitude dictated that parents had no business in the nursery.