“They said they were going to play billiards, just a couple of minutes ago. Ernie, what’s going on? What’s Alec up to? Has he received any news from Scarborough or Paris? Has he any ideas about what’s going on here?”
“Sorry, Mrs. Fletcher. All I’m allowed to say is the police are making progress in their investigation.”
Daisy sighed. “I hope that’s true. It’s not at all comfortable having one’s relatives attempting to do each other in.”
“Happens in the best families,” said Ernie. “I mean—You know what I mean.”
She smiled at him. “I do.”
He left. Daisy leant back against the cushions and closed her eyes against the glare.
She awoke to the sound of the grandfather clock in the drawing room striking three. Groggy, disoriented, she blinked at the sun-drenched world. She had a crick in her neck. Afternoon naps never agreed with her, and it was hotter than ever.
Pulling herself together, she struggled to her feet. Time to go up to the nursery. She was not looking forward to climbing the stairs.
“Mama!”
“Mama!”
With shrieks of glee, Miranda and Oliver scampered across the lawn towards her. Running to meet them, Daisy saw Mrs. Gilpin in the shade of the great chestnut, seated stiff as a dressmaker’s dummy on a kitchen chair Ernest must have carried out for her.
Playing with the twins, Daisy managed to forget for a while that even the best families may harbour a felon.
At Nurse’s decree, playtime ended at last. Daisy held Miranda’s hand up the endless stairs, carrying her up the last flight. Oliver, doggedly determined, reached above his head to hold the banister rail and made it all the way on his own.
Daisy read them a story, then went down to see how Martha was doing.
Sam opened the door. He told her Dr. Hopcroft had already called. He had been very soothing. Nothing was seriously wrong, Sam assured Daisy, sounding as if he was reassuring himself. Martha should take it easy, continue to rest with her feet up and stick to small quantities of bland foods until she felt better. She must make herself eat, because though she wasn’t hungry, the baby was. Nibbling a dry biscuit should quell her nausea. Plenty of liquids, he advised, particularly in this hot weather. Milk was best, most nourishing, if she could stomach it.
A plate of Marie and Bath Oliver biscuits, a dish of junket, a glass of milk, and a teapot showed that cook and housekeeper were doing their part to tempt the invalid. One biscuit showed signs of nibbling. The milk was down half an inch from the creamy ring that showed the original level.
“Maybe you can persuade her to eat?” Sam said anxiously.
“I’ll try. I’ll sit with her for a bit, at least, if you’d like to stretch your legs.”
Daisy managed to persuade Martha to finish the nibbled biscuit and swallow most of the junket, in spite of continuing nausea. Half a cup of mint tea seemed to make her feel worse. Daisy removed the pot to the top of the chest of drawers, out of the way, so that Martha wouldn’t drink more without thinking. She put a glass of water on the table.
Martha was very hot and sweaty—Daisy’s nanny would have been horrified by the adjective: “Horses sweat, gentlemen perspire, ladies glow” had been one of her favourite maxims. But there it was, Martha was hot and sweaty. Daisy brought a basin of cold water and a flannel and helped her wash face, neck, and arms.
She wondered whether Alec wanted to question Martha but she didn’t mention it, or talk about murder. The poor girl needed to be cheered up, not depressed.
Sam returned. “Tea on the terrace, Daisy,” he said. “I’ll stay with Martha till your sister … Oh sweetie, you’ve had a bite to eat. I’m so glad.”
Down on the terrace, she found Geraldine alone, presiding over the tea tray. “Really, Daisy,” she greeted her, “your mother!”
“What now?” Daisy accepted a cup of tea and piled a plate with cucumber and watercress sandwiches and a slice of sponge cake.
“She rang up. Now it’s my fault Raymond died and reporters are swarming round the Dower House.”
“They are?”
“Truscott and a bobby were keeping them out of Fairacres, so they’re trying to wring further information from the Dower House instead. As if I could do anything about it!”
“I can’t imagine what she expects of you.” Daisy hoped Violet would be able to get away. She wasn’t up to the walk across the park on a hot day.
Frank came out, looking disgruntled. “The same questions over and over again,” he grumbled, swigging a cup of tea standing, then holding out the cup for a refill. “After a bit, you want to make up different answers, just for a change.”