“To be frank, I can’t see why he should see you just because you claim your name is Dalrymple. My late husband would not have countenanced your visit without a letter of recommendation.”
“Oh, you must be the old lady.”
Freezingly, the dowager said to Geraldine, “Has this person presented such a letter? No? I wonder at your admitting him as far as the library! The least he can do is explain his presence.”
“Didn’t that lawyer fellow let you know I was coming?”
“Me? I have nothing to do with the matter.”
Raymond blinked. For the first time the dowager had shaken his assurance. He took out a gold cigarette case, then hurriedly returned it to his pocket, as if realising it was not the moment to light up. Daisy glimpsed a monogram formed from inset diamonds; she could hardly believe her eyes.
“Mr. Pearson wrote to my husband,” said Geraldine, “to tell him you intended to call. He didn’t say at what time, and I dare say he felt it wasn’t his place to disclose your business. Lord Dalrymple is a busy man.” Her voice quivered the tiniest bit and Daisy had to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing.
“I think we should all sit down,” Daisy said pacifically, “and let Mr. Dalrymple tell us what he wants. Then we can decide whether it’s worth Lord Dalrymple’s precious time.”
Her mother and Raymond regarded her as if she were a wolf that had unexpectedly cast off its sheepskin. Daisy suspected Raymond had assumed her to be a hired companion or poor relation or something of the sort.
Geraldine said, “Good idea, Daisy, and perhaps you wouldn’t mind taking notes.”
“Ah, your secretary,” Raymond said, enlightened.
“Nothing of the sort,” snapped her mother. “Mrs. Fletcher is my daughter.”
By then, Daisy had settled herself behind the big walnut desk—a position of some authority, as she had learnt from Alec—and produced a notebook. Geraldine sat down, and the other two reluctantly followed her example.
“Now look here,” Raymond protested, “I—”
“I’m ready.” Daisy dipped a pen in the ornate eighteenth-century inkwell. “Do tell us what has brought you to Fairacres.”
For a moment, she thought he was going to stand firm. Then he sighed and capitulated.
“My branch of the family has done well in diamonds. My son and his cousin run the firm now and I’m more or less retired, though I do still have a finger in the pie. I had to come to Europe on business, but I have the leisure to look into this affair.” He didn’t sound particularly interested in the possibility of inheriting a viscountcy and Fairacres. Daisy, bristling, wondered whether he could conceivably be as indifferent as he appeared.
“‘This affair’?” the dowager enquired coldly.
“The inheritance. The title and estate. I gathered from the lawyer that it’s going to take quite a while to sort out who is the heir. I don’t want to waste time here in England if it’s not worth the trouble.”
Daisy saw her own aghastness mirrored in the faces of the Ladies Dalrymple. Before any of them had recovered enough to speak, Raymond went on.
“The house is quite something, and it looks like a prosperous little farm, but—”
“Geraldine!” Edgar appeared on the threshold. He was soaked to the skin and thoroughly muddied to the knees. “The Odonata! Daisy, I can’t thank you enough for drawing my attention. The Red-veined Darter … Oh, hello, Maud, you here? Nice to see you. Hello,” he added doubtfully to Raymond, “don’t believe I have the honour of your acquaintance. I’m disgracefully ignorant about the Odonata. It might be merely a Common Darter. However, if it isn’t the Red-veined, a rare visitor to Britain, I’ll eat my hat. And I found a nymph!”
Daisy and Geraldine exchanged glances. Though Daisy couldn’t be sure what Geraldine was thinking, she, too, might well have been wondering whether a nymph was preferable to a Camberwell Beauty.
“Yes, dear,” said Geraldine. “How nice. This is Mr. Raymond Dalrymple.”
Edgar nodded at the visitor, who had been stunned into silence by his appearance. “How do, my dear chap. I can’t be sure about the identification of the nymph but I’m sure I have a book on the Odonata.” He made for the appropriate bookcase. “Now let me see…”
“Lord Dalrymple,” Raymond said loudly, standing up, “I’ve come to you for information about—”
“Yes, yes, my dear chap, but not just now. Here it is.” He drew a large volume from the shelf. “Daisy, my dear, do you mind if I utilise a corner of the desk?”