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Heirs of the Body(3)

By:Carola Dunn


“Your sister? No, I suppose not.”

“I doubt if she’s ever spoken to a solicitor in her life. If Tommy really considers it necessary, I’ll do it.”

“Come off it, love. Don’t try to tell me you’re not dying to listen in.”

“It might be interesting. And, you never know,” she added persuasively, “I might spot something proving one of the claimants is a fake.”

“I presume that’s why Pearson would like a family member present. Don’t worry, I shan’t try to stop you, if he’s agreeable. In fact, I’d bet he approached Edgar first only as a matter of etiquette and he was really angling for you all along.”

Such a vote of confidence deserved a kiss, which Daisy duly bestowed. The rest of Geraldine’s screed and the dowager’s letter did not get read that evening.





TWO





A fresh crop of envelopes, the first post, was waiting beside Daisy’s place at breakfast next morning.

“Heavens, what a pile!” she exclaimed, sitting down.

“There’s some of yesterday afternoon’s post, too, madam,” said Elsie, the Fletchers’ parlourmaid, “that you didn’t open last night. You left it in the sitting room. I put it on your desk. Tea or coffee, madam? And how would you like your eggs?”

“Just tea and toast today, thank you.” Daisy was beginning to fear that bosoms and hips had gone out of fashion forever. She tried, she really did, but her curves just would not go away.

As Alec and Belinda decided what kind of eggs they wanted, she flipped through the post. Mostly tradesmen’s bills and circulars—she’d deal with those later. As Alec disappeared behind his Daily Chronicle, she slit open an envelope addressed in her Indian friend Sakari’s beautiful and beautifully legible hand.

“Bel, Mrs. Prasad’s invited you to go to the zoo with Deva today. She’s invited Lizzie as well, and two other girls. Brenda and Erica, Do you know them?”

“Oh yes, Mummy, don’t you remember? They were at school with us before we went away to school. May I go? Please?”

“Anyone would think you’d never been to the zoo before,” said Alec.

“Darling, it’s as much about seeing her friends as seeing the animals. Yes, of course you may go, Bel. Eleven o’clock, she says. Do you want to bike down or would you like a lift?”

“I’ll bike. It’s fun going downhill, and I expect Mrs. Prasad will have Kesin put my bike in their car and drive me home.”

“All right, but if she doesn’t think to offer, make sure you set out in time to get home before dark. You’d better ring up right after breakfast to accept.”

Daisy had three postcards and a couple of letters from friends, which she read as she absentmindedly consumed several slices of buttered toast. When Alec left for the Yard, she and Belinda went up to the nursery to play with the twins.

At two and a bit, Oliver and Miranda were very active. Their stepsister was very good about letting them climb all over her, even when the dog, Nana, joined in. When they quieted down, Miranda liked looking at picture books and listening to stories, her dark head resting warmly on Daisy’s shoulder. Oliver’s rusty-brown head was more often bent over his wooden blocks. Belinda helped him build, fending off Nana and straightening his towers before they tumbled.

Belinda departed at ten. Daisy went to the kitchen for her daily consultation with the cook-housekeeper, Mrs. Dobson, then settled in her office to tackle the bills. As always, when she set about this task, she was grateful to Alec’s estranged great-uncle for the legacy that made it unnecessary to juggle creditors.

Business dealt with, she finished reading Cousin Geraldine’s letter. However, just looking at the envelope from her mother made her feel craven. She put off opening it till the evening. In Alec’s presence, she didn’t care a farthing for the Dowager Lady Dalrymple’s inevitable disapproval of her younger daughter’s every action.

Besides, she had to translate from shorthand to typescript the notes she had taken yesterday at Westminster Abbey, before she forgot what the squiggles meant. When she had sorted them out, she got down to writing the article for her American editor. She decided she had plenty of information to make two articles, one on famous people buried in the Abbey, from Oliver Cromwell and Henry Purcell to Charles Darwin and Alfred Lord Tennyson, and one on kings and queens. Americans, having rid themselves of the monarchy, apparently found it fascinating.

After lunch, she went for a walk on Hampstead Heath with the twins, the dog, and the nurserymaid. On their return a message was waiting for Daisy. Mr. Pearson had rung up and would like her to ring back, at her convenience.