Heirs of the Body(30)

“Not at all, Cousin Edgar. But mind you don’t get your book wet.”

“Wet?” The book thudded onto the desk. Edgar looked down at himself. “Goodness me, you’re quite right. I’d better go and change.”

“Lord Dalrymple, just a moment. I want to talk to you—when you’ve changed, of course—about the income and expenses of the estate.”

“Good heavens, I don’t concern myself with that sort of stuff. Rely on my lawyer and my agent, don’t you know.”

“Then I’ll speak to your agent.”

Edgar drew himself up and fixed Raymond with a commanding eye. “No, you won’t. Not unless and until you are legally declared to be my heir. Excuse me, please, ladies.” He turned and squelched out of the library.

The silence he left behind was broken by another distant mutter of thunder. A wave of cool air came in through the window. The sky had darkened. Raymond seized the excuse to take his hurried, discomfited leave.

“I hope we’ll be seeing you again,” said Geraldine untruthfully, offering her hand.

He took it and shook it gingerly, muttering something Daisy didn’t hear. He gave the dowager a half bow, Daisy a nod, and stalked out, not waiting for butler or footman to be summoned to conduct him.

The dowager rose. “This has been quite an instructive afternoon,” she said to Geraldine. “I trust your husband will not take a chill.”

“I doubt it. Edgar is quite accustomed to being out in all weathers. Won’t you stay for tea?”

“Thank you, no. Daisy, I shall doubtless see you in church tomorrow.”

“I’m afraid not, Mother. I’m leaving early. I promised Alec.”

“Indeed!”

Without further words, Daisy and Geraldine escorted the dowager to the front door. A bronze Daimler was just starting off down the elm avenue. Daisy recognised it. Now she knew for certain that it was Raymond Dalrymple who had abandoned her by the roadside.

Having seen her mother off in her far more modest car, Daisy and Geraldine retired to the latter’s sitting room and subsided, exhausted, into the comfortable chairs.

“Geraldine, I confess I didn’t altogether believe you when you told me Edgar was a good teacher. But after seeing him put Raymond in his place … And when he was dripping all over the carpet, too!” Daisy giggled. “Well, I’m sure he used to handle a classroom full of adolescent boys with the greatest of ease.”

“‘Instructive,’ your mother said. I can’t help wondering what she learnt.”

“It’s a bit of a poser, isn’t it?”

Ernest’s arrival with tea saved her from having to speculate aloud on whether Geraldine’s spirited defence, Edgar’s bedraggled appearance, or Raymond’s unmitigated presumption weighed more heavily in the dowager’s scales.

“Shall I close the windows, your ladyship?” the footman asked, having deposited the tray. “Looks like the rain won’t hold off much longer.”

“Yes, do.”

The clouds hanging above Fairacres had darkened to near black. Somewhere to the west there must have been a break, though, because the landscape was illuminated by a lurid, eerie, ominous light. Every tree and bush stood out distinctly. Thunder rumbled not far off, and a few seconds later lightning briefly blazed. Still not a drop of rain fell.

Geraldine shivered. “Someone’s walking across my grave,” she said.





TEN





A month passed before Daisy heard any more from Tommy about the heirs. Then came a cry for help.

Miss Watt rang up at half past ten that morning. “Mrs. Fletcher, Mr. Pearson wondered whether you could possibly come in to chambers right away. We have … ah … something of a situation here.” She sounded uncharacteristically flustered.

“What on earth…? Can’t you tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s a bit complicated. But if—”

“Never mind. I’ll come. About an hour?”

“Thank you, Mrs. Fletcher. I’ve had to clear Mr. Pearsons schedule. He’ll be very relieved.”

Daisy was rather annoyed. She was in the middle of drafting a proposal for an article about Hampton Court for Mr. Thorwald, her American editor. The result was always smoother if she did the whole thing in one sitting. If she drove into the City, she’d just have time to finish the section she was working on. It wasn’t raining, and now that she had seen Lincoln’s Inn she knew where she would be able to park the car.

Perhaps Mr. Thorwald would be interested in an article on the Inns of Court, too, she thought.

End of paragraph, full stop: Leaving the paper and carbons in the typewriter, she hurried upstairs to change her summer frock for a more sober costume. Half an hour later, she left the car in Lincoln’s Inn Fields and walked under the impressive arch of the early Tudor main gate, into New Square. Tommy’s chambers were on the opposite side. As she approached, she wondered what sort of emergency Tommy imagined she might be able to help with.