Heirs of the Body(31)

Miss Watt came out of her room to meet Daisy on the landing, closing the door behind her.

“I’m so glad you came, Mrs. Fletcher. Mr. Pearson asked me to apologise and to explain.”

“He doesn’t need me after all?” Daisy asked indignantly.

“Oh yes.” She lowered her voice. “But there’s a person—a young woman—in my office.”

“Not the one from Jamaica?”

“Yes. Mrs. Samuel Dalrymple.”

“Didn’t he advise her not to come?”

“Yes, but she’s come anyway.”

“And Tommy doesn’t know what to do with her?”

“Exactly. Mr. Pearson would like to consult you. Unfortunately, it’s necessary to pass through my room to get to his, so he asked me to warn you of her presence. After you have talked to him, he’ll introduce her to you if appropriate, depending on what’s decided. Will you see him?”

“Since he’s haled me down here…” Not that she wasn’t dying to meet Mrs. Samuel Dalrymple. Martha, she remembered.

Martha Dalrymple sat in a chair against the wall of shelved deed boxes. She wore a cheap cotton frock, flowered, a bit shabby, with a light cardigan. Her bowed head let Daisy see pale blond hair—natural blond, Daisy thought enviously, her own shingled locks being light brown. Martha’s was pulled back into a knot at her nape. The style was severe, but when she raised her head, she revealed a round, youthful face, woebegone, with a hint of tears in her blue eyes.

She looked little more than a child. Daisy smiled at her, and she gave a tentative, rather wobbly smile in return.

Miss Watt swept Daisy onward into Tommy’s office, then returned to her own, closing the door with a firm click.

“Well?” said Daisy.

“Er, hm … What do you think of her?”

“Honestly, Tommy, I’ve just had the briefest glimpse of her. Miss Watt didn’t give me time even to say good morning. She’s the one who wrote from Jamaica, isn’t she?”

“That’s right.”

“Why did she come, when you advised her not to?”

“She still doesn’t know when her husband will return to Jamaica,” Tommy said crossly, “and she was still afraid of missing a great opportunity for him and the family if no one turned up in person to advance his claim. Frankly, I suspect there’s more to the story—something she isn’t telling me.”

“And you expect me to ferret it out for you? She looks just as naïve and innocent as Sakari and I guessed from her letter and even younger.”

“I knew you’d have formed an impression, at a glance. Can it be true, or could it be a clever pose?”

“You really think it might be, that she’s another false claimant?”

“I never said so!”

“The rest were living in England, weren’t they? Oh, and that Scottish chap from the village called Dalrymple. Britain, anyway. Jamaica’s a long way to come on the strength of a remote possibility. Especially as her clothes suggest the fare must have been a strain on her budget.”

“Anyone can buy cheap clothes.”

“True. And didn’t you say the estate would pay the fare?”

“Only if Samuel’s claim has a valid basis.”

“Jamaica is suggestive, isn’t it? Since we know Julian went there. Hasn’t she brought any sort of proof with her?”

“Various documents, good enough as far as they go, but none leading directly back to Julian. At least, unlike the others, she doesn’t claim to have heard a family story about descent from an English lord. As for what her husband would have to say of the entire business … According to her he’s entirely unaware of it, having sailed off before my advertisement was brought to her attention. He’s the principal, and nothing can be decided without him. You must admit, it’s put me in a difficult position.”

“Aren’t difficulties what lawyers thrive on?”

“An impossible position!”

“What do you want me to do, then? Have a good long heart-to-heart with her?”

“Er, hmm…” Tommy was not in general the kind of lawyer who prefaces every remark with a premonitory cough. “Well, yes. She may well speak more freely to you. But also … You see the thing is…”

“Spit it out, Tommy.”

“I don’t know what to do with her. I can’t very well send her back to Jamaica. A young girl like her, married or not, shouldn’t have undertaken such a voyage all by herself in the first place. She can’t stay alone at an hotel, even if she could afford it or the estate could legitimately pay her expenses. A cheap women’s hostel doesn’t seem right when she may be the next viscountess. On the other hand, I can’t send her down to Fairacres for several weeks, not knowing whether she has any actual connection with the family! I’m sure Madge would be willing to put her up, but it could lead to a perception of favouritism among the other possible heirs.”