Had he, too, received Geraldine’s suggestion? Was he about to squash any notion Daisy had of attending the interviews with the claimants to her father’s title? Surely not. He wouldn’t have telephoned to tell her in person that she was unwanted; he’d have written a polite, discouraging note.
Elsie had carefully written down his telephone number. Daisy sat down on the chair by the hall table, took the receiver from the hook, and dialled.
“Pearson, Pearson, Pearson, and Brown,” said a crisp secretarial voice.
Daisy knew that the first Pearson had retired, but she wasn’t sure about the second. “Mr. Tommy—Thomas Pearson, please. This is Mrs. Fletcher, Mrs. Alec Fletcher. He rang me while I was out.”
“Oh yes, Mrs. Fletcher, would you mind holding the line a moment while I see if Mr. Pearson’s free?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. Daisy wondered what would have happened had she been given time to say yes, she’d mind, and Tommy could jolly well call her back. However, she wasn’t given much time for pique, either.
“Daisy? Tommy speaking. Thanks for ringing back so quickly.”
“Hello, darling. I—”
“Daisy, not ‘darling’ in business hours, please!”
“Sorry. Is ‘Tommy’ all right?”
“I suppose so, as I find myself addressing you as Daisy,” he said ruefully.
“No, let’s start again. I take it, Mr. Pearson, that you’ve heard from Cousin … from Lady Dalrymple?”
“Several times. And her latest suggestion is actually quite sensible. We can’t discuss it over the phone, though. Do you mind coming in to Lincoln’s Inn, or would you rather dine with us and talk afterwards? The invitation has Madge’s blessing, of course, and includes Alec.”
“Which suits you better?”
“You coming to chambers.” Tommy, a daring, much-decorated soldier in the war, had become rather staid and proper since joining the family firm, but Daisy heard the grin in his voice. “That way our meeting can be billed to the estate with a good conscience. Difficult to explain away a dinner party on the account.…”
“Besides, much as I love Madge and Alec, it will be easier without them putting in their two pennyworth.”
He laughed. “True, though I hope you’ll consult Alec before coming to a decision.”
“Assuming this is about what I assume it’s about, he’s already granted his approval.”
The cautious lawyer came to the fore. “Oh? I wouldn’t have expected … But that’s not my affair. Let’s set a date and time, and Madge will get in touch about a business-free date for dinner.”
Daisy checked her diary and suggested the following afternoon. Tommy was going to be in court all day.
“There’s no hurry,” he assured her. “This is going to drag on for months.”
“Jarndyce and Jarndyce?” she asked forebodingly.
“No, no. There’s no question about the will, or rather the letters patent.”
“Letters…? No, don’t tell me!”
“It’s just a matter of carrying on until we’re as certain as possible that we’ve heard from all claimants and discovered the proper heir.”
“More like the Tichbourne claimant, then. That dragged on for years, didn’t it?”
“We’ll just have to hope it won’t come to that.”
They made an appointment for the following week. Daisy returned to her office. Having decided to give famous people precedence over monarchs, she now had to write about Mrs. Aphra Behn, who died in 1689 and whose monument, according to Daisy’s notes, read Here lies a Proof that Wit can never be Defence enough against Mortality. She didn’t remember learning about Aphra Behn at school. She turned to Nelson’s Encyclopædia, Volume 3, B-Ble.
A spy for Charles II and a successful professional playwright, making her living by her writing in the seventeenth century! Daisy wanted to know more, but the encyclopædia entry was quite short. Reminding herself that all she needed was a snippet for a travel article, she moved on to Sir Isaac Newton.
His monument was much grander, with a much longer inscription, which unfortunately was in Latin. Her school had considered the study of Latin to be too much of a strain for the brains of young ladies. Science, also, and higher mathematics, so she didn’t understand Newton’s work any better than she understood his epitaph, but good old Nelson—the encyclopædic one, not the sailor—came to the rescue.
Elsie brought in tea and biscuits. “Lemon jumbles, madam. Mrs. Dobson made ’em because Miss Belinda does like ’em so. Only she rang up just now, Miss Belinda did, and said not to disturb you, madam, but Mrs. Prasad’s invited her to stay the night and could you please ring back.”