Heirs of the Body(44)
The afternoon was warm, with a cooling breeze and huge white cumulus floating in a summer-blue sky. Daisy and Alec took the twins and Nana out in the park, where they could run and roll on the grass and make as much noise as they wanted, until Nurse Gilpin whisked the babies away for their afternoon nap; then they took the dog for a walk along the river, in the opposite direction to that taken by Edgar. Reaching the boundary of the park, they turned away from the Severn, through fields and orchards.
A Sunday afternoon hush embraced the countryside. Even the birds were silent, except for the distant cawing of rooks. Daisy and Alec saw no one but a pair of hikers until, climbing a stile and turning along a hedge to circle a field of onions, they came face to face with Raymond.
He was wearing a safari suit, such as Daisy had seen in photographs of big-game hunters: a khaki linen jacket with a multiplicity of pockets, breeches, calf-high boots, and a broad-brimmed hat that he raised in greeting. He had binoculars hung around his neck and carried a walking stick propped on his shoulder, as if it were an elephant gun.
“A beautiful afternoon. Does this farm belong to Fairacres, Mrs. Fletcher?”
“Daisy, please. Yes, this is part of the home farm.”
“Home farm?”
“It’s run by Edgar’s bailiff, not leased to a tenant.” She hoped she was not providing more information than Tommy would approve of—but it was information easily come by elsewhere.
“Good, rich land,” Raymond commented.
“You’re a judge of farmland?” Alec asked. “I took you for a city dweller.”
“We kept the family farm—my mother’s family—when we went into business. One of my cousins runs it, but I grew up there and I visit when I can. I know good soil when I see it.” He raised his hat again and stood aside to let them pass.
As soon as he had lumbered over the stile and out of sight, Daisy said, “He’s totting up whether it’s worth his while to inherit Fairacres.”
“But nothing he does or doesn’t do will make any difference,” Alec reminded her.
“Unless he’s plotting to get rid of the others.”
“Daisy, honestly, do try to curb your imagination!”
“Don’t you think Fairacres is worth killing for?”
“That’s got nothing to do with it. Besides, they all have sons, or brothers.”
“Not Martha’s Sam.”
“He’s not here. In any case, he may have a brother or two, for all you know. Or has Martha told you he’s an only child?”
“No. She may have told Tommy. I’ll ask her.”
“You’re talking about international assassination!” Alec protested.
“It doesn’t sound very likely,” Daisy said with a touch of regret, “but you never know. The diamond business is pretty cutthroat, isn’t it? Raymond may know an international assassin or two.”
Alec laughed. “Better not say that in anyone else’s hearing or you’ll be sued for slander. He seems to me the litigious sort.”
“Definitely.”
“Look, a caterpillar.”
“Pretty.” Daisy allowed him to distract her from her train of thought. “We’d better take it home to Edgar.”
By the time the black-and-yellow striped creature had been removed from a ragwort plant, along with several leaves, and tied up in Alec’s handkerchief, he regretted having mentioned it.
They returned to the house in plenty of time for tea. Alec took his specimen to the conservatory/insectarium while Daisy and Nana went out to the terrace. Geraldine and Martha were there already, Martha looking much refreshed.
The dog curled up in the shade of Daisy’s chair. They were left in peace for a while, before Belinda, Derek, and Ben arrived. The children looked recently well-scrubbed—Daisy wondered just how much filth they had picked up while “helping” Edgar. Bel was wearing her new yellow sundress; Daisy hadn’t been sure of the colour for her, but Lucy said the only thing to do if one was cursed with red hair was to carry it off with flair.
“We found some Brilliant Emeralds,” Derek said enthusiastically.
“Emeralds?” Frank Crowley came out of the house. “Buried treasure?”
“Emeralds?” echoed Raymond, following him.
“Dragonflies, Uncle Frank,” said Ben.
Both men lost interest.
“Ruddy Darters, too,” Derek persevered, somewhat deflated.
“Oh là là!” exclaimed Laurette, appearing in her turn. “This word I do not let my children speak.”
“But that’s what it’s called, Aunt Laurette,” Belinda enlightened her. “Uncle Edgar told us.”