He declared his intent of taking the early train to Worcester next day, namely Tuesday, and proceeding thence to Fairacres. I asked whether he would like to be met at the station, but he prefers to make his own way. I therefore cannot tell you at what time to expect him.
As for his wife, allow me to suggest that you show Mrs. Fletcher this letter and ask her to break the news of her husband’s coming to Mrs. Samuel.
I have no appointments in the next two days that cannot easily be postponed. Should you wish me to come to Fairacres before Friday in order to enquire more closely into Mr. Samuel’s claim, I shall be happy to oblige.
Signed, Thomas Pearson, Solicitor.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Daisy slipped the letter back into the envelope and laid it on the blotter. Though to read someone else’s correspondence was a shocking breach of good manners, in view of the self-proclaimed urgency and the fact that the writer suggested showing it to her, she felt it was forgivable. She intended to confess, so she didn’t bother to gum down the flap.
Besides, there was no hope of concealment of her sin, as she had to act on the information received.
What to do first? Her impulse was to go at once to tell Alec. Samuel had been in Worcester that very morning. Who was to say he hadn’t attempted to push Raymond under a tram? However, Alec couldn’t act on the possibility without some sort of evidence of foul play. No hurry.
She must break the news to Martha, in person, not on the telephone. No doubt Martha would return from the Dower House any minute for her afternoon nap. If Daisy walked over, she would probably miss her.
The butler and the housekeeper must be notified that another guest was expected. That could be done at once. Daisy rang the bell.
And now that Tommy Pearson had reminded her of his existence and involvement, she realised that he ought to know about the death of one of the prospective heirs. Apart from other considerations, he was the proper person to get in touch with Raymond’s family in South Africa. Raymond’s eldest son was now a candidate.…
“You rang, madam?”
“Ernest, I must speak to Mr. Lowecroft immediately. Also, please let me know at once when Mrs. Samuel comes in. And, come to think of it, her ladyship.”
“Certainly, madam.”
“And his lordship.” She had to give Edgar his letter and confess that she had read it. “And if you see my husband, tell him I have news for him.”
“I believe Mr. Fletcher is in the stables, madam. I can go and—”
“On no account! Just wait until he puts in an appearance.”
“Very well, madam.”
“That’s all. Oh, Ernest,” she added as the footman bowed and turned to leave, “would you bring me something to eat? I seem to have missed lunch and I’m ravenous. Bread and cheese will do.”
He grinned at her. “Right away, madam.”
Daisy contemplated the telephone. She had to send a wire to Tommy, worded discreetly, because no matter what the Post Office said, operators in country districts could not be relied on not to wag their tongues. The news of Raymond’s death would be common knowledge soon enough without such assistance.
In the end, she kept it simple: RAYMOND DIED TODAY CAUSE UNKNOWN. She wasn’t getting her—or rather, Edgar’s—shillingsworth, but there really wasn’t anything more to be said without telling the whole complicated story. After all, it didn’t matter much if the villagers knew he was dead. The devil was in the details.
Lowecroft came in while she was dictating the telegram. Though he must have heard the message, he preserved the myth that a butler hears what is spoken by his betters only when it is directed to his ears.
As Daisy hung up, he said, “You wished to speak to me, madam?”
“We’re expecting another guest, Lowecroft.” She could have had Ernest tell him, but he would have been deeply offended. Hierarchy must be observed. “I understand Mr. Samuel Dalrymple is on his way. I’m afraid I don’t know when he’ll get here.”
“No matter, madam. Everything will be set in readiness to receive Mr. Samuel. If I may mention it, madam, I believe I saw Lady John’s car arriving. No doubt Mrs. Samuel has returned from her visit.”
“Good! I expect she’ll want to go upstairs for a rest. Please tell her I’d like a word with her and I’ll come up to her room if she prefers.”
“Very good, madam.”
“Don’t let anyone tell her about Mr. Samuel before I do.”
“Certainly not, madam. There is no reason,” he said austerely, “for anyone other than Mrs. Warden to know whose arrival we are preparing for.” He paused for a perfectly judged moment to see whether she had anything else to say, then bowed and made his stately way out.