There was another reason she had left London, but she was not going to tell him.
‘I imagined you in a nurse’s uniform,’ he said.
‘Not likely. I hate sick people. But before you give me another of those disapproving frowns, take a look at this.’ She handed him the framed photograph she was carrying.
He studied it, frowning. ‘Where did you get it?’
‘I was looking through a box of old pictures in the basement junk room.’
It was a group photo taken on the east lawn of Ty Gwyn on a summer morning. In the centre was the young Earl Fitzherbert, with a big white dog at his feet. The girl next to him was probably his sister, Maud, whom Daisy had never met. Lined up on either side of them were forty or fifty men and women in a variety of servants’ uniforms.
‘Look at the date,’ she said.
‘Nineteen-twelve,’ Lloyd read aloud.
She watched him, studying his reactions to the photo he was holding. ‘Is your mother in it?’
‘Goodness! She might be.’ Lloyd looked closer. ‘I believe she is,’ he said after a minute.
‘Show me.’
Lloyd pointed. ‘I think that’s her.’
Daisy saw a slim, pretty girl of about nineteen, with curly black hair under a maid’s white cap, and a smile that had more than a hint of mischief in it. ‘Why, she’s enchanting!’ she said.
‘She was then, anyway,’ Lloyd said. ‘Nowadays people are more likely to call her formidable.’
‘Have you ever met Lady Maud? Do you think that’s her next to Fitz?’
‘I suppose I’ve known her all my life, off and on. She and my mother were suffragettes together. I haven’t seen her since I left Berlin in 1933, but this is definitely her in the picture.’
‘She’s not so pretty.’
‘Perhaps, but she’s very poised, and wonderfully well dressed.’
‘Anyway, I thought you might like to have the picture.’
‘To keep?’
‘Of course. No one else wants it – that’s why it was in a box in the basement.’
‘Thank you!’
‘You’re welcome.’ Daisy went to the door. ‘Go back to your studies.’
Going down the back stairs she hoped she had not flirted. She probably should not have gone to see him at all. She had succumbed to a generous impulse. Heaven forbid that he should misinterpret it.
She felt a sharp pain in her tummy, and stopped on the half-landing. She had had a slight backache all day – which she attributed to the cheap mattress she was sleeping on – but this was different. She thought back over what she had eaten today, but could not identify anything that might have made her ill: no undercooked chicken, no unripe fruit. She had not eaten oysters – no such luck! The pain went as quickly as it had come and she told herself to forget about it.
She returned to her quarters in the basement. She was living in what had been the housekeeper’s flat: a tiny bedroom, a sitting room, a small kitchen and an adequate bathroom with a tub. An old footman called Morrison was acting as caretaker to the house, and a young woman from Aberowen was her maid. The girl was called Little Maisie Owen, although she was quite big. ‘My mother’s Maisie too, so I’ve always been Little Maisie, even though I’m taller than her now,’ she had explained.
The phone rang as Daisy entered. She picked it up and heard her husband’s voice. ‘How are you?’ he said.
‘I’m fine. What time will you be here?’ He had flown to RAF St Athan, a large air base outside Cardiff, on some mission, and he had promised to visit her and spend the night.
‘I’m not going to make it, I’m sorry.’
‘Oh, how disappointing!’
‘There’s a ceremonial dinner at the base that I’m required to attend.’
He did not sound particularly dispirited that he would not see her, and she felt spurned. ‘How nice for you,’ she said.
‘It will be boring, but I can’t get out of it.’
‘Not half as boring as living here on my own.’
‘It must be dull. But you’re better off there, in your condition.’
Thousands of people had left London after war was declared, but most of them had drifted back when the expected bombing raids and gas attacks did not materialize. However, Bea and May and even Eva were agreed that Daisy’s pregnancy meant she should live at Ty Gwyn. Many women gave birth safely every day in London, Daisy had pointed out; but of course the heir to the earldom was different.
