at all times.”
¦
Rose and Daisy retired to Rose’s sitting room. “Did you see Becket!” demanded Daisy. “He wouldn’t even look at me!”
“You will see plenty of him when we go to Paris,” said Rose, “but it is all very uncomfortable, I must admit. The captain went on as if he barely knew me.”
“Let’s go outside for a walk,” urged Daisy. “I want to enjoy this feeling of freedom.”
They put on their coats and gloves, pinned hats on their heads and made their way out to the front of the house. “Nothing but trees, lawn and drive,” said Rose. “There’s probably some sort of garden at the back.”
“You know what I think?” asked Daisy.
“No, how can I?”
“I think it’s a bit shocking that this here grand house is merely a hunting box. It could house a whole street of people from the East End of London.”
“True. But keep such views to yourself or our hostess will think you a Bolshevik. Ah, here are the gardens in front of the terrace.”
“And there’s the captain,” whispered Daisy, “sitting on that bench down by the sundial.”
“We should go back,” said Rose, suddenly nervous.
As if aware of them, Harry turned round, saw them, and stood up. Rose walked towards him, feeling her heart beginning to thud.
“Lady Rose,” he said, “pray join me.”
Rose looked over her shoulder but Daisy had disappeared.
Rose and Harry sat down together on the bench. “We are supposed to be chaperoned, Captain Cathcart,” said Rose.
“We are in full view of the house and in the open air. The conventions do not apply to the gardens, society obviously never having heard of love in the bushes. Please sit down.”
They both sat down on the bench. Rose was wearing one of the huge cartwheel hats which were so fashionable. The crown was decorated with curled grouse feathers. She had her head bent forwards and Harry could not read her expression. He wondered if his remark about love in the bushes had been too crude. What did she think? Was there any passion there, or when he had kissed her, had he been mistaken in what he had considered her enthusiastic response?
At last Rose began to speak. “Captain Harry…”
“I think you should just call me Harry. We have known each other for some time.”
“Well, Harry, then. I am deeply grateful to you for having rescued us from that convent. How did you manage to persuade the duchess?”
“I had done some work for her. A precious diamond brooch was missing and her household was in an uproar, with one servant accusing the other. I eventually found it caught inside a corset.”
“How did you know where to look?”
“I thought it might have fallen down inside her clothes, and the corset, which is not as regularly washed as the other garments, seemed like a good idea. After the convent would not let me see you, Becket informed me that he had read in the local newspaper while he was waiting for me that the duchess was resident at this hunting box. Was life at the convent really so bad?”
“I suppose it would have been all right if I had really wanted to become a nun. The nuns were in the main very pleasant. Sister Agnes was another matter.”
“I wish you would not come with me to Paris,” said Harry.
“Why?”
“If you remember, some man put those letters in your luggage to incriminate you in a murder. He may appear again.”
“If you think he is the culprit, what has it to do with this Madame de Peurey?”
“Miss Duval owned two houses in France. It is possible that Madame de Peurey may have hired someone to kill Dolores, but I will be able to tell better when I meet her.”
“I must go with you,” said Rose firmly. “The duchess wants to go and I do not want to be returned to the convent.”
“I am sure your parents will not approve.”
“Is my company so repugnant to you that you will do anything and hope for anything to stop me going?”
“I am only thinking of your safety.”
Rose got to her feet. “It is a pity you were not thinking of my safety before you chose to consort with a French whore!”
“I was merely working for her!”
“Pah!”
Rose strode off to the house.
¦
At breakfast the following morning, the butler handed the duchess a telegram. “What now?” she asked. “Oh, it’s from Polly. She says, ‘Do not approve. Stop. Convent respectable. Stop. Return my daughter immediately. Stop. How are you? Stop. Polly.’”
“Oh, no!” wailed Daisy.
The duchess turned her shrewd little eyes on Rose.
“Is your father High?”
“You mean, High Church?”
“Yes.”
“No, the church at our country home, Stacey Court, is Low.”
“And does he know these Anglican convents were founded by Edward Bouverie Pusey?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
Edward Pusey had founded the Anglican convents in the middle of the last century. He was under criticism for being too close to the Catholic Church.
“Good. Kemp, a telegram.” She waited until the butler had fetched paper and pen and then she began. “‘Dear Polly. Did you know the sisters were a bunch of Puseyites, all bells and smells and don’t think you want Rose there so think it best she comes with me and what were you thinking of to turn her into scrubbing woman really not suitable I am well, Effie.’”
“Do you wish me to insert punctuation, Your Grace?” asked Kemp.
“Send it!”
“My parents may still protest,” said Rose uneasily.
“Oh, I think that’ll do the trick.”
¦
Rose waited uneasily all day. At afternoon tea, she found the duchess in high spirits. “Got a telegram from your ma,” she said gleefully. “She says, ‘Dear Effie, Had no idea. Stop. Grateful to you. Stop. Daughter unruly so keep tight rein. Stop. Yours Polly.’
“Paris, here we come!”
? Our Lady of Pain ?
Five
