“I’ll get him.”
Wicked Paris, thought Daisy, with its effervescent charm, its naughtiness, its seductive air that anything was permissible.
Harry returned, followed by Becket. “Sit down, Becket,” he said. “We have a problem. Miss Levine is pregnant.”
Becket’s normally bland white face went through a series of emotions all the way from shock and dismay to dawning delight. He went and knelt beside Daisy’s chair and took her cold hand in his. “We’ll find a way,” he said.
“As you know,” said Harry, “Philip Marshall has left.”
“He destroyed our dream,” said Daisy. “Becket and me were to start a salon with Miss Friendly. We’d be married and be proper business people.”
“That’s no longer on the cards,” said Harry brutally. “Couldn’t you have waited?”
“For how long?” demanded Daisy. “You said me and Becket could get married, but then nothing happened.”
“Let me think. You’d better get married as soon as possible. You and Becket can live with me as a married couple. Then we will try to find some sort of business for you.”
“After all Daisy has done for me,” said Rose, “I do not think she should have a hole-and-corner wedding. She needs a proper wedding.”
“Very well. I think you will find Mr Jarvis will help you with the arrangements. Tell him to get a special licence. I would suggest, Lady Rose, that it might be a good idea to get the wedding over with before your parents return.”
¦
Rose planned a really pretty wedding for Daisy. Miss Friendly was still busy setting up her salon but promised to work day and night to create a wedding gown.
There was the delicate question of whether Daisy should be married in white, but Rose thought the fewer people who knew of Daisy’s pregnancy, the better, Madame Bailloux pointing out with French cynicism that she was sure many of the society misses went to the altar already
Matthew Jarvis had found a quiet City church. Then there was the thorny question of Daisy’s family. Daisy was nervous at the thought of her drunken father turning up, but Harry pointed out Daisy could hardly invite her mother and brothers and sisters and exclude her father. Matthew booked the upstairs reception room of a pub near the church.
Daisy’s emotions were see-sawing. One moment she was elated about the marriage and the next depressed that she and Becket would still be servants.
¦
Harry called on Kerridge one day before the wedding. He was touched to learn that Kerridge had received an invitation.
“I’ve had another communication from the French police today,” said Kerridge. “They’re no further forwards. Lemonier might be coming over. You see, he feels that Miss Levine may have invented that cyclist and that perhaps Lady Rose really meant to commit suicide.”
“Ridiculous!”
“I know, I know. But they are feeling frustrated. Madame de Peurey was in her day a very high-class tart with powerful lovers, and the press are calling the police incompetent.”
“I don’t really know what to do about Lady Rose,” said Harry. “There’s this wedding of Daisy’s. I kept the announcement out of the newspapers, not wanting to draw any attention to her. Lady Rose mostly keeps indoors. I must think of a way to protect her when this wretched wedding is over.”
“I thought you’d be happy about it. I thought you were quite fond of that man of yours.”
“Oh, Becket’s sterling stuff, but it means I have to give house room to both of them. I’d better find a way to set Becket up in some sort of business. But now that Phil Marshall has left, I’m going to find it very difficult to replace him.”
“I didn’t think servants were allowed to get married.”
“They’re not. But I suppose I am considered unconventional enough as it is. Once this wedding is over, I must think of someplace safe to put Lady Rose.”
“All this should be her parents’ problem, surely,” said Kerridge.
“Agreed. But I don’t know where they are. I sent a telegram to their hotel in Monte Carlo and paid for a reply. The manager replied saying that Lord and Lady Hadshire had left and he did not have a forwarding address. Where could they have gone?”
“The Cairo season is on,” said Kerridge.
“They wouldn’t go there. There’s a cholera scare.”
¦
In spite of the cholera scare, the Cairo season was a big success. No case of cholera had been reported since the beginning of November. Cairo had international hotels with modern luxury and sanitation, very different from the poor quarters of the city. The Delta Barrage, twenty miles from the town, was a popular place for excursions, and some point-to-point races were held there. Military bands played in all the big hotels, and there were dances and social functions every day. Lord and Lady Hadshire declared life in Cairo to be absolutely splendid and were comforted by the thought that Rose was being looked after by the duchess. They never read the newspapers, and their friends who had, did not feel it would be quite the thing to comment on their daughter’s exploits. They assumed they knew and pitied them for having such a wayward daughter. Better not to mention it, for having a daughter who had made herself unmarriageable was like – well – talking about cholera.
¦
Rose wanted to ask Daisy what losing her virginity had been like but was constricted by the unwritten laws of society. No young lady should know anything about sex. In fact, an eminent surgeon had just declared that only sluts enjoyed the sexual act. Ladies lay back, thought of England, and suffered.
If it was all so terrible, then what was the point in any woman’s getting married and forced to endure years and years of breeding?
She and Daisy were sitting in Rose’s sitting room a few day’s before the wedding. Daisy was still being sick in the mornings, but rallied amazingly in the afternoons. Rose was stitching wedding garters and Daisy was reading a serial story in
Daisy was engrossed in the story. It was raining hard outside. The clock ticked on the mantel and a log fell in the hearth.
Rose wished with all her heart she were still working with Harry. The days seemed long and monotonous. Curiosity at last overcame her. She cleared her throat nervously. “Daisy?”
“Mmm?” Daisy reluctantly marked where she had been reading with one finger and looked up.
“Daisy, what is it like?”
“Getting married?”
“No.” Rose blushed. “I mean, what is it like to go to bed with a man?”
Daisy’s green eyes shone. “It is wonderful.”
“But an eminent surgeon said that ladies are not supposed to enjoy the experience.”
“Piffle. If you think I enjoyed it because I am of low class, then you are mistaken. If you love someone, then it is the most wonderful thing in the world.”
Rose sat deep in thought. Did she love Harry? He was infuriating. What if he became involved in another case with a beautiful woman? She gave a little sigh. If Harry really loved her, then he would not have found Dolores attractive at all. And would India really be so bad? She conjured up a picture of a dashing officer kneeling at her feet and proposing marriage.
¦
The day of Daisy’s wedding dawned bright and sunny. Hunter, who acted as lady’s maid to both Daisy and Rose, exclaimed with delight over the wedding gown. It was made of silk chiffon over silk charmeuse with a beaded and embroidered lace overlay on the bodice and the centre front of the skirt. The bodice and sleeves were edged with beaded trim. It buttoned up the back with tiny silk-covered buttons. On her head Daisy wore a white cloche with a chiffon veil.
