there any chance you could meet me for a cup of tea?”
She waited anxiously. “There’s a Lyon’s tea shop at Victoria, near the station. Know it?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll meet you there in an hour.”
“Who was that?” asked Becket, who was sitting in a chair in the outer office.
“Just my sister,” said Bernie.
¦
“I wonder what your husband would make of this,” said Bernie, as he and Daisy sat over muffins and tea in Lyon’s tea shop.
“I’m not doing anything wrong,” said Daisy. She wondered if Bernie had noticed her hat, a straw cartwheel embellished with fat pink and yellow pansies. “My husband is working all day and I felt I had to get out.”
“When do you leave for the country?”
“Next week.”
“Are you looking forward to it?”
“I’m a city girl. Stacey Court is very quiet.”
“How long will you be away?”
“Just a couple of weeks. It was Lady Polly’s idea. She thinks fresh air would be good for me.”
“Two weeks isn’t a long time. It’ll go quickly.”
“May I see you from time to time when I get back?”
“I don’t know, Daisy. I like you lots, but it doesn’t seem right.”
“I’m allowed friends,” exclaimed Daisy.
“Of course, friends.” Bernie gave Daisy’s hand a little squeeze. “What else?”
¦
Daisy prepared lamb chops for Becket’s supper. She looked around the large high-ceilinged kitchen and reflected that soon she would at least be occupied in cleaning the flat. Her husband had said nothing about hiring help, and anyway, Daisy was sure they could not afford it.
When Becket came home, she served supper in their dining room. Becket looked about him with pride. “I say, Daisy, isn’t this marvellous? Our new home at last.”
“You know,” said Daisy cautiously, “I am trained to type and take shorthand. It will be very dull for me, being here on my own all day. I could find a job and hire someone to clean.”
“Nonsense. You’re my wife and a lady, and ladies don’t work.”
“I ain’t no lady.”
Becket gave an indulgent laugh. “If Lady Rose could hear you now! You’re slipping back into your old speech.”
“I mean it. Why can’t I work?”
“Because,” said Becket severely, “you’ll be too busy being a wife and mother.”
“Mother,” echoed Daisy faintly.
“As soon as I get round to it, I’m going to fix up one of the spare bedrooms as a nursery.”
A scream rose up inside Daisy, but she fought it down and said, “I’ll need to go to bed. I’m still not feeling well.”
“You go ahead. I’ll clean up here.”
I’m trapped, thought Daisy miserably as she crawled into bed, and I don’t know what to do about it.
¦
The exodus to Stacey Court took place the following week. Masters and servants and mountains of luggage made their stately procession out of London. It was one of those grey weeping British days with a fine drizzle falling from the sky.
Daisy would have liked to travel with Rose, but in her new diminished status, she and Becket had to travel with the upper servants.
Stacey Court was a Tudor building, its rose-red walls covered in creepers and with many mullioned windows. In Tudor times, the more windows, the higher the status of the owner.
It was dark and damp inside. The earl ordered fires to be lit in all the rooms although it was warm outside. He had a fear of rheumatism and blamed his secretary for not having had the foresight to air and warm the place before they arrived, unaware that Matthew had suggested it to Lady Polly and had been told that as it was summer, such preparations were not necessary.
Daisy and Becket were given a room on a half landing below the servants’ quarters in the attics.
Another dark place, thought Daisy miserably as she unpacked. In the servants’ hall that evening, she and Becket received a warm welcome from the other servants. Brum smiled and suggested that after dinner, perhaps Mr and Mrs Becket could entertain them as they had done before, Becket playing his concertina and Daisy singing music-hall songs.
Daisy was about to agree but Becket said severely, “I do not like my wife performing in public.”
“It’s not public,” protested Daisy. “We’re with friends.”
Becket shook his head and said firmly, “I’m sorry. It would not be suitable.”
A vision of the chirpy, cheery Bernie rose in Daisy’s mind and again she felt that suffocating feeling of being trapped.
¦
Upstairs, at the dinner table, the earl said to his daughter, “Captain Cathcart will be arriving tomorrow. He wanted to come and I could hardly refuse.”
Rose felt a jolt of fear. She knew Harry was probably going to propose marriage. This is what she had wanted. Why did she not want it now?
After dinner, she sent a footman with a note asking Daisy to join her.
When Daisy entered, Rose hugged her. “I miss you.”
“Me, too.”
“Captain Cathcart is calling tomorrow. I think he means to ask for my hand in marriage.”
“There you are,” said Daisy bracingly. “We’ll both be married ladies.”
“I don’t think I want to get married,” said Rose.
“Go on with you! The pair of you are so well suited.”
“I’m sick of danger, Daisy. I’m sick of being frightened. If I marry Harry, I will be drawn into his life.”
“You don’t need to be,” said Daisy.
“Then what if, after we get married, another Dolores comes along?”
“Or another Roger,” Daisy pointed out.
“Oh, that was such a mistake. But I would never have known how weak he was if that terrible woman hadn’t threatened to kill us.”
“How do you mean, ‘weak’?”
“He wanted to leave me with her to get shot as long as he could escape.”
“Well, they’re not all like the captain.”
“True. Or your Becket.”
Daisy leaned forward and poked the fire. A wind had risen and was howling in the chimney. “I’m in trouble, Rose, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Why? What is the matter?”
“I don’t love him any more. I’ll have to spend the rest of my days in the gloomy flat in Bloomsbury, having one baby after another, and that’s if I
“Daisy, dear Daisy. You’ve had a very bad shock. After a bit of rest and quiet, you’ll feel differently.”
“No, I won’t. I know I won’t. I’m frightened of beginning to hate him. Divorce isn’t for the likes of us. Unless he dies, I’m stuck with him.”
“You can hardly kill him,” said Rose.
“Can’t I?” howled Daisy. “Just you wait and see. And there’s worse.”
“Than wanting to kill your husband?”
“I’ve met someone else. It’s Bernie King who works for the captain.”
