“His new servant?”
“No, his new detective. Oh, Rose, he’s light and easy and cockney like myself. He’s fun. He makes me laugh.”
“Daisy, listen to me. It is all a reaction to what you have gone through.”
“Do you think you could ask the captain to suggest to Becket that I go out to work? I’m sure that would make all the difference.”
“Yes, of course I shall. Now, your husband will be wondering where you are.”
¦
Rose waited anxiously the next day for Harry’s arrival. What should she say to him? If she refused his proposal now that he appeared to have her parents’ permission, he would never ask her again and she would probably never see him again.
The weather had cleared up and pale sunlight streamed in through all the windows.
She paced up and down the gardens, hoping to tire herself out so that she would feel calmer.
“Look at her!” said Lady Polly as she and her husband watched from the window as Rose paced up and down. “She’s got permission to marry the wretched man and she looks miserable. If we mention India to her again, she’ll accept him just to get out of it.”
“I’m weary of the whole business,” said the earl. “Rose has been such a disappointment. She’ll have her own money by the time she’s twenty-one. Perhaps we should accept the fact that she’s going to be an old maid.”
“But what a waste of all that beauty,” sighed Lady Polly.
“I hear that motor of his,” said the earl.
Rose had obviously heard the sound as well because she looked alarmed and then fled into the house.
“Better go and welcome him,” said the earl.
¦
Harry took tea with the earl and countess, wondering all the time where Rose had got to. The murders were not referred to. Now that the case was over, the earl and countess considered talk of murder in their drawing room very bad form.
Putting his teacup down in the saucer with an impatient little click and wondering if Lady Polly meant to talk all day about the weather, Harry said, “May I see Lady Rose? You know why I have come.”
They both rose to their feet. “We’ll send her to you,” said the earl.
Harry waited, pacing up and down much as Rose had done in the garden.
Rose came quietly into the room. She was wearing a white lace gown with a high, boned lace collar. Her brown hair was piled up on top of her head and her blue eyes looked larger than ever.
This is it, thought Rose. What am I to do? What am I to say?
Harry took one of her hands in his. “My darling Rose,” he said. “Would you –”
Brum gave a loud cough. “What is it?” demanded Harry.
“There is a police inspector has called and insists on seeing you urgently.”
“Tell him to wait.”
“I fear he has come to arrest you, sir.”
“What nonsense. Wait here, Rose. I won’t be long.”
Harry followed the butler down the stairs.
“I have put the person in the study,” said Brum in lugubrious tones.
Harry opened the study door and walked in. A police inspector rose to meet him, flanked by two police officers.
“Captain Cathcart,” he said, “we must ask you to accompany us to the police station for questioning.”
“What is this about?”
“At the police station, sir. Come along. We don’t want to put the cuffs on you.”
Harry was taken to the market town of Hidwell and ushered into an interview room.
¦
Daisy was sitting in the housekeeper, Mrs Henry’s, parlour, having a cup of tea. She was privately hoping Rose would be successful in persuading Harry to talk to Becket and get permission to work. The news of Harry’s departure had not yet filtered below stairs.
“Must have been awful losing your baby,” said Mrs Henry, a woman as fat and comfortable as a well-worn sofa.
“You know, I don’t want babies,” said Daisy. “Is that unnatural?”
“Not after all you’ve been through.”
“It’s all right for the men,” complained Daisy. “If they don’t want babies, they can wear a condom.”
The condom had been around since the time of the Egyptian pharaohs. Some say it was named after Dr Condom, who supplied Charles II with animal-tissue sheaths.
“There is a country way for women,” said Mrs Henry.
“What’s that?”
“You get a piece of green elm and stick it up your whatsit. The wood expands and blocks everything.”
“I wouldn’t know green elm. Can you get me some?”
“If you’re sure, m’dear. Seems bit hard on your man.”
“I would only use it for a little.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
¦
“I am Inspector Robinson,” said the inspector, facing Harry across a table scarred with cigarette burns and tea stains. “You visited Miss Thomson, the woman accused of the murders, last evening, did you not?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Why?”
“I was curious about her state of mind. I had begun to consider writing a book on the criminal mind.”
“And she was well when you saw her?”
“Spitting venom, but otherwise fairly well. What is this about?”
“Half an hour after you left her bedside, she was found stabbed to death.”
“Good heavens, man, that had nothing to do with me!”
“We checked with the prison hospital and you, sir, were the last to see her.”
The questioning went on and on and then finally Harry was told they would be holding him overnight. He was formally charged with the murder of Thomson. Before he was led off to the cells he called his lawyer, who promised to be there first thing in the morning.
One of the policemen told his wife that evening of the arrest and the gossip swirled out of the town and reached Stacey Court.
The earl and countess were alarmed. Rose was strictly forbidden to visit Harry.
“We must get her away from here,” said the earl, “or Rose will decide to elope with a jailbird.”
“She can’t elope with him if he’s locked up.”
“Superintendent Kerridge is a friend of Cathcart’s and will probably get him released. We must get her away. Let’s take her up to Tarrach as fast as possible.” Tarrach was the earl’s hunting lodge in Perthshire. “I’ll get Matthew to make all the arrangements.”
¦
Daisy tried not to feel too selfishly upset when Rose told her that there had been no time to speak to Harry about Becket. “And you are going away tomorrow,” mourned Daisy.
She looked hopefully at Rose. “We could run away again.”
“I’m afraid I can’t face running away any more. The stay in Scotland will help me to make up my mind about Harry.”
¦
Becket called early in the morning at the police station with a change of clothes for Harry.
“This is ridiculous,” raged Harry. “I am being moved to London. My lawyer couldn’t get hold of Kerridge. I thought Lady Rose might have tried to see me.”
“Lady Rose was refused permission and the family are leaving for Scotland today.”
Harry fretted all the way to London and when he found himself locked up in a police cell in Pentonville Prison,
