right away?’
‘You will need to change,’ said Harry, looking at Rose’s white muslin gown with its flounces and frills.
‘Come, Daisy,’ said Rose, ‘I cannot wait to begin.’
So Becket’s dream of holding Daisy’s waist while he taught her to ride came true. Both girls were wearing divided skirts, white blouses and straw boaters.
There was a wood on the estate with a bridle path running through it. To the disappointment of both men, the girls proved to be quick learners.
‘Daisy and I will go for a run on our own,’ said Rose. Only after the pair had gone flying off did Harry regret not having brought bicycles for himself and Becket.
Lady Glensheil came up to them as they were walking back to the house. ‘I saw you gentlemen wheeling bicycles. Where are the young ladies?’
‘Gone off cycling. They learned very quickly.’
‘Oh, this cycling craze,’ sighed Lady Glensheil. ‘I keep a few for guests.’
‘Where?’ demanded Harry eagerly.
Lady Glensheil turned to her ever-present maid and footman. She said to the footman, ‘Paul, fetch a couple of gentleman’s bikes.’
Rose felt dizzy with happiness as she and Daisy flew down the bridle path. It was such a delicious sense of freedom. At last they stopped. ‘I think we should go back,’ said Daisy, anxious to see Becket again. ‘We didn’t even thank the captain properly.’
‘Oh, very well.’ They turned their bikes around when a man stepped out from the shelter of the trees and held a pistol on them.
‘Dr McWhirter,’ gasped Rose.
His eyes glowed in the green gloom of the forest with a mad light.
‘It was all your fault,’ he said. ‘You ruined me. Me. I was once the most courted doctor in Mayfair. My business is ruined. I am ruined. But I’ll take you with me, you nasty, scheming little bitch.’
Daisy felt she should stand in front of Rose, but that would mean he would shoot both of them. She was terrified and her bladder gave.
He smiled and cocked the pistol.
Harry, speeding along the bridle path with Becket behind him, saw Rose and Daisy, white and petrified, and the figure in front of them. Kerridge had shown him a photograph of McWhirter, and looking at that thick white hair, Harry was sure it was the doctor. With one hand he fished out his own pistol from his pocket. A brief memory of riding a horse in the veldt during the Boer War and leaning forward over the pommel to take aim came back to him.
Praying he hadn’t lost his skill as a marksman, he fired directly at the doctor’s back.
McWhirter dropped to the ground.
Daisy burst into tears and Becket dismounted and ran to her. Rose stood where she was, very still, staring straight ahead.
Harry dismounted. He knelt down beside McWhir-ter’s body and turned it over.
‘Dead,’ he pronounced.
He got to his feet. ‘Lady Rose,’ he said. ‘Go back to the house. Do not tell anyone of this.’
Rose said through white lips, ‘Why? The police will have to be informed.’
‘Well, that’s the problem. Why did he attack you of all people?’
‘He blamed me for everything. So what are we to do?’
Harry turned his head. ‘Becket, go back to the house and find two spades.’
‘But this is criminal!’ protested Rose as Becket left Daisy, mounted and pedalled off.
‘I am trying to avert a scandal. If this became known, your parents would summon you home. One of their servants who had not been in their employ very long might decide to earn some money by talking to the newspapers about your visit to the asylum. It’s better this way. Take Daisy and go back to the house.’
‘No, I want to see it through to the end,’ said Rose.
‘But I’ve wet meself,’ wailed Daisy.
A hysterical giggle escaped from Rose’s lips. ‘Then you go back, Daisy.’
‘Not without you.’
They waited uneasily for Becket. ‘I hope one of the guests doesn’t decide to go for a ride,’ said Harry.
At last they saw Becket speeding down the path towards them with two spades balanced on the handlebars.
‘Right,’ said Harry, taking the spades from Becket. ‘Let’s drag this body into the woods.’
Daisy and Rose, clutching each other, followed them.
Rose suddenly released Daisy and turned away and vomited.
‘That’s it,’ said Harry. ‘Back to the house with both of you. Daisy . . .’
‘Miss Levine to you,’ said Daisy shakily.
‘Miss Levine, take her back and tell anyone who asks that you both have a touch of the sun.’
Daisy and Rose shakily made their way back to their bicycles. They mounted and began to pedal slowly at first and then furiously towards the house.
They handed their bicycles to a footman and went up to the sanctuary of their rooms.
Daisy stripped off and hid her underwear at the bottom of a drawer. She did not want Turner to know she had soiled herself.
After she had bathed and dressed in fresh clothes, she went into Rose’s room. Rose was lying on the bed, her eyes half closed.
‘I am not very brave,’ she said weakly.
‘I’m feeling better,’ said Daisy in bracing tones. ‘That’s one fright dealt with.’
‘This won’t do,’ said Harry. ‘We can’t leave the body here.’
‘Why not?’ asked Becket.
‘No matter how deeply we put it, some animal might start digging and a keeper might find it. Kerridge would immediately connect me with the shooting. All he has to do is check the gun licences for people in Britain with a Webley and my name would come up.’
‘How would he know it was a Webley?’
‘From the bullet.’
‘We could dig the bullet out of him. And why didn’t they trace the owner of the gun that shot Pomfret?’
‘It was one of the hundreds of unlicensed old Boer War weapons in Britain. Whoever murdered Freddy simply left it lying on the floor beside his body. Whoever killed Freddy knew that weapon could never be traced.’
‘So what’ll we do?’
‘Cover him up with leaves and we’ll come back after dark with the car, take it miles from here, and sink it somewhere in the upper reaches of the Thames. Daisy said something about a car following them. We’d better look for McWhirter’s car, if it was him, and get rid of it as well.’
Rose and Daisy picked nervously at breakfast the next day. There was no sign of Harry. Both wanted to talk to him about McWhirter – to talk away some of the nightmare.
‘You are looking very pale, Lady Rose,’ said Maisie Chatterton, who had just helped herself to a large selection from the buffet. She sat down next to Rose.
Rose noticed that Maisie no longer lisped as she had done a year ago. ‘This is not a very exciting house party,’ mourned Maisie. ‘The gentlemen are either boring or quite too simply dreadful. Mr Stockton is a rotter, but at least he shows some interest in the ladies, which is more than can be said for the rest of them. Sir Gerald is as sarcastic as ever. Neddie Freemantle brays as ever. Mr Baker-Willis glooms about the place. Your captain is –’
‘He is not my captain,’ said Rose.
‘Indeed! You seem to be the only lady he talks to. I thought our hostess might have arranged something, but she spends her day reading newspapers and magazines and shows no interest in anyone. I asked her what we were doing today and she said, “Whatever you want.” What sort of answer is that from a hostess?’
Rose felt she must escape into the fresh air. ‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘I am just going outside, Daisy. There is no need for you to join me.’
Outside, Rose stood and breathed deeply. The day was glorious. Not a cloud in the sky and the trees were
