Rose sat there for a long time. She finally decided that the least she could do was go to Harry and thank him. He should have realized she had only said these things because she was overset.
As she left the library, she was joined by her mother in the hall. ‘I had such a good nap, dear,’ said Lady Polly.
They walked outside together. A marquee had been erected for dancing. They entered the marquee. It was a splendid affair, having been laid with a French chalked floor and decorated with banks of flowers.
Harry Cathcart was dancing a lively polka with Mrs Winston. She was laughing up at him. Harry’s bad leg did not seem to be troubling him at all.
Lady Polly looked from Harry to her daughter’s set face. Really, she thought, we might be rid of him after all. Not that he isn’t a good man. But trade! Our name should not be allied with trade.
Kerridge mopped his brow and made a mental note to tell his wife not to put too much starch in his collars. The window of his office was wide open but seemed to let nothing else in but brassy heat and the smell of drains and horse manure.
Inspector Judd came in and put a cup of tea on his boss’s desk. ‘Thought you could do with that, sir.’
‘Ta. Sit down. I was really thinking of nipping round to the pub for a tankard of beer.’
‘Quiet day. You should be able to manage it, sir. You remember that thieving pair of servants at Lady Glensheil’s?’
‘Yes. Any word of them?’
‘No, disappeared into thin air. I was thinking of them only today, wondering how they’d managed to escape with all the police looking for them. Maybe we should have checked the ports.’
‘Waste of manpower. That sort never leave the country. They just sink down into some thieves’ kitchen. They’ll be caught sooner or later, mark my words,’ said Kerridge. ‘That sort always get found out.’
Alice Turvey and the pot-boy, Bert Harvey, had bought a little shop in Brooklyn. The chef at Lady Glensheil’s had taught Alice one day how to make meat pies with a light golden crust. They called their pie shop A Bit of England and built up a steady trade. They soon had enough money to buy false papers. They took the names of Mr and Mrs Kerridge.
Bert was already thinking of training up a cook and opening another shop.
They were regular attenders at St Anne’s Episcopal church in Montagu Street and were regarded as pillars of the community by the other tradesmen.
Lady Rose went to Deauville with her parents and then on to Biarritz. Harry stayed in London. She did not write to him or answer any of his letters.
On their return, Daisy surprised Rose by asking for an evening off.
‘You’re not going to get into any more trouble, are you?’ asked Rose anxiously.
‘No, I just want to be by myself for a bit.’
Becket surprised Harry by asking for an evening off. He readily granted it but could not remember Becket ever before asking for any time off.
Becket and Daisy met in Hyde Park. It was quiet in the evening, with only a few couples strolling about.
‘They’re not going to get married, you know,’ said Daisy gloomily. She and Becket had never spoken of marrying each other, and yet between them there was an understanding that they would be free to do so only if Rose married Harry.
‘Perhaps there might be another murder to bring them together,’ said Becket. ‘Let’s forget them and let me take you out for a nice supper. What would you like? I’ve been saving up. Champagne? Oysters?’
‘Jellied eels,’ said Daisy dreamily. ‘I would love some jellied eels.’
‘Then jellied eels it is!’
