Sick of Shadows - M. C. Beaton [4]
“No, no. Please sit down on this bench. Do compose yourself. Why are you so distressed?”
“I don’t know the rules,” sniffed Dolly. “So many rules. We were taking tea yesterday at Mrs. Barrington-Bruce’s place in Kensington. Such a splendid tea and I have a healthy appetite. I ate an awful lot and then I found the other ladies were looking at me in horror. Worse than that, I’d taken off my gloves. I did not know one was supposed to eat with gloves on.”
“Usually the form is to eat only a little thin bread and butter,” said Rose. “It is rolled, you see, so that one does not get butter on one’s gloves.”
“I talk an awful lot about the country because I do miss it so,” said Dolly, “and Mother says they are all laughing at me and calling me the Milkmaid.”
“I think it would be a good ploy if you were to say as little as possible. Just look enigmatic.”
“What does that mean?”
“Mysterious. Hidden depths.”
“But the gentlemen can sometimes make very warm remarks and I am fearful of offending them.”
“Let me see. You rap the offender lightly on the arm with your fan and lower your eyes and say something like, ‘Oh, sir, I fear you are too wicked for me. But perhaps I am naïve. I shall tell Mama exactly what you have just said.’ Believe me, that will cool their ardour.”
“You are so, so clever! Tell me more.”
Flattered and feeling she was finally being of use to someone, Rose went on to help her pupil further.
But the morning was rather spoilt for her when, just before she left, Dolly said, “I would like to meet your fiancé. He seems to be a most fascinating man. But people do say he is never at your side.”
“People talk a lot of nonsense,” retorted Rose angrily.
Daisy was waiting for Rose when she returned. “You look cross,” commented Daisy. “What did she do to upset you?”
“Nothing. She is a delightful and charming innocent. I was able to give her some tips as to how to go on in society. We shall meet again. She does cry a lot. She is very sensitive.”
“Probably acting,” sniffed the jealous Daisy. “Well, if she didn’t make you cross, who did?”
“It’s just that people are constantly harping on about my supposed fiancé and wondering why he is never with me. I really did think the captain would keep up some sort of pretence.”
“Then let’s go and see him,” said Daisy eagerly. “There’s no harm in calling on a fellow in his office.”
“I would not lower myself to go and beg him.”
“But—”
“No more, Daisy.”
I’m supposed to be her companion and friend, thought Daisy sulkily, but she still talks down to me. Then her face brightened. She had a soft spot for the captain’s manservant, Becket. She would call on Becket. He would know what to do.
“Do you need me for anything?” asked Daisy.
“I don’t know. What appointments do we have for today?”
“This afternoon you’ve to make calls with your mother. You won’t need me.”
“I suppose not. What will you do?”
“Dunno. Look at the shops.”
“Don’t say dunno,” admonished Rose, but Daisy affected not to hear her and left the room.
As the day was fine, Daisy walked from Belgravia to Chelsea and to Water Street, where the captain had his home. Her heart beat a little more quickly under her stays as she turned the corner of Water Street. It seemed ages since she had last seen Becket. She imagined his surprise when he opened the door and saw her standing there.
But to her dismay, it was Captain Harry Cathcart himself who answered the door. Daisy always found him rather intimidating. He was a tall man in his late twenties with black hair already greying at the temples and a hard handsome face with deep black eyes under heavy lids.
“Where’s Becket?” asked Daisy.
“I am afraid Becket is not well. He has a severe cold and I have sent him to bed. Is that why you came? Do come in.”
Daisy followed him into the book-lined front parlour. “Do sit down, Daisy.”
“You’ve to call me Miss Levine,” said Daisy with a show of spirit. “I’m a companion now. I’m worried about Rose.”
“Why? What’s the matter?”
“You’re supposed to be her fiancé, but you’re never seen with her and