Daisy (12 page)

After Amy had left, she lay on top of the damp bed lazily dreaming of Sir James and watching the leaves shifting and turning outside the window.

Promptly at six o’clock Daisy hesitated outside the drawing room, smoothing down her gown and listening to the chatter of voices inside. For some reason she could not define, she had a slight feeling of panic, almost like stage fright, and a longing to escape, but a footman was already at her elbow and throwing open the double doors.

There was a slight silence as she entered. Heads turned and Sir James caught his breath. She was dressed in a deceptively simple sheath of scarlet silk, cut low over the bosom and with long tight sleeves ending at points at the wrists. The soft childish beauty of her features combined with the daring sophistication of the gown made her look as exotic as a Beardsley drawing.

Daisy moved about the room, chatting to the guests and feeling increasingly uncomfortable. Most of the ladies seemed to have sort of lopsided smiles on their faces as they looked at her and even the cheeriest of young men subjected her to a kind of brooding stare.

Neither Mary nor Harry nor their hostess had, as yet, appeared. Sir James rang the antique bell on a massive sideboard. A frail, elderly butler appeared to inform them that my lord and lady and the Countess had left on a visit to a neighboring household and that the Earl was still at Cowes and not likely to return.

A young man called Bertie Burke seemed to be the angriest. “I say!” he expostulated. “This is downright cultivating eccentricity. We all know the Trentons like a joke but to run away and leave a whole house party on the day of their arrival is carrying things too far.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Fetch up some refreshment.”

“I am afraid that will not be possible, sir.”

“In heaven’s name why not?”

“Her ladyship keeps the keys to the cellars and to the liquor cabinet with her at all times, sir.”

There were loud cries of dismay. Most of the guests were feeling the aftereffects of their celebrating on the train journey and felt in the need of a bracer. Daisy began to giggle. They all seemed to be in a state of shock. Bertie, who seemed to have been silently elected spokesman, tried again.

“Look here. We’ll all just need to pack up and return to London.”

“I regret, sir,” said the butler with a kind of mournful enjoyment, “that the last train for London has already left.”

More groans greeted this news and the guests began to look around nervously.

The room was dark and lit by candles, gaslight having obviously been considered an unnecessary expense. The furniture had not been renewed since the days of the Regency and what must have been once light and elegant and the latest in fashion, now stood around shabbily on its chipped and spindly legs. With the exception of the heavy sideboard, it all looked too frail and tired to cope with a rumbustious party of Edwardian sophisticates. There were three young men including Bertie, as well as Sir James and an elderly Colonel Witherspoon who seemed determined to relive the days of his youth. The ladies included three young debutantes who all looked small and foxy and giggled, Kitty, and a dashing widow named Jo Phillips who was almost as enraged as Bertie over the lack of stimulants.

“Well, we’ve got the carriages,” said Bertie at last. “Is there an inn near here?”

“There is a place called The Prince of Wales Feathers, sir. About five miles along the Lewes road.”

“Hooray!” cried Bertie. “Let’s all go and drink up all the champers in the pub.”

Noisy cheers and cries of assent greeted his suggestion. Everyone seemed suddenly anxious to get away from the dim and oppressive atmosphere of the manor. There was a bustling about, a summoning of maids, a collecting of wraps, and they all congregated cheerfully in the hall. “Wait a bit.” cried Mrs. Phillips. “Oxenden’s due to arrive.”

“Leave him a note,” chorused several voices. Sir James had noticed the start Daisy had given and the quick turn of her head. He took hold of her arm possessively. “Let’s take a carriage to ourselves and get away from these rowdy children.”

Daisy drew back slightly. She was suddenly nervous at the prospect of being alone with him, but the others were all pairing off and it seemed an unspoken fact that she should go along with Sir James. As if judging her nervousness, he released her arm and began to speculate lightly on the eccentricity of the Countess, making her laugh, and guiding her gently to a waiting carriage.

They were about to move off when the carriage door was wrenched open and Bertie Burke hurtled in and plumped himself down beside Daisy. “Can’t leave you to monopolize the prettiest girl in the party, James,” he said cheerfully. “Let’s liven things up right away. Ever heard me sing, Miss Chatterton? No? Well, here we go…” He began to sing “Good-bye, Dolly Grey” in a pleasant tenor. After a few minutes, Daisy joined in in a clear soprano and Sir James sat in his corner watching them and feeling immeasurably old.

By the time they rolled into the courtyard of the Prince of Wales Feathers, Daisy was helpless with laughter at Bertie’s antics and Sir James was regretting that the days of dueling were over.

The rest of the party had arrived before them and had ordered “all the champagne in the house” and expressed the determination to drink it all.

Bertie immediately challenged Daisy to a game of Colonel Puff-Puff, a remigental sport requiring the loser to drink a whole glass of champagne without pausing for breath. Daisy lost five times and then retired from the game, saying she was feeling dizzy.

One by one the locals drank up and left, leaving the inn to their noisy and impertinent betters. Jo Phillips began to bang out songs on an old upright in the corner and Bertie, after ripping a chintz curtain from one of the windows to use as a skirt, gave a rousing imitation of a Cockney lady doing “Knees Up Mother Brown.” He finished to a hearty round of applause and the ladies of the party, including Daisy, now all feeling very tipsy, joined him in the dance, giggling with laughter and coyly flashing their ankles. Jo Phillips got as far as flashing her garters and the landlord’s wife stepped in to protest that “she wasn’t running no bawdy house.”

“Keep your dreary middle-class morality out of this,” snapped Sir James, “or I shall have the local magistrate remove your license.”

Daisy looked at him, sobered for the minute. Then she tried to tell him how much she disapproved of his manner, but the waves of drunkenness had come back and all the words seemed to come out the wrong way.

One of the young men, the Honorable Clive Fraser, produced a hunting rifle and, after setting up a row of glasses along the bar, proceeded to challenge the rest of the men to a shooting match. Again the landlord’s wife rushed forward to protest, and Jo Phillips aimed a soda siphon at her face, drowning the poor woman’s complaints, and then jumped on top of the bar, offering her garters as first prize.

Colonel Witherspoon had drifted into some drunken dream where he was in Imperial Russia and after each glass of champagne, he smashed his glass into the fireplace and called for his horse. One of the foxy girls was being sick in a corner and the other two were trying to set fire to the curtains.

Daisy grabbed hold of her remaining wits and pleaded with Sir James to take her back to the manor. Sir James had already spied the landlord’s son leaving by the door and knew that it was only a matter of time before the local police force descended upon the inn.

Daisy stumbled into the courtyard of the inn. Far, far above her, a tiny moon reeled and swam through the clouds, its reflection raced through a puddle in the courtyard and Daisy suddenly felt as if she was standing on her head.

“You need fresh air, my dear.” Sir James’s voice seemed to come from very far away. “Let’s take a little walk down the road.”

Daisy agreed thankfully. She felt if she got back inside the stuffy carriage, she would be sick. Soon the sounds of merriment and crashing glass faded from her ears. They plunged into the gloom of a tunnel formed by arched trees, Daisy trying to bring her eyes back into focus and Sir James restlessly searching for a convenient place to sit down. Suddenly they turned a bend in the road and came to the edge of the trees. The moonlight washed over the empty fields spread on either side and far, far away a train whistled, opening up mental vistas of immeasurable plains of loneliness.

Sir James guided Daisy gently from the road, across a field, and settled her at the foot of a large oak. Unaware that he was standing looking down at her, Daisy leaned back thankfully and stared up at the gently moving leaves of the tree.

He sank down beside her and put his arms around her and began to kiss her very, very gently. It was pleasant to be kissed and stroked and caressed, thought Daisy lazily. He moved slightly and she shivered as a cold breeze crept across her breasts. A little warning bell of returning sobriety sounded far back in her brain. She looked down.

He had unfastened the scarlet dress at the back and slid it down over her arms to bare her breasts. She gave a little moan of alarm and tried to sit up, but he forced her back and then she felt the rough stubble of his chin against her chest as he passionately bit and kissed her breasts. The more she tried to push him away, the more excited he became. Daisy pushed at him with all her strength and found she was helpless. His mouth was wide open and fastened over hers like a gag, while his exploring hands started to fumble under her skirt.

What did all the sophisticated wit and elegance matter now? This heavy weight, gasping and muttering obscenities and groping around on top of her, was about as sophisticated as a gorilla. As fright sobered Daisy completely, her reaction became just as primitive. She wrenched herself free and screamed at the top of her voice. She then scrambled to her feet and stumbled across the wet grass of the held. Then she tripped and fell and twisted around to look up wide-eyed at her pursuer. He stood looking down at her, his eyes gleaming wetly in the moonlight. A slow smile curled his long mouth and he spread his large hands and reached down to her. Daisy closed her eyes.

There was a sound of running feet, a tremendous thud. She slowly opened her eyes.

Sir James lay sprawled on his back in the long grass. The Duke of Oxenden stood looking down at her.

“Good evening, Miss Chatterton,” said the light, hesitant voice. “Dear me, what an exciting life you lead. Would you please cover yourself up or I shall be tempted to take over where Sir James left off.”

Daisy rose to her feet and pulled her gown back onto her shoulders. “Before we leave the scene of battle,” the Duke went on, “we had better find out just how far Sir James did go.”

Sick and shaken, Daisy clung to him for support. “I have… been… raped…”she gasped.

The Duke turned a stony face toward the recumbent Sir James. “Then you had better wait for me at the edge of the fields, my dear,” he said, in a deceptively gentle voice. “For I am to thrash the life out of this cad.”

He took a step forward toward Sir James and then halted. He turned to Daisy once again. “Now you will answer my questions no matter how embarrassing they may be. Just pretend I am the uncle you believe me to be. Did he… remove your drawers?”

Daisy let out a faint squeak. “No… Toby… but he…”

The Duke suddenly smiled and took her arm. “One cannot rape a bosom, even one as beautiful as yours, my dear. Come along. We will return to the manor. You will get the excellent Amy to get you a hot drink and you will forget all about this.”

“Forget about it!” cried Daisy. “How can I face that man again. After what he tried to…”

“Now, now,” said the Duke, with infuriating calm. “We are not living in one of your romances. With all the opiate and drink you young things consume, this little scene has become pretty much an everyday affair at a house party.

“Good heavens, girl, if you insist on pickling yourself in champagne and wearing a gown that could be the envy of every Parisian courtesan, what else do you expect? Sir James is not entirely to blame, you know.”

“But I wanted to be up-to-date,” wailed Daisy.

“Being up-to-date in this society of ours seems to mean that one little virgin eggs the other on to say bold things and wear tarty gowns.

“The young ladies of your party are now, for example, under arrest, and are crying for their mothers like lost lambs. The unquenchable Mrs. Phillips, on the other hand, will be charged with assaulting an officer of the law.”

“What did she do?”

“Using her garters as slingshots she bombarded the constables with champagne corks and used language that would make a sailor blush. All of the party are fortunately rich enough to pay for the damage and will only be read a lecture by the magistrate.”

They had now reached the Duke’s carriage and Daisy sat silently in the darkness. At last she said in a small voice, “I must offer you my apologies, Toby. I did behave very badly.”

“You don’t owe me any apologies. But, as I told you before, I cannot always be on hand to rescue you. Do try for a little more common sense.”

“Oh, you always make me feel young and foolish,” said Daisy. “Have you never been in love? Have you never done anything silly?”

“No,” he said bluntly. “I came into my inheritance at an early age and by the time I had learned to handle my responsibilities, I already felt old and cynical. I had enough opportunities to learn that passion alone does not mean love. Practically all the marriageable girls I meet would gladly marry me for my title.”

“And you are looking for true love,” said Daisy gently.

He roared with laughter. “You forget, my romantical duckling, that I don’t believe it exists. I enjoy my life very well and, in time, I shall marry someone suitable.” He leaned his head against the squabs and looked at her thoughtfully.

“Sometimes, of course, when I was much younger, the moonlight and champagne would play tricks and I would fancy myself in love.”

“Love!” said Daisy dismally. “Are all the men going to be like beasts, and maul and grab?”

“Not necessarily,” he teased. “Unless of course when you are so head over heels in love that you will be delighted when a man… mauls and grabs.”