Sheer Folly (12 page)

“You don't think she'll mention me to Lady Beaufort?” Armitage asked wistfully.

“I wouldn't. But then, my mother is much more daunting than Lady Beaufort. Come on, Lucy's getting impatient, and she can be almost as daunting as Mother when she tries.”

Armitage moved into position to be the requisite figure in Lucy's composition, leaving Daisy to explore.

She found herself making reams of notes on everything from the fossils visible in the polished marble of the floor to the curious formations dependent from the roof, which she thought
might be incipient stalactites. Armitage would know. She turned towards the cave mouth to ask him.

He wasn't there.

Appalled, Daisy dropped her notebook and rushed to the edge. With one hand on the statue of Tethys, how far over dared she lean—?

“Daisy,” Lucy cried behind her, “for pity's sake take care!”

Startled, she lost her balance and tottered. . . .

 

A tug
on Daisy's coat made her fall backwards, instead of forwards and down. She staggered back. About to sit down, hard, she found herself clasped in Armitage's arms.

“My plates!” Lucy yelped.

In hindsight—or rather hind-hearing if there was such a word—Daisy realised she had heard a crash just before she felt the jerk on her coat that had saved her. Lucy was on her knees, feverishly unbuckling the straps of her satchel.

“Sorry, Lady Gerald, but better your plates than Mrs. Fletcher.”

“Of course, but—. Daisy what on earth were you doing?”

“Charles!” Julia had appeared at the top of the steps. She looked at Armitage with heartbreak in her eyes. “I mean, Mr. Armitage!”

He whipped one arm away from Daisy's person. “Can you stand alone?”

“Yes, thank you. He saved me from a wetting, or worse, Julia. I thought
he'd
fallen in—”

“Oh, Charles!”

“Thank heaven, nothing seems to be broken. Darling, why on earth should you think
he'd
fallen?”

“One minute he was there, posing for your pictures. The next minute I turned round and he was gone.”

“It's ten or fifteen minutes since he came down to help me carry the stuff up. It's sheer luck that the plates are all right. Of all the idiotic—!”

“I was being careful. If you hadn't shouted in my ear—!”

“Lucy, Daisy!” With obvious reluctance Julia disentangled herself from Armitage's arms. “You're only shouting at each other because Daisy had a shock and Lucy's relieved—”

“
I
wasn't shouting,” said Lucy at her most dignified.

Armitage grinned. “That's what it sounded like to me.” He'd moved several paces from Julia and was smoothing his hair, though it was cut too short to be ruffled by any amount of exertion. Extracting a box of matches from his waistcoat pocket, he set about trying to light his pipe.

“I was,” Daisy admitted. “I really thought I was in for a ducking.”

“I ought to have told you I was going down,” Armitage said, “but you were so busy taking notes I didn't like to interrupt.”

“Oh, where's my notebook?”

“I hope you didn't drop it over the edge,” said Armitage, making for said edge.

Lucy, Daisy, and Julia spread out and moved towards the back of the cave, searching.

“Darling,” Lucy said to Julia in a low voice, “you've only known the man three days. Should you be throwing yourself into his arms?”

“Actually, we first met in town several weeks ago. Mother thinks it was her idea to get us invited here, but I inveigled her into it. You won't give me away, will you?”

“Of course not,” said Daisy.

“Having Rhino drive us down was entirely her own idea however.”

“And a rotten one!” Lucy exclaimed. “Look, here's your notebook, Daisy. Heavens, you've got masses of notes. No wonder you didn't notice when Mr. Armitage—”

“Guess who's on his way here,” Armitage said in tones of doom, retreating rapidly from the mouth of the cave. “His ruddy lordship.”

“Rhino? Oh no!” Julia was equally dismayed.

“Let's go into the second cave,” Daisy proposed. “With any luck he'll think we've left and go away.”

“I think he saw me, but we can try it. I'll go first, shall I? It's darkish in the tunnel even on such a bright day. Perhaps I'd better light the lamps in the inner grotto. There's a little natural light, from a rift in the roof, but not enough for Mrs. Fletcher's serious studies.”

He took a small electric lantern from the niche behind a naiad and led the way between Neptune and Amphitrite. After lighting the first shell-shaded gas lamp, he continued striking match after match and applying them alternately to his pipe and the rest of the lamps.

Daisy studied the statue of St. Vincent Ferrer. He was interesting if only because he was an anomaly among the Classical figures and natural adornments of the grotto. He was dressed in a monkish robe and cowl, like Armitage playing the hermit, and like Armitage now he carried a flame in one hand. Patron saint of plumbers, Pritchard had said. The statue was definitely noteworthy, but she couldn't decide whether she should write about it or not.

She turned to consult Lucy. Lucy wasn't there.

“I do wish people wouldn't keep disappearing! Where's Lucy got to now?”

“Isn't she here?” Julia looked round vaguely. “She must have stayed behind. I'll go and see, shall I?”

“That's all right, I'll go. You two enjoy a moment's privacy—it's liable to be brief enough. But behave yourselves.”

Lucy was feverishly setting up her tripod and camera before
Neptune. “Oh, there you are, Daisy! Come and lend a hand. The sun will have moved too far round in a few minutes and flash photos never come out as well. Get out the exposure meter, would you?”

Daisy had helped Lucy with her photography in the days before she started to make money with her writing, so she knew what she was looking for and where to look. She was taking it from the inner pocket of the satchel when an all too familiar grating voice behind her said, “What are you doing here? They told me Julia—Miss Beaufort—was coming here.”

“Go away, Rhino, we're working.”

“Julia has no particular interest in the grotto, Lord Rydal,” Daisy pointed out.

“What she's interested in is that damn colonial counter-jumper. And he lives here.”

“Not at this time of year.”

“Rhino, come here,” Lucy commanded.

“What? Why?”

“Because I need your help moving this.”

“Why should I?”

“Are you saying you're not strong enough to move a tripod with a camera attached? Sorry, I shouldn't have put you in such an embarrassing position, where you had to admit it.”

“Darling, don't torment the poor man. He can't help it if he's let himself get a bit—” Daisy eyed him up and down—“flabby.”

“Flabby! Of course I'm strong enough,” Rhino snarled. He strode over to Lucy and reached out to grasp two legs of the tripod.

“Stop! Half a sec.” Lucy made a big fuss about peering through the viewfinder. “Let's see, I think three inches to the left should do it.”

“Three inches? And you can't manage that yourself?”

“Not after carrying my stuff from the house.” Lucy pronounced this taradiddle without a blink, and without any attempt to look limp and exhausted.

“What difference does three inches make anyway?”

“All the difference in the world. I can see you don't know the first thing about photography. Make it four inches to the left.”

“Show me, exactly. I'm not moving it twice.”

“This leg here,” Lucy said patiently in the sort of voice one uses to a two-year-old—a not very bright two-year-old. “And this leg here. Hold on, just let me check.” She squinted at Neptune through the viewfinder again. “It's not quite straight. Rotate it just the tiniest bit to the right.”

Rhino looked daggers at her but obeyed. She managed to keep him busy for several minutes, but he was about to go past Neptune in search of Julia when another distraction arrived.

“There you are, Rhino darling,” cooed Lady Ottaline, hurrying to him and clutching his arm, which fortunately was not supporting any vital bit of photographic equipment at that moment. “Look, I'm wearing sensible shoes today.”

She held out one silk-clad leg. Her “sensible” shoes were not proper walking shoes, but at least they had comparatively low Cuban heels. Though she seemed not to have suffered any lasting ill effects from her unexpected midnight swim, she was not eager to repeat it for the sake of fashion.

“Look out!” said Lucy. “If you knock against the tripod I'll have to start again.”

Still standing on one foot, Lady Ottaline turned the other this way and that. “What do you think, darling?”

“Very sensible,” Rhino said woodenly.

Lady Ottaline pouted. “Oh, I'm going to fall!” With an unconvincing wobble, she flung her arms round his neck.

“If you
must
stand on one foot,” Lucy snapped, “please go and do it somewhere else. I'm trying to get some work done here.”

“Poor you, having to work still even though you managed to get married at last.”

“Poor you,” Lucy retorted, “having no interests beyond the pursuit of men after donkey's years of marriage.”

Lady Ottaline shot her a venomous look, but Rhino had escaped from her toils during this exchange and was rapidly heading for the inner cave. She sped after him.

“I hope they didn't wreck that exposure, the silly asses.” Lucy slid a plate out of the camera. “It's a pity she drove Rhino away, but I couldn't keep him occupied much longer.”

“I'm amazed that you succeeded in keeping him so long. Or in getting him to do anything at all, come to that.”

“It's just a matter of being firm. It's a pity more people don't try it on him.”

“You could say Lady Ottaline's being firm, I suppose. Or perhaps tenacious is the word. He looked positively hunted.”

“Yes,” Lucy said thoughtfully. “I suppose he really is in love with Julia, as far as he's capable of it, and he's afraid Lady Ottaline will turn her against him if he doesn't surrender to her wiles.”

“I doubt anyone or anything could turn Julia more against him.”

“No, but you can't expect him to realise that. In his own eyes he's as close to perfection as a man can be.”

“I can't see why Lady Ottaline should be so desperate to hang on to him if he doesn't want her. But then, I can't see what she wanted with him in the first place.”

“Darling, that's obvious. She has to have a lover at her beck and call, and she's getting beyond hooking a new one.”

Daisy shook her head. “The great advantage of never having been beautiful is that one doesn't have to worry about growing older and losing one's looks.”

“Would you mind going after those beautiful people and stopping them coming back till I've finished this shot? I don't want another one ruined. Besides, you may be needed to help prevent Rhino massacring Armitage.”

“I thought you didn't approve of ‘the colonial counter-jumper' for Julia.”

“I don't. But I approve still less of Rhino. The man's a menace to civilisation.”

“Perhaps Armitage will massacre Rhino.”

“Not likely. He's outweighed two to one. Rhino's both an irresistible force
and
an immovable object. He'll do the massacring.”

“Oh dear! I don't think it counts as a massacre, though, if it's just one person.”

“Then perhaps Rhino will oblige and massacre Lady Ottaline, too,” Lucy said dryly.

With great reluctance, Daisy went round Neptune and through the short tunnel. Approaching the end, she heard raised voices.

Armitage and Rhino were shouting at each other, Armitage sounding more Canadian than ever and Rhino's caw raised to roc-like proportions. Since they were both shouting at once, Daisy caught only the odd word here and there. Judging by those, it was just as well she missed the rest. Lord Rydal had the vocabulary of a coalheaver. Armitage seemed to prefer more esoteric imprecations, including a phrase or two that had a Shakespearian ring.

Daisy emerged from the tunnel. Armitage and Rhino faced each other a few feet apart. Both had clenched their fists. Neither pipe nor cigarette holder was in evidence.

Beyond them she saw Julia's aghast face. Lady Ottaline looked excited. Could she so far have misunderstood the situation as to believe the men were fighting over her? Or was it sheer bloodlust?

“Oh, don't!” Julia begged.

Daisy took out her notebook. “This will make a wonderful story for the scandal sheets! The noble earl of Rydal attacks a man half his size, in the presence of horrified ladies. I can just see the headlines. But hold off a minute, won't you, please? Lucy will want to see this so that she can give an accurate report to Lord Gerald to spread in the clubs. I expect he'll be able to dine out on the story for weeks.”

The would-be combatants looked at her. Armitage appeared both annoyed and amused. Rhino glared, his face turning from red to purple.

“It'll make an even better story if Rhino has a stroke. For the papers, I mean. Gerald wouldn't care to—”

“Daisy!” Julia objected uncertainly.

“Not that I'd want Rhino to make himself ill, of course. Or worse. People do die from strokes, and you look awfully overwrought, Rhino. If you could see the way your eyes are bulging. . . . Perhaps you ought to sit down.”

“I'll fetch you a glass of water from the back room,” Armitage offered. He hurried off, just in time—Daisy thought—to avoid laughing in his antagonist's face. Julia followed him.

“I expect you ought to cut down on the cigarettes,” Daisy said to Rhino. “They're frightfully bad for you.”