found.”
Miss Bennett looked at her as if she were mad. “Charming? Always blowing up policemen—”
“I don’t suppose Mrs. Jessup’s career left her any time for blowing up policemen. Mine certainly doesn’t.”
“Your career?” Her nose positively twitched. “You have a job?”
“I write. Oh, excuse me, Miss Bennett, I believe my husband wants to speak to me.”
“Write? Write what?” Her nose twitched eagerly, but Daisy was already moving away with an insincere smile. “
Novels
, no doubt,” came a mutter behind her, the inflexion leaving no doubt about the kind of novels Miss Bennett was imagining.
Aidan Jessup, bottle in hand, intercepted Daisy on her way across the room towards Alec. “Now what has that dreadful woman been saying to put you in such a pucker?” he asked with a wry look. “Let me fill up your glass. Dubonnet, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, thanks. No doubt you’ll soon be hearing that I write blue novels.”
“But you write magazine articles, don’t you? I’m afraid I don’t read much besides the trade journals, but Mother enjoys your work. Good Lord, you didn’t tell Miss Bennett—?”
“Not I. It’s what she prefers to assume.”
“Oh yes, Always Assume the Worst is their motto. I suppose they’ve told you Mother was a chorus girl.”
Daisy willed herself not to blush. “Just that she was on the stage.”
“As a matter of fact,” he said a trifle belligerently, “she started as a soubrette in the provinces and was playing decent roles in London—Celia and Nerissa and that sort of thing—when she met Father. She might have gone on to Rosalind and Portia if she hadn’t retired when they married.”
“Not the Lady Macbeth type, I take it.”
That made him laugh. “No, Mother’s not made for tragedy. She doesn’t even take the Bennetts’ mischief making too seriously. If you ask me, it’s a great pity my revered papa-in-law didn’t put a spoke in the Bennetts’ wheel when they decided tobuy here.” He nodded towards Mr. Irwin, who stood staring gloomily into his glass, his expression suggesting that the stout, prosperous-looking citizen holding forth at his side might be asking for free legal advice.
“Could a reputable lawyer do that?”
“There must be a way, don’t you think? As it is, unfortunately, one can’t easily exclude them from a gathering of Constable Circle residents. It doesn’t do to be at odds with one’s neighbours.”
“No, of course not. Their tales would only grow the wilder. Otherwise, everyone seems to be very pleasant.”
“Not a bad lot. Is there anyone you haven’t met yet?”
“I’ve talked to all the neighbours, I think. Your brother and sister aren’t here? Your sister’s married, I understand, but I didn’t gather where she lives. I had the impression that your brother lives here, though.”
Aidan looked disconcerted. “Deirdre lives in Birmingham,” he said. “My brother often goes on buying trips with our father, to learn that side of the business. I’ve never been much of a one for travel. I prefer to stay home, and one of the family has to be here to mind things at this end. There’s Audrey and the children to be considered, too. Have you travelled much on the Continent?”
“Just one flying visit, a few days last summer. If it hadn’t been for the War, I’d undoubtedly have been shipped off to finishing school, like my sister Violet. I’m glad to have avoided that—I don’t think it would have suited me at all—but I’d like to see some of the rest of the world. Besides America, that is.”
“Ah, yes, I’d forgotten you were in America.” He turned with obvious relief to Alec, who came up just then. “May I get you another drink, Mr. Fletcher?”
“Thank you, no. We ought to be making our adieus, ought we not, Daisy?”
People were beginning to drift away, and the Fletchers had to run the gauntlet of new acquaintances saying “So glad to have met you.” A few last good nights
Miss Bennett looked at her as if she were mad. “Charming? Always blowing up policemen—”
“I don’t suppose Mrs. Jessup’s career left her any time for blowing up policemen. Mine certainly doesn’t.”
“Your career?” Her nose positively twitched. “You have a job?”
“I write. Oh, excuse me, Miss Bennett, I believe my husband wants to speak to me.”
“Write? Write what?” Her nose twitched eagerly, but Daisy was already moving away with an insincere smile. “
Novels
, no doubt,” came a mutter behind her, the inflexion leaving no doubt about the kind of novels Miss Bennett was imagining.
Aidan Jessup, bottle in hand, intercepted Daisy on her way across the room towards Alec. “Now what has that dreadful woman been saying to put you in such a pucker?” he asked with a wry look. “Let me fill up your glass. Dubonnet, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, thanks. No doubt you’ll soon be hearing that I write blue novels.”
“But you write magazine articles, don’t you? I’m afraid I don’t read much besides the trade journals, but Mother enjoys your work. Good Lord, you didn’t tell Miss Bennett—?”
“Not I. It’s what she prefers to assume.”
“Oh yes, Always Assume the Worst is their motto. I suppose they’ve told you Mother was a chorus girl.”
Daisy willed herself not to blush. “Just that she was on the stage.”
“As a matter of fact,” he said a trifle belligerently, “she started as a soubrette in the provinces and was playing decent roles in London—Celia and Nerissa and that sort of thing—when she met Father. She might have gone on to Rosalind and Portia if she hadn’t retired when they married.”
“Not the Lady Macbeth type, I take it.”
That made him laugh. “No, Mother’s not made for tragedy. She doesn’t even take the Bennetts’ mischief making too seriously. If you ask me, it’s a great pity my revered papa-in-law didn’t put a spoke in the Bennetts’ wheel when they decided tobuy here.” He nodded towards Mr. Irwin, who stood staring gloomily into his glass, his expression suggesting that the stout, prosperous-looking citizen holding forth at his side might be asking for free legal advice.
“Could a reputable lawyer do that?”
“There must be a way, don’t you think? As it is, unfortunately, one can’t easily exclude them from a gathering of Constable Circle residents. It doesn’t do to be at odds with one’s neighbours.”
“No, of course not. Their tales would only grow the wilder. Otherwise, everyone seems to be very pleasant.”
“Not a bad lot. Is there anyone you haven’t met yet?”
“I’ve talked to all the neighbours, I think. Your brother and sister aren’t here? Your sister’s married, I understand, but I didn’t gather where she lives. I had the impression that your brother lives here, though.”
Aidan looked disconcerted. “Deirdre lives in Birmingham,” he said. “My brother often goes on buying trips with our father, to learn that side of the business. I’ve never been much of a one for travel. I prefer to stay home, and one of the family has to be here to mind things at this end. There’s Audrey and the children to be considered, too. Have you travelled much on the Continent?”
“Just one flying visit, a few days last summer. If it hadn’t been for the War, I’d undoubtedly have been shipped off to finishing school, like my sister Violet. I’m glad to have avoided that—I don’t think it would have suited me at all—but I’d like to see some of the rest of the world. Besides America, that is.”
“Ah, yes, I’d forgotten you were in America.” He turned with obvious relief to Alec, who came up just then. “May I get you another drink, Mr. Fletcher?”
“Thank you, no. We ought to be making our adieus, ought we not, Daisy?”
People were beginning to drift away, and the Fletchers had to run the gauntlet of new acquaintances saying “So glad to have met you.” A few last good nights
Similar Books
