Hasty Death

∨ Hasty Death ∧

Six

Mad, bad, and dangerous to know

Lady Caroline Lamb

Three weeks went past without Harry finding a single clue. Rose went to parties and the theatre, wondering all the time what Harry was doing and why he had not tried to contact her.

Lady Polly had not hired a lady’s maid for her, saying that Humphrey would help out. Everywhere that Rose and Daisy went, Humphrey went too, watching, always watching.

It was useless to complain. Lady Polly was delighted that her daughter was at last behaving like a débutante, and as Humphrey was quick to claim the credit for this, she praised her lady’s maid and urged her on to further effort.

She did not know that Humphrey had a sinister reason for watching her daughter closely.

Humphrey had been attending the consulting rooms of Dr Thomas McWhirter in Harley Street. He was a handsome middle-aged man with thick white hair and a square, tanned face. He had very piercing blue eyes which Humphrey felt could look into her very soul. She had poured out all her resentment against Daisy and the ‘strain’ of keeping an eye on Rose. She was encouraged to talk about Rose.

At her last consultation, Dr McWhirter had said in that deep, attractive voice of his, “I think Lady Rose may be insane, cleverly insane. I think she needs treatment.”

“Do you mean Lady Rose should consult you?”

“No, she would be too cunning. I have an asylum, more a refuge, for members of society. It is more like a country house. Lady Polly should be persuaded that it would help her daughter immensely to be confined for, say, a few months. After that, I promise you, she would be a model of society.”

“If I suggest such a thing to her ladyship, I think she would fire me,” said Humphrey.

“But you say your charge gets into serious trouble. Wait for the next episode and seize the chance.”

♦

Rose was not aware she was being courted. A baronet, Sir Richard Devizes, was frequently at her side. As Sir Richard was nearly fifty, the nearly twenty-year-old Rose never for one moment considered his attention to be other than fatherly. And so she allowed him to escort her to his box at the opera and sat with him at soirées and parties.

Daisy tried to caution her but Rose only laughed and said he kept the other men away and he was too old to be romantically interested in her.

It came as a shock to her on the fourth week since Angela Stockton’s lecture when her mother and Humphrey burst into her room where she was reading and told her she must put on her best gown because Sir Richard had something important to say to her.

Lady Polly was elated. Sir Richard had asked to pay his addresses to Rose. He was handsome and fabulously wealthy. Certainly he was a bit old, but the guidance of an older man was just what Rose needed. It would also mean that she and the earl could stop worrying about their wayward daughter.

“Why does he want to see me?” asked Rose as Lady Polly and Humphrey fussed over her.

“It’s a surprise,” said Lady Polly.

With a sinking feeling in her heart, Rose went downstairs, her silk petticoats rustling beneath a gown of blue taffeta. She missed Daisy, but Daisy had gone to Hatchards to buy her some more books.

Lady Polly pushed her daughter into the drawing-room and left her to face Sir Richard alone.

“Sir Richard,” said Rose nervously, “why have you called?”

He pulled out a large handkerchief and placed it on the floor and then knelt on it. “Come here,” he said.

“Why are you kneeling on the floor?”

“Because I am going to propose marriage to you, you lucky, lucky child.”

“Please rise, Sir Richard. I do not wish to get married.”

He struggled to his feet and looked at her in amazement. Then he smiled. “Ah, you are teasing me. Your sex was always wilful.”

“Sir Richard, I have enjoyed our friendship, that I admit, but I did not think for a moment that your feelings were of a warmer nature.”

He looked at her in amazement. “Do you mean you are actually refusing me? It would restore your damaged reputation.”

“I do not have a damaged reputation.”

“Anyone who has supported the suffragettes has a damaged reputation.”

The previous year, Rose’s photograph, taken at a suffragette rally, had appeared in the Daily Mail.

“Sir Richard, I do not wish to be unkind. I find your proposal flattering. But there is a great difference in age.”

“What do you mean? I look like a man in his thirties.”

“It is pointless to stand here arguing,” said Rose. “I am so very sorry, but I must refuse.” She dropped him a curtsy and hurried out of the room.

Lady Polly and the earl and Humphrey were standing outside the door. Rose rushed past them and up the stairs.

Sir Richard emerged. “Your daughter is mad,” he pronounced. And Humphrey saw her chance.

♦

“No, no, my dear Lord and Lady Hadshire,” said Dr McWhirter later that day. “It is not an asylum. It is for people with nervous disorders. Two months under my care and your daughter would be restored to obedience and sanity. The place is called The Grange, just outside Barnet. Like a country house.”

The earl and countess faced him, each thinking that two months without worrying about Rose would be a treat. They could get rid of Daisy Levine, of whom they had never approved.

The earl cleared his throat. “We could have her back for the beginning of the season, hey?”

“Of course.”

“But she would never go.”

“You do not tell her where she is going. Simply tell her you want her to make a call on an old friend of yours. Shall we say tomorrow morning? I shall be there personally to receive her.”

♦

“I’d feel better if we told Cathcart what was happening,” said the earl.

“We’ll phone him when we get home.”

So the earl phoned but Miss Jubbles said that Captain Cathcart was not in his office but she would tell him as soon as he returned.

Harry came out of his office just as Miss Jubbles was putting the phone down.

“Who was that?” he asked.

“Just someone who wanted you to find her lost dog. I told her you were not taking any cases at the moment.”

“Quite right. I’m off to Scotland Yard.”

♦

“No further forward,” said Kerridge gloomily.

“Not traced the owner of the pistol?”

“There are so many arms around after the Boer War and this one was used in the Boer War, as far as we know. It’s a German-made Mauser, Model 1896. You know that weapon?”

“Of course. It was called the ‘Broomhandle’. Clumsy thing but deadly. Carries ten 7.63mm rounds in its magazine. It’s a more dangerous weapon than the normal six-shot Webley. Hardly a ladies’ weapon.”

“I told you I got that statement out of Baker-Willis which gives Lord Alfred an alibi.”

“Where were they all when Freddy was shot?”

“I went back and got statements from them all despite their threats to have me removed from my job. Lord Alfred was dining with – guess who?”

“Tristram Baker-Willis.”

“Right.”

“And Mrs Stockton?”

“Giving a lecture in a side room at the Café Royal.”

“Mrs Jerry?”

“No alibi. Says she can’t remember what she was doing. I sometimes wonder if the three of them were in it together. I’d like to see how they act.”

“I think I might find a way to arrange that,” said Harry. “Lady Glensheil owes me a favour. I could get her to invite all three to a house party.”

“Where? In Scotland?”

“No, in Surrey. She has several residences.”

“Wish you could get me an invitation as well.”

“Not possible. But I could get Lady Rose and Daisy invited. She knows Mrs Stockton.”

“Go ahead with my blessing,” said Kerridge. “I’m blessed if I can find a single clue.”

♦

Daisy was feeling uneasy. At dinner that evening, to her surprise, neither the earl nor countess referred to Sir Richard; in fact, they seemed quite affectionate towards their daughter.

But she sensed an underlying apprehension coming from them; and why, earlier, had Humphrey kept shooting triumphant glances in her direction?

“My dear,” said Lady Polly, to her daughter over the floating island pudding, “I want you to visit an old friend of mine who is poorly. I would like you to go tomorrow morning.”

“Certainly.”

“Humphrey will go with you. Daisy may stay here. I have certain chores I wish her to perform.”

Rose felt so guilty at disappointing her parents that she would have agreed to pretty much anything.

♦

Next morning, Daisy stood at the window and watched Rose and Humphrey being taken away in the earl’s carriage. Lady Polly summoned her.

“I want you to pack up my daughter’s clothes and things. She will be staying with this friend of mine for a couple of months.”

“But she said nothing of it to me!” exclaimed Daisy.

“Your services are no longer required. We will give you a good settlement. You have two days to pack up and leave.”

Daisy opened her mouth to howl a protest. Something very odd was going on here. Rose’s parting words had been: “I suppose I shall be back sometime in the afternoon. I hope this old lady is not a bore.”

So Daisy said meekly, “As you wish, my lady.”

“You are a good girl,” said the countess, relieved that there were no protests. “But you will be more at home with your own kind. You are not one of us and never will be.”

Daisy left and went round to the mews and waited and waited for the earl’s carriage to return.

At last, she saw it turning into the mews.

As the coachman, John Silver, descended, Daisy went up to him and asked, “Where is my lady?”

“Gone into the country.”

“Where?”

“Can’t say.” He turned away.

Daisy turned to the two footmen who were getting down from the backstrap. Charles, the head footman, she knew did not approve of her, but Jim, the second footman, had a soft spot for her.

She walked away, determined to get Jim on his own.

She caught him later as he was carrying logs up to the drawing-room. “Jim,” she hissed, “where’s my lady? What’s going on?”

“Told not to breathe a word to you or anyone or I’ll get the sack.”

“Please, Jim. The countess has sent me packing and my lady would never let that happen. Please, Jim.”

“All right. But I never told you nothing, mind. Wait till I make up the fire.”

Daisy waited in a fever of impatience until he came out again. “In here,” said Jim, opening the door of the library. He closed the door behind them and spoke rapidly in a low voice. “We took her out to a place outside Barnet. It’s called The Grange, about two miles out on the North Road. It was a creepy place, with the windows all barred.

“There was a chap with white hair waiting on the step and Humphrey called him Dr McWhirter.

“He and Humphrey led her inside. After ten minutes or so, Humphrey comes out. She says an odd thing, half to herself. She says, ‘Well, that’s settled madam’s hash.’”

Daisy went to her room and dressed in a warm dress and cloak, a felt hat and boots. She went downstairs and slipped out of the house. She walked through Eaton Square and then through Sloane Square and along the King’s Road to Water Street to Harry’s address. She hoped she would find him at home. She did not want to go to his office, feeling sure that Miss Jubbles would try to stop her from seeing him.

Becket opened the door to her and Daisy fell into his arms and burst into tears. Harry came out of his front parlour. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Don’t know, sir,” said Becket.

“Bring her in here and bring brandy.”

Once she had recovered and taken a gulp of brandy, Daisy told them the little she knew.

Harry listened in grim silence. Then he said, “Let’s see what Kerridge knows about this place.”

He phoned Scotland Yard and was put through to the detective superintendent immediately. Harry told him what had happened to Rose, and then asked, “Do you know anything about this place, The Grange?”

“Do I ever,” sighed Kerridge. “I was out there on a sad case. It’s an asylum for the rich run by a Dr McWhirter. A certain heiress, Miss Penelope Parry, escaped and got as far as Barnet, crying to the townspeople that she was not mad, that her family had put her away there to get their hands on her money. Police were called. I was called out on it. There was nothing I could do. The family had signed the papers to have her committed and the good Dr McWhirter testified that she was mad. Two days later, she hanged herself in her room. Tragic.”

“I’ll see what I can do and let you know,” said Harry.

He put down the receiver and turned to Daisy. “It’s an asylum. What on earth possessed Lady Rose’s parents to send her there?”

“They were furious because she turned down a proposal of marriage from Sir Richard Devizes. I think that maid, Humphrey, had something to do with it. Oh, blimey, Humphrey was visiting some doctor in Harley Street for her bleeding nerves.” In her distress, Daisy’s Cockney accent was coming back.

“I’ll bet,” said Harry, “that this doctor is a charlatan. I think he hopes to drive Lady Rose mad and have her there for life.”

“Like poor Lady Mordaunt,” wailed Daisy.

Lady Mordaunt’s husband had found out that she had been having an affair with the king. So he had taken his pistol, shot all her horses, and had her locked away in a madhouse for life.

“Let me think,” said Harry. “I know. Daisy, I am going to give you a lesson in lock-picking if it takes all night, and I shall give you some thin files to sew into your clothes. In fact, better sew them into your stays in case they take your outer garments away.

“Tomorrow, I will take you out to The Grange. McWhirter doesn’t know me, so I shall use a false name and say you are my mad niece and you must act mad.”

“I’ll do anything to save Rose.”

Daisy proved a quick learner in the art of lock-picking and so was able to return to Eaton Square late that evening. She went up to her room and packed a bag. She took off her stays and removed two of the steels and slipped two files in instead. Harry had told her to return and spend the night at Water Street.

Daisy was carrying her bag down the stairs when she found herself confronted by Humphrey.

“And where do you think you’re going?” said Humphrey.

“Getting out of here.”

“You are supposed to pack up Lady Rose’s things.”

“Pack them yourself, you old trout.”

♦

Rose had never felt so frightened in her life before. She had arrived with Humphrey. Dr McWhirter had met her and said he would take her upstairs to see his ‘patient’.

Rose had felt decidedly uneasy. There was the sound of someone sobbing. The stairs were thickly carpeted and the air smelt of cheap cooking and disinfectant. Her mother had said that a Mrs Prothero was an old friend. Still, better get it over with. She would only stay for a few minutes.

Dr McWhirter was joined on the first landing by a burly man in a white coat. “My assistant, Philips,” he murmured.

He led the way on up and along a corridor at the top of the building and swung open a door. Rose walked into a barely furnished room. There was a narrow bed against one wall. A curtained recess by the window served as a wardrobe. The floor was covered in shiny dark green linoleum.

Rose swung round. Dr McWhirter was standing in the doorway with his powerful-looking assistant.

“Where is Mrs Prothero?” demanded Rose.

“There is no Mrs Prothero. This is an asylum for ladies with fragile nerves. You will be kept here – on instructions from your parents – until we consider you are well again.”

“This is an asylum! I am not mad!”

He wagged a playful finger at her. “Ah, the mad never know it themselves. But you are in good hands here. If you behave yourself, you will be allowed to join our other guests in the evenings for quiet recreation.”

Rose made a frantic dash for the door, but Dr McWhirter stepped aside and his assistant grabbed hold of Rose, pinned her arms and threw her on the bed. Then they both left, locking the door behind them.

Frightened as she was, Rose could not cry. She was too furious for that. What on earth had possessed her parents to do such a wicked thing? She had heard stories of families who committed their relatives, sometimes to get their hands on a particular relative’s money.

But in her case, why?

And then she suddenly thought it was all because she had rejected that proposal of marriage. She was sure her parents had simply meant to teach her a lesson. But she had heard that these places charged high fees. Dr McWhirter probably meant to keep her locked up for life.

♦

The following morning, Harry drove Daisy out to Barnet and parked in front of The Grange.

“Now, Daisy,” he said, “don’t overact.”

“What an awful-looking place,” said Daisy.

“I showed you that place out on the road under the trees. I shall wait there with Becket all today and all night if necessary. If you and Lady Rose are not out by the morning, then I will come in after you somehow. I want to avoid making a scene if possible in case someone calls the police and Lady Rose is embroiled in a scandal again. Good luck, Daisy.”

“You can’t call me Daisy anymore,” she said with a show of spirit. “I am now Miss Levine, companion to Lady Rose.”

“Play your part and it will stay that way.”

Becket helped Daisy down from the car and pressed her hand warmly and she sent him a shy smile.

“How do you know Dr McWhirter is here and not at his consulting rooms?” asked Daisy.

“I telephoned him. Marvellous invention.”

Before he could ring the bell, the door opened and Dr McWhirter stood there. “Welcome, Mr Carlisle,” he said. “And this is the little lady?”

“My niece, Liza.”

Daisy stood shuffling her feet.

“I think it is better if you go away, Mr Carlisle, and leave the young lady with us.”

“But what about the paperwork and fees?”

“I will telephone you. It is better to deal with the patient first and make sure she is happy and rested. Philips, take Miss Liza up to her room. Is that her luggage?” Daisy had packed a few belongings in a suitcase. “Leave it in the hall.”

Philips took Daisy’s hand. She went with him docilely enough, but half-way up the stairs she began to sing at the top of her voice:

Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do!

I’m half crazy, all for the love of you.

It won’t be a stylish marriage,

I can’t afford a carriage…

“Shut that row,” snapped Philips as they reached the top of the stairs.

But a voice from a room along the corridor finished the song:

But you’ll look sweet, upon the seat

Of a bicycle built for two!

Rose, thought Daisy. “In here,” said Philips.

“Are you my daddy?” whined Daisy.

He grinned down at her. “The only daddy you got now.” He thrust her into the room next to the one Rose’s voice had come from and closed and locked the door.

Daisy waited until she heard his footsteps retreating along the corridor. She unbuttoned one boot and slid out the thin skeleton keys, re-buttoned her boot and got to work. At first, she’d forgotten all Harry had taught her, but after a few deep breaths she attacked the lock again until there was a satisfying click and she swung the door open.

She peered cautiously along the corridor and then went to Rose’s door and got to work. She worked quickly with new confidence and soon had the door unlocked.

Rose, who was sitting on the bed, rushed into her arms and hugged her close.

“How? How did you get here? I heard you singing.”

“Never mind,” whispered Daisy. “Pooh, it smells bad in here.”

“They wouldn’t even let me go to the bathroom. I had to use the chamber-pot under the bed. I haven’t even been fed.”

“Shh! Come along quietly.”

They crept together to the top of the stairs and began their descent, both of them glad the stairs were so thickly carpeted. They stood together on the bottom step.

“Right!” said Daisy. “Straight for the front door as fast as we can.”

But when they got to the door, it was locked and barred. Daisy slid back the well-oiled bolts. She was still clutching her skeleton keys in her hand.

“I’ll soon get to work on this,” she whispered.

“Here, you two,” shouted a voice behind them.

They turned slowly and found Philips glaring at them. “Helga!” he shouted.

A female nurse came out of a side room. She was of the same build as Philips, heavy and menacing.

“Two of our little birds were trying to escape,” said Philips, “and the doctor’s just gone in to London.”

“Lock them down in the basement till he gets back,” said Helga.

Philips grabbed Daisy by the wrist and twisted the keys out of her hand. “A nasty little spy,” he said.

“I’ll have you in court for this,” said Rose and slapped him full across the face.

He hit her on the cheek so hard that she fell to the ground.

“Bastard!” said Daisy, helping Rose up.

“I’ll have some fun with you later,” sneered Philips. He took a thick blackjack out of his pocket. “Now, move.”

“Don’t protest,” said Rose, holding her cheek. “He could crack your head open with that, Daisy.”

A heavy door was opened at the back of the hall. A steep flight of steps led down.

“Get down with you,” growled Philips, “or I’ll shove you down.”

With arms around each other’s waists, they went down the stairs as the door slammed above them.

“I can’t see a thing,” complained Daisy.

“There’s a faint light below.” Rose released Daisy and went ahead, feeling her way down. The staircase curved towards the bottom.

“There’s a window, but it’s high up and it’s barred,” said Rose.

Daisy followed her down and they both stood in the basement and looked around. “It isn’t a cellar. It’s a storeroom. Look at all this luggage. It must belong to the other poor creatures in this hellish place.”

“We’ll never escape from here,” said Rose.

“I’ll try.” To Rose’s amazement, in the dim light from the overhead window, she saw Daisy was beginning to take her dress off.

“I’ve got files in my stays. The captain gave them to me.”

“Oh, thank God. He knows of this.”

“He’s outside and if we’re not out by morning, he’ll come for us.”

“Why doesn’t he just bring a gun and blast his way in?” said Rose bitterly.

“Because it’s better if we get away quietly. If he shoots his way in, if the police are called, think of the stories in the newspapers. You’d be damned as Mad Rose forever after, no matter what nasty things about Dr McWhirter are uncovered. Here. Help me off with my stays.”

Daisy slid out the files and then put her dress on again. “Now, how do I get up to that window?”

“We’ll need to stack up the luggage and climb up,” said Rose. Heaving and panting, using a cabin trunk as the base, they put suitcase after suitcase on top of it.

Daisy scrambled up and got to work on the bars with one of her files.

“Oh, Rose, this is going to take ages,” she mourned.

“I’ll look through the other suitcases,” said Rose, “and see if I can find something to use as a weapon.”

Daisy worked away diligently while below her, Rose opened case after case. “Nothing I can use so far,” said Rose. “How are you getting on?”

“Oh,” wailed Daisy as the file she was using snapped. “I’ll never do this. I’ve only got one file left.”

“Keep trying,” urged Rose. “Wait, move away from the window a little. I need light. I think there’s a candle here.” Daisy crouched down below the window.

“Yes, and a box of vestas.” Rose struck a match and lit the candle. “Good,” she said. “Now I can have a proper search.” For a while there was no sound but the steady rasp of the file. Then Rose, her voice quivering with excitement, said, “Daisy, you can stop filing. Come and see what I have found.”

Daisy scrambled down the ‘ladder’ of cases and joined her. “It’s a gun bag with a shotgun and cartridges,” said Rose, her eyes gleaming in the candle-light.

“Do you know how to use it?”

“Yes. I got one of the keepers to show me.”

“But how will that get us through the cellar door?”

“I’ll shoot a great big hole in the lock. Hold the candle high while I load this thing.”

Daisy watched, fascinated. “I never knew ladies had any useful skills at all,” she said.

“Some of us have. There! Now let’s cut bits off our petticoats to plug our ears. I don’t want to go deaf.

“Now I will fire and reload quickly in case I need to use this on Philips. Believe me, Daisy, I never would dream of killing anyone, but I will kill that man if he gets in my way. It’s a double-barrelled shotgun. Let’s give that door both barrels.”

Rose hurried up the stairs. Daisy, holding the candle, followed her. “Back off,” ordered Rose. “I’m going to fire.”

The resultant blast was tremendous. Not only was the lock shot but there was a jagged gaping hole in the door.

They rushed through. Philips came running down the stairs. Rose quickly reloaded the shotgun and turned to face him.

“Open the front door,” she ordered.

“You’d never use that on me,” said Philips. “That would be murder.” Because of the ear-plugs, Rose could barely hear what he was saying but she took careful aim and blasted a hole in the step below the one on which Philips was standing. He fell backwards. Rose reloaded. “Now,” she said, “open up.”

But he turned and rushed back up the stairs, shouting, “Helga!”

“That bitch looks as if she might have a gun,” panted Daisy. “Shoot the front lock.”

♦

Out on the road, Harry exclaimed, “Becket, I heard shots, coming from the house. We’d better go.”

Becket cranked up the motor and raced along at top speed of thirty miles an hour and into the drive of The Grange.

Rose and Daisy came sprinting down the drive, Rose carrying a shotgun. Behind them came Philips and two other men.

They stopped short at the sight of Harry.

“Get in the car,” shouted Harry.

Rose and Daisy leaped in. Becket turned the car and they drove off.

“I’ve left me stays,” said Daisy, and burst into tears. Rose hugged her. “I’ll buy you a whole shopful of stays.”

Daisy scrubbed her eyes with her sleeve. “With roses on the garters?”

“With anything you like.”

♦

At first Rose’s parents were outraged by being summoned to Scotland Yard. Surely Scotland Yard should come to them. But when Jarvis told them it concerned their daughter, Lady Polly summoned Humphrey, who was packing up Rose’s clothes, and they set out.

When Lady Polly saw her daughter sitting in Kerridge’s office, she let out a shriek of dismay. Rose’s left eye was nearly closed by the enormous bruise on her cheek.

“What on earth happened?” she cried.

In measured tones, Harry described Rose’s ordeal. When he had finished, he said, “Did you not consider it odd that Lady Rose should be admitted wearing only the clothes she stood up in?”

“They said to send her clothes the following day.”

“And what was she supposed to do in the meantime for clean linen or a nightdress?”

Lady Polly rounded on Humphrey. “This is all your fault!”

“No, it’s not,” said Rose – much to Daisy’s disappointment. “It is you, my unnatural parents. To have me locked up in an asylum because I would not accept a proposal of marriage from a man more than double my age.”

“Here, now. We thought it was a country retreat,” protested the earl. He turned to Kerridge. “Have you had McWhirter arrested?”

“He is being brought in for questioning and The Grange is being raided. But Lady Rose cannot give evidence in court unless you wish the whole world to know that you considered your daughter mad.”

“This is your sort of job,” said the earl, turning to Harry. “Cover it up and send me the bill.”

“Were it not for my respect for your daughter, who had to shoot her way out of the place, I would gladly see you exposed in the press. It would be better for you and your daughter if you would accept the fact that she may never get married.”

Rose felt tears welling up in her eyes. She did not know why. “Don’t cry,” said Daisy, pressing her hand.

“I am very hungry,” sobbed Rose. “We have had nothing to eat.”

“I think you should take your daughter home,” said Kerridge. “I will call on you this evening when I have found out more.”

♦

That evening, before dinner, Rose met her parents in the drawing-room. Daisy sat quietly in the corner and listened in amazement. She had expected the earl and countess to apologize to their daughter, not realizing that such as the earl and countess did not apologize to anyone, ever.

“We’ve been thinking, Rose,” said the earl, “that Cathcart may have the right of it. We have decided to accept that you will probably remain a spinster. Good idea. Save us the expense of another season, what. You always were bookish and interested in odd things like this vegetarian caper. We don’t mind so long as you don’t go back to supporting the suffragettes or anything scandalous like that.”

“We always try to do what’s best for you,” said Lady Polly.

“Such as having me locked up in an asylum?”

“That was Humphrey’s fault. I’ve fired her. Ordered two lady’s maids from that new agency. Haven’t got time to search around.”

“Humphrey was with you for years,” protested Rose.

“I’ve given her a good reference and some money to tide her over. More than she deserves.”

“Mama, have you thanked Daisy for saving me?”

“No, but thank you, Levine. Shall we go in to dinner?”

♦

Harry called at his office before going to Eaton Square to hear from Kerridge if McWhirter had been charged.

Miss Jubbles was still there. For the first time, Harry saw the obsessive adoration in her eyes.

He came to a decision. “Miss Jubbles,” he said, “you should not be here so late, but I am glad you are. I have something to say to you.”

“Oh, sir!” Miss Jubbles blushed.

I think she expects me to propose to her, thought Harry. This is dreadful.

“Miss Jubbles, I regret to tell you that I have too many overheads and may have to wind up the business. I regret that I do not need your services any longer.”

Miss Jubbles turned as white as she had been red a moment before. “I will work for nothing!”

“No, I cannot have that. I will pay you three months’ wages. That will allow you time to find another position.”

Miss Jubbles looked around in a dazed way at what she had always thought of as ‘her room’.

“Becket will drive you home.” Harry opened the window and called down to Becket, who was sitting in the car outside, to come up.

“Becket will call at your home tomorrow with your three months’ pay,” said Harry.

Miss Jubbles stood up. She collected her hat and coat from the hat stand and put them on. Then she suddenly fell to her knees and held her hands up as if in prayer.

“Don’t send me away. I love you!”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” said Harry. “Ah, Becket, will you please drive Miss Jubbles home?”

Then he turned away and walked into his office and shut the door behind him.

♦

Rose sat silently throughout dinner, her brain in a turmoil. To tell a rebellious spirit like Rose that she was no longer expected to marry made her long to do the opposite. For all her scorn of the season being nothing more than a cattle market, she did nourish romantic dreams of some intelligent man who would sweep her off her feet. Her thoughts strayed to Harry. He never seemed to regard her as a woman. She had a good mind to flirt with him and see if she could break his heart.