The Best of Daughters (11 page)

Lady Pendleton smiled but there was sadness in her blue eyes. ‘I'm sure you know best, Daisy dear.' Her attention was diverted by someone tapping on the door. ‘Enter.'

A small procession of maidservants dressed in black with starched white aprons and goffered headbands brought in trays laden with sandwiches, cakes and tea. They moved swiftly and silently like well-practised dancers performing a ballet as they set a rosewood table with an embroidered cloth and laid out plates, napkins and cutlery.

‘Would you like me to pour, my lady?' The most senior housemaid bobbed a curtsey.

‘No, thank you. That will be all.' Lady Pendleton reached for the silver teapot, straining the tea into a bone china cup. ‘Milk and sugar?'

‘Just milk, please.' Daisy eyed the plate of dainty cucumber sandwiches and she was reminded of Rupert's invitation to take tea with him. ‘They're his favourite,' she murmured.

Lady Pendleton picked up the plate and offered it to her. ‘They always were and he loves scones with
strawberry jam and cream, but I doubt if he'll be having afternoon tea in the mess today.' She eyed Daisy thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps you'll feel differently when you've had time to think about his proposal. Rupert can be impulsive but he knows his own mind. I doubt if he'll change, but you might, given time.'

‘Why me, Lady Pendleton? I don't understand why you favour me when I come from such an ordinary family.'

‘Has your mother never told you about my background, Daisy?'

‘I know that you went to the same school. That's all.'

‘My family were what one might describe as ordinary people. My grandfather was a master cabinet maker and a good businessman. He opened up a shop in Oxford Street just as the other department stores were beginning to appear. My father went into the business and made it what it is today. He could afford to buy me an expensive education and that was when your mother and I became friends. We both married for love. It's as simple as that. Rupert is very much like me and there isn't an ounce of snobbishness in his whole body. I was so happy when you two met and became friends, and if your friendship for my son blossoms into love I would be absolutely delighted.'

‘I see. Thank you for telling me.' Daisy stared at the sandwich on her plate, but her appetite deserted her. She took a bite but her throat seemed to close up when she attempted to swallow. She wished with all her heart that Rupert would walk through the door and
they could start again. Not that she had changed her mind about marrying him, but a soldier's life was always going to be dangerous even in peacetime, and she wished that she had sent him away in a happier state of mind.

Intuitive as ever, Lady Pendleton seemed to sense her discomfort and swiftly changed the subject. A message was duly sent to the head groom and Daisy began to relax and enjoy herself. They parted on the best of terms with Lady Pendleton promising to call at Rainbow's End as soon as her commitments allowed.

Daisy made her way to the stables, where she discovered that a governess cart had been dusted off and a sturdy Welsh cob harnessed between the shafts.

Donovan held the reins while she climbed onto the driver's seat. ‘Are you used to handling horses, miss?'

‘Of course,' Daisy said stiffly. She did not want to admit that the last time she had driven a horse-drawn vehicle was when she was fourteen, and then it had only been a short tool around the grounds with Rupert at her side giving her instructions. She settled herself on the seat. ‘Thank you, Donovan.' She flicked the reins. ‘Walk on.'

To her amazement the well-trained horse moved off at a brisk trot and headed in the right direction for which she was grateful. She would have to practise if she were to become a proficient driver, but luckily the cob seemed to need little guidance. It was not quite so easy however when she arrived at Rainbow's End, and as she climbed down from the driver's seat she realised that she had not the faintest idea how to unharness
the animal or how to get the cart into the coach house. Bea might know, but Pumpkin's stall was empty and it was still only mid-afternoon.

The horse turned his head to look at her with large limpid eyes and she shrugged her shoulders. ‘I'm sorry, boy. I'm afraid I'll have to leave you here until I can get help.' She hesitated. Would he stay put? There was nowhere to tether him and it would be embarrassing to say the least if the animal decided to return to the stables at Pendleton Park without a driver. She cursed her stubborn pride that had made her refuse to ask Donovan for assistance. She had no doubt that he would have accompanied her had she asked, and he would have been happy to show her what to do. She took off her straw hat, fanning herself with it as the sun beat down from an azure sky. If only Rupert would appear now and help her out of her predicament. She would not even mind a lecture.

Then, almost as if in answer to her silent prayers, she heard the sound of a motorcycle engine approaching from the direction of the village. She stepped into the lane, hoping to flag the person down and ask for help. It was hard to admit defeat, but the horse was pawing the ground and any minute might decide to wander off. She waved frantically as the rider rounded the corner but as he drew to a halt she realised that it was Bowman, and seated precariously on the crossbar in front of him was none other than Ruby. She slid off, rearranging her skirts with a sheepish grin. ‘I had to go into the village to take the cakes to the village hall for Madam,' she said hastily. ‘Barnaby was coming this
way and he offered to bring me home.' She shuffled her feet. ‘I'll go inside and put the kettle on, shall I?'

Daisy was too busy calming the horse to make any objections. ‘Yes,' she said through clenched teeth. She would give Ruby a lecture on the dangers of riding on motorcycles later. She glared at Bowman as he balanced the bike on its stand. ‘What do you think you were doing? She might have been killed.'

‘
DON'T WORRY, MISS.
I'm a good rider.' He took off his goggles and his eyes danced with amusement. ‘She was quite safe in my hands.'

‘That contraption doesn't look very safe to me. Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought I told you not to go ahead with the work until you'd given my father an estimate.' She was not prepared to admit that Lord Pendleton would be paying the bill.

He put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper. ‘I've made a note of the parts needed with a rough guide to their cost and my charges. It might come to more if the job takes longer, or it could be less if everything goes to plan. You won't get it done cheaper elsewhere.'

She took it from him. ‘Thank you. My father will be in touch.'

He did not move away, but stood staring thoughtfully at the cart and the restive animal. ‘I recognise this old trap. I think I fixed it once at the big house.'

‘Probably. It's on loan until my father gets the motor back on the road.'

He took the reins from her, making soothing noises to the unsettled cob. ‘So are you going to see to this
poor brute or are you going to leave the horse and cart parked outside like a motorcar?'

She stiffened, unwilling to admit that she did not know what to do. ‘I – er . . .'

He grinned. ‘Would you like me to do it for you? I don't suppose a lady like you has ever had to do anything so menial as rub down a horse or muck out a stable.'

‘You're impertinent, Bowman.'

His smile faded and he released the reins, causing the horse to move restlessly in the shafts. ‘I'm sorry, ma'am. You'll have to excuse a country bumpkin forgetting his manners. I'll be leaving you now.' He was about to go but she called him back.

‘No, please don't leave me. You're right. I do need help.'

‘And I'll be pleased to oblige a lady in distress.' There was a mocking note in his voice, and to make matters worse, he made it look so easy. He guided the horse into the coach house, and having unharnessed the animal he led it into the stables. ‘There,' he said, stroking the horse's neck. ‘It's not difficult when you know how.'

‘Thank you,' Daisy said stiffly. ‘I'm obliged to you, Mr Bowman.'

‘It's Barnaby. We're going to see a lot more of each other while I'm fixing your father's motor, so we might as well start as we mean to go on.' He shut the stall door, bolting it on the outside.

She could not help noticing his sinewy, sun-tanned forearms, so different from her brother's stick-thin
wrists and puny, milk-pale arms. She made an effort to keep the conversation formal. ‘You're very confident. He might refuse to accept your estimate and get someone else to do the work.'

‘He might, but he won't. There aren't many good mechanics in these parts. In fact there aren't that many motorcars. I'm what you might call a forerunner in the machine age. It won't be long before there are millions of motorcars on the road and petrol pumps in every village. We're at the beginning of an exciting time, Miss Lennox. You mark my words.'

His enthusiasm was catching and Daisy found herself looking at him in a new light. She had thought him an ill-mannered yokel but she realised now that she had been both wrong and foolish. She had spent too much of her life listening to her mother's prejudiced views, and had looked down on a man merely because he wore overalls and worked with his hands. She realised now that she had become a snob, and she was ashamed. ‘You do make it sound quite thrilling,' she said reluctantly.

He beamed at her and this time there was no mockery in his smile. ‘It is. We're coming into a modern world where fellows like this won't be needed for work.' He stroked the cob's muzzle, receiving an appreciative whicker in response. ‘Anyway, I must get on. I've got a leaky tap to fix at the vicarage and a blocked gutter to clear at Major Henderson's house.'

‘Of course. Don't let me keep you.' Daisy stood aside to let him pass but he paused, standing too close to her for comfort.

‘Good day to you, miss. Any time you need anything
just send for Barnaby Bowman.' He grinned, exposing a row of even white teeth, and then he was gone. The scent of male musk, engine oil and Lifebuoy soap lingered in the air and she stood very still, watching his swaggering walk as he went to retrieve his motorcycle. He kick-started the engine and drove off in a cloud of dust.

It was only as she left the stables and walked towards the house that she realised she was still clutching the crumpled estimate in her hand. She quickened her pace, hoping that her father refused to sanction the work. Bowman was a disruptive influence. She made for the scullery, intending to lecture Ruby on the dangers of motorcycles.

Victor Lennox, who had never willingly done a day's exercise in his whole life, had arrived home tired and footsore. Teddy had blisters on his feet that needed urgent attention and he was convinced that he had sunstroke. He declared that he was too exhausted to think about food and all he wanted was to lie in a darkened room and mourn for the life he had once led. He left the room, limping.

Close to tears Gwendoline begged her husband to accept the Pendletons' generous offer to pay for the repairs on the Humberette, but his jaw set in a stubborn line that Daisy recognised only too well. ‘I may be close to bankruptcy, Gwendoline, but I refuse to accept charity.' He turned to Daisy. ‘You may tell Bowman that I'll pay him weekly for his time, plus whatever it costs to get the necessary spares.'

‘Yes, Father.' She glanced nervously at her mother, hoping that they were not going to be treated to a display of histrionics.

‘Do as you will, Victor,' Gwendoline said with a disapproving tut-tut. ‘You always have it your way. Nobody listens to me.'

He smiled gently. ‘Of course we do, my dear. But you must allow me to be the best judge of how I conduct my business.'

‘You didn't do too well when it came to Jeremiah Carlton. If it hadn't been for that criminal we would still be living in Warwick Square like civilised human beings.' She spun round, catching sight of Beatrice who was creeping past the door in an attempt to reach her bedroom and change out of her breeches. ‘Just look at your youngest daughter, Victor. She's running wild and mixing with peasants like a native.' She beckoned frantically to her daughter. ‘Come here this minute, Beatrice, and show your father how you went out today.'

Hanging her head, Beatrice slunk into the room. ‘I've been helping the Gurneys with the harvest, Father.'

Victor glanced at her jodhpurs and sighed. ‘I don't know what young girls are coming to these days. But I suppose it's better that you spend your time doing something useful rather than joining those despicable suffragists or listening to jazz music and smoking cigarettes.'

‘Don't put ideas into her head.' Gwendoline fanned herself vigorously with a lace handkerchief. ‘Go to your room and change into something decent, Beatrice. I
despair of both my daughters.' She shot a withering look at Daisy. ‘Your face is quite pink. You must have been out in the sun without a hat, and you've got hands like a navvy. It's no wonder Rupert didn't come up to scratch. You'll end up on the shelf, my girl. And Beatrice will disgrace us all by marrying a farm labourer.'

‘Oh, Mother!' Beatrice ran from the room and the sound of her running footsteps echoed throughout the house as she raced upstairs. Daisy took a deep breath, reminding herself that their mother had probably suffered the most from their move to the country. She met her father's worried look with a meaningful nod of her head. ‘Shall we go and inspect the governess cart, Father? Lady Pendleton said we can have it as long as we like, and it's better than walking to work each day.'

‘Your father goes to business, Daisy,' Gwendoline said, sighing. ‘Common people go to work. Professional gentlemen go to business.'

Victor rose wearily from his chair. ‘Yes, let's go and see the grand equipage that will take Teddy and me to business each day.' He winked at Daisy. ‘Lead the way, my dear.'