The Best of Daughters (2 page)

Daisy twisted her head round to stare at her in amazement. ‘Don't you want women to get the vote?'

‘I don't really care one way or the other. Politics is boring, and politicians are ugly old men with beards and dull voices.' She gave Daisy a gentle push. ‘There you are, all done up. Perhaps you'd better go and see what Mother wants. It's probably something to do with your birthday party.'

Daisy hurried to the dressing table and picked up a hairbrush. ‘I'm heartily sick of the whole thing. I'd much rather have a quiet family dinner than a big do for my twenty-first.' She began brushing her hair, wincing as the bristles became caught in the thick tangle of dark curls.

Beatrice moved swiftly to take the brush from her. ‘Let me do it. You're all fingers and thumbs. Perhaps it's the shock of coming so close to being arrested. What would Father say if he had to go to a police station and bail you out?'

‘Don't,' Daisy groaned. ‘I can't bear to think of it.'

‘Well, dear, if you will live dangerously, you must face the consequences.' Beatrice coiled her sister's hair into an elegant chignon at the nape of her neck, fixing it with hairpins and a tortoiseshell comb. ‘How's that? Aren't I a clever girl?' She snatched a silver-backed
mirror from the dressing table and held it so that Daisy could see the full effect of her coiffure.

‘Yes,' Daisy said, smiling. ‘You would make a wonderful lady's maid.'

Beatrice replaced the mirror with a thud. ‘If I were a fugitive from the law like you, I'd be careful not to annoy my sister in case she decided to turn me in.'

‘You wouldn't really.' Daisy rose from the stool and gave her a hug.

‘It all depends upon how I'm treated. Be nice to me, or I'll tell Mother, and that would be a thousand times more frightening than ending up in Bow Street.'

‘I suppose I'd better go downstairs and face the inquisition.' Checking her appearance in the cheval mirror, Daisy frowned. ‘I look a bit peaky. Do you think they'll notice?'

Beatrice shook her head. ‘It doesn't matter if they do. Mother and her generation are so old-fashioned. They think that having a pale complexion is the sign of a true lady.'

Daisy squared her shoulders, taking a deep breath. ‘Wish me luck, Bea.'

‘Where have you been all afternoon, Daisy?' Gwendoline demanded, looking her daughter up and down with a disapproving frown.

‘I went shopping, Mother.' Daisy cast a surreptitious glance at her mother's friends but they kept their eyes tactfully averted, sipping their tea or nibbling daintily on slices of seed cake.

‘It's a pity that you didn't consult me first, Daisy. You
are so thoughtless.' Sunbeams slanted in through the tall windows, tinting Gwendoline's golden hair with playful highlights. She sat erect like a queen granting an audience to her subjects, or, Daisy thought ruefully, like a judge about to pronounce the death sentence. At the age of forty-five Gwendoline Lennox was still a handsome woman who had kept her figure by rigorous attention to the teachings of Dr Banting. She ruled her family with an iron hand in a chain mail glove. Outward shows of affection were alien to her nature and she did not believe in spoiling her children. She did, however, take her position as the wife of a wealthy stockbroker very seriously indeed. Patroness of several charitable institutions, Gwendoline did her duty to the poor and needy.

‘I'm sorry, Mother.' Daisy shifted from one foot to the other. She could feel an undercurrent of sympathy emanating from her audience, but she would have been surprised had any one of them been brave enough to speak up for her.

‘I should think so too.' Gwendoline turned to the woman seated next to her on the sofa. ‘More tea, Jane?'

‘No, thank you. One cup is quite sufficient.' Lady Pendleton smiled and patted the vacant space beside her. ‘Did you buy anything nice, Daisy dear? Do sit down and tell us.'

Daisy sank down on the sofa, stifling a sigh of relief. Lady Pendleton was one of her mother's oldest friends and the Honourable Rupert, as Bea insisted on calling him, was her son. It was an open secret that the matriarchs were united in their ambition to arrange a match between Rupert and Daisy. The problem was that
although Daisy liked him well enough, she thought of him simply as Teddy's best friend. They had played together as children but then the boys had gone away to boarding school, followed by university, and now Rupert was just about to complete his officer training at Sandhurst, while Teddy, somewhat reluctantly, was a junior clerk in their father's office in the City. She turned with a start as she realised that Lady Pendleton was speaking to her. ‘Was it something to wear at your birthday party, Daisy?'

‘It wasn't anything very interesting, Lady Pendleton. I needed some stockings and some embroidery silk.'

‘And that took you all afternoon?' Gwendoline did not look convinced.

‘I expect the dear girl was window shopping.' Mrs Harper-Colton, a plump middle-aged widow with a kindly disposition, smiled at Daisy from the sofa on the far side of the imposing Carrara marble fireplace.

Her companion, Miss Spruce, a genteelly poor spinster, nodded her head in agreement. ‘I can spend hours just looking in the windows of the department stores, especially Selfridge's. And sometimes I go inside, not intending to purchase anything you understand, because I never wear rouge or anything like that, and anyway my limited means does not allow me to indulge in luxuries, but I simply love to breathe in the glorious scents in the perfume department.' She paused for breath, blushing and staring down at the cup and saucer clutched in her hands. ‘I'm sorry. Once I start chattering I find it hard to stop.'

‘Indeed you do, Lavinia,' Mrs Harper-Colton said
with a wry smile. ‘You chatter more than all three of my girls put together.'

‘You must miss them terribly now that they're all married with homes of their own,' Lady Pendleton said sympathetically.

‘At least they all found suitable husbands and were off your hands before they reached their majority.' Gwendoline aimed a meaningful glance at her daughter.

Daisy sighed inwardly and remained silent. Mother would never let her forget the fact that the Harper-Colton girls, all gangly, toothy and with not a brain between them, had achieved what every ambitious matron wanted for their female progeny. Each one of them had snared a wealthy husband who could keep her in comfort for the rest of her life. It was an inescapable fact that she was expected to follow suit, and to do it before she was considered to be officially on the shelf. No one seemed to give her credit for being able to think for herself, and both her parents would be utterly horrified if they knew that she supported the Women's Social and Political Union. Even now she could hear the screams and cries of protest from the women as the police descended upon them with truncheons at the ready. There had been no quarter given and probably none had been expected by the seasoned suffragettes. It was the first time that Daisy had been subjected to the violence of such a demonstration, and she was still shocked and shaken by the scenes she had witnessed.

‘Pay attention, Daisy,' Gwendoline said crossly. ‘It's your party that we're discussing. You might pretend to be interested.'

Jolted back to the present, Daisy attempted a smile. ‘I'm sorry, Mother. I was miles away.'

‘That was quite obvious. Perhaps you'd better leave us to make the final arrangements, since you don't seem to care one way or the other.'

Everyone was looking at her and Daisy felt the blood rushing to her cheeks. ‘I do care, Mother. I'm sorry, what were you saying?'

‘I was simply enquiring if you had any preference as to the floral arrangements on our tables in the private dining room at the Hotel Cecil. I have to give the final decision by tomorrow morning at the latest so that the florist can order the appropriate blooms and foliage. Jane and I have decided on gardenias, freesias and roses with sprays of stephanotis and a mist of gypsophila.'

‘That sounds lovely.'

Gwendoline sighed heavily. ‘You'd say the same if I suggested dandelions and buttercups. You should think you're very fortunate to have a father who is prepared to indulge you in this way.'

‘I do, Mother. I am grateful, and I appreciate all the trouble that everyone is going to on my behalf.' Daisy paused, glancing from one face to the other. She could see doubt and scepticism on each one, except for Miss Spruce who merely looked confused.

Lady Pendleton placed her arm around Daisy's shoulders and gave her a hug. ‘I expect it's all a bit overwhelming for a self-effacing girl like you, my dear. But rest assured, Rupert will be there to make sure you have a wonderful time. He's such a dear boy, and
he's very fond of you. I'm sure he already thinks of himself as one of the family.'

‘I'm certain that my daughter feels the same way.' Gwendoline paused, as if waiting for Daisy to agree, but when no response was forthcoming her smile faded. ‘What do you say, Daisy?'

She could stand it no longer. Daisy rose to her feet. ‘Actually I have an awful headache. Would you mind if I went to my room, Mother?'

‘Poor dear.' Lady Pendleton smiled up at her. ‘Too much excitement is bad for one. You should lie down and rest.'

Mrs Harper-Colton nodded wisely. ‘And a cold compress is always efficacious.'

‘A cup of camomile tea always helps to soothe my nerves,' Miss Spruce added eagerly. ‘Especially when taken at bedtime.'

‘Go then,' Gwendoline said with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘Do what you always do and leave me to make all the arrangements.'

Daisy did not try to defend herself. By this time her head really had started to ache miserably, and she was certain that she had an enormous bruise on her shin where someone had accidentally kicked her during their rush to escape arrest. She hurried from the room and went upstairs to lie on her bed until the dinner gong sounded.

She was half asleep when it summoned the family to dinner. She roused herself with difficulty and rose from her bed. She was stiff and sore, but at least her head had stopped aching. She filled the willow-pattern
bowl on the washstand and splashed her face with cold water. Feeling slightly more alert, she changed her dress for the third time that day before taking a seat at the dressing table. She tidied her hair and added a dab of face powder and just a hint of rouge to complete her toilette. Satisfied that she looked reasonably presentable she stood up, shaking out the creases in her blue crêpe de Chine dinner gown.

She made her way downstairs, but just as she was about to enter the dining room she was startled by the jangling of the doorbell. She hesitated, waiting for Betsy to come rushing up from the basement kitchen, but the bell rang again and there was no sign of the maid. Thinking that it was probably Teddy, who was always losing his key, Daisy went to open the door. But it was not her brother who stood on the step; it was one of the suffragettes, a young girl from south of the river. Daisy had met her when they had been put in charge of the tea urn at one of the Women's Social and Political Union meetings, and she had seen her earlier that day in Oxford Street. ‘Hello, Ruby. What can I do for you?'

‘I come to ask you a favour, miss.'

‘You came all this way to see me? It must be something very important.' Daisy glanced over her shoulder as she heard footsteps behind her, but it was only the parlour maid, who had come to a halt outside the dining room with a large soup tureen clutched in her hands.

‘Sorry, Miss Daisy. I couldn't see to the door and fetch the soup at the same time.'

‘It's all right,' Daisy said calmly. ‘I'll deal with this, Betsy.' She turned back to Ruby. ‘What do you want?
I'm afraid I can't ask you in. As you can see, we're about to dine.'

‘I can see that, miss. It's just that I got instructions to do something.' She winked and tapped the side of her nose. ‘It's top secret, but after what happened today I don't feel as how I can face it on me own. They're going to do something really shocking. We might get locked up in the Tower for it.'

Daisy stared at her, trying to decide whether this was some elaborate joke, but then the suffragists were always deadly serious, and she could see that Ruby was in earnest. ‘Why me, Ruby?'

‘Because you've got a kind face, miss. You talk to me like I was your equal. Some of them what demand equality with men don't seem to think it applies to us poor working girls.'

‘I'm sure that's not true,' Daisy said, although she knew that it was. The class system was rigid, even in a movement dedicated to women's rights. ‘What is it that we have to do?'

Ruby glanced round nervously as if expecting to see a policeman on every street corner. ‘Meet me outside Buckingham Palace tomorrow midday. There'll be others present but I'd feel so much better if you was at my side, miss.'

Daisy was trying to think of a suitable response when a hansom cab pulled up at the kerb and Teddy leapt out. ‘All right, Ruby,' she said hastily. ‘I'll be there, but you must go now.'

A wide grin almost split Ruby's snub-nosed features in half. She took Daisy's hand and shook it vigorously.
‘Ta, miss. You're a toff. I knew you wouldn't let me down. If we get arrested I know you'll take care of me.' She bounded down the steps, almost cannoning into Teddy who stood aside, staring at her in astonishment.

He took the steps two at a time. ‘Who on earth was that funny little creature, Daisy? What did she want?'

‘Nothing. She was just asking the way. She was lost.'

‘I'll say she was. Lucky for her that Mother didn't see her. She'd have sent her away with a flea in her ear. She wouldn't want the neighbours to think that we associate with that class of person.' He pulled a face, kissed her on the cheek and breezed into the house, tossing his bowler hat onto the hallstand. ‘I hope I'm not late for dinner. I'm absolutely famished.'