Free Hasty Death by M. C. Beaton Page A

her.’
    ‘But think of the scandal,’ said Harry. ‘She would be lost to you and damned as mad for the rest of her life.’
    ‘Oh, very well,’ said Lady Polly. ‘But I will hire a lady’s maid for her and one that will keep a strict eye on her as well. Rose has some very odd ideas about going into
society again. She insists on going to some boring lecture given by Mrs Angela Stockton.’
    ‘Mrs Stockton,’ said Harry, consulting the papers he had taken from his office, ‘is fabulously wealthy and of good family.’
    ‘But a lecture . . . !’
    ‘And has a son of Rose’s age.’
    Both the earl and countess looked at Harry. ‘Now that’s different,’ said the earl. ‘Nothing up with money in the family, hey.’

 
CHAPTER FIVE
    I am silent in the Club,
    I am silent in the pub,
    I am silent on a bally peak in Darien;
    For I stuff away for life
    Shoving peas in with a knife,
    Because I am at heart a Vegetarian.
    No more the milk of cows
    Shall pollute my private house
    Than the milk of the wild mares of the Barbarian:
    I will stick to port and sherry,
    For they are so very, very,
    So very, very, very Vegetarian
    G. K. Chesterton
    T he fact that the earl and countess agreed to their daughter’s attending Angela Stockton’s lecture accompanied only by her new
companion was prompted by parental weariness. Where had they gone wrong? They had supplied her with the best governess – or so they had believed – and the fact that they saw very little
of her until she became of an age to be a débutante could not surely have created any problem, for she had been brought up as a lady of her class.
    They had enjoyed their visit to Nice, the long miles separating them from their unruly daughter having largely served to put Rose out of their minds. Angela Stockton’s lecture seemed a
safe enough place for her to be seen. Also, there was the carrot of Mrs Stockton’s marriageable son.
    Luncheon was to be served before the lecture. Mrs Stockton’s impressive home was in Knightsbridge. Daisy, self-conscious in her new grand clothes supplied from Rose’s wardrobe, felt
she would have enjoyed the outing better had not Lady Polly sent her lady’s maid, Humphrey, to keep an eye on them. Daisy was conscious the whole time of Humphrey’s hot and jealous
eyes.
    A fork luncheon was served in a long dining-room. The other guests were women of indeterminate age, some of them wearing very odd clothes, consisting of cotton embellished with cabalistic
designs. There were a few men, mostly reedy and starved-looking.
    Mrs Angela Stockton greeted them warmly. She was dressed in black velvet with stars and moons embroidered in silver around the hem of her gown. A heavy silver belt was around her waist and
silver necklaces jangled from her thin neck. She had hair of an improbable shade of red, piled up and held in place with what looked like two ivory chopsticks. Her heavily rouged mouth was
surrounded by a radius of wrinkles. Her eyes, outlined in kohl, were very large and pale blue.
    ‘I am flattered that one so young and beautiful should grace my humble home,’ she said. ‘May I introduce my son, Peregrine.’
    Daisy reflected that Peregrine looked like a stage-door Johnny. He had thick black hair, well-oiled, and a thick luxuriant black moustache. His waistcoat was a violent affair of red and gold
silk.
    Rose and Daisy moved on into the dining-room. ‘Rabbit food,’ hissed Daisy.
    They helped themselves to nut cutlets and salad. There was no wine, simply jugs of water.
    Daisy and Rose sat down at a table. ‘It’s quite tasty but they might at least have served the nut cutlets hot,’ complained Rose. ‘And this house is abominably
cold.’ She signalled to Humphrey and asked her to fetch her fur coat from the ante-room where they had left their outer wrappings. ‘Miss Levine’s coat as well.’
    Humphrey glared at Daisy and then went off, returning shortly with their coats.
    ‘That’s better,’ said Rose.