Daisychain Summer

He made quickly for home, and wondering what odds to offer that tomorrow didn’t find Mr Hillier gazing into Daisy’s pram, doing his best to make a sound like a blackbird alarmed, he grinned.

A secret man, his employer, and not given to outward emotions, yet a man with a kind heart beneath his waistcoat, and a man who remembered favours owed …

At King’s Cross station, Elliot Sutton wished his aunt and father goodbye, then took a taxi to Cheyne Walk.

‘I hope you’ll find Aunt Sutton much improved.’ He raised his hat, smiling charmingly at his aunt.

‘I’ll keep in touch with your mother,’ Edward said briefly as his son drove away.

‘Perhaps you should have looked in on Clemmy,’ Helen frowned. ‘Put her in the picture …’

‘At seven in the morning?’ Edward demanded. ‘No, I’ll leave it to Elliot to tell her, though he knows no more than I. And what’s going on there and why Clemmy needs Elliot so urgently is beyond me. She has her reasons, I suppose, and I shall be told when the time is right.

‘Now let’s get ourselves onto the Dover train. We should have a smooth crossing. I’ll send a telegram to Monsieur Bossart from Calais – let him know we’re on our way.’

‘You are a good man, Edward. I really shall be glad of your company and the sooner I see for myself that Anne Lavinia is all right, the better.’

‘But you know I’m fond of her – she’s my sister, after all. It’s my duty to go to her, apart from the fact that I want to. So stop fretting, Helen. We should be there by early evening and till then, leave all the worrying to me.’

‘I will indeed.’ He was so like John; so good, so considerate. He didn’t deserve Clemmy nor Elliot; a pity he’d had to follow the only road open to most second sons and marry where money lay. Clementina, the only child of a wealthy ironmaster, had proved to be his salvation, if salvation it could be called, and now Clemmy was richer than ever, her foundries having profited from the war. Sad that Edward could not have been as happy as she and John; a pity his firstborn had been so indulged by his mother.

‘What are you worrying about now?’ Edward cut in to her thoughts. ‘You were frowning.’

‘Oh, just – just hoping Clemmy won’t worry too much,’ she hastened, blushing.

‘Clemmy will not worry at all. My wife is receiving a countess this morning and cannot possibly spare the time to worry about anything else. That Elliot’s presence is needed there makes me think she has started her matchmaking again. She wants him married, you know.’

‘Just like every mother,’ Helen defended loyally. ‘Now things seem to be getting back to normal after the war, I think Clemmy has every right to expect grandchildren.’

‘She has one in America already, don’t forget.’

‘I mean an heir, for Pendenys. We have Drew – it’s only natural Clemmy should want to see things settled, too. Let’s hope Elliot soon finds himself a wife.’

‘You are too charitable, Helen. All I can hope is that the young lady, whoever she might be, comes with plenty of backbone. She’ll need it, married to my son,’ he murmured as a taxi drew up beside them. ‘But let’s see to Anne Lavinia first and leave Elliot’s future in Clemmy’s most capable hands.’

If anyone could get the better of his eldest son, it was his wife. Clemmy had the money; she it was who called the tune. And sooner or later, Elliot would dance to it.

‘So, you’ve got yourself here at last! What kept you?’

‘Mama!’ Elliot bent to kiss his mother but she jerked her head away. ‘I didn’t think to – to –’

‘To find me up so early? I’m up because there’s a lot to do and only three servants to do it! The countess and Lady Anna are calling this morning, so shape yourself! I want you bathed and shaved and your linen changed as soon as maybe! Breakfast is in five minutes; the hairdresser is calling at nine. And a word to the wise, Elliot! The girl next door has taken my fancy, so behave yourself!’

‘Mother, dear – you aren’t playing Cupid again? You know, I really am capable of –’

‘You are capable of nothing, boy! I’ve warned you and warned you. I want you settled down. I want grandchildren!’

‘But you have one already, in Kentucky.’ He shifted uneasily, an eye on the staircase, and escape. His mother was in one of her or-else moods. Do as I say, or else! His allowance, that’s what it would be. She had only stopped it once, but what an uncomfortable month it had been.

‘The one in America doesn’t count. I want a grandson from you, Elliot, and born in wedlock, an’ all. Your Aunt Helen has one. Giles did his duty. Rowangarth has an heir.’

‘Ah, yes – the sewing-maid …’

‘An heir, Elliot, no matter by who! That grandchild of Helen’s kept the title from Pendenys. Your father would have had it, but for him! Helen always lands on her feet!’

‘As did the sewing-maid – or was it on her back?’

‘That will do!’ Clementina’s cheeks blazed bright red. ‘I’m not going to argue the toss with you. You’ve sown your wild oats from Leeds to Paris and back! Now either you find yourself a wife, or else!’

Or else no allowance; bills unpaid and no money for a wager, either! And this morning, he was forced to admit, his mother looked as if she meant it.

‘Mother, dear – can we not go in to breakfast?’ Did they have to talk about it in the hall in full hearing of below stairs, who would be shivering with delight at every syllable of it? ‘Can’t we have our chat over a cup of coffee? I understand perfectly your wish to see me married.’ And I know how damn-awful it is to be without money and that you know that I know it, too.

He opened the dining-room door, jabbing the bell-push as he walked past it, pulling out his mother’s chair.

‘Married? You do? And you are willing to be nice to Lady Anna and the countess – just to please me? It’s all I ask and you know you can charm the birds from the trees when you set your mind to it.’

‘I will be nice to them.’ The worst was over. She had had her say; now she would change to the surely-you-can-do-this-one-little-thing-for-me approach which was better than the dramatic ‘… and-in-my-own-house-too!’ – followed by a fit of sobbing vapours. ‘I promise you I’ll be especially nice to your countess.’

‘And to Lady Anna?’

‘Her too, mother. And now can we eat like civilized people? Breakfast on the sleeper was untouchable. Oh, and father says he’ll keep in touch about Aunt Sutton and that you are not to worry.’

‘Ha! Can’t see why he should go tearing off to France at the drop of a hat! And why does Helen have to be poking her nose in? She’s no more related to your aunt than I am! We are both sisters-in-law, so why was that telegram sent to her in the first place?’

‘Why indeed?’ Elliot comforted, glad they were on a different tack. ‘But you can’t be expected to drop everything, mother. You have a full social calendar …’

‘Yes, I have.’ She held out her coffee cup to be filled. ‘And it’s probably nothing worse than a cut finger! They are soft, those Suttons – not like my side; not like your Grandfather Elliot and the Pendennises …’

She stopped, horrified. This morning, when she was at home to a countess, the last person she must think about was her Cornish ancestress Mary Anne Pendennis!

She gazed across the table at her son; at the only Sutton who was Pendennis dark. All the rest were fair and grey-eyed; all but Elliot whom she loved all the more because of it.

‘You are a great comfort to me,’ she whispered. ‘Only settle down with a respectable girl and you shall have anything you could ever want. That is my promise to you, so think on, Elliot …’

7 (#ulink_d046fd82-21c1-58a1-8d6b-a28eb1a37864)

The Countess Petrovska arrived punctually, accompanied by her daughter and the servant in black. The servant pressed the bell-push, curtseyed deeply, then returned to the house next door, hands demurely clasped, eyes on her boots.

Clementina Sutton’s door was opened at once by the footman who had waited there for five minutes, flexing his white-gloved hands. Fuss, fuss, fuss. You’d have thought the Queen and Princess Mary were visiting, not some women the Ruskies had flung out!

The footman bowed; Clementina appeared in the sitting-room doorway.

‘My dear countess.’ She offered a hand, fingers limp. ‘And Lady Anna.’

Anna Petrovska smiled prettily, then bobbed the smallest of curtseys in deference to an elder.

‘Countess – may I present Elliot, my son?’