The Affair of the Thirty-Nine Cufflinks (7 page)

'There are two old gentlemen, near the fireplace, also looking rather lost, so—'

'No,' interrupted her father. 'I don't want to know who they are. I don't care. Let somebody else take care of 'em.'

Chapter Fourteen

About fifteen minutes later, Lady Burford approached Geraldine. 'Have you noticed Dorothy?'

'She's almost unnoticeable,' Gerry replied. 'I've never seen anybody who is so close to not being anything.'

'She hasn't left Clara's side for a second. And she's not spoken to anybody. But she can't take her eyes off you.'

'Really? I hadn't noticed. What excellent taste she must have.'

'Have a word with the poor girl, will you? I'll distract Clara.'

'OK.'

Lady Burford moved towards Clara, who quickly saw her coming and turned to meet her.

She took the Countess' hand. 'Lavinia, how very, very good of you it is to lay on all this. To open up your beautiful home to so many strangers is a really gracious act. The girls and I are so grateful. Without you, I just don't know what would have happened.'

'It's kind of you to say so.'

'No, it's not kind at all. How could I say less? You and George are genuinely good people. I just wish there was some way we could repay you.'

In spite of herself, Lady Burford found herself softening. Clara was certainly capable of great charm. She told herself that it was flattery, of course - but remarkably effective flattery.

'Really, er, Clara' - she always found using her Christian name something of a struggle - there is really no need to think like that. We were very glad to do it. We were very fond of Florrie.'

'I know, and she was so fond of you and George and Geraldine. She always spoke of you with the utmost affection.'

The tactful thing to do would be return the compliment, but Lady Burford could not bring herself to utter this blatant lie. 'She spoke a lot of you, too,' she said.

If Clara noted the significance of the form of words, she did not show it. 'Thank you, too, so much for allowing us to stay overnight. Dorothy is really quite excited about it.'

Lady Burford was on the brink of answering with a phrase she had heard her daughter use: 'You could have fooled me.' But fortunately at that moment Clara suddenly realised that Dorothy was not at her shoulder. 'Where is she?' she said sharply and started to turn round.

Hastily, Lady Burford put her hand on Clara's. 'And tell me, how are you keeping?' she asked earnestly.

* * *

Gerry approached Dorothy with a broad smile. 'Hello, I'm Gerry Saunders.'

For a moment Dorothy looked terrified. Apart from the merest smattering of powder her face was totally devoid of make-up, and she was wearing a dress that looked as though it could have belonged to her mother. Gerry suddenly felt very sorry for her.

Dorothy gulped. 'Y-Yes, I know. H-How do you do, Lady Geraldine?' She was gazing at her with something like awe.

'Oh, please call me Gerry, we are cousins of a sort, aren't we? And may I call you Dorothy - or is it Dorry? That's how Florrie always referred to you.'

'Well, Agatha calls me Dorry. Grandmamma must have picked it up from her. But nobody else does. Mother doesn't like it.'

'Then I'll call you Dorry, too, if I may. I think it's a very pretty name - much nicer than Dorothy.' Gerry actually had no strong feelings either way, but if Clara was anti-Dorry, then she was going to be for it.

'Really?' Dorothy's face showed its first sign of animation. 'Then I'll ask everybody to call me that in future.'

Gerry blinked. She had often thought it would be nice to live in a world where everybody instantly followed her lead and took her advice on all matters, but now she had met somebody who was, it seemed, prepared to do just that, she was not at all sure she liked it. But she smiled again and said: 'I was awfully sorry to hear about your grandmother's death. It must have been an awful blow for you.'

'Well, we knew she had to go sometime, of course, but it was a shock all the same. I - I just wish I'd known her better, but I didn't get to see her all that often.'

'I suppose with her living in Walton-on-Thames, and not getting out very often in recent years, and you living in — north London, is it?'

'Yes, Hampstead.'

'Then it can't have been easy. I'm sure Florrie understood. She was terribly fond of you and Agatha, you know. I last saw her about three weeks ago and she was talking about you all the time.'

This was a considerable exaggeration but, Gerry thought, a justifiable one under the circumstances.

Dorothy cast a somewhat furtive glance towards her stepmother, who was still being kept under tight rein by the Countess. Unnecessarily, in view of the babble in the room, she lowered her voice. 'Aggie saw her more than I did.'

'Did she?' Gerry was fascinated - not by the less- than-enthralling information that one sister had seen her grandmother more than the other, but by the fact that this had obviously to be kept from Clara.

'Yes, she used to go and see her every month or so. Usually on her motor bike.'

'Aggie has a motor bike? What make?'

'A Norton, 500 cc.'

'Gosh, I do envy her. I've always wanted a motor bike. I begged Mummy and Daddy for one years ago, but even Daddy put his foot down about that. I could get one now, of course, but I wouldn't want to worry them.'

'Aggie took me for a ride on the pillion of hers once. It was really exciting. Mother had gone to the dentist,' she added by way of explanation.

Gerry felt a surge of anger, but suppressed it. 'I'd like to meet Aggie,' she said. 'Sounds as though we might get on.'

'Oh, it would be lovely if we could all get together sometime!' But then she glanced again at Clara and added wistfully: 'Though I don't suppose it will be possible.'

'I don't see why not. Let's have a chat about it later and see if we can arrange something.'

'Oh, can we really?'

'What?'

'Have a chat tonight.'

'Certainly.'

'It'll have to be after Mother's gone to bed. She always retires early. I'll have to go up with her, but I'll sneak back down. If - if it won't be keeping you up.'

Gerry grinned. 'Far from it. I am definitely not one who always retires early.'

'No, that's what I thought - from what I've read.' Dorothy was by the moment becoming more animated and talking more easily. 'It's such a thrill for me to meet you, La— er, Gerry. I've wanted to for years. I've been such an admirer of yours. And even more since those murders, which you helped to solve.'

Gerry endeavoured to look modest. 'Oh, I didn't do much, really,' she said, not thinking it necessary to mention the fact that until the very end she had been as baffled as everybody else.

'But you were nearly killed!'

Gerry raised her chin and squared her shoulders. 'You have to be prepared for that sort of risk if you decide to get involved in murder investigations,' she said nobly.

'And your fiancé - though he wasn't your fiancé then - saved your life.'

Gerry's eyes went dreamy. 'Yes, he was incredible.'

'Perhaps you'd tell me all about it tonight, would you? There was so much that wasn't in the papers that I wanted to know.'

'Yes, of course.'

'Oh, I'll really look forward to it.'

Gerry said: 'And now I really must mingle for a bit. Have you had any lunch, yet?'

'No.'