Sheer Folly Read Online Free Page A

Brin!” Mrs. Howell hissed crossly. Any hint of Welsh in her voice had been carefully obliterated. “You’ll be making the ladies think I’m the housekeeper. I’ve been acting as Brin’s hostess since my poor sister went to her reward, Lady Gerald. How do you do? My husband was Brin’s partner, you see.”
    â€œPartner?” Lucy enquired languidly, as though she had never heard the word before, though Daisy was pretty certain Gerald was a partner in a City firm, something to do with stocks and shares, as well as sitting on numerous boards.
    â€œBusiness partner,” Mrs. Howell elucidated.
    â€œSleeping partner,” Pritchard corrected her mischievously.
    â€œOwen’s your Managing Director!” she snapped.
    â€œMy dear Winifred, you were talking about Daffyd.”
    Short of an actual yawn, Lucy could hardly have shown her lack of interest more clearly.
    To compensate, Daisy said, “I’ve always wondered what a sleeping partner is exactly. Presumably not one who comes into the office, puts his feet up on the desk, and slumbers away the day?”
    Pritchard laughed. “Indeed, he doesn’t usually turn up at the office at all, Mrs. Fletcher. It’s what we call someone who invests in a private business without taking part in the running of it. Daffyd Howell was—”
    â€œReally, Brin, I’m sure the ladies don’t want to hear about the business.”
    â€œDaisy’s a writer,” said Lucy. “Writers are interested in the most unexpected subjects.”
    â€œLater, perhaps,” Daisy suggested. Not that she was particularly interested in the financial arrangements of Pritchard’s Plumbing Products, but she didn’t like the way Mrs. Howell had snubbed her brother-in-law.
    â€œJust say the word.” He gave her a cheerful wink. “Your tea will be here any minute, Mrs. Fletcher. Now, what can I get for you, Lady Gerald?”
    â€œGin and It, please.” Lucy followed him over to a huge oak Welsh dresser, beautifully carved. It had been converted into a drinks cabinet. The shelves were crowded with bottles, decanters, and glasses. One side of the top of the base section lifted to reveal a small sink—with running water, of course, given their host’s business—and the cupboard below concealed an ice chest.
    It was very neatly done, without spoiling a splendid piece of furniture. Daisy considered it vastly preferable to the current fad for glass and chromed stainless steel bars.
    â€œAnyone else for a cocktail?” Pritchard invited, pouring Lucy’s drink.
    â€œI wouldn’t mind a pink gin,” said Julia, going to join them.
    Mrs. Howell muttered something disapproving about it being much too early for drinks.
    Lady Beaufort said soothingly, “Young people today are very different from the days of our youth, aren’t they?”
    Though Daisy thought it was very kind of Lady Beaufort, who surely could have given the other a good decade, Mrs. Howell didn’t appear to be mollified. “Not so young, neither,” she snapped.
    â€œOld enough to decide for ourselves what we want to drink,” Daisy commented, “though the three of us are too young to vote for a couple of years yet.”
    â€œWhy women want to vote I simply can’t see,” Mrs. Howell declared. “One thing I’ll say for Brin, he’s stuck by Mr. Lloyd George through thick and thin. So what need have I for a vote?”
    Daisy refrained from pointing out the fallacy in this argument. “Ah, here comes my tea,” she said with relief.
    Lord Rydal came in just behind the butler. He made a beeline for the drinks—or was it for Julia?
    â€œI fetched your friends’ bags from the station, Miss Beaufort,” he told her irritably, jabbing with his cigarette holder towards Lucy. “But I still don’t see why one of the servants couldn’t have gone.