At breakfast the next day, Mrs Peabody plonked herself down, uninvited, at a table already occupied by Mr Meyer and another man, an Italian named Signor Felici. Both men looked dismayed at Mrs Peabody’s intrusion, but said nothing. Daisy wished her employer wouldn’t keep imposing herself. She appeared to have no idea as to how one should behave. At least today she looked reasonably presentable in a wavy chestnut wig, her tortoiseshell glasses matching the brown of her suit.
Daisy sat eating her breakfast, listening vaguely to the others talk. She was thinking about what she’d seen yesterday. She still couldn’t work out what it might mean, but she was convinced it was most definitely fishy. George would know how to find out more information. She tried to remember what he’d told her about methods of investigation …
‘Daisy!’ It was Victor’s voice from close behind her. She turned around, surprised. The St-Remys never came down to breakfast, preferring to take the morning meal in their rooms. Victor smiled at her and bowed to Mrs Peabody. ‘Would you allow me, madame, to borrow your treasured secretary for a moment or two?’
‘I’m sure she’d rather go with you than sit with three old fogies, Count,’ said Mrs Peabody, winking at Daisy. ‘Eh?’ Ignoring the others’ frosty looks, she waved Daisy and Victor away, and returned to her interrupted monologue.
Victor drew Daisy away from the dining room. ‘I just wanted to tell you we are leaving first thing tomorrow morning,’ he said. ‘Something’s come up in France, at the estate, and we must go.’
Daisy’s heart sank. All thoughts of Mrs Peabody’s suspicious behaviour fled her mind. ‘Oh, dear …’
He smiled. ‘Don’t look so sad. We have all of today, Daisy. And tonight. Do you think Mrs Peabody would let you have the whole day off?’
‘Oh, I hope so! I’ll go and ask her now.’
‘Wonderful.’ His smile warmed her all over. ‘I’ll wait for you in the lounge. And then we can decide what we’ll do to make it an unforgettable day!’
Please, Daisy thought as she approached Mrs Peabody, please let her say yes, and please, please don’t let her make a song and dance about it, I couldn’t bear it!
Her employer was still holding forth to an increasingly frozen-faced audience, punctuating her chatter with loud laughter. ‘Why, Daisy!’ she shouted, breaking off, ‘what’s the matter? You look as if your last hour’s come!’
Daisy felt desperate. The whole room was snatching glances at them. Hastily, she said, ‘Mrs Peabody, would you perhaps allow me to take this morning off? I will make it up tomorrow, I promise.’
‘Day off, is it? Swanning around London with the Count?’
Daisy caught the sympathetic glances of the two men. She said, faintly, ‘He … they have to go back to France first thing tomorrow. We just thought …’
‘Oh, I understand now! Sure, sweetie, off you go and have fun! Just remember what I told you, eh?’
Daisy turned scarlet. Before Mrs Peabody could enlighten the whole room as to her theories on whom you should ‘set your cap at’, she fled the room to tell Victor the good news.
‘Let’s plan the perfect day, then,’ he said, cheerfully. ‘What do you most want to do, Miss Daisy Miller?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Daisy, who would have been happy to sit and watch the grass grow, as long as it was with him.
Victor smiled into her eyes. ‘Then how about we hire a car and drive out of London for the day? I thought perhaps we could head towards Windsor … I’ll ask the hotel to make up a picnic basket for us. Then we’ll come back in the early afternoon and go to a matinee performance at one of the music halls. There’s a rather good magic show on at Maskelyne’s at the moment. Then we can have high tea at the Ritz and come back here for dinner. There’s an excellent band playing tonight, the Harry Golightly Orchestra, I heard them last September in Biarritz. What do you say? Does that sound like a day you could bear to spend with me?’
Daisy’s eyes were like stars. ‘Oh, Victor!’ was all she could say.
‘Wonderful, that’s settled then! Shall we leave in, say, an hour?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Daisy, unable to find words for the mixture of joy and sorrow that filled her to bursting. Today would be wonderful — but tomorrow … tomorrow … Would she ever see Victor again, after tomorrow?
Back in her room she tried on everything she owned. She had to look perfect for the perfect day! In the end she decided on the cherry-coloured skirt and jacket. She teamed them with a cream satin blouse and her smartest patent leather shoes, but packed a pair of walking shoes too. A smudge of rouge, a touch of lipstick and mascara, a dab of perfume at wrists and neck, her golden waves neatly arranged under the cheekily-tipped veiled hat, and she was ready.
Victor, looking debonair in white flannel trousers, navy jacket and two-tone shoes, a picnic basket at his feet, was already in the lounge, talking with Mr Meyer. They broke off as she approached, and stood up. ‘Charming,’ said Mr Meyer, bowing. ‘Absolutely charming.’ He turned to Victor. ‘You are a fortunate man, my friend.’
‘Oh, I know that,’ said Victor, smiling at Daisy in a way that made her blush.
Mr Meyer tipped his hat to them. ‘Enjoy your day. May the sun shine brightly for you.’
‘He’s rather a dear,’ said Daisy, looking after him as he walked discreetly away. ‘Not at all what you’d think a dour old Dutchman would be.’
‘No,’ said Victor, a little absently. Then he smiled, and looked into her eyes. ‘But then people are often surprising. Now then, Daisy, are you ready? The car’s just outside. Will you take my arm?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Daisy as they headed joyfully out into the bright sunshine.