After everyone had seated themselves, Bellamy brought round his own particular selection from the wine cellar. Earlier in the day, Daisy had discussed what would be best and been somewhat relieved that he did not seem to still shoulder his sullenness over not being able to drink a few bottles a night himself. Having been so liberal in his past consumptions though, he was extremely knowledgeable. He’d suggested a white German wine from the Riesling region. It was a young vintage and would have the light crispness of a tart apple, exceedingly appropriate for the summer season. He would leave it in the cellar to remain cool until the last moment to enhance its refreshing qualities.
Daisy had trusted him and, in a moment, seen that he was correct. Lord Bartholomew had taken one sip before asking Bellamy more about it.
As Bellamy delivered his speech about the region, the type, the acidity, the finish, the vintner, and the year, Lord Dalton unwrapped a new pack of cards.
Daisy did her best to keep her concentration on her own table, but it was near impossible to avoid overhearing Mrs. Jellops and Mrs. Phelps. Dear Mrs. Jellops was communicating all sorts of wrong information, including what sounded like a completely made-up scoring system.
Mrs. Phelps nodded eagerly over each bit of misinformation and said things like, “Ah, I see! I hadn’t known.”
As Lord Dalton dealt the cards, he raised his eyebrows, no doubt also listening to this fascinating and very wrong conversation.
Daisy shrugged and pressed her lips together hard to stop herself from laughing.
“Perhaps we might play by the more usual rules?” Lord Dalton asked drily.
Daisy nodded. “Indeed, we’d better,” she said softly, “as I hardly understand how they have arranged their game.”
This elicited a very rare laugh from Lord Dalton and Daisy felt herself inexplicably gratified. She supposed when something was rare, its value was all the greater.
Daisy studied her hand. After discarding two and picking up, she found herself with a pair of aces. She decided to sink them, a trick she’d learned from Lady Ashworth, a rather renowned card player. They called the points, sequences, triplets and fours and Daisy thought her hand measured up very well against Lord Dalton’s. Particularly since he would go forward unaware of the aces she held back. As a further deception, she allowed him to take the first trick with a low card. He would be convinced to play his high cards at the end, and then he would lose them to her aces.
As they played on and Daisy noted down the running score, it was impossible to avoid understanding how the other piquet game was going. Mrs. Phelps was near-drowning in a sea of bad advice while Mrs. Jellops said comforting things like, “Do not scold yourself, Mrs. Phelps, youwillcatch on.”
Daisy did not know if it was the wine, or the idea that poor Mrs. Phelps would one day soon find herself at another card party attempting to explain Mrs. Jellops’ rules to an unsuspecting stranger. She could not help laughing.
She held her fan of cards over the lower half of her face but it was not enough. Lord Dalton’s shoulders heaved as Mrs. Jellops informed Mrs. Phelps that she’d just scored forty points for producing two eights in a row, an idea so far removed from piquet as to be from here to heaven.
Mrs. Jellops suddenly called over, “What is it, Daisy? Has Lord Dalton told a good joke?”
“Oh do tell us,” Mrs. Phelps said. “I do love a joke.”
“No, no,” Daisy exclaimed, knowing how impossible it would be for Lord Dalton to be forced to tell a joke, if anybody had ever dared tell him one. “I was just laughing at the awfulness of my hand. It is so bad as to be ridiculous.”
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Phelps said. “And here I am racking up forty points for a double run of eights. Sometimes it’s just down to luck, you know.”
Daisy bit down on her lip lest she fall off her chair in heaves of laughter. Lord Dalton leaned his forehead against one hand as if rubbing a headache, though Daisy saw perfectly well enough that he was attempting to control his own laughter.
She took in a deep breath and said, “I think we shall get on better if we do everything we can to concentrate on this game. Andthisgame only.”
Lord Dalton nodded. “As far as I understand it, this is the only game of piquet being played in the room.”
Daisy did her best to ignore the wit of the statement, as that would only lead to more laughter. Lord Dalton could be witty when he liked, a very dry sort of wit that she’d always found amusing. Now, though, she must not continue laughing over Mrs. Jellops’ instruction or they were bound to be found out.
However bad Mrs. Jellops’ memory of the actual game was, Daisy would not point it out for the world. It would be for Mrs. Phelps to discover on her own at some future moment.
They had finally come to the last two plays. As she had expected, Lord Dalton was looking very satisfied with himself as he laid down the queen of hearts.
Daisy laid down her ace of clubs and took the trick.
Lord Dalton looked up in surprise. “You sank an ace?”
Daisy smiled. “Or two,” she said.
The lord reluctantly laid down the king of diamonds and Daisy took the last trick too. The extra points for taking the last trick would put her ahead.
“Where did you learn that little piece of deception?” Lord Dalton asked.
“Lady Ashworth,” Daisy said, “and it is perfectly within the rules.”
