India and never turned up to claim her clothes. Let’s hope that she left behind a few decent dresses.’ And then something caught her attention and she bent over the trunk. ‘It’s been sealed with wax,’ she said with awe. ‘Good old Mrs P – no moths here.’
‘Hope there’s something for me,’ said Rose wistfully. ‘It’s sad to be the sister who is always ignored and left out of things.’
‘Don’t worry, you’re as tall as Daisy and these days no one needs a figure,’ said Violet kindly. ‘We’ll find something for you if we can get the trunk open.’
Funny the way that no one suggests asking Great-Aunt Lizzie for a key, thought Daisy. We’re probably right though. There’s something odd about this Elaine. Why haven’t we heard about her before? Perhaps it was true that she went out to India with Mother and Father and left behind the clothes she wasn’t taking with her. But why has she never been mentioned by either Great-Aunt Lizzie or Father? She made a resolution to hunt for a photograph of the long-vanished Elaine and went to the door to wait for Morgan.
When Poppy reappeared though, she was followed by the tall figure of Justin.
‘Morgan’s not back from the village yet; Mrs Beaton went with him so they may be ages. I’ve brought Justin. I’ve told him about the party and about us looking for dresses. Oh, and Rose, Great-Aunt Lizzie is looking for you everywhere. You’d better fly.’
Daisy could see a struggle in Violet’s face as horror at Poppy’s outspokenness fought with the desire to see what was in the trunk. She won’t worry too much, thought Daisy, watching her elder sister with interest as she shrugged her shoulders. He’s a younger son; he has no money, no house, no estate. She could almost see the words ‘Why should I care about him?’ form on her sister’s lovely lips before she smiled and said graciously, ‘It’s very kind of you to come all the way up here.’
‘On the contrary, you’re doing me a favour. I’ve been carrying around this ridiculous penknife with forty blades in it since the days when I was a Boy Scout,’ he said with a smile that deepened the dimple on his chin. ‘Let’s drag the trunk over under the light. Now, I wonder, how does one pick a lock? You read these things in books, don’t you? They always sound so easy. Let’s try the blade for getting stones out of a horse’s hoof. That’s the only one that I’ve ever used.’
‘Never mind,’ said Violet kindly after a good ten minutes had passed and Justin had risen to his feet, staring in a frustrated way at the lock which remained stubbornly fastened. ‘You did your best . . .’
‘I suppose you’ve tried this key already,’ said Justin. He reached over to the top of a worm-eaten tallboy standing in the corner of the room and took down a small key, blowing the dust off it before handing it to Violet. Daisy could see her sister’s hand tremble as she fitted it into the lock and the click seemed very loud as she turned it.
‘Well, we never thought of looking for a key up there,’ said Poppy. ‘Good job you’re so tall.’
‘I’m so sorry that we troubled you.’ Violet had gone back to her society manner, modelled on Great-Aunt Lizzie.
‘Not at all,’ Justin responded with equal politeness. ‘In fact, you have probably done me a great service. Now that my inability to pick locks has been so clearly demonstrated I will give up all thoughts of entering the housebreaking trade and will devote myself to the law.’
‘You could put your knife to use in breaking the wax seal,’ pointed out Daisy. She had decided that she rather liked Justin. What a pity he was a younger son, she thought. Either he would have to marry a rich girl or he would have to wait for years until he made enough money to support someone as poor as Violet. The Earl’s estate, of course, would go to Justin’s eldest brother – entailed also, of course. Life was good to eldest sons. One of the