Sheer Folly by Carola Dunn

with her husband’s coat over her wet things.
    â€œMr. Pritchard,” she said, “Lady Ottaline needs to get dry and warm, and she shouldn’t walk back to the house alone.”
    â€œI can’t walk,” Lady Ottaline moaned.
    â€œBosh,” said Lucy, “it’ll warm you up.”
    â€œMy shoes are squelching,” Daisy put in hurriedly, if not quite accurately. “I’ll take them off and walk on the grass with you. It won’t be as uncomfortable as the gravel.”
    â€œAll you young ladies had better go,” said Pritchard cheerfully. “Sir Desmond, that leaves you and me to help the others out.”
    â€œI ought to go with my wife.”
    Julia scotched his escape. “Don’t worry, Sir Desmond, we’ll take good care of her.”
    â€œWe’ll send out a search party,” Lucy promised satirically, “if you don’t catch us up by the time we reach the house.”
    Lady Ottaline complained constantly as she and Daisy crunched across the frosty grass. Daisy didn’t want to sound equally whiny, so she held her tongue though she was sure her toes must be getting frost-bitten. Lucy and Julia crunched along the gravel path beside them, Julia making encouraging remarks.
    Halfway to the house, they met Howell returning with three menservants to the rescue. A practical man, he had brought several pairs of wellingtons.
    â€œRubber boots!” exclaimed Lady Ottaline. “I’ve never worn rubber boots in my life. I wouldn’t be seen dead wearing those hideous things.”
    â€œI would,” said Daisy. “Thanks, Mr. Howell, just what I need.” She hung on to Lucy’s arm and thrust her feet into the smallest pair. “They’re better than nothing, Lady Ottaline, honestly.”
    â€œDon’t be asinine, Lady Ottaline,” Lucy said sharply, adding with more truth than tact, “No one’s going to see you whose opinion you care a fig about. Do you want to catch pneumonia?”
    â€œThe others will need your help, I’m sure, Mr. Howell,” Julia suggested.
    As soon as Howell and the servants went on, Lady Ottaline gave in. She might not care a fig for his opinion, but he was male—and she couldn’t see the figure she already cut in a man’s overcoat that could have gone round her three times, with her hair dripping in lank rats’ tails and her face streaked in clownish red, white, and black.
    Clomping along with numb feet in boots two sizes too large, Daisy tottered. Lucy propped her up and supported her the rest of the way. Just behind them came Julia and Lady Ottaline, the latter complaining constantly.
    â€œAll I want,” Daisy said when they reached the terrace behind the house, “is a hot bath.”
    â€œYou won’t be the only one. I wouldn’t mind it myself.”
    â€œAt least we won’t run out of hot water, thanks to Pritchard’s Plumbing.”
    â€œI never said plumbers aren’t a good thing in their place. Oh lord, the old biddies are waiting to hear all about it.”
    Mrs. Howell and Lady Beaufort were peering out of the French windows of the drawing room.
    â€œThis is where my t-t-t-teeth start chat-t-tering uncontrollably,” said Daisy. “Can you get us past them without stopping to chat?”
    â€œOf course, darling. In any case, we can’t go in that way dripping, in gumboots.”
    â€œWell, find a way in quickly, or my teeth really will start chattering uncontrollably.”
    â€œServes you right for that nonsense about your shoes squelching!”
    â€œI had to do something, or we’d still be standing there trying to persuade her to budge.”
    â€œ
I
wouldn’t.”
    â€œNo, I don’t suppose you would, darling.” Daisy sighed. “You always were much more strong-minded than I am.”
    Julia caught up with them and was pointing out a side-door when it opened and the butler