Sheer Folly Read Free Page A

absolutely potty—”
    â€œHush! Here he comes.”
    Without missing a beat, Lucy continued in her penetrating soprano: “—about cars. Aren’t you, Rhino?”
    â€œAren’t I what?” He bunged the tripod into the Lea-Francis’s dicky on top of the camera and satchel, with a carelessness that made Lucy wince.
    â€œMad about cars,” she said through gritted teeth. “Daisy was admiring your Bentley.”
    â€œCars?” he said incredulously, lighting another cigarette. “What is there to be mad about? As long as it’s comfortable and clean and runs properly. My man sees to all that. I’d have sent him to fetch your stuff, but he had to get a grease spot off the sleeve of my dinner jacket. Should have been done last night, of course, but he claims he couldn’t see it till he looked in daylight. Lazy as a lapdog. But aren’t they all? It’s impossible to get decent servants these days.”
    Daisy had been working for a couple of years, in a desultory manner, on an article about various aspects of what middle-class matrons called “the Servant Problem.” She was aware of the complexities of the issue and was quite ready to discuss them, but Lucy muttered in her ear, “Don’t waste your breath.”
    â€œWell, what are we waiting for? Are you going to move your car out of my way or not?”
    Lucy’s withering look, a masterpiece of its kind, had absolutely no effect upon the thick-skinned Earl of Rydal. Her stony silence as she got into the Lea-Francis and pressed the self-starter was equally lost on him, Daisy was sure, although she didn’t deign to look back. However, their glacial pace as they proceeded up the middle of the avenue irritated him to the point of honking his horn again.
    â€œRather childish, don’t you think?” said Daisy. “You, I mean. It doesn’t need saying where he’s concerned.”
    â€œI’m admiring the view. It’s a splendid building, isn’t it?” Lucy slowed still more, and the Lea-Francis stalled.
    She got out, folded up one side of the bonnet and peered inside.
    Rydal stormed out of his Bentley. “What the deuce is the matter?”
    â€œI’m not sure. How lucky you’re on the spot. Perhaps it would start if you crank it for us.”
    â€œWhy don’t you crank it yourself?”
    Lucy sighed. “Gallantry is dead. Never mind, we’ll just sit here until your man has cleaned that grease spot, then no doubt he’ll be able to repair whatever’s wrong, since he takes care of yours.”
    â€œGood lord, he doesn’t do the mechanical stuff himself. He takes it to a garage. In town.”
    Lucy turned a glittering smile on him. “What a pity. I’ll tell you what, why don’t you push us up to the house?”
    His mouth dropped open. “Push you?
Me
?”
    â€œIt’s a small car. I don’t expect it will be too heavy for a big, strong chap like you. Daisy, you don’t mind walking, do you, to lighten the load, while I steer?”
    â€œNot at all. But I have a better idea. Why don’t I drive the Bentley, then Lord Rydal won’t have to come back for it after pushing you up the hill.”
    â€œWhat a good idea,” Lucy said approvingly. “You drive almost as well as I do. You probably won’t do it too much harm.”
    â€œI’ll do my best, and he did say he didn’t much care about it. If you’d just show me which pedal is the brake, Lord Rydal, then—”
    â€œNo! No, no, no! I won’t have you driving my car. I didn’t say I don’t care about it. I just said I’m not crazy about cars. In general. But I won’t let you drive my Bentley. I’ll tell you what, I’ll drive it and push yours bumper to bumper, Lady Gerald.”
    â€œNot on your life! You’d probably step on the accelerator too hard and run right over me.