by Rhys Bowen
“I don’t see why. Darcy has done nothing wrong. He is not responsible for his father’s behavior.”
“But you know what newspapers are like. King’s cousin linked to murder?”
“Darcy is clever. I’m sure he’ll find out it was all a mistake.” I said this to convince myself as much as her. “So what is going to happen to this place when you go?”
She smiled then, the first time I’d seen a real, happy smile. “Brilliant. I’ve managed to let it for a really good amount. An American professor teaching at LSE. So what with the money from Grandmama and the rental I’ll be living rather nicely for once. Not having to worry where the next penny is coming from.” She broke off and looked up at me. “Sorry, that was rather thoughtless, wasn’t it. You’re obviously still worrying where the next penny is coming from.”
“I do happen to have a little stashed away at the moment. Besides, money isn’t everything,” I said, then wished I hadn’t.
“No,” she said. “Money isn’t everything.”
I stood up. “I should be getting back. I just stopped by to see if you were all right.”
“Are you staying with your brother?”
“That’s right,” I said. “With my brother.”
We hugged. “Write to me when you have an address,” I told her. “I have no idea where I’ll be going after this, but if you send it to Castle Rannoch I’ll get it eventually.”
“I will. And maybe you can come out and see me when all this awful business with Darcy’s father is cleared up.” From the way she was looking at me I could tell that she was feeling more apprehensive than she appeared and needed a friend.
“I will if I possibly can,” I said.
“I’ll send you the money for the ticket. It will be lovely.”
“Yes.” We stood looking at each other. I was remembering my first day at Les Oiseaux, my first day at any kind of school. I was socially inept, having never mixed with other girls, naïve and clueless. Belinda wore silk stockings and smoked in the bathroom. She seemed hopelessly out of my league until we had to share a bedroom with an utterly awful German girl who was horribly hot on the rules and told tales. Then we had to gang up against her and became fast friends.
“Take care of yourself,” I said. “I’ll see you soon.”
“You too.”
I glanced back as I walked down the mews and saw the curtain twitch. Belinda was watching me go. I felt horribly torn. Of course I wanted to be available for Darcy. And we had been about to get married, hadn’t we? If all went well I could still hope to be Mrs. O’Mara by the new year. We might even be living together in a flat somewhere. Or in an Irish cottage. But that would mean that I couldn’t go to Belinda when she needed me. “Oh bugger,” I muttered. Why did life always have to be so complicated?
I passed the rest of the day pacing around, unable to settle or to push back the worry. Why hadn’t Darcy given me a telephone number where I could reach him? Why hadn’t he telephoned me with the news? I realized, of course, that he had only been there one day. He probably had no real news as yet. He was probably feeling as wretched as I was. I went down to Binky’s desk and took out writing paper only to realize that I didn’t know where to address a letter. “Kilhenny Castle Lodge, Ireland,” might not be enough for the postman. How little I knew about Darcy’s home and background!
I went down to Binky’s study and found an atlas, poring over the map of Ireland until I gave a squeak of excitement. Stately homes and castles were shown in small red letters and there, not too far from Dublin, close to the town of Kildare, I saw the words Kilhenny Castle.
At least I could now write to him. A letter from me would make him feel better. I took up my pen and wrote, telling him how smoothly I had driven to London. How much I had enjoyed meeting the princess. I even described the dinner party, Mrs. Simpson, the French marquis pawing my thigh and the incident with the fork. I could see him laughing at that, with those adorable crinkles at the sides of his eyes. And of course I told him how much I loved him and that I would come as soon as he wanted me there. I gave the Rannoch House telephone number, just in case he had forgotten it or didn’t have it with him. I didn’t even put the letter on the salver in the front hall for the servants to hand to the postman. I went out again myself and found a postbox.
I felt a little more cheerful as I came home to find tea had been served and the children had been brought down from the nursery for the daily ritual of interacting with their parents. Podge was telling his father a complicated story and Fig looked most uncomfortable holding baby Adelaide on her knee. Adelaide looked equally uncomfortable, but she waved her arms excitedly when she saw me. Podge rushed to me, wrapping his arms around my legs. “Auntie Georgie, you came back!” he said. “Are you going to stay a long time? Can we go to the park and feed the ducks?”
“I think you’re all heading off for France again next week,” I said, kneeling on the rug and taking Adelaide from Fig. Addy came willingly with a smile of relief on her face.
“You can come with us,” Podge said. “Can’t she come with us, Daddy?”
“There isn’t enough room for me,” I said hurriedly, before one of them had to answer. “Nowhere for me to sleep.”
“You can share my room,” he said.
“You’ll already have Addy and Nanny in your room.” I smiled at his earnest little face. “And I have important things I have to do here in England. But you’ll have a lovely time playing on the beach.”
“The beach is all stones,” he said bluntly.
“I think it’s about time Nanny took you back upstairs,” Fig said. “You have crumbs all over your jumper. And Adelaide needs changing. She’ll make your skirt wet, Georgiana.”
Nanny stepped forward instantly and whisked Adelaide away from me.
“I want to stay and talk to Auntie Georgie,” Podge wailed, but Nanny took him firmly by the hand.
“She’ll come up to the nursery tomorrow,” she said.
“He is becoming very whiny,” Fig commented. “Help yourself to tea, Georgiana. Mrs. McPherson baked gingerbread today.”
I needed no urging to try some. I was just finishing a second slice when I heard the telephone ringing in the hallway, then Hamilton’s soft Scottish voice. “Rannoch House. The butler speaking.” Then I heard him say, “I will fetch her right away, sir.”
I was on my feet as he came into the room. “A telephone call for you, my lady,” he said.
I tried to walk in a civilized manner, rather than sprint to the telephone. My hand was shaking as I picked up the mouthpiece. “Hello?”
“Georgie, it’s me,” he said.
“Darcy? I’m so glad to hear your voice. I’ve been waiting and worrying. What news? What have you found out? Is it going to be all right?”
“Georgie, be quiet and listen to me,” Darcy said. “I’m afraid all the news is bad. It is quite obvious to me that my father is guilty. There will be an awful trial and he’ll probably be hanged.”
“Darcy, how terrible for you,” I started to say but he interrupted me.
“I’ve thought long and hard about this, but I’ve come to the painful conclusion that you and I should have no more to do with each other. I will not have your life blighted the way mine will be. So I’m breaking our engagement, Georgie. I will not be contacting you again, and you should not try to contact me.”
“No!” I shouted and the word echoed up the high stairwell. “I don’t accept that. I love you, Darcy. For better or worse, remember? I’ll stick with you, no matter what.”
His voice still sounded completely calm, as if he was talking to me about the weather. “It’s because I love you that I’m doing this. Luckily we are not already married so I don’t have to weigh up the better-or-worse aspect. I only want the better for you. I will not put you through hell and that is final. Good-bye, my darling. I wish you only happine
ss.”
“No, Darcy. Don’t go. This is stupid. I love you. I won’t let you go.” I was shouting now, which a lady is not supposed to do. And crying too.
“Good-bye, Georgie.” There was a click and the telephone line went dead.
Chapter 9
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 1
RANNOCH HOUSE, LONDON.
The worst day of my whole life.
I stood there in the cold hallway with tears trickling down my cheeks.
“No,” I said again, to nobody this time.
I couldn’t bear to face Binky and Fig. Binky would try to be kind and say platitudes about it all being for the best and at least the chap had done the right thing. Fig would have a malicious gleam in her eye and say that everything she had heard about that family was that they were no good and this proved it. I looked around me like a trapped animal. I had to escape. I had to talk to somebody, but who? Belinda hadn’t had too much success with men herself. And she would probably say the same kind of thing as Binky. Given the circumstances, it was all for the best. That left me with two choices: my grandfather or the Princess Zamanska. I realized that I hardly knew her but I had seen that she didn’t care a hoot for the rules of society. And she did care about Darcy.
Then I decided that I needed to be hugged and comforted. The princess could come later. Right now I knew who I needed to be with. I put on my coat and hat hurriedly, before anyone could come out into the hall, and fled through the deserted smoggy streets to the nearest Underground station. When I disembarked an hour later at the quiet little stop at Upminster Bridge, the smoky London fog had turned to estuary mist, damp and curling about me. My footsteps echoed as I walked up the slope to my grandfather’s street. It felt as if I was the only person alive in the world.
Granddad lived in a pleasant little semidetached on a quiet back street. It boasted a pocket-handkerchief-sized lawn on which stood three serious-looking gnomes. The rosebushes, so pretty in summer, stuck out dead bare branches, but a light shone through the leaded panes of the front door and I heard voices coming from inside. He was home but he had company. That was the last thing I needed right now, especially if it was his neighbor Mrs. Huggins, who was sweet on him and trying to lure him into matrimony. She was nosy and gossipy and I could say nothing in front of her. But I wasn’t going all the way back to Belgravia now. I rapped on the knocker and I heard my grandfather’s wheezing cough and a voice said, “Hold on. Hold on, I’m coming.” Then the front door opened.
He peered out, frowned, then raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Blimey, love, you’re the last person I expected to see. Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes. Come on in, do. I was just about to have me tea.”
“You’ve got guests?” I asked as I stepped into the narrow hallway and he shut the door behind me. “Because I don’t have to stay. . . .”
“What? Oh, that. No, ducks, that’s just the wireless. Keeps me company. I’ll turn it off.” I hung my hat and coat on the pegs of the hall stand, then followed him to the kitchen. The voices were suddenly silenced. A steaming plate piled with what looked like steak and kidney pudding sat on the table.
“Oh, you’re having your supper,” I said, never having got the terminology for meals of the lower classes quite right. Dinner at lunchtime and apparently tea at what would be for us an early dinner. “Sit down and eat it. Don’t let it get cold.”
“Her next door brought it round for me,” he said. “Steak and kidney pud. My favorite. There’s plenty here. Can I get you some?”
I shook my head. “I’m really not hungry, but I’ll have a cup of tea if there is one in the pot.” Another thing I had learned about people like my grandfather was that there was always a cup of tea in the pot. They drank it by the gallon and the kettle was always ready and hot in case a neighbor came to visit.
“Of course there is,” he said. “Help yourself. The milk jug’s in the larder.”
I poured a cup of tea then came to sit opposite him as he tucked into the pudding.
“I’m glad you’ve still got a good appetite,” I said.
He nodded. “She may be a bit of a nuisance but she certainly can cook. How’s that relative of hers getting along with you, then?” Mrs. Huggins was Queenie’s great-aunt.
“Between the two of us she’s as hopeless as always,” I said and managed a smile. “I don’t think she’ll ever improve, but I need a maid, she needs a job. We probably suit each other.”
He looked up, a kidney poised on his fork. “I saw your picture at that royal wedding. You looked very smart. Was it as lovely as they said?”
“It was very nice,” I agreed. “Princess Marina looked beautiful.”
“And what’s she like, then? Foreign?”
“Her English is perfect and she was delightful,” I said. “I really enjoyed my time with her.” Apart from the murder, I thought. That was rather unsettling. It seemed that my life moved from one worrying incident to the next, each striking closer and closer to home.
“So where are you off to now?” he asked. “And what brings you to my neck of the woods? I don’t suppose you came all this way just to say hello to your old granddad.”
“I love seeing you at any time,” I said. “You know that. But you’re right. I’m afraid I bolted. I had some bad news and I ran out of the house and came straight to you, because you’re the only person I can talk to.”
“Bad news?”
“You might have read about it in the papers,” I said. “Darcy’s father has been arrested for murder.”
“Blimey. So that was the Irish aristocrat they mentioned. Hit someone over the head with a battle-ax, didn’t he?”
“A battle club.” I took a deep breath. “Darcy just telephoned me to tell me that he wants us to break all ties. He doesn’t want me linked to him in any way.”
Granddad nodded. “He always struck me as a thoughtful young man. He thinks he’s doing the right thing.”
I looked up, as shocked as if he had slapped me across the face. “I thought at least you would understand,” I said angrily. “I love him, Granddad. We were going to sneak up to Gretna Green to get married, when we learned about this. I don’t want to live without him.”
“But you can see his point of view, can’t you?” he asked calmly. “He’s looking out for you. He knows what it will be like with the reporters hovering like vultures. He knows that the gossip will follow him for the rest of his life. People will nudge each other and say, ‘He’s the one whose father was a murderer.’ Then they’ll nod and move away from him.”
“That’s so unfair. Remember Binky was wrongly arrested once. It hasn’t blighted him. And Darcy is a wonderful person, Granddad, and he must be hurting terribly. I want to be with him. I want to help him get through this.”
“And how do you think you could help him, ducks?” he asked gently. “Don’t you think you’ll give him even more to worry about, trying to protect you from the press?”
This made me hesitate and consider. Did I really think I could be of help to him? Would seeing me there, knowing I was on his side no matter what, make him feel better? Then I thought if someone in my family was arrested for a crime, I’d want Darcy there with me. And if there was the slightest hope, the slightest chance that his father was innocent, then two heads would be better than one.
“If the situation was reversed then I’d want Darcy there,” I said.
“If that’s how you feel, what’s stopping you?” he asked.
“What?”
“Go over to him. If he tries to send you away say you’re not leaving him in the lurch whatever happens.” He wagged a finger at me. “But you have to be sure that you’re up to it. It won’t be easy. Those reporters, they’ll be hanging round like a pack of wolves, everywhere you go. And your family might not like having you mixed up with a murder trial.”
“Bugger my family,” I said, maki
ng him burst out laughing so that I had to smile too.
“I never thought I’d hear that word coming from your lips,” he said. “I bet your governess didn’t teach it to you. And that sister-in-law of yours would swoon if you ever used it in front of her.”
“It’s not a word I use often,” I said, “but in the circumstances it seems quite appropriate. I mean, it’s not as if I’m anybody important, is it? The Prince of Wales sneaks off with Mrs. Simpson. The Duke of Kent has the shadiest of pasts. I really don’t think the newspapers will find me very interesting.”
“You know what they’re like with anything to do with the royal family,” he said. “The public laps it up. Especially when it’s something shady, some kind of scandal.”
“So you really think I shouldn’t go?” I said. “What would you have done if my grandmother’s family had been in some kind of trouble?”
This made him laugh, a low, wheezing kind of chuckle that shook his body. “That’s how I met her, love. I’d arrested her brother for being drunk and disorderly outside the Nag’s Head. He was only a young kid, so I marched him home and it was his sister who opened the door. Blimey, she looked a right corker. Smashing, she was.”
“I wish I’d met her,” I said.
“Yer mum got her looks from her,” he said. “Luckily she didn’t take after my side of the family or she wouldn’t have earned tuppence on the stage. Have you heard from her recently?”
“Not since she went back to Germany.”
“I hope she’s not going to marry that German bloke,” Granddad said.
“I rather think she intends to.”
“No good will come of that. Those Germans, they’ll start to build up for another war, you mark my words. They were humiliated after the last one and they’re a proud lot. They’ll want revenge. And your mum will find herself on the wrong side.”
“Golly, I hope not,” I said. “But you never answered my question. If you were in the same predicament, would you go?”
He stared down at his plate for a moment, then looked me in the eye. “Yes, I believe I’d go. After all, what have you got to lose? If you get there and he won’t see you and he demands that you turn around and go straight home, then at least you tried. At least he knows how much you care about him.”
