by Rhys Bowen
“Treadwell used to be the family butler at Kilhenny,” Oona said. “When the castle was sold, we took him in. He’s become a marvelous cook among other things, although he still likes to behave as if he’s superior to us.” She gave the bellpull a firm jerk. Neat footsteps tapped down the hall and Treadwell appeared, hastily taking off an apron. “You rang, Lady Whyte?” he asked.
“We have guests, Treadwell,” she said. “We shall need sherry glasses, and we don’t happen to have any nibbles, do we?”
“No nibbles, I regret, Lady Whyte. If you had given me advance notice I could have provided cheese straws.” He gave her a critical stare.
Oona laughed and slapped her hand on her side. “Exactly what I said, wasn’t it? I told them you were a dab hand at cheese straws.”
“Is your husband at home?” Zou Zou asked as Treadwell made a dignified exit.
“Dooley? Oh yes, he’s bound to be around somewhere. Still busy with the battle of Waterloo, I’m afraid. I told him to put his considerable brainpower to saving poor Thaddy, but he can’t leave the Duke of Wellington in the lurch.” She looked up as Treadwell returned with sherry glasses and a decanter on a silver tray. He removed the basket of eggs without a change in expression, put the tray down, then began to pour.
“Treadwell, when you’re finished, please tell Sir Dooley that we have guests, so perhaps he should comb his hair before he comes down.”
Zou Zou gave a happy little smile. We sipped our sherry and soon Dooley appeared, his hair neatly parted and slicked down. But this effect was spoiled because he was still wearing a moth-eaten cardigan over a shirt with egg down the front. Dooley was properly presented to Zou Zou.
“I hear you are re-creating the battle of Waterloo,” she said. “How terribly exciting.”
“You’re interested in history, are you?” he asked.
“In that battle, oh yes,” she said. “I have an uncle who thinks he is Napoleon.”
“Then would you like to see it? It’s all laid out in the attic. Absolute faithful re-creation.”
“Dooley, she doesn’t want to see your toy soldiers,” Oona began but Zou Zou cut in, saying, “I’d absolutely love to.”
“Come on, then.” Dooley headed for the door. “But be careful not to let the dogs in or they’ll spoil everything.”
“We’d better come with you or he’s likely to pinch your bottom,” Oona said.
“Really, Oona. I don’t go around pinching princess’s bottoms,” Dooley said.
“I know you. You can’t resist a pretty woman.” And she ushered us all into the hall. Up one flight we went, then up a second. Then Dooley opened a door and I gasped. There was no furniture in the room and the floor was covered with literally thousands of lead soldiers as well as horses, cannons and even miniature trees and houses.
“Good heavens, it’s quite spectacular,” Zou Zou exclaimed. “What a brilliant man you are. So tell me, who is winning at the moment?”
Dooley was beaming. He squatted on his haunches, pointing to an area of the battlefield. “We are,” he said. “See there? That’s Wellington. Now, what he’s about to do . . .”
“Oh, Dooley, please,” Oona said in her booming voice. “Once you get started there will be no stopping you.”
“And I should be driving Princess Zamanska back to Dublin before it gets too late,” Darcy said.
“Pity she doesn’t have her belongings or she could bunk down here,” Dooley said. “It’s not often we have the chance to have two pretty women stay at the same time.”
“But I would love to stay,” Zou Zou said, getting a warning frown from Darcy. “If it’s really not too much trouble?”
“I really don’t think that Aunt Oona . . .” Darcy began but Oona cut him off.
“Not a problem, if she doesn’t mind mucking in. But I can tell you right now that it’s not the Ritz or the Shelbourne and she’ll have to help feed the chickens.”
“Of course. I’d love to,” Zou Zou said. “See, Darcy, I told you.” She shot Darcy a triumphant smile. I realized that she was quite formidable when she wanted to be, and used to getting her own way. “I could even fly over here and park my aeroplane in one of your barns, if that’s all right with you.”
“Aeroplane?” Oona and Dooley asked in unison.
“Oh yes, didn’t we tell you?” Darcy said. “She flew over in her aeroplane and landed in the paddock across from the lodge.”
“Good God,” Oona said. “You’re full of surprises, Your Highness.”
“Please don’t be so formal,” Zou Zou said. “My name is Alexandra—Zou Zou to my friends—and I am definitely going to call you Great-Aunt Oona. You’ll be a sort of adoptive aunt because my relatives are all far away in Poland and Russia, where I can no longer visit them.” She put a hand on Dooley’s shoulder. “And if you don’t mind you can be my adoptive uncle. So I look forward to seeing where the battle will take us tomorrow, Uncle Dooley. This will be ripping fun.” She took Darcy’s arm. “Come on, then, Darcy. I know you’re fretting about driving me back to Dublin. Let’s get going, then.” And she dragged him down the stairs.
Oona turned to me. “You’d better watch that one,” she said. “She’s got designs on your man.”
Chapter 27
LATE EVENING, DECEMBER 4
A good dinner and a not-so-good surprise!
After they had gone the three of us ate the curried duck, which was absolutely delicious, followed it with a delicate orange mousse, then retired to the drawing room for coffee. I turned down the brandy I was offered. My head was already a little woozy from the sherry and wine with dinner. Oona and Dooley both wanted to know exactly what had happened during the day and how we were getting on with the investigation. I suppose the alcohol had loosened my tongue but I found myself telling them everything, including the discovery of the false passport.
“So there we are then!” Oona slapped her thigh, startling the dogs who were lying draped around her feet. “Now we know that he was on the run or hiding out, there are all sorts of people who might have wanted to kill him. That thickheaded inspector from Dublin will have to drop all charges against Thaddy. I’ll go and tell him myself if nobody else does.”
“It’s not quite as easy as that,” I said. “There are a couple of stumbling blocks. The manservant says that nobody came to the castle that day apart from Darcy’s father. And the only prints on the club were those of Lord Kilhenny. Rather damning evidence, I’m afraid.”
“Does Thaddy have any idea how his prints came to be on the club?”
“Oh yes,” I said. “He went up to the castle that afternoon. He had just learned that the American planned to auction some of the O’Mara treasures, including the Burda club. He was furious and told Mr. Roach, or whoever he really was, that he couldn’t do that. The club was on the table and he picked it up then.”
“Set up,” Sir Dooley said, suddenly sitting up straight in his armchair. “Quite obvious now. The whole thing was planned. Someone was planning to kill Roach and pin the blame on Thaddy. That’s why the club was conveniently on the table. And you say that Thaddy can’t remember a thing about that evening except that he got very drunk? I’d wager he was drugged. What if a sleeping draft was put in his whiskey?”
“Well done, Dooley,” Oona said, beaming at him. “I knew your superior brain would figure it out.”
“Then who could it have been?” I asked. “Apart from the manservant himself?”
“Why not the manservant?” Oona demanded.
“What motive could he have had?” I said. “If he had wanted to rob his master he would not have reported the death and would have been long gone by the time Mr. Roach’s body was found. And now he is without a job.”
“Then someone paid him to be party to the murder,” Dooley said. “Paid him well enough to keep quiet, or even to help with it.”
I thought of Mickey’s face when Zou Zou confronted him. He definitely had been wary.
“Maybe someone threatened him and frightened him into helping,” I suggested.
“Exactly. So all the police have to do is to find a way to make him talk,” Oona said. “And what’s the plan for you next?”
“I’m not really sure. We should try to locate this American professor, don’t you think? And the young priest? They were both seen close to the castle. Maybe one of them was not who he claimed to be. We suspect the professor invented a nonexistent university. And we understand that none of the neighboring parishes has a young priest.”
“Jolly good plan,” she said.
“But apart from that, we have to wait and see if anyone in America recognizes the man who called himself Timothy Roach, or if his fingerprints can be identified,” I went on.
“That could take weeks, couldn’t it?” Oona said. “Ship across the Atlantic, trains across the continent. It could drag on and on, and all the time poor Thaddy is hounded by the press and deemed a criminal.”
“Don’t they have ways of sending photographs by cable these days?” Dooley said. “I’m pretty sure I read that in the newspaper. That should speed things up.”
As I sat there, still feeling the effects of the wine I’d drunk at dinner, and the heat of the crackling fire, I was suddenly overcome with tiredness.
“I hope you don’t think it rude of me,” I said, “but I’m feeling awfully tired. Would you mind if I went up to bed? We can resume this discussion with Darcy in the morning. Maybe by then Sir Dooley will have come up with more brilliant ideas.”
“Off you go, then, my dear,” Oona said. “Should I have Treadwell send you up a hot drink?”
“Oh no, thank you. I don’t need anything.” I turned from one to the other. “Thank you for everything. You’ve been most kind.”
“Delighted to have company,” Oona said. “It livens up our boring lives, doesn’t it, Dooley?”
“Oh rather!” he replied.
I went up to bed, undressed and climbed in quickly as the room was chilly. No sooner had my head touched the pillow than I was out like a light.
I awoke suddenly, not knowing what had disturbed me. It was pitch-dark in the room, but somehow I was conscious that I wasn’t alone. Someone was standing at the foot of my bed. My first thought was that Sir Dooley had crept in, hoping for a bit of nighttime hanky-panky. But he was a frail-looking little man and the vague outline I could make out in the darkness was bigger than him.
So I moved on to my next thought: that my visitor was the ghost that haunted this room. I listened for the sound of breathing but heard nothing. Having grown up in a Scottish castle reputedly haunted by several ghosts, I wasn’t as terrified as some people might have been. All the same, I wasn’t exactly easy with a ghost standing at the foot of my bed. What did one do to make a ghost go away? Hold up a cross? No, that wouldn’t work, because plenty of ghosts were nuns and monks. My brain was refusing to work. Garlic? No, that was vampires, and besides, I didn’t happen to have any garlic among my possessions. I tried to remember what I might have read about exorcisms. Begone, foul fiend, and all that sort of stuff. Maybe this was a harmless ghost, just curious about me. Maybe it wasn’t. Unfortunately it was standing between me and the door.
I decided on the element of surprise. If I sat up suddenly and shouted at it, it might decide to leave. And at the very least, the dogs would hear and bring Oona or Dooley. I took a deep breath and sat up. “Begone, foul fiend!” I said in my most dramatic voice. “Go back to the netherworld from which you came and leave me in peace!”
The speech didn’t exactly have the effect I wanted, as the ghost gave a little shriek and promptly burst into tears. What was more, the accent was decidedly not Irish. “Bloody hell, miss,” she said between heaving sobs. “You scared the living daylights out of me. And after I came all this way too.”
I reached for the bedside lamp and the room was bathed in a soft pink glow.
“Queenie?” I exclaimed.
She was standing there in that hideous moth-eaten fur coat she had that made her look like a half-drowned hedgehog. Her hands were to her face and she was shaking with sobs. I got out of bed. “Queenie, I’m sorry. I had no idea,” I said, helping her to sit down on the bed. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“My family told me to come,” she said. “They scolded me for leaving you in the lurch. They said my place was with you, especially when you needed someone to take care of you at a time like this. So they had a whip round and came up with my ticket to Ireland.” She was still sobbing, her large body heaving as she spoke so she wasn’t easy to understand.
“I didn’t quite know how to find you. All I knew was that it was Lord Kilhenny you’d gone to. So I hitched a lift to the village and I went to the castle but there was a policeman at the gate and he said nobody was living there and I wasn’t allowed in. Then I spotted you, miss. You was walking through the grounds with another lady. I called out and waved to you but you didn’t hear.”
“That’s right,” I said. “I sensed that someone was looking at me, but I couldn’t see anyone.”
“And by the time I’d walked around the wall to try and find you, you’d gone. So I went back into the village and saw you drive past. I chased after you but you didn’t see me.”
“I did notice someone running after the motorcar,” I said, “but I thought it was another of those newspaper reporters who are camping out in the village.”
“I know, miss,” she said. “There was a lady reporter who spoke to me and took me into the pub and bought me a couple of pints of Guinness. Really nice she was, and quite delighted to find out who you were.”
Oh crikey. Now the beans really were spilled.
“But she didn’t know where you were staying, so I wasn’t sure what to do next, when who should come into the pub but Mr. Darcy himself. He nearly fell over in surprise when he saw me sitting there. Then he was kind enough to drive me out to you, and the lady what owns this place said I should go up and see if you were already asleep and if there was anything I could do for you. So I crept in, real quiet like, to see if you was still awake.”
“Oh, Queenie,” I said, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. One had to admire her resiliency. She had managed to travel all the way to Kilhenny when she had never been outside the East End before she met me. I suppose I should have admired her devotion too, but I rather suspected that her family was desperate to do anything to get rid of her again. It would only have taken a day or so before she blew up the kitchen or set fire to the curtains. And now, in all innocence, she had revealed my true identity to the world. I could no longer go anywhere without being besieged by newspaper reporters. Darcy would be furious.
I managed to channel my royal ancestors and be gracious. “It was very brave and enterprising of you to come so far by yourself,” I said. “Has Lady Whyte shown you where you can sleep tonight?”
“Oh yes, miss. I’m up one floor from you. Little room in the attic. It’s not easy to get to the bed, because there’s so much stuff piled on the floor, but it will do. It don’t really matter now that I’ve found you, and I expect I can tidy it up in the morning.”
“Then you’d better go up to bed now,” I said. “I expect you’re very tired.”
“Oh yes, miss. Right knackered, I am.”
“And hungry, I expect.”
“No, I’m all right there. Some nice gentlemen bought me a meat pie and peas at the pub. Ever so friendly they all were. Good night, then. I’ll see you in the morning.”
And off she went, leaving me staring at the ceiling in horror. Not only was Queenie back in my life, but she had apparently told the entire press community that I was in the vicinity. Oh crikey, I muttered again.
Chapter 28
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 5
Queenie is back. Oh
crikey. More things to worry about. Please let her behave well and not disgrace me.
In the morning there was no sign of Queenie as I got up, washed and dressed. I came downstairs to find Oona bustling about, laying a table for breakfast.
“Ah, there you are. Did you know that your maid arrived last night? I told her not to wake you if you were already asleep.”
“She didn’t wake me,” I said. “In fact she stood silently at the foot of my bed and I mistook her for the ghost.”
Oona gave a big fruity laugh. “A little too solid for a ghost, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I had no idea she would follow me to Ireland. I sent her home to her family but they managed to convince her that her place was here with me.”
“Now, there’s devotion for you,” Oona said. “One doesn’t see that often these days. I thought Treadwell was the last of the devoted servants.”
I gave an embarrassed grin. “I think it was more likely that her family couldn’t stand her any longer. She tends to be a little disaster-prone.”
Absolutely on cue there came a great primeval roar of rage from upstairs. I couldn’t imagine what creature had uttered it. A bull elephant in full charge, maybe, but other than that . . .
Oona and I sprinted upward, one flight, then two. We found Dooley, still in his striped dressing gown, standing at the doorway to his attic room.
“Nooooo!” he yelled.
“Dooley, what on earth is it?” Oona asked, going to put an arm around his shoulder.
“Some bloody fool was here, or let the dogs in,” he lamented.
I peered past him and could see that a good part of the battle of Waterloo now lay in complete disarray, soldiers strewn willy-nilly over the floor.
My heart sank. I knew only one person who was able to create chaos in such a short space of time. Before I could answer, the next door opened and a bleary-eyed Queenie came out, wearing a voluminous nightgown, her hair standing up in spikes. “Sorry about that,” she said, pointing at the room. “I had to go to the lav and when I came back I wasn’t sure which door was mine. I knew right away when my foot kicked something, but then I couldn’t find the bloody door again. Don’t worry. I’ll pick them all up for you as soon as I’m dressed.”
