“And this is all their land?” she went on. “Perfect. I can park my plane in one of their barns. Why don’t we go and pay a call on them now and get everything settled? I’m sure a local peasant boy can tow my plane over on his tractor, or I could even fly it over. That might be more fun.”

“Zou Zou, I really think you’d be happier at the Shelbourne,” Darcy said. “I really don’t mind driving over to pick you up. And we’ll want to go back to Dublin anyway to meet your barrister.”

“Anyone would think you didn’t want me to meet your relatives, Darcy,” she said in a peeved voice. “If we were in Poland I’d be happy to take you to see my batty relatives. Including Great-Uncle Zygmund, who thinks he is Napoleon but is quite harmless.”

Darcy had to laugh at this. “And my great-uncle Dooley is currently playing at the battle of Waterloo. They’d get on well together.”

“Only Dooley would want to capture Napoleon,” I pointed out. “He was about to do so when I left today.”

“They sound absolutely delightful. Much more fun than the staff at the stuffy Shelbourne and ‘Yes, Your Highness, no, Your Highness.’ And Georgie can lend me her maid. I had to leave mine behind in London because she gets horribly airsick.”

“I didn’t bring my maid, I’m afraid,” I said. “I left her in London too.”

“Then we’ll both rough it together. Jolly good fun.” She tapped Darcy on the shoulder. “Don’t you dare try to drive past.”

Poor Darcy. He glanced at me, then at Oona’s driveway. “But you’ve left all your things at the Shelbourne,” he said, “and I don’t feel like driving all the way back there to retrieve them. Why don’t you go back to the Shelbourne tonight and I’ll broach the subject carefully with my aunt,” Darcy said. “And if she is up to another guest we can fetch your suitcase tomorrow.”

“Oh, all right,” she said, miffed at not getting her own way, I suspected.

I heaved a sigh of relief. By tomorrow all sorts of things might have happened. She might be called back to London. The clouds had now thickened and hung low and heavy over the distant mountains.

“It’s going to rain again,” I said.

“Then we must hurry back to my poor little plane and find a tarpaulin or somewhere to put it,” she said. “We can’t have the cockpit filling with water.”

At least this had stopped her from wanting to meet Great-Aunt Oona. We drove through the village. Several men who were clearly from the press were standing together outside the pub. They looked up at us with interest as we drove past.

“Oh Lord, that’s torn it,” Darcy said. “What’s the betting they follow us?”