Chapters (40)
- Cover
- BERKLEY PRIME CRIME TITLES BY RHYS BOWEN
- Dedication
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Historical Note
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.”