Dooley nodded and shuffled away. I felt terrible for him. We went down to breakfast and, fortified by smoked haddock and poached eggs, returned to tackle the battle of Waterloo disaster. I instructed Queenie to go to my bedroom and stay there until given permission to move. I wasn’t about to let her anywhere near the battle. We had managed to rearrange several battalions (not so easy for one who is only slightly less clumsy than Queenie) when we heard the dogs barking and a shout echoing up the stairwell, “Anyone home?”

“Up here, Darcy!” Oona shouted back. “Only don’t let the dogs come—”

She didn’t finish that sentence as there was the patter of doggie feet on the bare treads and several dogs came into view. Dooley uttered another cry of despair and flung himself at the door, managing to shut it in the nick of time. He then opened it cautiously, a few inches, to see Darcy’s surprised face staring at him.

“Well, that’s not exactly what I call a warm welcome,” Darcy said.

“Not you, dear boy. The blasted dogs,” Dooley said. “We have just spent the last hour rearranging the disaster at Waterloo.”

“Disaster? I thought we were winning.” Darcy looked amused.

“We were, until a certain young person who shall be nameless blundered in upon my battle and wreaked havoc,” Dooley said. He stood at the doorway, allowing Darcy to enter while dismissing the dogs. Darcy squeezed into the room.

“You did this?” he asked me.

“Not me. Queenie,” I said. “She came back from the loo during the night and opened the wrong door. I rather wish you’d sent her back to England on the first boat, Darcy. You know what a walking disaster she is.”

“Sorry,” he said, smiling at me. “I knew you wouldn’t be thrilled, but there she was, having found Kilhenny all by herself and stuck with nowhere to go for the night, so of course I had to bring her here.”

“I know.” I gave a big sigh. “She really is the world’s worst maid, but she’s like an old dog that one can’t find it in one’s heart to put down. And she has a good heart.”

“At least now you have your maid and she can also take care of the princess when she comes here,” Oona said. “I don’t suppose she usually travels anywhere without her maid.”

“Oh golly,” I muttered. Queenie and princesses should never be uttered in the same sentence. At least this one had a good sense of humor. I suspected she’d need it.

“So are you ready to head back to Dublin?” Darcy asked me.

“We should stay and help Uncle Dooley put his battlefield to rights first,” I said.