I said nothing as I handed him the money then headed for the platforms. By now my suitcase was feeling remarkably heavy and I felt sick, tired and scared. If the whole world was heading to Kilhenny Castle then everyone had been quite right about warning me to stay away. Someone in the press would indeed recognize me. I still had time to turn around and go back to England. But then I told myself that nobody knew of my relationship with Darcy. I’d say I was merely visiting friends nearby and came to see the castle for myself. Pure curiosity, that’s all. I felt somewhat reassured as we chugged out of the station. It was still dark but a gray dawn gradually appeared, revealing a green and rain-streaked countryside. We were passing through a gentle land of rolling hills and green fields. And many of the fields had horses in them—fine Thoroughbred horses that tossed their heads and galloped away at the toot of the train’s whistle.

After several stops we came to the town of Kildare. The rain had subsided to a gentle drizzle. It was still early in the morning. I expected the town to be awaking gently from sleep, but quite a few people got out of the train with me and the town beyond was all hustle and bustle. Then I saw that it was market day. Stalls were being set up, cattle were being led to pens and people from the country were unloading their produce. It seemed a pleasant enough little market town, almost identical to such towns in England, and it was strange to think I was in another country. Apart from the gentle Irish lilt to the voices I could have been anywhere. I was met with a smile when I asked a man if a bus went near Kilhenny Castle.

“Only if you don’t mind a two-mile walk in the rain,” the man replied. “If you want to get there you’d better find Barney’s taxi. He’ll be happy to take you if he’s out of bed yet.”

So it seemed it was a taxi or nothing. Barney was eventually found and the clock on the town hall chimed nine as we set off. Barney was a big, florid man who liked to chat.

“You’ll be another of those reporters, I don’t doubt,” he said. “But I warn you, you can’t get near the actual castle. The police are making sure of that. Of course, that American gentleman didn’t want visitors, did he? Put up big iron gates where there had been none in his lordship’s time. Not at all what you’d call the friendly sort. They say his manservant shot at a trespasser once.”