As we walked down the village street I said, “You have an uncle and aunt living nearby?”

“Great-uncle and great-aunt,” he said. “Uncle Dooley and Aunt Oona. She’s my father’s aunt. She lives in the old family manor house on the other side of the village. They’re both completely batty, of course. And they haven’t spoken to my father for years.”

“Why not?”

“There was a falling-out ages ago because my father killed their dog.”

“He killed their dog?” My voice must have sounded shrill. I couldn’t help thinking that Darcy’s father had a history of killing things.

“Not on purpose, you understand. The stupid dog used to like to lie on the driveway at night. It was a black dog and my father simply didn’t see it. He was actually quite upset about it but my father is not good at saying what he feels. When he wants to hide emotion he makes a joke of it. So he made some kind of flippant remark about the dog being old and smelly and saving them the trouble of putting it down. But Oona adored that animal and has never spoken to him since.”

“How sad.”

“Irish families tend to make this kind of drama,” he said. “Be forewarned.”

I felt a small jolt of happiness at that remark because it indicated he was still thinking of a possible future for us together.

“So, Darcy,” I said, voicing something that had always confused me, “you’re Irish and yet you seem to work for the English government from time to time. How is that possible?”

He smiled. “As you know, my mother was English. I was educated in England. I saw myself as British. And when Ireland became a republic I opted to retain my English passport, much to my father’s annoyance. So we’ve been on opposite sides for some time now.”

“At least I won’t be marrying a foreigner as well as a Catholic,” I said, half jokingly.

He gave me a warning frown. “We can’t talk of marriage, Georgie. Not here. Not at all. We can’t afford to forget for a minute why we’re here.”

Then he set off, walking briskly ahead of me with the suitcase.

Chapter 14

MONDAY, DECEMBER 3

AT MOUNTJOY, HOME OF SIR DOOLEY AND LADY WHYTE.

I’m feeling a little better. In spite of the chaos, I think I might feel safe here.