Chapters (40)
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- 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
- Historical Note
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A large woman stood there, dressed head to toe in black. She stared at me.
“Bonjour,” I said, giving her a pleasant smile. “I am Lady Georgiana Rannoch. I am expected.”
“No, you are not,” she said, eyeing me coldly.
“But yes,” I insisted. “I have come to stay. I sent a telegram.”
“I know of no telegram.”
“I am the sister of the duke.”
“I know of no duke,” she replied, and as if to emphasize this she folded her arms across her enormous chest.
Light was beginning to dawn. Obviously the fool of a taxi driver had got the wrong address. “This is the Villa Gloriosa ?” I asked.
It was.
“And it is currently rented by a Monsieur and Madame Farquar?”
“Farquar? Oui,” she said.
“Then I am in the right place. My brother and sister-in-law are staying with Monsieur and Madame Farquar and I am to join them.”
“I was given no instruction that another guest was expected.”
“Then please go and fetch your master or mistress and they will explain to you.”
The arms remained folded. “They are out,” she said.
“When will they return?”
“I don’t know. They took a picnic.”
“What happens here?” I heard the cabdriver asking behind me as he arrived with Queenie and the baggage.
“This person doesn’t want to admit me,” I told him.
“Who gives you authority not to admit the English milady ?” the cabdriver demanded. “This is an English milady.”
“This house is rented to Mr. Farquar. Until he says yes, I do not admit strangers.”
“Well, I’m not going to sit on the doorstep,” I said. My temper was wearing thin and I decided that I had been polite long enough. “Do you think I would come all this way, with my maid and my bags, if I was not invited to stay here? This is no way to behave to an English milady.” I turned to the taxi driver. “Bring the bags inside.”
The woman in black looked as if she was considering whether to stand in his way or not. He was a burly man and in the end she sniffed and stood aside. “There is nowhere for her to sleep. She can wait in the salon, until Monsieur and Madame Farquar return,” she said, moving ahead to block the staircase as if I might decide to sprint up it any second.