Dinner ended and we went through to the gloomy salon where the others played whist. It was played in silence apart from Ducky occasionally accusing her husband of cheating. They went to bed before ten, so I made my way to the library and changed into my nightclothes. I was just coming back from the bathroom, which was up another flight of stairs, when a figure loomed out in front of me. It was Foggy, in an awful red-and-white-striped dressing gown looking like a human barber’s pole.

“Awfully glad you’re here, young lady,” he said. His face looked particularly red in the dim light, and his eyes a little bleary. “Liven things up a little, what?” He moved out to block the way in front of me. “I must say, I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.” He was looking down at me with what can only be described as a lecherous leer. I, with my limited experience of Life and Men, nevertheless knew lechery when I saw it. I also realized something else. He was blowing alcohol-laden breath at me. Ducky might not approve of drink, but Foggy had certainly been knocking it back in private.

“It must be frightfully lonely down in that library,” he went on, while I stared at him in horror. “So completely cut off from the rest of us. I’d better check on you from time to time to see that you’re all right.”

“Don’t worry about me,” I said. “I shall be perfectly safe. I’ll lock my door.”

“Foggy? Who are you talking to?” came Ducky’s strident voice from the end of the hall.

“Just coming, old thing. Wanted to make sure our new arrival had everything she needed.” He loaded those last words with double meaning. And to my horror, he reached out to touch me. I wasn’t sure which part of me he was aiming for, but I didn’t wait to find out. I pushed past him and fled down the stairs. Then I locked the library door. “Oh, golly,” I muttered. This was an added complication I didn’t need. If Ducky found out that Foggy was chasing me, she’d probably think I was encouraging him. Why did men have to be so bloody stupid? (I know a lady never says “bloody.”)

The thought of men and their stupidity brought something rushing back that I had kept firmly from my conscious mind all day. There are other men called Darcy, I told myself over and over again. I was probably worrying over nothing.

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Villa Not Very Gloriosa, Nice
January 23, 1933
Help. Must escape immediately. Choice between dusty
musty library and sharing with the most unpleasant child
I’ve ever met. And nocturnal visits from the lecherous Foggy.
Not to mention serious lack of food and entertainment and
no chance to meet Sir Toby.