‘Well,’ said Isobel, curling up on the sofa. ‘Ed was fine. Full of endless questions about Rory and when he’ll be coming back – but no problems about the bus. I rang Agnes and Karl at Ed’s house to warn them that he might be a bit unsettled and asked them to keep an extra eye on him, but oh, Giles – Rory was pathetic . . . so white and silent and clingy. Just before the flight was called he said he felt sick. Thank goodness Sheena is with him. But . . .’ said Isobel, ‘I spoke to Lorna from the airport. I rang the Ritz to leave a message to say he was actually on the flight and I was put straight through to her.’

‘That was a turn up for the books.’

‘Wasn’t it just!’

‘And?’

‘And I expected she’d be either provocative or aggressive – but she sounded sort of guarded.’

‘What about?’

‘I don’t quite know . . . she was almost conciliatory. Said how grateful she and Brooke were to us, and how wonderful we’d been to see them out of a difficulty. A really sisterly thing to have done – blah, blah, blah. Sisterly, for God’s sake! Very unlike Lorna. I have a hunch that Brooke was in the room with her and the performance was all for his benefit. I nearly asked her some very direct questions, but the airport didn’t seem the best place for a confrontation. I do wonder what Brooke thinks about Rory? Anyway, I made her promise she’d ring tonight to let us know he’s all right.’ She looked at Giles. ‘She must want something,’ she said. ‘There’s always a hidden agenda with Lorna.’

They looked at each other with foreboding.

Chapter Twenty-two

‘Don’t forget to bring your photographs and any other clues about the Contessa’s family,’ Isobel reminded Marnie before they all piled into the Land Rover the next morning. ‘I do trust you’re not in for a disappointment, but I’m very much hoping that my cousin Evie may have some ideas for you to follow up.’

Giles had meetings all day in Perth, so it had been decided that Isobel should drive the five visitors over to Evelyn Fergusson’s house and garden, taking the slower but more scenic route to Tillydrum, stopping on the way to visit Auchterlonie & Sons, the still family owned sporran-makers at Craigdennie. Giles wanted Isobel to pick up a sporran which he was having made for a godson’s eighteenth birthday present, and the workshop, now run by Miss Auchterlonie, great-granddaughter of the founder of the firm, was an unusual and interesting place to take visitors. They could then have an early pub lunch at the excellent little Craigdennie Hotel before arriving at Evelyn’s in the afternoon, where they would certainly be regaled with a spectacular tea.