Crowned and Dangerous (A Royal Spyness Mystery) (14 page)

T
UESDAY
, D
ECEMBER
4

A
T
M
OUNTJOY
IN
I
RELAN
D
.

Feeling a little better now that I’m with Darcy again.

After that meal I slept surprisingly well. The room was warm and if any ghost came to visit during the night she did not disturb me. I awoke to find the sun shining on me, a brilliant blue sky dotted with puffy white clouds. When I looked out of the window there was Oona down below feeding chickens. It was all very rural and pleasant, hard to remember for a moment that a man’s life was at stake. From Dooley’s babbling on about ancient clubs the previous night it was clear that he probably wouldn’t be much use to us. It was up to Darcy and me to find a way to save his father. I got up, bathed and was on my way back to my bedroom when I found Dooley loitering on the landing.

“Well, hello there,” he said. “You slept well, I trust?”

“Very, thank you.”

“Jolly good,” he said. “So no mysterious visits during the night?”

“Not that I know of.”

As I headed for my room I noticed that he was following. This was awkward. One cannot slug one’s host, even if he did try anything improper. I could almost feel his breath down my neck and wondered if I could slam the bedroom door on him in time, or even if the bedroom door had a lock. Luckily I never had to find out if his intentions were dishonorable. Help came in the form of a booming voice, yelling, “Dooley, what are you doing? Are you annoying that young woman? Leave her to get dressed in peace.” And Oona appeared at the top of the stairs as Dooley gave an embarrassed little smile.

Oona beamed at me. “It’s wonderful. Absolutely wonderful, you know. Old Dooley is feeling his oats again. Hasn’t been as perky as this for years. Well done, you.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about helping Old Dooley to be perky but decided he was probably quite harmless. I finished dressing and had eaten a most satisfying breakfast of eggs, bacon and sausage by the time Darcy arrived. Darcy joined me at the breakfast table and tucked into a breakfast himself.

“So what do you think we should do first?” I asked as we found ourselves alone.

He frowned. “Thinking about this in the cold light of day, Georgie, I’m still not at all sure I want to involve you. Now that the word has got out that my father is home at Kilhenny the village is already crawling with reporters. I think it might be wiser if you stayed safely here with Oona and Dooley and you three used your thinking caps from afar.”

“But I want to help, Darcy,” I said. “Nobody will recognize me, I’m sure. If asked I’ll say I’m reporting for the
Horse and Hound
.”

This made Darcy and Oona chuckle.

“And I’ll hide as we go through the village, if you like.”

“Let her go with you, Darcy,” Oona said. “The girl has a good brain. Your stupid father needs all the help he can get at the moment. Did he appreciate the portion of duck I sent back with you?”

“He pretended not to, but I noticed by this morning that he’d eaten it,” Darcy said.

“You see, stubborn as ever, but we’ll win him round, won’t we, Dooley?” she asked as Dooley poked his head in through the door.

“A splendid day for Wellington today,” he said. “Don’t you want to come up to the attic and see it for yourselves? It’s not every day you can witness an epic battle.”

“They’ve a battle of their own, Dooley,” Oona said. “And frankly you should leave Waterloo until my nephew is exonerated, and put that brilliant mind of yours to saving him.”

Dooley sighed. “Very well, my dear. If you say so. Do you think I should come over with you and talk to him myself? I’d like to hear his side of the story.”

“At the moment I don’t think he’d talk to you, Uncle Dooley. And the problem is that he half believes he is guilty. He went on a bender, you see. Blind drunk. Can’t remember a thing.”

“Dear me, that’s too worrying,” Dooley said. “Even I couldn’t come up with a good defense for a man who thinks he has done the deed. Perhaps he did.”

“Of course he didn’t,” Oona said hotly. “You know Thaddy too well for that, Dooley. When has he ever shown signs of violence?”

“He has always lost his temper with monotonous regularity,” Dooley said. “He hates to lose at cards. He hates to be laughed at.”

“But did he ever try to throttle you for any of those things? As I told the young’uns, he’s all bark and no bite.”

“All the same I would like to talk to him myself,” Dooley said. “Perhaps he needs a sympathetic ear at this moment.”

“He wouldn’t talk to me,” Darcy said. “But then, he hasn’t wanted me around since my mother died.”

“So put it to him,” Oona said. “Remind him that Dooley used to be in the legal profession and could have had a brilliant career if he hadn’t been so softhearted. See if he’ll agree to talk to Dooley. You never know. Something might just come out of it.”

“I’ll try.” Darcy gave her a halfhearted grin.

I put on my overcoat and jammed my hat low onto my forehead, so that I shouldn’t be recognized, then I climbed into the Rolls beside Darcy.

“I suppose it’s out of the question to see the scene of the crime for ourselves?” I asked.

He shook his head. “There are still police guarding the house,” he said. “And the inspector from Dublin wouldn’t take it kindly if we were poking our noses in.”

“Is the manservant still living there?”

“I believe so.”

“Then they must have cleared him of suspicion or he could have disposed of any potential evidence.”

“Why would a manservant want to kill his master? He had a damned good job and I’m sure he was paid well. Americans always do overpay, don’t they? Now he’ll have to go back to a country still mired in a depression. And if you were a servant and wanted to kill your employer . . .” He paused.

“You’d poison him slowly,” I said. “Or at the very least make it look like an accident.”

Darcy laughed. “You have a criminal mind, do you know that?”

“That’s just it,” I said. “This whole murder scene. Leaving Mr. Roach lying on the floor with the weapon nearby. If you’d just killed, wouldn’t you try to dispose of the weapon, or at least wipe it clean and put it back on the wall with the other weapons so that nobody would notice it?”

Darcy nodded thoughtfully. “If my father was blind drunk at the time, he might not have been thinking clearly. Or he
might have just wanted to get back to the lodge as quickly as possible before the manservant heard the commotion and came to investigate.”

“In which case, being blind drunk, he would have staggered back, probably knocked something over, touched a tree with a bloody finger. We should try to retrace his route. And surely if this man guarded his privacy as they say he did, wouldn’t the manservant have had to let your father in? Served them drinks?”

“Unfortunately, not necessarily. He says the servants’ entrance was rarely locked and anyway he believed my father still had a key. He had come into the house unannounced before.”

“Are those big gates always kept locked?” I asked. “Is there a gatekeeper?”

“No gatekeeper, these days,” Darcy said, “but I understand the new gates are always locked and anyone who comes to visit has to communicate with the castle by telephone before they are let in. At this moment there is a constable on guard just inside.”

“I saw him when I arrived in my taxi,” I said. “So how did your father even get onto the grounds?”

“Ah, that’s simple,” Darcy said. “There is a small side gate in the wall behind the lodge. And a path that leads up to the house.”

“And that is not kept locked?”

“You’d have to know about it to find it,” Darcy said. “It’s more or less hidden under the ivy. When we were young it was always open. But then so was the main gateway. No gates across it at all.”

“So anyone could get in if they found out about the secret little gate?”

“I suppose so. If anyone was determined enough he could climb over the wall. There are places where trees grow close enough to make it possible.”

We reached the bottom of the driveway and turned out into the lane. How different it looked on a sunny day—the fields an
unbelievably bright green, almost glowing. The whitewashed cottages sparkled and even the sheep looked like bright little dots against the green of the fields. It was the sort of day when one simply had to feel more cheerful.

“I wonder why Roach felt the need to put up such impressive gates and to lock them,” I said. “One would think he had something to hide, or he believed items in the castle were worth stealing.”

“Or he was one of these strange people who are paranoid about being pursued. Maybe that was why he chose to flee to an out-of-the-way place like this. Maybe we can find out whether he has been seeing a doctor while he has been in Ireland.”

“Your father should know whether he showed any signs of insanity or persecution. After all, they worked together for quite a while before that horrid incident at the stables.” I glanced across at Darcy. “Speaking of which, we should go to the stables and try to find the truth about what happened with that horse doping. Someone there may know.”

“And if we find out?” Darcy asked. The bleakness had now returned to his face. “I can’t see how it would help prove my father’s innocence. I’m sure my father wouldn’t have doped one of his horses, but enough people believe that he did. And it only gives him another motive for murder if he felt he was wrongly sacked from his job. The prosecution will make hay with it.”

I touched his hand on the steering wheel. “I know it all looks awful and hopeless, but maybe we’ll find a glimmer of hope soon. Actually we’ve already got one. That club that Dooley was talking about. If it really is as priceless as he says then maybe someone did sneak in to steal it. Roach confronted him and he swung the club.”

“But then the club would have had someone else’s fingerprints on it, not just my father’s.”

“Doesn’t that strike you as odd?” I asked. “Just your father’s prints? Think how many other people must have handled that club.”

“Maybe they mean recent and clear prints, as opposed to old and smudged ones.”

“If you think we can get onto the grounds we should trace your father’s route. If he was as drunk as he says, he would have bumped into things, maybe left a bloody fingerprint somewhere.”

“You forget it’s been raining for several days. Wouldn’t any traces have been washed away?”

I slapped his hand now. “You’re being negative, Darcy. This isn’t like you. The Darcy I know is game for anything, takes on the hardest challenge. Anything I suggest, you shoot down. I came over here to help you, you know.”

He managed a weak smile. “I’m sorry. Yes, I am being negative, I know. I just can’t seem to find much hope.”

“I’m here. I’m beside you no matter what. Doesn’t that make you feel a tiny bit better?”

“It should do, but all I can think is that I don’t want you to go through this. I really wish you were miles and miles away.”

I sat beside him in silence. Was I being selfish to give him additional worry? Should I admit defeat and go back to London, let him wallow in his own misery and face things by himself?

“All right,” I said at last. “If that’s what you really want. I’ll collect my things from Aunt Oona’s and go home. But I would like to point out to you that I do have some experience with this sort of thing. And I am prepared to believe that your father is innocent until someone hands me irrefutable proof that he’s guilty.”

Again there was a silence, then he said, with emotion in his voice, “You’re a grand girl, Georgie. And I don’t know what I want. I want you safe and far from scandal. I don’t want your life blighted. . . .”

“So there will be some scandal,” I said. “But I really don’t see how our lives will be blighted. Our behavior has been beyond reproach. Or at least mine has. Yours might have been questionable at times—” I watched him grin. “There might be gossip, but then
people will accept us for who we are. It’s not your fault, Darcy. You are not to blame for anything. Now, let’s forget all this nonsense and get on with proving your father’s innocence.”

He reached across and grabbed my hand. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “I’m really glad.” And the motorcar almost swerved into a ditch as he kissed me.