On Her Majesty's Frightfully Secret Service (Her Royal Spyness #11)(2)

My thoughts often turned to my friend Belinda who had fled to Italy to have a baby that no one should know about. Was she feeling equally lonely? She had suggested when I last saw her that I come and stay with her in Italy, but I had heard nothing since and had no address in Italy to write to. I hoped she was all right. I also worried about my grandfather in London. I had written to him several times, but had heard nothing in return since Christmas, when I had received a rather lurid card and a box of Quality Street chocolates. I knew he wasn’t much of a writer, but I was concerned about his health. He had a weak chest and the London fogs were often brutal in winter. I would have gone to London to visit him, but I had nowhere to stay. My brother, the current duke, owned our family home, Rannoch House on Belgrave Square, but he and my dreaded sister-in-law, Fig, had gone to the south of France for the winter and Fig had made it clear to me that I was not to use their house while they were gone.

Zou Zou had also said that I was always welcome to stay with her when I was in London, but she was on a round-the-world race, which might take months. So I stayed on in Ireland, rushing to the post every morning in the hope of news from somebody. And then one morning I went out for an early walk. It was a perfect spring day. Daffodils were blooming all over the castle grounds. Birds were singing madly in the trees, which now sported new buds. The air smelled fresh and fragrant. It was the sort of day to go for a long ride, but the only horses at Kilhenny these days were at the racing stable and I didn’t think Darcy’s father would trust me with one of his prized mounts.

I was halfway down the path to the front gate when I met the postman, coming toward me on his bicycle.

“Top of the morning, my lady,” he said, coming to a halt beside me. “’Tis a grand day, is it not? And a letter for yourself from London, no less.”

He handed it to me. A fat envelope. I looked for Darcy’s black, impatient scrawl, but instead I saw my brother’s handwriting. So they were home in England again.

“I see there’s a crest on the back of that envelope,” the postman said, eyeing it curiously. “So it’s from some lord or lady, is it? I expect it’s important, then.”

He was hovering, waiting for me to open it. Although I was dying to know why my brother might be writing to me after such a long silence, I certainly wasn’t going to open it with the postman peering over my shoulder, ready to spread the news to the rest of the village.

“Thank you very much,” I said. “I’d better go indoors and read it, hadn’t I?”

I saw him watching me with disappointment as I went back up the path to the castle. Once inside I went into the dining room and poured myself a cup of coffee. There was no sign of Darcy’s father. He went to the stables at the crack of dawn most mornings and I had become used to eating breakfast alone. I had just sat down when the housekeeper, Mrs. McCarthy, came into the room bringing a dish of smoked haddock.

She started when she saw me. “Oh, your ladyship, I didn’t know you were already up, and me with no breakfast ready for you.”

“Please don’t worry, Mrs. McCarthy,” I said. “I was going out for a walk and then I met the postman and he had a letter for me, so I wanted to come inside and read it right away.”

“Oh, how lovely. A letter for you.” She beamed with pleasure. “It’s not from Mr. Darcy himself, is it?”

“Unfortunately, no,” I said.

“My, but that’s a grand crest on the envelope,” she said, hovering behind me with the dish of haddock still in her hands.

“It’s from my brother, the Duke of Rannoch,” I said.

“Oh, your brother. Well, isn’t that grand.” She showed no sign of moving away. I was beginning to think that curiosity was a local trait. “No doubt he’s got some news for you. That looks like it could be a long letter.”

“Well, he’s just come back from the south of France,” I said. “I expect he’s giving me a full report on his time there.”

“Oh, the Riviera. Now, isn’t that grand? I expect they had a lovely time there. All those yachts and things.”

It was quite clear she didn’t plan to move.

“Don’t you think you should put the dish of haddock onto the warming tray or it will get cold?” I said.

She chuckled. “Would you look at me. I’d quite forgotten I’d got the thing in my hands.”

As she headed for the sideboard with the various breakfast dishes on it I opened the envelope. Two more letters fell out as well as one page of writing paper with the Rannoch crest on it. I read that first.

My dear Georgiana,

I hope this finds you in good health. We were not sure where to send the enclosed, but I’m mailing them to O’Mara’s address in Ireland in the hope that you might still be there. We did read in the English newspapers about the amazing turn of events concerning Lord Kilhenny and I must say I am very glad for you that he was cleared of any wrongdoing.

We arrived back from Nice to find the enclosed letters waiting on the hall table. It appears they had been posted some time ago, but the house had been shut up with no servants until we returned home. I see one of the letters comes from Buckingham Palace. I do hope it was nothing urgent. I took the liberty of dropping a line to Their Majesties’ private secretary to say we had all been out of the country and I was forwarding the letter to you.