Rhys Bowen - The Twelve Clues of Christmas

“How is your aunt?” I asked. “Is she going to be all right?”

“Only a flesh wound, luckily. The nerve of the fellow, shooting her in front of us all.” Then he released me a little, looking down at me. “And what were you thinking, going off with that woman on your own?

“I thought she was Wild Sal,” I said. “She told me Miss Prendergast was getting away and we had to stop her. It was stupid of me, and it was a trap anyway. She was really Robbins’s wife and they wanted me as a hostage.”

“Where are they now?” he demanded.

“Dead. Both of them drowned in the bog. It was horrible, Darcy. I was nearly sucked down with them. I would have died if Wild Sal hadn’t appeared and rescued me.”

“I’ve a good mind to take you over to a convent in Ireland and lock you up there until we can be married,” he said, half laughing. “That is, if you want to marry me someday.” He paused. “I didn’t get the feeling you were too keen on the idea last time we spoke about it.”

“Because I thought I couldn’t marry you and I didn’t know how to tell you,” I said.

“You can’t marry me? Why? And don’t tell me you’re engaged to Prince Siegfried again.”

I had to laugh. “I’m part of the line of succession,” I said. “English law prevents a claimant to the throne from marrying a Catholic.”

“Then I’ll give up my religion if that’s what it takes,” he said.

“You don’t have to, Darcy, and I wouldn’t want you to. But it’s all right. Your aunt said I could just renounce my place in the line. I hadn’t realized I could do that.”

“You’d give up the throne of England for me?” he asked, his eyes challenging mine in the darkness.

“Darcy, I’m only thirty-fifth in line,” I said. “Unless there is a particularly big epidemic I don’t think there’s any danger of my becoming queen. And besides, the answer to that question is yes. I would give up the throne of England to marry you. Only you haven’t asked me properly yet.”

“You’re right.” He went down on one knee, oblivious to the people milling around us. “Lady Georgiana of Glen Garry and Rannoch, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

And I, who prided myself on never crying, cried for the second time in one evening.

“I can’t think of anything I want more,” I said.

Around us the crowd broke into applause, and as if on cue, the church bells began to ring.

Darcy took me into his arms. “Happy New Year,” he said and he kissed me.

Chapter 42

NEW YEAR’S DAY, JANUARY 1, 1934

Everyone is going home today. I wonder where I will go?

Queenie didn’t come in with her tray until after ten o’clock the next morning.

“That Mr. Darcy told me to let you sleep,” she said. “My, but he’s a bossy one, ain’t he? And they are saying you’re going to marry him. You really going to let him boss you around all your life?”

“Yes, I am, I suppose,” I said.

Downstairs there was an end-of-term feel, with guests exchanging addresses, promising to write and to come for a visit. The Upthorpes had been invited to America. Cherie and Monty were going to write to each other daily. Badger was going to stay with the Upthorpes. Even the dowager countess had melted a little and invited Colonel and Mrs. Rathbone to come to tea when they were all back in London.

“I don’t get much company these days,” she said. “I’d welcome a chat to share memories with old India hands.”

So all was well, except for poor Johnnie Protheroe and Mrs. Sechrest. I felt terribly sad about Johnnie. He was the sort of man one couldn’t help liking, in spite of his wicked ways. And I wondered if the fire would leave Mrs. Sechrest permanently disfigured. She had certainly lost a man she really cared about and life would never be the same for her.

Bunty came up to me after breakfast. “Just been for a brilliant ride with your intended,” she said. “You’re a lucky stick, you know. I’d always hoped . . . but I suppose cousins really shouldn’t marry, although they do it in royal circles all the time, don’t they?”

“That accounts for all the insanity.” I smiled. “Luckily my mother brought in an infusion of good common blood so my children should be all right.”

She smiled. “I’m glad you’re going to be my cousin. I asked Mummy if you could stay on here, after everyone else has gone. It’s dashed lonely and boring here. And Mummy said you’d be more than welcome, anytime.”

“That’s very kind of her. Actually, I don’t know what I’m going to do when I leave here. I’d like to stay, but I don’t want to be dependent on other people all the time. I want to make my own way in the world. Darcy and I won’t have the money to marry for ages and I want to do my part. Now I’ve been a social hostess once, maybe I’ll find a similar job somewhere. Without the bodies, that is.”

She nodded. “It was rather awful, wasn’t it? Poor Mummy, with her plans for the perfect English country Christmas. Who would ever have thought everything could go so horribly wrong?”

“Actually, everyone seems to have had a good time, in spite of everything,” I said. “I know I did. And the best thing is that those awful Robbins people didn’t succeed with their twelfth victim.”

“You’re right. And Mummy’s talking about getting up to say good-bye to everyone this morning. Daddy is trying to persuade her to stay in bed, but you know what she’s like when she puts her mind to something.”

“I suspect stubborn determination runs in the family,” I said, noticing Darcy coming across the foyer with a piece of paper in his hand and a frown on his face.

“I’ve just had a telegram,” he said, waving it at me. “I’m afraid I’m wanted back in London straight away. I may be going back to South America.”

“Is it going to be dangerous?” I asked, looking at him with concern.

He smiled. “I know how to take care of myself better than you do.”

“All the same,” I said, “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“So do I, but I don’t have much choice.”

We stood looking at each other, our gaze not faltering, and so many unspoken things passing between us.

Bunty coughed. “Well, I’d better go and leave you lovebirds to the mushy stuff,” she said.

“How long will you be gone?” I asked, trying to sound bright and cheerful.

“I don’t know. Not too long, I hope.”

“I wish . . .” I began.

He stroked my cheek. “I know. I wish too. But we have something to look forward to now, don’t we? By hook or by crook I’m going to make enough money to set you up as Mrs. Darcy O’Mara in the style to which you’re accustomed.”

“Oh, please, no. Not another Castle Rannoch.” We both laughed and he slipped his arms around me. “I don’t want to make this official until I’ve spoken with my father,” he said, “so let’s keep it to ourselves, shall we?”

I nodded, trying hard to master a brave smile. He leaned toward me and his lips brushed mine. Then he stroked my cheek. “I’d better go and pack. Monty’s driving me to Exeter to catch the express.”

I watched him walk away, longing to call after him, to run after him, to beg him to take me with him. But I forced myself to behave as a lady should.

One by one the guests departed. Lady Hawse-Gorzley made an effort to come down and see them off. The doctor had told her to stay in bed, but she insisted on doing the right thing, as she put it. Stubbornness definitely did run in the family. When the car headed down the driveway for the last time she turned to me and took my arm to walk back up the steps and into the house. “I shouldn’t say this, but thank God they’ve gone,” she whispered. “It was a bit of an ordeal, wasn’t it?”