On Her Majesty's Frightfully Secret Service (Her Royal Spyness #11)
Rhys Bowen
Chapter 1
MONDAY, APRIL 8, 1935
KILHENNY CASTLE, IRELAND
Darcy has gone. Not sure what to do next.
I should have known it was too good to last.
I had spent the last two months at Kilhenny Castle, Darcy’s ancestral home. I had experienced the merriest Christmas I had ever known, with Darcy, his eccentric family and the Polish princess Zou Zou Zamanska. We had fought hard to prove Lord Kilhenny’s innocence when he was wrongly accused of a crime and had managed to gain back his castle. The next month was spent making it habitable again. It had been a wonderful, almost miraculous time to be close to the man I loved, to actually be planning our wedding in the summer. Darcy had also been helping his father to restore the racing stable, now owned by the princess, to its former glory and they had succeeded in winning the gold cup at the Punchestown races.
But all good things must come to an end. Darcy had never been the sort to stay in one place for long. Neither had the princess. She had flitted between Ireland and London in her little aeroplane as casually as if she was going down to the corner shop for a loaf of bread. Then one day in March she announced that she was leaving to enter a round-the-world air race. Darcy’s father, usually never one to let his feelings show, had stomped around miserably for days after she had gone. They were clearly fond of each other, but as far as I knew he hadn’t declared his love for her. Perhaps his stupid pride made him think that he didn’t have enough to offer her, either in rank or in fortune. Not that she would have cared. Zou Zou, as she liked her friends to call her, was one of the most open and generous people I have ever met. And I think she had definitely fallen for the roguish Lord Kilhenny. Who wouldn’t? He had the same rugged good looks and wicked twinkle in his eye as his son!
Then shortly after Zou Zou flew off in her tiny plane, Darcy came to me and said he’d have to leave for a while. He had an assignment that he couldn’t refuse. Even though we were engaged to be married he had never revealed to me for whom he was actually working, although he had dropped hints that it was the British secret service.
“How long will you be gone, do you think?” I asked, trying to look light and cheerful.
“I have no idea,” he said.
“And I suppose you can’t tell me where you’ll be going or what you’ll be doing?”
He grinned then. “You know I can’t. And actually I don’t know myself yet.”
I stood there, looking at him, thinking how incredibly handsome he was with those wild dark curls and alarming blue eyes. I took his hands. “Darcy, will it be like this when we’re married?” I asked and heard a little catch in my voice. “Will you always be going off somewhere and leaving me at home to worry about you?”
“You don’t need to worry about me,” he said. “I’m a big boy. I can take good care of myself. But as to what I do when we’re married, we’ll just have to play it by ear. Maybe we’ll move back here to the castle and raise our children the way I was raised. But I want to make enough money to provide for you. You know that.”
“Yes, I know,” I said, fighting back an embarrassing tear, “but I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too, you silly old thing.” He stroked back a curl from my cheek. “I’ll be in London first,” he added. “I’ll make an appointment to see the king’s private secretary and see how things are progressing.”
He was talking about our wedding, of course. In case you don’t know, I am the daughter of the Duke of Rannoch, great-granddaughter to Queen Victoria and second cousin to the king. As such I am part of the line of succession—currently thirty-fifth in line to the throne. And members of the royal family are not allowed by law to marry Catholics. Darcy was a Catholic so the only way to be allowed to marry him was to renounce my claim to the throne. This was all rather silly as there was little likelihood that I’d find myself crowned Queen of England (not unless there was a plague or flood of biblical proportions). But the whole thing had to be done properly. Darcy had presented a petition on my behalf. Then it had to be approved by Parliament. The petition had been presented, but we had heard nothing. So the wedding date was in limbo and it was most unsettling. I rather wished we had managed to reach Gretna Green, as Darcy had once tried to do, and been married in secret.
But left alone in the Irish countryside, now doubts crept into my mind. What if Parliament refused to let me renounce my claim? Could we defy them and marry? We’d have to leave England and live abroad if necessary because I was going to marry Darcy. Nothing was going to stop me. But it was an unsettling time, suddenly finding myself alone at Kilhenny Castle with Darcy’s father. He had never been the most genial of men. Now he was clearly worried about Zou Zou so he went around with a scowl on his face and became annoyed by the smallest of things—much the way he had been when I first arrived there in December.
I, in turn, was worried about Darcy, about the future of our marriage and to what dangerous part of the globe he might be sent. More than anything I wondered what I should be doing next. I sensed that Lord Kilhenny welcomed my company and would sink into deeper gloom if I left. And yet I felt lonely, unsettled and out of place in Ireland. I enjoyed visits to Darcy’s eccentric great-aunt and great-uncle, who lived in a rambling old house nearby, as well as walks through the countryside, where roadside hedges were now blooming with spring flowers and the air smelled of spring. But I wanted to be gone.