In Dublin's Fair City (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #6)

“No, not very close. I was merely looking her up as a favor to an uncle,” I said. “Her name was Mary Ann Burke.”


His face lit up. “Mary Ann. I do remember a Mary Ann. She helped nanny in the nursery. I was very cross when she went away because she was much better at playing with me than Nanny was.”

“You don’t happen to remember anything about her departure?” I asked.

“Nanny said I wasn’t to speak of her anymore, so I got the feeling that she’d left in some kind of disgrace,” he said. “My sister would remember more than I. She was six years my senior and very fond of Mary Ann.”

“Your sister? Does she live nearby?”

“Good lord, no. She's married and very much the grande dame these days. Caught up in the social whirl. Divides her time between London and Paris and Dublin, so one hears. Very much the society lady. Patroness of the arts and all that bosh. Lady Ashburton. If she's in Dublin when you’re there, she may be able to help you—if you can track her down between her numerous committees and charities, that is.”

He gave what was intended to be a gracious smile, I suspect, but came across as a smirk.

“Thank you. I’ll try to do that,” I said.

Phipps coughed discretely. “Pardon me, sir, but shouldn’t you be getting changed? I understood that Miss Henrietta would be arriving for luncheon.”

“What? Oh yes, you’re right, Phipps. I had better go and change.” “Miss Henrietta?” I couldn’t resist asking, although it was incredibly rude of me.

“My fiancee,” he said. “She's meeting her brother from the ship. He's been in America too. You’ll excuse me if I beat a hasty retreat, won’t you, Miss Delaney?”

I managed to control my voice as I said, “Certainly, sir. I thank you for your time.”

I bobbed a poor attempt at a curtsey. I saw interest flicker in his eyes as I straightened up. Lucky that his fiancee was about to arrive, I decided. His fiancee whose name was Henrietta and whose brother was arriving home from America. I attempted to walk toward the front doorwith measured step and much dignity. I had taken a few steps when Toby Conroy called after me, “I’ve just thought of one thing, Miss Delaney. Old Harry. He lives on the estate. Used to be the head groom. He's been with the family all his life. He might remember where Mary Ann went. Phipps will direct you to his cottage.”

With that he bounded up the stairs, two at a time. And I only half listened to the directions that Phipps gave me on locating Old Harry's cottage. In truth I couldn’t wait to distance myself from that house. I told myself I was being silly and worried over nothing. It was surely too much of a coincidence that Sir Toby's fiancee's name was Henrietta and that her brother was arriving back from America. In any case, I wasn’t planning to linger around long enough to find out.





Sixteen


The result of not listening properly to Phipps's directions meant that I got hopelessly lost among the farm buildings and ended up with my shoes caked in mud and worse. At last I passed a

farm laborer who escorted me to old Harry's place. The old man was sitting in front of his fire and was very deaf, but at last he understood my question and nodded vigorously.

“I remember that well enough. Master was quite put out. So was mistress too. Rory was a good groom, you see. Great with the horses.”

“Rory?” I asked.

“The man she went off with,” Old Harry said, with a toothless grin. “They ran away together to get married?”

“So we heard. Never asked for permission or nothing. Just upped and left.”

“You don’t know where they went, by any chance?” I asked.

He leaned forward, confidentially. “I heard tell that Rory opened a blacksmith's shop in Tramore, down on the coast. But that was more than twenty years ago now. Whether he's still there, I couldn’t say.”

“Thank you,” I said. “You’ve been most helpful.”

He looked at me expectantly, and it suddenly occurred to me that he might be waiting for a tip. I fished in my purse and came out with a shilling. But when I handed it to him he closed my own fingers around it. “I don’t need your money, me darlin’,” he said. “You keep it for your trousseau. I don’t drink much no more. Don’t eat much either. I have noneeds except for a good fire to keep me warm and that's provided from the estate. No, I’m quite content, thank you.”

He was still holding my hand, his gnarled old fingers over mine. Impulsively I leaned forward and planted a kiss on his forehead. That made him chuckle.

“Now that kind of payment I’ll take anytime you like,” he said.

I came out smiling too, but as I started down the long drive, I found I was walking very fast, not wishing to encounter an arriving carriage maybe.