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

He looked at me long and hard. “As you say, it would be wiser, although the resemblance is only superficial, mainly in the hair. Your face is ten times more handsome.”


I didn’t quite know how to handle that and felt myself blushing. I hadn’t been aware that he had noticed me as anything more than a nuisance and potential spy. He came across the room and stood close to me. Then he put a hand on my shoulder and bent his head toward me. For a moment I thought he was going to kiss me, but then he said in a low voice, “Oh, and one more thing, Molly, while we’re alone. Grania will be holding a meeting of her Daughters of Erin here tomorrow night. Obviously she’ll want you to attend. Not all those women can be trusted, so don’t say anything you might regret later. Not a word aboutyour brothers. You’re a friend of the family, visiting from New York. That should suffice. Got it?”

“Yes,” I said, “but I thought—”

“Grania is sometimes too trusting,” he muttered. “It may be our downfall.”

He glanced up as Grania came into the room.

“I hope you’re not trying to seduce our little Molly, Cullen,” she said.

“I was merely giving her some fatherly advice, if you must know, Grania,” he said.

“I know you too well, my sweet.” She flashed him a challenging smile.

“One must have some pleasures in life,” Cullen said. “God knows I’ve given up just about everything else.”

“You keep an eye on him, Molly,” she said to me. “He's not to be trusted.”

“On the contrary,” Cullen replied. “I am to be trusted in all things that matter, and Molly is quite safe with me.”

He withdrew his hand from my shoulder, gave me a friendly pat, and left the room. I watched him go with just a pang of regret.

Cullen disappeared later that day. When I asked about him, Grania merely shrugged. “He decided he should be gone before our Daughters of Erin meet tomorrow. I don’t think he quite trusts us. And he certainly underestimates us. He thinks us to be a gaggle of well-intentioned women whose only function should be charitable acts, but with no place in Irish politics or republican struggles.”

“But obviously your group is involved in such struggles,” I said. “It was your Queen Mab who received word of the shipment of rifles.”

“The Brotherhood is closely watched,” Grania said. “Of course, the English aren’t quite sure that the Brotherhood, per se, has resurrected itself, but they watch all those with ties to the republican movement. Hence it makes sense to give a greater role to us women.”

“But aren’t the Daughters of Erin watched too? They are not in anyway a secret organization, are they? I met a young woman the other day who talked openly about your group and invited me to a meeting.”

“Ah, but that's the beauty of it.” Grania smiled. “Our lovely foundress, Maude Gonne, whom you saw in the play the other night, had visions of an organization of women who could better social conditions in Ireland and further the spread of Irish culture. An exemplary ideal. We all support it. But within the group there are those of us who work more militantly for the republican cause. Only we know who we are. Our very existence depends upon utter secrecy. We use our noms de guerre—”

I nodded. “Your leader, Queen Mab.”

“Most of our members have no idea who Queen Mab is. It is essential that she remain in the background and secret or she would be no use at all.”

The way she smiled made a sudden thought cross my mind. Grania herself was Queen Mab! I remembered Cullen teasing her about wanting to take the place of Queen Victoria. Supplanting one queen with another. I decided to be a keen observer at the upcoming meeting. At that moment it seemed all like a rather exciting game. Then, of course, I remembered that it wasn’t a game at all: my brother was under a death sentence and so was Cullen if he was caught. Maybe so were we all.