In Like Flynn (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #4)

Fourteen

By the time the chauffeur had brought the automobile to the front door, it had begun to rain—big fat drops spattering onto the granite steps. The chauffeur leaped out to pull up the canopy over the car and we hustled to its sanctuary. The canopy wasn't very good at keeping off the rain, and we huddled together, wet and cold. I was shaking as violently as Theresa was, although it may have been from shock as much as from the weather. I tried not to think about Justin and what he might be saying at this very moment. Then Theresa gave a little moan and put her hand up to her head. “If only I didn't get these awful headaches,” she sighed. “I know Bamey thinks I'm a poor weak creature for being ill so often, but when they come it’s like having a knife cut through my head.”

“It was the excitement of the seance,” I said, resolving to put my own worries aside.

“I'm sure it was. Hearing my son’s voice like that. I'm still trembling about it. You do think he'll come again, don't you?'

“I'm sure of it,” I said. If the Misses Sorensen wanted to continue to enjoy Adare, that was.

Theresa patted my knee. “It was very sweet of you to accompany me like this, Molly,” she said, “but you make me feel most “guilty. I do hope I didn't force you away from a potential beau.”

“Absolutely not,” I said. “I was not feeling too well either.”

“Mr. Hartley is good-looking, is he not? And I understand his family has several properties—one of them in Ireland, so I'm told.”

“Mr. Hartley may be good-looking but I found him a bore,” I said. “And we Irish have little love for our English landowners.”

“Of course. How silly of me to have overlooked that fact. He wasn't at all the right man for you, Molly. Too frail-looking and never smiled.”

“So you're saying I need someone jolly and healthy like Bamey,” I said with a smile.

A brief spasm of alarm crossed her face. “I wouldn't recom-mend Bamey as an example of a good husband. Too many outside interests.”

I had clearly distressed her, so I asked quickly, “And what about Mr. Van Gelder? Is he not a good catch? He seems quite smitten with Belinda and he’s young, healthy and amiable.”

“Roland Van Gelder?” She shook her head. “Not a good catch, Molly. As you saw from their household, they have no money to speak of and Roland is a queer fish.”

“How do you mean?” I leaned closer to her.

“He’s never managed to hold a job, in spite of his father’s influence tofindhim a good situation, and I watched him lose his temper with his horse once and hit it most brutally. I've never felt the same about him since then.”

“How terrible. He seemed so amiable to me, if not too bright.”

“Not all men are what they seem, Molly. Choose your husband with care, don't be swept off your feet as I was.”

“But Bamey seems devoted to you and he has certainly provided well for you.”

“Bamey is devoted when it suits him,” she said. “But I shouldn't be speaking like this. You're his cousin, after all.”

“I know nothing about him,” I said. “Only what we've heard in Ireland and that’s all good.”

“He is a good man in many ways, but like Roland Van Gelder, he has his not-so-admirable side. And he’s very ruthless. Hell do anything to get what he wants.”

“I suspect that is true of most powerful men,” I said. “Weaklings don't get into the Senate.”

She laughed and patted my hand again. You are such a realist, Molly. You think almost like a man.” I don't think she meant this as a compliment.