Oh Danny Boy (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #5)

I didn’t have money to waste on hacks, so I set out in the right direction, hoping that the mile or so didn’t turn out to be five miles or more. It wasn’t unpleasant walking after the town gave way to countryside. While the day was hot and the flies were a nuisance, it was soft underfoot beside the road and large oaks spread leafy canopies of shade.

Even so I was dripping with sweat and parched by the time I came to an imposing brick gateway that had to be the entrance to the Nortons’ estate. I used my handkerchief to wipe the grime from the journey from my face, adjusted my bonnet, and hoped that I looked presentable as I walked up the gravel driveway between rows of tall rhododendron bushes. At last the house came into sight, a splendid Grecian-looking affair with a pillared portico, surrounded by well-manicured lawns.

Until now I had been concentrating on the journey. Now I was here, and realizing I was about to face my nemesis, I felt my pulse start to race. This was pure folly. She wouldn’t see me. Of course she wouldn’t see me. What on earth had led me to imagine that she would? And even if she did, she wouldn’t admit to causing Daniel’s downfall. Well, it was too late to go back now, and I’ve never been one to back away from confrontation. We Irish seem to love a good mix-up, don’t we?

I took a deep breath and marched right up to the front door. It was opened, not by a maid, but by a distinguished old gentleman in tails—an English butler no less. I began to see what a wrench it must have been for Daniel to give up the kind of promise that Arabella offered.

“Miss Molly Murphy to see Miss Norton,” I said, and handed him my card. At least I’d learned from Miss Van Woekem how civilized society behaved.

He took the card and invited me to step into the cool of the marble entrance hall.

“I will see if Miss Norton is at home,” he said stiffly and walked away.

I waited. The grandfather clock at the foot of the stairs struck eleven. My stomach growled, making me realize that I had only had a cup of tea this morning, having not felt like breakfast. Surely Miss Norton’s breeding and good manners would force her to offer me at least a cold drink?

I looked up as the butler’s feet tapped on the marble. He came up to me with my card on a silver tray.

“I regret that Miss Norton is not at home,” he said. “Should I convey to her that you came to visit?”

“Please do,” I said. “What time do you expect her to return? It is a matter of extreme urgency that I speak with her.”

“I couldn’t say, miss.” He looked me straight in the face with the expressionless eyes that only butlers can develop. “I suggest you drop her a note on your return home. Do you have a vehicle waiting?”

“No, I walked,” I said. “I enjoy a country stroll.”

“I see.” He ushered me to the front door. “Good day to you then.”

Once again a front door closed on me, leaving me alone and outside. I walked far enough from the house until I had disappeared among the rhododendrons, then I stopped and waited. It was hard to tell with butlers, but I had a shrewd suspicion that Miss Norton was at home and didn’t want to see me.

As if to confirm this suspicion, a high laugh floated out through an open upstairs window. Right, my girl, I thought. Molly Murphy doesn’t give up that easily. I’ll just have to wait for you to show yourself. So I sat in the shade of a large rhododendron and waited. It was not pleasant waiting. Even in the shade it was murderously hot. I had to brush continuously at the flies that tried to land on my face. A couple of bees also investigated me. I must have dozed and woke with a start with no idea what time it was. The shadows had lengthened, indicating it was past midday.

Suddenly I was aware of a dog barking—a shrill yap, yap, yap. That must have been what woke me. Before I could move, the dog itself appeared, a tiny white bundle of fur with pink ribbons tied around its ears. It froze, with those butterflylike ears cocked, then let out a new volley of barks.

“Gyp, naughty boy, come back here immediately,” a voice commanded and Arabella Norton herself stepped into view, looking as always all pink and white and frills, like a large china doll. I scrambled hastily to my feet, conscious that my face was red and sweaty, my bonnet was now askew, and that I must look like some tramp in the hedgerow.

“You? What on earth do you think you are doing?” Arabella exclaimed and stooped to sweep up Gyp into her arms as if I might prove to be dangerous. “This is private property. Leave immediately or I’ll call the servants.”

“Miss Norton—Arabella,” I said, resisting the urge to straighten my bonnet and brush myself down. “Please listen to me. Just give me five minutes of your time. It’s a matter of great urgency or I wouldn’t have come.”

She stared at me with cold contempt. “I simply can’t think what you could possibly have to say to me, unless you’ve come to apologize for behaving like a brazen hussy. If that is so, you need not have wasted your time. You have in no way inconvenienced or hurt me by taking Daniel Sullivan off my hands. I see now that Mama was right. He was not of my class, and I should be aiming for better.”