The hunt for Sonya Dufrette

14

The Monocled Countess

‘Miss Darcy, are you all right?’ Miss Garnett touched her arm.

‘Yes – I’m fine. Sorry.’

‘Would you like a slice of cake, or would you prefer a sandwich?’ Miss Garnett had already poured two cups of tea.

‘A sandwich – thank you very much.’

Antonia made an effort to concentrate as Miss Garnett talked about illustrious old families like the Actons, the Astors, the Mitfords, the Tennants and indeed the Jourdains – but her thoughts were elsewhere.

Lady Mortlock had never had a daughter. She had never had any children. She had never given birth. She had told a lie. Another lie. Three lies in total.

All the photographs in the room, each and every one of them, were of Lena Dufrette. Lena Sugarev-Drushinski, as she had been back in 1958. Lena and Lady Mortlock had been to see a play together, a play that had been outre if not scandalous. Lady Mortlock had gone out of her way to distance herself from Lena. She had pretended they were strangers -

There was a knock on the door and a youngish woman with a square face and the physique of a prize fighter appeared. Her arms, Antonia observed, were the size of small tree trunks. Two plasters had been stuck on her left arm where presumably Lady Mortlock had scratched her. She wore a smart uniform that looked a little bit too tight for her and trainers whose laces had been left undone. Norah, the nurse.

‘I am sorry to interrupt your repast, ladies, but there’s an important message from HQ,’ she said in tones of comic gravity.

‘Oh dear,’ Miss Garnett said. ‘Not another crisis, I hope?’

‘Nope. All’s quiet on the Western Front. Her Ladyship’s compliments and would Mrs Antonia Rushton care to go and see her now?’

‘Would Mrs Rushton…?’ Miss Garnett pushed her glasses up her nose. ‘Hermione actually said that?’

‘Yep. She wants to see her. Now.’

‘So Lady Mortlock knows I am here?’ Antonia put down her cup.

‘Oh yes. She knows all right. She recognized your voice and everything. She told me all about you, actually.’

Antonia blinked. ‘Really?’

‘She told me how you used to kill stoats.’ Norah laughed exuberantly. ‘Only kidding. In my kind of job, if one doesn’t crack jokes, one would go mad,’ she explained. ‘You agree, don’t you, Miss