ma’am?”
“Darling, would you please ask Darcy to come here?” Victoria held her breath. She wanted to examine the copies of property cards she’d made at Town Hall before Delilah saw them. But Delilah told Lee, “Darcy needs to pick up Reverend True at the airport.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Lee gathered up the sandwich plate.
“Mrs. Trumbull,” Delilah hesitated. “I shouldn’t have said anything to you. About the farm?”
“I shan’t tell him.” Victoria finished her sherry and set down the glass. “My house is on the way to the airport. Your chauffeur can drop me off.”
Darcy appeared and Delilah gave him his instructions. Victoria levered herself out of the deep sofa.
Delilah stood. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Trumbull.”
Victoria smiled. “I look forward to meeting your fainting goats.”
Darcy escorted her to the waiting limousine. “Fainting goats, Mrs. Trumbull?”
“Yes.” Victoria didn’t elaborate as he handed her inside. Once on the main road she rapped on the glass.
The partition slid aside. “Yes, madam?”
“Exactly what are you doing here?”
“I am serving as Miss Sampson’s chauffeur, madam.”
Victoria sighed. “You’re overdoing the Jeeves bit.”
Darcy grinned into the rearview mirror.
“What does your being here have to do with Delilah? Besides this bogus chauffeur job, that is.”
“Please,” said Darcy.
“Probably not Delilah,” murmured Victoria. “What about Henry, the husband?”
Darcy’s grin was broader. “We have our little secrets, don’t we, Mrs. Trumbull. Fainting goats?”
“What’s Henry like? The husband.”
“He arrived two days ago and took off again this morning for a meeting in Boston. I haven’t met him yet.”
“Delilah claims he’s the spiritual leader of a church called The Eye of God. It sounds like a cult.”
“It’s an enormous church. He’s only one of their clergymen,” said Darcy. “Not the head.”
“She’s a star on one of his television programs. I understand that’s how you met her?”
At that, Darcy laughed.
“You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?”
“No, madam,” said Darcy.
“But you’re not after her jewelry?”
“Hardly, madam.”
And with that, Darcy slid the glass panel shut.
The limo pulled up to Victoria’s west door and Darcy escorted her to the steps, where Elizabeth waited. He handed Victoria her bag of papers and she winked at him, as he had earlier at her. “Thank you,” she paused. “Darcy.”
“What was that all about?” asked Elizabeth.
“A friend’s chauffeur brought me home,” said Victoria, and waved airily at Darcy.
Elizabeth looked quizzically from the chauffeur standing by the sleek limousine to her smiling grandmother. “What have you stirred up now, Gram?”
“I had tea at the old Hammond place,” said Victoria.
“Tea?” Elizabeth said. “It’s suppertime now.”
Darcy slipped behind the wheel and continued on to the airport three miles away. He pulled up in front of the terminal where two men stood with their suitcases. One was a short, round, jolly-looking man with thinning white hair, great wings of eyebrows, and a narrow mustache. The other, presumably the pilot, was about Darcy’s height and age, early forties. Darcy controlled a start of recognition. The pilot glanced at him, raised his eyebrows, and looked away.
“Reverend Sampson, sir?” Darcy asked the white-haired man, and touched his cap.
“Reverend True. Sampson is my wife’s stage name.” Without waiting for a response, he went on. “Understand you’re the new chauffeur.” He nodded with a cherubic smile. Darcy loaded the two suitcases into the limousine and held the door for Reverend True, who started to get into the backseat, then stopped. “Didn’t introduce you two, did I. Darcy … what’s your last name?”
“Remey, sir.”
“Right. Cappy … ?” he paused.
“Jessup. Cappy Jessup.” The pilot smiled. “Pleased to meet you,
“Darling, would you please ask Darcy to come here?” Victoria held her breath. She wanted to examine the copies of property cards she’d made at Town Hall before Delilah saw them. But Delilah told Lee, “Darcy needs to pick up Reverend True at the airport.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Lee gathered up the sandwich plate.
“Mrs. Trumbull,” Delilah hesitated. “I shouldn’t have said anything to you. About the farm?”
“I shan’t tell him.” Victoria finished her sherry and set down the glass. “My house is on the way to the airport. Your chauffeur can drop me off.”
Darcy appeared and Delilah gave him his instructions. Victoria levered herself out of the deep sofa.
Delilah stood. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Trumbull.”
Victoria smiled. “I look forward to meeting your fainting goats.”
Darcy escorted her to the waiting limousine. “Fainting goats, Mrs. Trumbull?”
“Yes.” Victoria didn’t elaborate as he handed her inside. Once on the main road she rapped on the glass.
The partition slid aside. “Yes, madam?”
“Exactly what are you doing here?”
“I am serving as Miss Sampson’s chauffeur, madam.”
Victoria sighed. “You’re overdoing the Jeeves bit.”
Darcy grinned into the rearview mirror.
“What does your being here have to do with Delilah? Besides this bogus chauffeur job, that is.”
“Please,” said Darcy.
“Probably not Delilah,” murmured Victoria. “What about Henry, the husband?”
Darcy’s grin was broader. “We have our little secrets, don’t we, Mrs. Trumbull. Fainting goats?”
“What’s Henry like? The husband.”
“He arrived two days ago and took off again this morning for a meeting in Boston. I haven’t met him yet.”
“Delilah claims he’s the spiritual leader of a church called The Eye of God. It sounds like a cult.”
“It’s an enormous church. He’s only one of their clergymen,” said Darcy. “Not the head.”
“She’s a star on one of his television programs. I understand that’s how you met her?”
At that, Darcy laughed.
“You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?”
“No, madam,” said Darcy.
“But you’re not after her jewelry?”
“Hardly, madam.”
And with that, Darcy slid the glass panel shut.
The limo pulled up to Victoria’s west door and Darcy escorted her to the steps, where Elizabeth waited. He handed Victoria her bag of papers and she winked at him, as he had earlier at her. “Thank you,” she paused. “Darcy.”
“What was that all about?” asked Elizabeth.
“A friend’s chauffeur brought me home,” said Victoria, and waved airily at Darcy.
Elizabeth looked quizzically from the chauffeur standing by the sleek limousine to her smiling grandmother. “What have you stirred up now, Gram?”
“I had tea at the old Hammond place,” said Victoria.
“Tea?” Elizabeth said. “It’s suppertime now.”
Darcy slipped behind the wheel and continued on to the airport three miles away. He pulled up in front of the terminal where two men stood with their suitcases. One was a short, round, jolly-looking man with thinning white hair, great wings of eyebrows, and a narrow mustache. The other, presumably the pilot, was about Darcy’s height and age, early forties. Darcy controlled a start of recognition. The pilot glanced at him, raised his eyebrows, and looked away.
“Reverend Sampson, sir?” Darcy asked the white-haired man, and touched his cap.
“Reverend True. Sampson is my wife’s stage name.” Without waiting for a response, he went on. “Understand you’re the new chauffeur.” He nodded with a cherubic smile. Darcy loaded the two suitcases into the limousine and held the door for Reverend True, who started to get into the backseat, then stopped. “Didn’t introduce you two, did I. Darcy … what’s your last name?”
“Remey, sir.”
“Right. Cappy … ?” he paused.
“Jessup. Cappy Jessup.” The pilot smiled. “Pleased to meet you,
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