Bloody Royal Prints by Reba White Williams Page B

imagine why they suspect you, or why they are so hostile, but I find them disturbing, even frightening,” he said.
    â€œAre they like the Ku Klux Klan in the United States?” Rachel asked. “Ignorant, but dangerous?”
    â€œI sincerely hope they are not violent like the KKK. But like the Klan, they are anonymous, and one mistrusts those who hide behind anonymity.” He stood up. “My office has queries out to many sources. I should know later today why they suspect you, and of what.”
    â€œWill you come for a drink later to tell me what you have learned?” Rachel asked.
    â€œYes, of course. I’ll be here by six. I hope I have something useful to report.”
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    Rachel returned to her desk and her manuscript, but she couldn’t concentrate. All she could think about were problems: the blood on her clothes; the death of the young man in Stephanie’s bathroom; Stephanie’s foolishness, and the trouble her behavior might cause; and the hostility of the Palace Police. Would George be able to help her with any of these difficulties? Should she tell him about the blood on her clothes?
    She was so perturbed, she decided to turn to an old favorite that always soothed her: Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice . She’d put away her papers and lose herself in the trials and troubles of Elizabeth and Darcy.
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    George arrived promptly at six. He looked exhausted and even more worried than he had earlier.
    She offered him tea or sherry, but he shook his head. “After the day I’ve had, I need something stronger. Whisky, I think. May I pour my own?”
    â€œCertainly,” Rachel said.
    He poured himself a large drink from the bottle of Macallan on the drinks tray, and took a swallow.
    â€œWell, I’ve learned why these people are suspicious of you,” he said. “They believe you support a group in Northern Ireland that uses violence to sabotage the peace process—Republicans, fighting for a united Ireland.”
    Rachel frowned. “Where did you come by that absurd information?” she asked.
    â€œThe intelligence came from a high-level government agency. Government organizations are always watching extremists, especially those willing to kill to achieve their objectives. And other organizations watch the watchers,” George said.
    â€œDo these high-placed persons believe this nonsense about me?” Rachel asked.
    â€œI have no idea what anyone other than the Palace Police believes. They are all that concern us for the moment. They are obsessed with a few recent episodes of violence in Northern Ireland, and are afraid that the violence will overflow into England, as it did in the 1970s,” he said.
    â€œI can understand why they might be worried, but why am I a suspect? I have never been to Ireland. I do not know anyone from Ireland. I don’t have the faintest interest in Ireland, not even any Irish clients,” Rachel said.
    â€œThe police concerned with Irish terrorism keep a special watch on Americans living in England, especially those with Boston connections, and most especially those with Irish relations or ancestors. Surely you know that rich Bostonians supported the IRA for decades?” George said. “As for not knowing anyone from Ireland, they claim that you know an unusually large number of people from that wretched country.”
    â€œGood heavens!” Rachel said. “How is that possible?”
    â€œYour household is decidedly Irish. Your maid and your housekeeper are from Ireland, as are your cook and your chauffeur. And Miss Manning’s mother was Irish,” he said.
    â€œI had no idea,” Rachel said. “Everyone but Miss Manning came to me through the same agency. Miss Manning was recommended by the minister of my church—which is Anglican, by the way, not Catholic. I have never discussed Miss Manning’s family with her. I can only