Free In Like Flynn by Rhys Bowen Page A

Theresa.”
    “How silly of me.” She had a high, musical laugh. “In my excitement at seeing you, I completely forgot my manners.” She held out her hand. “I am indeed Theresa. How do you do, Cousin. Welcome to Adare.”
    “You are most kind to ask me to stay,” I said, taking her hand. It felt cold and so frail that I didn't dare squeeze it. She looked frail too, as if a breath of wind might blow her away. She had pale hair and her skin matched the whiteness of her summer gown. There were dark circles around her eyes and her collar bones stood up above a lowcut neck. But she had a sweet smile as she grasped at my hand.
    “Another place please, Alice. And Clara, pour dear Cousin Molly some tea. She must be close to fainting in this heat.”
    “I assure you I'm just fine,” I said.
    Theresa patted my hand as I sat. “Would you listen to that accent?” she cooed. “Isn't it divine. Straight from the old country. Won't she do Barney’s heart good?”
    I looked around the group seated at table and gave what I hoped was a shy smile. A cup of tea was placed in front of me by a severe-looking older woman, clad in a high-necked dress of dark gray, in spite of the sticky heat of the afternoon.
    “Please make the introductions, Thesesa,” she said.
    “Of course,” Theresa Flynn said. This is Molly Gaffney, Barney’s cousin, newly arrived from Ireland. Molly, may I first present our other guests: Miss Emily Sorensen and Miss Ella Sorensen.”
    I screwed up my eyes to look from sun into shade and found my-self observing the famous Sorensen Sisters in the flesh. The strange thing was that there was nothing unusual about them. They looked like two perfectly ordinary middle-aged women. Miss Emily was a trifle dumpy and Miss Ella on the bony side. They both wore their hair in an unflattering fashion of years ago, parted down the middle and rolled into large wings on either side. Their black dresses were unadorned and their faces calm and composed as they inclined their heads to me.
    “Miss Sorensen. Miss Sorensen,” I said. “I am pleased to meet you.”
    Theresa reached across and squeezed my hand again. “I must tell you all about them later when we are alone. They are so wonderful and we are so honored to have them here. You've heard of them, have you?”
    “I believe I might have,” I said. “Are you not the famous spiritualists?”
    “We are.” Miss Emily had a deep, masculine voice.
    “Has news of their fame reached Ireland?” Theresa said delightedly.
    “We are not at the ends of the earth, Cousin Theresa,” I said, making her giggle again in a girlish way.
    “The introductions, Theresa.” The woman who had handed me a cup of tea tugged at Theresa’s arm. “There are others present who need to be introduced before you chat with your new friends.”
    Theresa flushed. “Oh, of course. I'm sorry. Too much excitement after the normal reclusive nature of our lives here must have gone to my head like wine. Molly, this is my mother’s cousin, Miss Clara Tompkins. She is kind enough to live with us and keep me company.”
    The older woman inclined her head without smiling, not taking her eyes off me for one second.
    “And this is my sister Belinda Butler, making afleetingvisit to us on her way home from Europe.”
    The second woman was in direct contrast to thefirst. She was a pink-and-white gorgeous creature in a delightfully lacy creation with a cameo on a pinkribbonaround her neck. She turned big blue eyes on me and gave me a sweet smile. “I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Cousin Molly. What a delightfully quaint accent you have. Do all the people in Limerick sound like you?”
    To be honest I hadn't a notion what the inhabitants of Limerick sounded like, never having spoken to one. “More or less,” I said.
    “How strange to think that Barney would have spoken like that if he'd been born there and not here,” Belinda said. She fanned herself with a dainty carved ivory fan.
    “A sandwich,