Murder at Longbourn

apologized for the inconvenience. The rest of us sat silently, lost in our own thoughts. To be honest, I had never really suspected any of the actors of the murder. But, with their exit, the range of possible suspects had been obviously and drastically narrowed. It made for a very uncomfortable atmosphere.

Perhaps because of this, Joan and Henry abruptly left the room. Daniel forgot his flirtation with me and departed as well. Only Peter and I remained.

“Well, at least they’ll have a nice, freshly shoveled driveway to peel out of when they leave.”

Peter’s head jerked up at the sound of my voice, but he didn’t respond. I don’t think he’d heard me at all. He stood up, placed his coffee cup on the low table in front of him, and walked out of the room.

I felt like the girl in the commercial who is unwittingly driving everyone away with her terrible breath. I surveyed the empty room, littered with breakfast dishes and coffee cups. “That’s okay,” I yelled at Peter’s retreating form. “I’ll get all this.”

My sarcasm was met with silence.

When I got back to my room, my cell phone was ringing. It was Bridget.

“Elizabeth!” she yelled happily when I answered and I knew why she was calling. Colin had proposed. I didn’t want to burst her bubble by beating her to her own announcement, or worse, telling her what had happened here.

“Hey, Bridge,” I said, keeping my voice neutral. “Happy New Year. What’s up?”

There was a split second of silence before she said, “You know, don’t you? Damn it!” I heard her pull the phone away and yell, “Colin, you told Elizabeth, didn’t you?” I heard Colin’s muffled response and she came back on the line. “Oh, well, no matter. Isn’t it fantastic? I’m so excited! I wish everyone could be this happy!”

I smiled. I was glad that at least someone had had a nice New Year. “I’m really happy for you, Bridge,” I said. “How did he do it?” I cradled the phone to my ear and closed my eyes. Her voice was the closest thing I’d had to normalcy since arriving here.

“Over dinner,” she replied. “He pushed this little black velvet box onto the table. As soon as I saw it, I started crying. I was just about to scream, ‘Yes, I will marry you!’ when I had an awful thought—what if the box had a pair of earrings in it and not a ring? But thankfully it was a ring. Oh, Elizabeth! I can’t wait to show you. It’s absolutely gorgeous!”

She was right. It was a gorgeous ring. I had helped Colin pick it out two months ago, and trying to keep that secret had nearly killed me.

“You’ll be my maid of honor, right?”

“Of course I will! Just promise me that you won’t make me wear some god-awful dress with a bow on the butt.”

“Don’t be absurd. You know me. I want to keep this very casual. What do you think about us getting married on a beach somewhere?”

“I think your mother would slit her wrists,” I said honestly. Bridget’s free-spirited ways were a constant source of frustration to her mother. Mrs. Matthews was aghast at Bridget’s spiky hair, which veered from bright red to magenta or purple—a bit like Aunt Winnie’s. And Bridget’s clothes had a tendency to render the normally loquacious Mrs. Matthews mute. A wedding on the beach would no doubt push her over the edge.

“You’re probably right.” Bridget sighed. “But I’ll be damned if I’m going to wear some ridiculous dress that makes me look like a giant meringue.”

I heard Colin’s voice in the background and Bridget yelled, “That’s not funny, Colin!”

She got back on the line. “So, how are you? How was your New Year’s?”

My stomach sank. Caught up in Bridget’s excitement, I had almost forgotten about Gerald. Almost.

“Well, it was a bit more exciting than anyone had planned for,” I said, attempting to downplay the seriousness of the situation. It might have been more believable had my voice not caught.

“Elizabeth? What’s happened? Isn’t the inn doing well? Is Aunt Winnie okay? Are you okay?”

“She’s fine. I’m fine,” I said, focusing on not crying. “It’s just, well, well, a man was actually murdered during the dinner show.”

“Holy shit!”

“Yeah, that about sums it up.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Afraid not.” I took a deep breath. This was ridiculous. I had to pull myself together. There was no reason for me to fall apart over Gerald Ramsey’s death. After all, it wasn’t as if he was someone I knew, or even wanted to know, for that matter. I refused to listen to the more emotional side of my brain, which told me that Gerald’s odious personality wasn’t the problem. It was the memory of his blank stare. I quickly told Bridget the rest, from the cliché-like shot in the dark to Detective Stewart and his intimidating eyebrow.

“What a nightmare!” Bridget said when I was done. “How’s Aunt Winnie?”

In the background I could hear Colin peppering Bridget with questions. “Colin,” she barked at him, “would you please shut up for half a minute! I can’t hear Elizabeth with you yelling at me! I’ll tell you in a second!”

“She’s as good as can be expected,” I said. “Actually, I think she’s doing better than the rest of us.”

“Well, that’s good. I’d be more worried if she were a mess. When are you coming home?”

“I’m not sure. The police have asked me to stay for a few more days until this is all cleared up.”

“But why? I don’t understand. Why do you have to stay? They can’t possibly think that you had anything to do with this!”

“I don’t know what they think,” I said wearily.

The sounds of a struggle floated over the phone line. Bridget yelled out angrily, “Colin, knock it off! Hey! What the hell are you doing? Give me back the phone!” The next voice I heard was Colin’s.

“Elizabeth!” he said abruptly. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

At the sound of the concern in his voice, my eyes welled up, but I held the tears in check. “I’m fine, Colin, really. One of the guests died last night—well, he was murdered, and the police are still trying to figure out what happened.”

“Jesus,” he said. “Do you want us to come up? We could be there in a couple of hours.” I heard Bridget yell something.

“No! Please, Colin, don’t do that. I’m fine, really.” I added quickly, “I’m sure that I’ll be home in a day or so. Besides, I think the fewer people trampling around here, the better it will be for the investigation and for Aunt Winnie.”

He hesitated. “Okay, if you’re certain. But make sure you keep us posted.”

“I will,” I said. “I promise. Now go enjoy being engaged. Give Bridget a big hug for me. Don’t worry, Colin. I’ll see you soon. I’m perfectly fine.”

He hung up and I congratulated myself. Apparently, I was finally getting better at hiding the truth from people.

CHAPTER 10

That would be a good thing for them to cut on my tombstone:

Wherever she went, including here, it was

against her better judgment.

—DOROTHY PARKER

ALT HOUGH SHE WASN’T expected to provide lunch, it being a B and B, not a B and B and L, Aunt Winnie nevertheless put out a tureen of clam chowder and some chicken sandwiches for the guests. It was a bit like leaving cookies out for Santa. You never saw anything eaten, but soon there was only an empty tray with a few crumbs. Not that I was complaining. I wasn’t keen on sitting in a room and watching other people not make eye contact with me.

My conversation with Bridget and Colin reminded me that I had other phone calls to make. I would have to call my mother, sister, and boss to let them know what had happened. Unfortunately, my mother wasn’t home and I ended up speaking with George. He oozed concern for my safety—a sentiment that would have been more believable had he bothered to turn down the football game blaring in the background. My phone call to Kit was no