Murder at Longbourn

It’s when you’re safe at home that you wish you were

having an adventure. When you’re having an adventure,

you wish you were safe at home.

—THORNTON WILDER

LAZY BEAMS OF sunlight bathed my room in soft orange. Rolling over, I buried myself deeper into the warmth of the covers, savoring the brief seconds of blissful ignorance that precede full waking. But all too soon the madness of the last few days tumbled back. One memory in particular promoted a low groan: I was spending the morning with Peter.

Downstairs, I found Peter and Aunt Winnie huddled together in the kitchen. Jumping apart when they saw me, Aunt Winnie sang out a cheery, “Good morning, sweetie!” in a voice that I had long ago learned to associate with trouble. Lady Catherine was also in attendance. With her tail lazily switching back and forth, she watched me. From the inscrutable expression on her peevish face, it was hard to tell whether she was merely waiting for food or silently mocking me. With cats, you never can tell.

“What are you up to?” I asked without preamble.

Aunt Winnie shot Peter a warning glance before answering. “Would you like some coffee, dear?” she asked.

“Please,” I said, but did not relent. “What are you up to?”

Aunt Winnie opened her green eyes very wide in an attempt to appear innocent. She failed miserably. “Why, nothing at all,” she said in the chipper voice reserved for small children or the criminally insane. “You’re imagining things. You know how you are in the morning.” She poured coffee into a bright green mug that boldly proclaimed I VEGAS! and held it out to me. “Here, have some coffee.”

I looked at her and then at Peter, who seemed very interested in the floor.

“I’m not imagining things,” I muttered, before taking the coffee from her. I knew there was no use arguing. I would just have to brace myself for whatever it was that she was scheming. Besides, I thought as I sipped the hot coffee, Aunt Winnie looked tired. There were dark circles under her eyes and her cheeks were pale beneath her pink rouge. The stress and worry of the past few days were taking their toll on her.

“I was just going over my shopping list with Peter,” she continued smoothly. “I can’t thank you both enough for doing this for me.”

“Don’t be silly. Elizabeth and I are here to help,” said Peter. I suppressed an urge to throw my Vegas-loving mug at him. I wasn’t sure when he and I had become this big buddy team, but I found it irritating. The memory of our exchange over Daniel last night prompted another one—my encounter with Joan.

“I almost forgot,” I said. “Guess who I found prowling around the dining room last night?”

“Who?” said Aunt Winnie.

“Daniel?” said Peter.

My hand itched to launch my cup at his head, but I restrained myself.

“Joan Anderson,” I said, ignoring Peter.

“Really?” said Aunt Winnie. “What was she doing?”

“She said she’d been outside in the garden having a cigarette.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound too strange,” Peter said.

“She was sneaking around in the dark with a flashlight,” I added.

“Oh. Well, yes, that is a little strange,” he amended. “What do you think she was really doing?”

“I don’t know. She was upset about something. There’s more to it than she’s telling.”

“So you think she was lying about having a cigarette?” asked Aunt Winnie.

“I do,” I said. “I don’t know why, but I think there’s something she’s not telling us, or the police. Remember, she and Polly were outside together before the murder. They said they were looking at the snow, but as Detective Stewart pointed out, women generally don’t go outside in freezing weather wearing evening gowns.”

Aunt Winnie looked thoughtful. “I’ll see what I can find out from her today.”

“I’ll help,” I said.

“No,” she said firmly. “I need you to help Peter with the shopping. And speaking of which, you had better get ready, Elizabeth. Everything will be picked over unless you hurry.”

I looked down at my jeans and sweatshirt. “But I am ready,” I said.

Aunt Winnie cast a disparaging glance at my outfit. “You’re going into town, dear, not fishing. Trust me, you two are going to be scrutinized within an inch of your lives. We already have one black mark against us in that Gerald was murdered here. Let’s not add ‘slovenly appearance’ to our list of sins.” Her tone was light, but she wasn’t kidding about the message.

I felt my face flush and was about to tell her that I couldn’t care less what the locals thought of my appearance, when I caught sight of Peter’s face. Without another word, I turned and stormed out of the kitchen. I was so furious that I stalked by Daniel on the landing without so much as a hello. I thought I heard him call to me, but I kept walking. In my room, I angrily tore off my jeans and sweatshirt. But looking down at the ratty heap of clothes on the floor, I realized that Aunt Winnie was right. Peter and I would be the objects of study and gossip. How we looked, what we said, and what we did would be discussed. I owed it to Aunt Winnie to make as good an impression as possible. If the tide of public opinion turned against her, her business would assuredly fail.

After a quick shower, I pulled on cream-colored corduroy pants, a white oxford shirt, and a turquoise V-neck sweater—my one remaining decent outfit. If I was going to stay a few more days, I would either have to buy more clothes or do laundry. Buying more clothes won. I studied my reflection in the mirror and decided to pull my hair back into a loose French twist. I found my makeup bag and carefully applied powder, blush, eyeliner, mascara, and tinted lip gloss. Upon closer inspection, I decided to add a little concealer under my eyes and made a mental note to get tea bags and a cucumber at the store. While I assured myself that I was making this extra effort for Aunt Winnie’s sake, truth be told, I was remembering Peter’s smirk and his bland assumption last night that Daniel was only using me as a cover.

Surveying the result, I had to admit that I looked nice. No amount of makeup was going to turn me into a striking beauty, but at least I could hold my head up in town and, just as important, with Peter.

There was a knock at the door and Aunt Winnie stuck in her head. Turning her way, I struck a pose. “There. Will I disgrace you?”

She laughed. “You look very pretty. Thank you. I gave Peter the list and the money. It should cover everything.”

“Well, I’ll chip in some,” I said.

“Don’t be silly. Now get going. I think Peter is already downstairs.” I headed down the stairs. Daniel, still in the hall, gave a low whistle when he saw me and I felt my face grow warm.

“Hello, Daniel,” I said.

“Hello, yourself.” He smiled and walked toward me with a definite glint in his eye just as Peter rounded the corner.

“Elizabeth!” Peter called out, exasperated. “Are you ready yet? We need to get going!” He stopped short when he saw Daniel. “Oh,” he said briskly. “Morning, Daniel. I didn’t see you.” He turned back to me, suddenly all smiles. “We really should get going, Elizabeth.” His voice sounded peculiar, and with a jolt I realized he was trying to sound friendly.

“I am ready,” I said. “Let me just get my coat.”

“I’ve already got it.” Peter thrust it toward me. I started to take it from him when he suddenly changed his mind and tried to help me into it. A small wrestling match ensued as we both tried to put my coat on me.

“You two have a big day planned?” Daniel asked in an amused voice.

I opened my mouth to respond but Peter answered instead. “Oh, nothing too special. Just the usual.”

Before I could ask Peter what was “usual” about us going shopping, he pressed his hand firmly against the small of my back and propelled me toward the door. Feeling like I had been dropped in medias res into a play where I didn’t know my lines, let alone what the other actors were doing, I reluctantly allowed myself to be led away.

“See you later, Daniel,” I said.

“I’ll be here,” he answered.

“Good bye, Daniel,” Peter called over his shoulder. I glanced back. Daniel watched our exit, a puzzled