“You’d have to know the Ramseys to understand.” I slid the fluffy yellow omelet onto her plate. “Thank you, sweetie,” she said before continuing. “Gerald is a singularly unpleasant man. It makes it hard to believe that Lauren fell in love with him and not his money. But I suppose whenever a wealthy older man marries a beautiful and much younger woman, tongues are bound to wag.”
I sat down across from her. “But to suggest that she’d bring her lover to town under her husband’s nose is pretty outrageous.”
Aunt Winnie nodded. “Well, that’s Jackie for you. She is a horrible gossip, but there’s something endearing about her all the same. I met her down at the gym—we both take that senior fitness program, and she’s in amazing shape.” Aunt Winnie paused. “Somehow I get the impression that she hasn’t had a particularly happy life. Although truth be told, I really don’t know her all that well. They only moved here last month.”
“They?” I said through a mouthful.
“She and Linnet Westin. Apparently she’s an old school friend of Jackie’s. Jackie lives with her as a sort of companion.”
“What’s she like?”
“I’ve never met her, actually. I guess we’ll find out tomorrow night,” Aunt Winnie said. “Oh! I forgot to show you the invitations for the party.” She reached into a toile-lined basket on the countertop behind her, pulled out the invitation, and handed it to me. Printed on heavy white card stock, the invitation read:
“So, what do you think? Don’t you just love it?”
“It’s very nice,” I agreed before adding pointedly, “I got a Post-it.”
Aunt Winnie leaned forward and took back the invitation. “Yes, I know, dear. Remember, I’m the one who sent it. Now don’t pout. I ran out of the printed ones, except this one, of course. I wanted one for the memory books. So,” she continued as she leaned back in the wooden chair, “you haven’t told me what you think of the place.” She paused dramatically. “How do you like the house, Lizzy?”
I grinned. “I like it very much. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a house so happily situated.”
Aunt Winnie laughed. “God, you’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting to ask you that.”
“Glad to oblige. Seriously, though, it’s wonderful. I’m still amazed that you bought it.”
Aunt Winnie’s lips curled up in a self-satisfied smile. “Yes. And I suspect there are a few others who feel that way as well.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning this place was in the middle of a nasty bidding war when I first saw it. Actually, one of the bidders was Gerald Ramsey. Oh, he was fit to be tied when the owner sold it to me and not him. I heard he turned eight shades of purple when he found out. He’s been a real pain in the ass ever since.”
“How so?”
“Well, he is something of a bigwig around here, and as such he does wield a lot of influence. Unfortunately, one of his cronies—Ted Marshall—is on the zoning board. Lately Mr. Marshall has pushed through several new B and B requirements that seem designed solely to make my life miserable.”
“Such as?”
“Oh, things like septic tank upgrades, proper fencing, adequate parking facilities, random Board of Health inspections, you name it. I wouldn’t be surprised to see him out front measuring the length of the grass come summer.”
“Can’t you do anything to fight back?”
“Oh, don’t worry about me,” she said with a smile. “I’ve dealt with the likes of Gerald Ramsey before. I know what to do with him. I have a friend who writes for the local paper. He’d be more than happy to do a piece on town council corruption. But it’ll probably never even get to that. I’m sure Gerald will eventually move on to some other obsession. Right now his pride is hurt because he lost this place—and he’s not used to losing.”
“How did you manage to get the house, then?”
“As luck would have it, the woman who was selling it was a fan of Jane Austen as well. When I told her my plan to turn it into a B and B and name it the Inn at Longbourn, the dear woman’s eyes practically misted over. We became good friends. I invited her to the party tomorrow but she’s visiting her grandchildren in California and can’t make it. Now, enough about me. How are you doing?”
“The truth?” I asked, pushing my empty plate away from me. She nodded. “Well, I hate my job, my boyfriend turned out to be a two-timing creep, Kit calls me weekly to inform me that my chances of ever getting married are rapidly deteriorating, and George seems well on his way to becoming a permanent fixture in Mom’s life.”
George is my mother’s boyfriend. They started dating a few years after my father died, apparently during a fit of loneliness on my mom’s part. My mother is an English professor who I thought would be attracted to men capable of multisyllabic speech. With George she opted for brawn over brains. And while George is a nice enough fellow, he needs to be watered once a week.
“Well, then, this weekend is just what you need. And who knows? You just might find that Peter improves on closer acquaintance.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’d sooner call George a wit.”
Aunt Winnie laughed. “Oh, cheer up. I can’t fix George’s ignorance, or your job, or even Kit, for that matter. But I can show you a good time tomorrow night.” She yawned. “And, speaking of tomorrow, I really should get a head start on the muffins for breakfast.”
“You go to bed,” I said, clearing the dishes. “I can handle the muffins.” Aunt Winnie protested, but in the end I won out. After mixing the batter for the banana-nut muffins and setting out the blue-and-white breakfast dishes on the dining room sideboard, I was still wide awake. I shut off the lights in the dining room, made myself a mug of hot Earl Grey, and headed for the reading room. Just off the reception area, it was a cozy, comfortable room, decorated in varying shades of yellow and blue. There were several overstuffed club chairs, and the built-in bookshelves that ran along the far wall were filled to capacity. In the middle of the far wall was a large brick fireplace. I had just settled contentedly into one of the fireside chairs with a copy of
As I made my way there, I passed Aunt Winnie’s office. From behind its closed door I could hear movement. Peter, no doubt. The last thing I wanted to do was ask for his help, so I gamely continued on toward the dining room.
Peering into that room’s inky darkness, I couldn’t make anything out, but the noise was definitely coming from the back corner. “Hello?” I called out softly. No one answered, but the noise continued and was now moving in my direction. Goose bumps danced down my arms as the uneasy sensation of being watched overcame me. Spooked, I fumbled for the light switch, finding it just as something heavy hit my shoulder, briefly dug in, and launched off of me. The accompanying hissing sound gave me little doubt as to the identity of my attacker. But the combination of the sudden, blinding light and Lady Catherine’s crazed behavior left me disoriented. I took an unsteady step backward. The form I came into contact with this time, however, was definitely not feline and I screamed as a pair of arms came up around me.
“Whoa! I didn’t mean to frighten! Are you all right?” asked Daniel.
My legs felt like jelly and I leaned against him for support. “Sorry,” I said with a weak smile. “That damned cat scared me.”
I heard running footsteps on the staircase and a second later Peter stood in the doorway. When he saw me in Daniel’s arms, his dark brows lowered in an ominous line, transforming his original expression of concern into one of mild disgust. “Excuse me,” he said stiffly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
I opened my mouth to explain, but Daniel spoke first. “Quite all right. Sorry to disturb.” Peter shot me an annoyed look before disappearing back into the foyer. Daniel turned back to me. “What’s his problem?”
“Who knows,” I muttered, reluctantly detaching myself from his arms. “As you can see, Peter and I are not the best of friends.”
