The Widows Club

Speaking of whom, there was his better half, Aunt Lulu, dozing in the Queen Anne chair by the fire. I was tiptoeing over when she moved. Or, shall we say, when her hand did. It reached out, picked up a Sevres sweet dish, chocs and all, and disappeared into the little tote bag by her side. Her snores didn’t miss a beat. If Aunty didn’t wake up soon, there wouldn’t be a knickknack left in the room.

I wished Ben would get the buffet officially started. He was probably anguishing over some recalcitrant sprig of parsley. Rightly so, of course.

Over by the window, Freddy was with Jill. He was doing conjuring tricks with cheese balls. And must have dropped one earlier. A slither, a scurry, and there was Tobias pawdabbing a furry ball, which desperately sought escape in the direction of Mr. Charles Delacorte. No time to delay. Scooping up Tobias, I muffled his outraged meows by swathing him in my veil.

The grandfather clock said 4:35 P.M. as I reentered the hall. The crowd had thinned. A rumba pounded the air, and several couples were dancing. Heading out toward the centre of the floor was one of our twin suits of armor. This one was named Rufus. And would you believe it, the jolly dog was dancing-swirling and twirling, dipping and whirling in a brisk and spirited foxtrot. Old Rufus was not alone. He was clasped in the arms of Aunt Astrid. My kinswoman’s normally alabaster complexion was afire, her black hat with the spotted veiling was tilted over one eye.

“Don’t get your hopes up, she won’t stay like this.” Hands brushed my shoulders, and I whirled toward Ben, almost dislodging Tobias.

Having explained why I was with cat, I asked if the food was under control.

“Does night follow day? I tipped Sid out of his chair and set him to laying out doilies. And, Ellie”-Ben’s voice changed-“promise not to count calories today.”

“Of course, darling.” And it wasn’t a lie. I would count items instead. Losing weight is a misnomer; it always knows its way back.

“Shall we announce that the feasting may begin?” I asked.

“Jonas is going to come out and ring the gong. Meanwhile, you have to dispose of Tobias and something has to be done about Aunt Astrid before she compromises Rufus. Wonder where Vanessa is?”

Once upon a time, several months ago, those words from Ben’s lips would have made my blood freeze solid in my veins. Even before he came along, my feelings for my gorgeous cousin had been ones of uncomplicated jealousy. Now I was able to say with the confidence of a married woman, “Speak of the devil.”

Hands in the pockets of her fox jacket, the Titian-haired lovely was descending the last stair. Men parted like the Red Sea to let her through.

“Hello darlings.”

Vanessa, despite her puerile existence, is one of those rare specimens who look even better close up than at a distance. My hands constricted over Tobias as she touched back a tendril of hair with a gleaming nail, unfurled her eyelashes, and tiptoed up to kiss Ben on the mouth. His return of the kiss nicely indicated his married status.

She moistened her glistening lips and touched his sleeve. “When will the cookery book be out, darling? I can’t wait to buy it for my coffee table.”

Super! She had her hoof in her mouth. Ben had heard nothing from Brambleweed Press, the publisher to whom he had submitted his manuscript, and he claimed to have blotted out all thoughts of its acceptance or rejection. I didn’t believe him, judging from the way he chased after the postman like a hungry terrier each morning.

“My, my, Bentley! You are certainly haute cuisine!” Stepping back, Vanessa flicked her lashes sideways and downways at me. Tobias did nothing for my figure, there were snags in my veil and dirt rimmed the hem of my gown. Her laughter tinkled.

Ben started to speak, but I was ahead of him. “I know, Vanessa, I do look bedraggled. But then”-I reached out and stroked the collar of her fox jacket-“I’m not wearing the sort of apparel that meows a warning when it is time to come in out of the rain.”

“Anyone for a saucer of milk?” Ben’s voice was undisguisedly amused. Vanessa’s sherry-coloured eyes sizzled.

Flushed with success, I beamed. “So pleased you could come, Van; it seems ages since we’ve seen you on the cover of Vogue.”

Instinctively I stepped back. I had struck a nerve, but she did not slash out with her bright claws. After an intake of breath, her lips curved into a smile.

“Pax, Ellie. I truly am lost in admiration when I think of how you unloaded yourself of half-a-dozen chins-just kidding!” She tweaked my cheek. “And produced gorgeous Bentley out of a hat! Do you know, until today I always thought Chitterton Fells about as exciting as a bubble bath with no bubbles, but-” She broke off. Aunt Astrid and Rufus had just collided with Rowland.

Vanessa’s colour rose. “I’ve got to get Mummy out of here.”

This from the girl who would have cheerfully let her mother sink into the bog without stretching forth a finger for fear of breaking a manicured nail.

Something crashed in the drawing room. Voices were heard exclaiming. Freddy burst through the doorway snarling, “Sorry about the table but it was right in my path.” Whatever Ben and I started to say was drowned out by the booming of the gong.

A trembling silence ensued. Jonas’s voice cut through it like a hacksaw. “Ladies and gents. A buffet is served. We hope you all partake. And remember, next time most of you get privileged to enjoy Mr. Haskell’s cooking you’ll be paying restaurant prices.” You could have heard an eyelash fall.

At long last my husband and I were the focus of attention. Ben drew me into the centre of the room, cleared his throat to rid it of amusement, and embarked on a formal greeting. I clung to his arm, punctuating his remarks with wifely smiles.

“Handsome devil, isn’t he?” observed a female voice from under a flower-pot hat. “But then, they so often are. Most unfair, I always think.”

Clearly she meant other people’s husbands! How often I had thought the same! As the guests flooded toward the drawing room, Jill came out. Face tight as a fist, she headed up the stairs without looking back.

“Ben, I think I should go after Jill. If anyone asks where I am, tell them I have gone to hem up my dress.”

“Don’t be long, Ellie!” He sounded thrillingly like the heavy husband in Love’s Wild Embrace. People were looking at us. “You have certain wifely responsibilities.”

It was hard to tear myself away when his eyes turned that dark emerald and the muscles in his jaw tightened. But Jill and I had been friends for years.

I entered several bedrooms without finding Jill or Freddy. I did find Uncle Maurice and the Paisley Lady, but will not elaborate on that scene. The bathroom revealed a woman in purple silk, inspecting the medicine cabinet. She was saying to another female seated on the toilet lid, “I only came on the slim chance of brushing shoulders with one of our elusive celebrities. Oh, I knew it wouldn’t be Edwin Digby, and I don’t know anyone who has ever set eyes on Felicity Friend, but I did have hope for Dr. Bordeaux. He’s quite handsome, in an anguished sort of way. Never mind, I’m not sorry you persuaded me to come; this has been interesting in its own way. Don’t tell me it doesn’t mean something, his parents not being here…” A paralysing silence fell as their eyes met mine through the open doorway. Each lifted a hand to fiddle with the brooch on her lapel as I drew the door shut.

Jill was behind a third-floor bedroom door, standing on her head. The unnerving part was that her eyes were open. “Don’t gawk,” she snapped. “I’m meditating. Leave me alone.”

I sat down on the bed and sighed. “I guess Freddy proposed and you refused. Seeing his parents in action must have been a shock.” I petered out. If Jill really loved Freddy, Uncle Maurice’s peccadilloes and Aunt Lulu’s kleptomania shouldn’t matter.

“Freddy didn’t propose marriage. He wants us to live together. But Ellie, that’s so conventional. Personally, I find his parents inspiring. If they can stay married for thirty years, the institution must have something going for it. Now get out of here. Your happiness offends me.”

“Yes, Jill.”

I would search out Freddy and threaten to break his neck.

He had to be hiding under a bed; I couldn’t find him. I was about to go downstairs when I heard music. Mozart, being played on the harpsichord. I headed for the boxroom with quickened feet and a slight sense of shame; Freddy