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It took Beatrice a moment to adjust to the dim lighting inside the house, which was even dimmer than the fading light outside. Hawkins had quickly walked away in the direction of a large living room. Actually, Beatrice supposed, it was more of an old-fashioned drawing room. It was long, right by the entrance, and didn’t look like the type of room that anyone would choose to relax in. It appeared to exist purely for entertaining. There was a grand piano at one end, a mural on the ceiling, expensive-looking vases on pedestals in the corners, and gold-leaf covered chairs and settees scattered throughout.
Beatrice turned to Caspian, who was wryly surveying her. He clutched a nearly-empty highball glass and wore a suit with a tightly-knotted tie. Despite his eighty years, he looked hale and hearty and loomed over everyone at his height, which must be over six and a half feet. His smile and eyes were cold. “What a lovely room,” Beatrice said.
He grunted. But then he extended his hand to her, “Good to see you, Beatrice.”
Beatrice shook his hand. “Thanks for inviting us.”
“You’re very lucky, marrying this fellow,” he said brusquely, no sense of humor evident in his declaration.
Beatrice said, “I’d agree with that.”
Wyatt said lightly, “I think the opposite is true. At any rate, we’re getting excited about the big day.”
Caspian drained the drink. Then he seemed to realize his guests were empty-handed. “You’ll want a drink,” he said decidedly. He glanced around. “Where’s that girl? Where’d she run off to?”
A wry voice from the corner of the room said, “If you’re referring to me, I’m here. Although, I’m hardly a girl.”
A middle-aged woman stood. She was attractive in a hard way and wore a good deal of eye makeup.
“Well, come on over and play hostess,” said Caspian.
The woman walked over to them and smiled at Wyatt. To Beatrice she reached out a hand and said, “You must be Beatrice. I’m Sadie Bryant, Caspian’s daughter.”
Before Beatrice could say that it was nice to meet her, she walked off to the drinks table. “Bourbon and coke? Vodka and tonic? Gin and tonic?” she called. She weaved almost imperceptibly on her high heels and Beatrice wondered if she’d already had a couple of beverages, herself.
Caspian gave a raspy chuckle. “I gather that Wyatt isn’t so fond of the hard stuff. Maybe a beer for Wyatt?”
“That would be perfect,” said Wyatt with a smile.
Beatrice said, “I’ll have a vodka tonic, please.”
Caspian shook his glass. “And I’ll have a refresher.”
A few minutes later, they were seated in a small conversation area of gilded chairs. Caspian’s social skills were either rusty or weren’t ever well-developed to begin with. His version of conversation was to interrogate Beatrice with a spate of questions about her background, her daughter, and her opinion on politics and other topics. The only thing he seemed interested in was Beatrice’s experience as an art museum curator in Atlanta.
Beatrice relaxed a bit in relief as Caspian quickly jumped into conversation with Wyatt, chuckling from time to time at his stories and jokes. Beatrice was impressed again by Wyatt’s ability to connect with anybody, anywhere. She definitely didn’t have that gift.
Beatrice decided to amuse herself by observing the other people in the room. Caspian’s son, Hawkins, was moodily staring at his father and his sister. From time to time he got up, left the room, and returned with a full glass. She supposed that he didn’t want his speedy refills observed and commented on by his father. But she suspected that Caspian didn’t miss much.
Hawkins’s drinking certainly wasn’t lost on his sister. She leveled a glare at him after his latest refill. “Really?” she asked him under her breath.
He ignored her.
Sadie said in a scolding voice, “Maybe your disposition would improve if you actually made an effort to share your life with someone. Like Wynona. Although she was too good for you.”
Hawkins took this opportunity to get up and leave the room again. Sadie stared broodingly at the floor. Beatrice shifted uncomfortably on the gilded armchair.
Wyatt’s and Caspian’s conversation wrapped up and then it really got quiet in the room. Sadie stood up swiftly. “I should check with the caterer and make sure dinner is ready.”
There was a knock at the front door and Beatrice jumped up with alacrity. “I’ll get it,” she said.
She opened the door to see her friend Meadow and Meadow’s husband, Ramsay there. “Thank heavens you’re here,” hissed Beatrice.
Meadow beamed at her through her red-framed glasses. “Good to see you, too!” Meadow had apparently decided not to take the occasion to dress more conventionally than she usually did. She wore a bright, multicolored skirt in loud oranges and reds and purples with a black top. Her long gray braid did have a festive purple bow at the bottom in acknowledgement that this was a celebration.
In usual Meadow fashion, she immediately walked in and drew attention to the atmosphere inside. “Hey, it’s too quiet in here. It’s time to celebrate, remember? Woo-hoo! Wyatt and Beatrice!”
Caspian Nelms was staring at Meadow as if she were an alien who’d landed at his house. He set his drink down and walked slowly forward to greet Meadow and Ramsay. Perhaps he was thinking that he couldn’t remember having invited her. As a matter of fact, Beatrice recalled, he likely hadn’t invited her. She seemed to remember that Meadow said that Sadie had extended the invitation. At least the dead silence and the strange hostility in the house was coming to a close. Meadow would call them out on it, otherwise.
Sadie, hearing Meadow’s voice, quickly reappeared. She looked genuinely pleased to see her. Even Hawkins stood up to greet them.
Meadow seemed too keyed up to sit down. “Sadie, didn’t you say that there were some old quilts here from generations ago? I’d love to see those.” Her eyes danced. “And see the rest of this gorgeous mansion.”
Ramsay rolled his eyes, although he was used to Meadow’s antics.
Sadie, who still seemed eager to get away from the tense atmosphere in the drawing room, said, “I can give you the grand tour. But first, let’s get you some drinks.”
“I’d like one more, as well,” said her father.
The next few minutes were spent with both Sadie and Hawkins going back and forth from the drinks table to the kitchen to help the caterer bring out the hors d’oeuvres. Beatrice spotted what looked like a pâté with apricots and a vegetable tart.
“It might be easier to eat when we come back from the tour,” said Sadie. She looked at her brother through narrowed eyes. “Hawkins, you can come with us.”
It was clearly not a suggestion, but a command. Hawkins reluctantly followed them. Caspian said, “I’m going to put my feet up for twenty-winks before the meal. Wake me when you’re ready for dinner.”
Sadie frowned. “But you’ll miss the hors d’oeuvres.”
Caspian was already heading away.
Sadie muttered, “He’s always slipping away for a nap. Sorry about that.” She gave them an apologetic look. “This probably wasn’t what you thought you were signing up for. Father has never been great at making conversation or giving parties. But he likes Wyatt so much that he thought he’d make an exception.”
Meadow said, “And who wouldn’t like Wyatt? He’s immensely likeable.”
“Don’t worry about your father,” said Beatrice. “Taking naps when you want to is a privilege of age.”
“Now show us the rest of this gorgeous house!” said Meadow.
Sadie looked at her watch. “All right. The other guests should be coming in around the time that we’re done.”
Meadow asked, “And where are Malcolm and Della?”
Hawkins said gloomily, “They’re hiding somewhere in the house.”
Sadie gave him an irritated look. “They’re not hiding. Malcolm is chronically late and Della arrived just minutes before Beatrice and Wyatt did. They should be out soon.” Her voice implied bad things would happen if they didn’t.
Sadie started walking down a hall lined with portraits of annoyed-looking ancestors in fancy dress.
Beatrice murmured to Wyatt, “Remind me who Malcolm and Della are?”
“Malcolm is Caspian’s younger son and Della is his girlfriend,” whispered Wyatt. “I believe Della lives here.”
“Hope they’re a bit livelier than everyone else here,” said Beatrice under her breath.
Sadie gave a good tour of the large home. There were sitting areas, a conservatory, a ballroom, a library, and many bedrooms. Each room was filled with dark-wood antiques, gilded furniture, grandfather clocks, and rather musty drapes. There were some beautiful old quilts along the way. Hawkins did manage to slip unobtrusively away during the tour, although Beatrice and Ramsay both noticed.
Sadie was pointing out a large portrait of a rather haughty-looking ancestor at the top of the marble staircase when Beatrice heard a noise downstairs. She glanced down to see the bearded Barkis downstairs, still holding hedge clippers. Beatrice gave him a half-hearted wave and he glowered back at her.
Sadie was nearly done with the tour when a handsome man of middle-age appeared. His elegant dress and ultra-groomed appearance reminded Beatrice of some of the older male movie stars. He gave an apologetic grin, showing off his perfect teeth. “Sorry to be late.” He reached forward to shake Beatrice’s hand with a firm grip. “I’m Malcolm Nelms. This is my girlfriend, Della.”
He motioned to a cute girl behind him with long brown hair, dimples, and a cheery smile. She bounced forward to shake their hands. “I’m Della.”
“I think we know everyone else, don’t we, Della?” Malcolm asked lightly.
Della beamed at them all. “We seem to! Hi, Wyatt! Hi, Meadow and Ramsay.”
Sadie said crisply, “Since you’re finally done getting ready, you can finish giving them the tour. I’m going to go check in with the kitchen and get ready to greet the other guests.” She glanced around. “And round up Hawkins,” she added through gritted teeth.
Malcolm said, “Let’s see. Looks like you haven’t seen the music room yet. We’ll head that way and then wrap up and head back to the drawing room. Where’s Father?” he asked. “Wasn’t up for the grand tour?”
“No, he’s taking a short nap before supper,” said Wyatt. “I think we might have worn him out a little.”
“Everything seems to wear him out these days,” said Malcolm. “At least he’s lying down. He’ll be in better humor for dinner that way.”
Della said gushingly to Beatrice, “Tell me all about your wedding plans!”
During the next ten minutes, they saw the music room, talked about the upcoming wedding (while Ramsay kept glancing at his watch), and finally walked back to the drawing room.
Hawkins was there, looking somewhat bleary-eyed. Beatrice suspected that he’d had another drink after he’d left the tour of the home. Sadie hadn’t returned from the kitchen yet. There was a knock at the front door and Malcolm opened it to greet more guests.
Soon the atmosphere in the house was much brighter, with the influx of ten or twelve more guests.
Beatrice sidled over to Ramsay. “You’re looking cheerier.”
“Well, it’s finally more of a party, isn’t it?” he said ruefully. “I’d been feeling very sorry for myself for not being at home reading a good book for the last thirty or forty-five minutes. No offence, Beatrice—I know it’s a party for you and Wyatt.”
“No, I’d agree,” she said. She frowned, glancing at her watch. “Don’t you think someone should be getting Caspian up? Surely he wants a few minutes to wake up before it’s time to eat.”
Ramsay made a face. “Having Caspian around will hardly improve the atmosphere. I don’t think he’s ever taken a liking to me. And he seems to break out in hives around Meadow.”
Beatrice glanced across the room. “Regardless, it looks as if someone is finally going to wake him up.”
Sadie indeed seemed to be squaring her shoulders in anticipation of the task as she left the room and headed toward the stairs. But it really was getting time to eat, despite all the heavy hors d’oeuvres. Beatrice was starting to get sleepy and was ready to have her dinner, say her thank yous, and turn in for the night.
A few minutes later, Sadie returned, face white. She glanced around the room until her gaze lit on Ramsay.
Beatrice reached across and laid a hand on Ramsay’s arm. “Sadie needs you,” she said quietly. She felt a cold shiver up her spine, although she didn’t really know what had happened.
Ramsay took one look at Sadie’s face and stood swiftly up, following her out of the drawing room while everyone continued their increasingly loud conversations.
Wyatt exchanged a look with Beatrice. “What do you think that’s about?” he murmured.
“Maybe Caspian has taken ill,” said Beatrice. But even as she said the words, she didn’t fully believe them.
Ramsay returned with Sadie a minute later. Looking swiftly around the room, he leaned over and murmured in the ears of Hawkins and Malcolm. They stood, looking serious, and Malcolm motioned Della to join him.
The next time Ramsay returned to the group, he was alone. He raised his voice to speak over the party chatter. “If I could have your attention? Unfortunately, there’s been a tragedy. I will brief everyone soon, but for now, I need you all to head out to the driveway. And I’ll need you to stay on the grounds until after I’ve spoken to each of you.”
The guests murmured to each other in concern as they filed out of the house. They saw the family huddled together, some distance away from the house. No one approached them.
Meadow said to Beatrice in an uneasy voice, “Caspian must be dead for Ramsay to ask us to leave the house.”
“Dead, or murdered?” asked Beatrice quietly. “Surely Ramsay wouldn’t behave this way over a natural death.”
Wyatt said, “Maybe he’s not sure and he’s trying to be as careful as possible.”
A good deal of time went by. Most of the guests were sitting in their cars with their air conditioning running. Meadow sat with Wyatt and Beatrice in their car. At one point, a state police car pulled up. Ramsay was walking around getting statements.
Meadow said, “This is going to go faster than it looks. Most of these folks hadn’t even arrived at the party by the time Caspian left to take his nap.”
Beatrice said, “I think you’re right. Ramsay’s heading this way now.”
Ramsay hopped into the back of the van.
Meadow demanded, “Ramsay, what on earth is going on? Did something happen to Caspian?”
“He’s dead,” said Ramsay quietly.