Tracy Kiely: Murder at Longbourn

“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 Rebecca when I heard a noise. It seemed to be coming from the dining room.

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.”

“Ah, yes. That would explain the worm-face remark.”

Averting my face to hide my blush, I saw the reason for Lady Catherine’s nocturnal visit to the dining room. My carefully laid out sideboard was trampled. The cereal canisters lay on their sides, their contents spread out every which way. A mass of pink flowers lay in a pool of water, their stems twisted and broken. I uttered a very unladylike oath. Daniel glanced at me in surprise. “Sorry,” I said, embarrassed. “By-product of four years at an all-girls boarding school.”

“Please, don’t apologize,” he said with a grin. “There’s something a little sexy about a fresh-faced girl with a filthy mouth.”

Unsure how to respond, I instead focused on cleaning up the mess. Daniel stayed and helped. Sometime during the process, Lady Catherine nonchalantly returned. With an incurious glance in our direction, she languidly settled herself in her bed. It was a large wicker basket filled with soft white pillows, embroidered with frolicking mice. Situated underneath the mahogany sideboard, it not only gave Lady Catherine an excellent vantage point of the room but also put her in close proximity to the food.

After we reset everything, Daniel walked me to the door of my room, almost as if it were the end of a date. I thanked him again. “It was my pleasure,” he said with an exaggerated bow.

Once inside my room, the sleep that had eluded me before now overtook me. I quickly changed into my pajamas and gratefully sank into the soft featherbed. As I leaned over to turn out the light, I saw that Aunt Winnie had hung a framed quote of Woody Allen’s over the nightstand: “The lion will lay down with the lamb, but the lamb won’t get much sleep.” Unbidden, Peter’s annoyed face swam before my eyes. The two of us were just not destined to get along, although for Aunt Winnie’s sake, I would try. Refusing to let my last thoughts before sleep center on Peter, I concentrated instead on Daniel. It certainly was nice of him to help me clean up the dining room, I thought sleepily. But just as I was drifting off, I realized Peter had come from upstairs when he heard me scream. So who had been in Aunt Winnie’s office? And why hadn’t whoever it was come, too?

The trouble with trouble is that it always starts out like fun.

— ANONYMOUS

I DO NOT function properly until I’ve had at least two cups of coffee, so the next morning was a bit of a blur. I got up early to help Aunt Winnie with the breakfast, which was a yeoman’s task, given that my bed was warm, the room was chilly, and I had a faint headache. Somehow I forced myself out of the bed, threw on some clothes, and headed downstairs. Hearing movement in the kitchen, and assuming it was Aunt Winnie, I pushed the heavy door open with a greeting that, while not exactly cheerful, was as close as I was going to get at this hour of the morning. To my surprise, it was Peter who stood before me. Whatever his greeting might have been, it caught in his throat at the sight of my feet. I followed his gaze. Brilliant. I was wearing my bunny slippers. I stuck my chin out, silently daring him to say something. “Late night?” he finally choked out.