Рита Браун - Hotspur

“I think Tedi knew.”

“In her heart—yes, I think she knew Nola was dead the night she went missing. But Edward could never give up.”

“Alice Ramy broke bad.”

“Wonder who’s going to tell her?”

Alice Ramy, the mother of Guy Ramy, turned bitter and disruptive after her son’s disappearance. Her only positive outlets seemed to be the prize chickens she bred and her gardens. But even these activities led to frustration. At least once a year her dahlias would be shredded when the prize chickens escaped into her gardens for a feast.

Shaker shifted nervously in his seat as they drove through the majestic wrought-iron gates, the serried spear-points gilded, of After All Farm’s main entrance. “Ben Sidell will tell Alice.”

“There are plenty of people who still believe Guy killed her and then disappeared. Some ass would come back from a vacation in Paris and declare, ‘Saw Guy Ramy on the Left Bank. He’s bald now.’ You know perfectly well they never saw a goddamned thing.” Sister’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. She, too, was nervous.

“Guy Ramy might have killed someone over Nola, but he would have never killed Nola,” Shaker said.

They peered out their windows through the streaming rain. Half the hunt club members were already there. A tightly knit community, the Jefferson Hunt Club supported one another instantly through every crisis—but felt free to gossip about one another with equal alacrity.

A red Mercedes S500 was parked closest to the front walk, trailed by a silver Jaguar, a 1987 Ford pickup, a hunter green Explorer, and a Tahoe. The number of trucks suggested people had walked away from their farm chores to hasten to the Bancrofts’. A Toyota Land Cruiser announced that Ralph Assumptio was there. He was a cousin on his mother’s side to Guy Ramy.

Sister had to park halfway down to the barns.

Shaker picked up the golf umbrella resting slant-ways across his feet. “You stay there. I’ll come ’round to your side.”

He opened the door and the rain slashed down.

When the arc of the red and yellow umbrella loomed outside, Sister opened her door and stepped down, ducking under cover.

She clutched Shaker’s strong forearm. “Well, let’s do what we can.”

A huge hanging glass lantern, supported by four heavy chains, cast diffuse light into the rainy evening. The white columns glistened as did the slate roof of this magnificent Palladian triumph.

The fan window above the oversized black door was handblown glass, as were all the paned windows.

After All, one of the great mansions of the early eighteenth century, had received many visitors in both joy and sorrow.

As they reached the front door, Walter Lungrun opened it before the harried butler could get to it. For a moment, with the light framing his face, Sister felt an odd sense of comfort—something akin to homecoming. She shook off the unexpected feeling, deciding that all her nerve endings were on red alert. Of course she was glad to see him. She’d known Walter, at a distance, since his childhood.

“Sister, thank God you’re here.” Walter bent down to kiss her cheek. “You, too, Shaker. Tedi and Edward are in the living room. Ken and Sybil, too.”

A servant hung their dripping raincoats in the coat closet. They heard Betty and Bobby come through the door as well as other people behind them.

Walter took Sister’s hand and led her to the living room, crowded with people. Shaker walked on her other side. People parted for Sister. They usually did.

Tedi sat perched on the edge of her Sheraton sofa, the cost of which alone could buy most Americans a lovely home. When she looked up to see one of her oldest friends and her master, she burst into tears again and stood up, throwing her arms around Sister. “Janie.”

Edward, whose eyes also were wet, stood up next to his wife and embraced Sister when Tedi relinquished her. Then Tedi hugged Shaker, and Edward shook his hand.

“Thank you for coming, Shaker.”

“Mr. Bancroft, I’m terribly sorry for the circumstances.” Shaker, always correct as a hunt servant, addressed Edward, a member, by his surname.

“Yes, yes.” Edward’s lip began to quiver and Shaker reached for his hand again, holding it in both of his.

“Janie, sit with us.” Tedi pulled her down on the sofa.

A servant in livery—the Bancrofts, wonderful though they were, had pretensions—offered refreshments on a tray. Perhaps they weren’t pretentious. It was the world into which both had been raised. This was part of life.

“You knew it was Nola.” Tedi wiped her eyes.

“The ring.” Sister draped her arm around Tedi’s thin shoulders.

“Edward went to see. I couldn’t go. I just couldn’t.” Tedi choked, then composed herself. “I don’t know how Edward did it.”

Sister looked up at the tall man, severely handsome with a full head of closely cropped white hair and a trim military mustache. He greeted guests and shepherded them away from Tedi so she could talk to Sister for a moment. “He’s a strong man.”

“Guess he had to be.” Tedi leaned into Sister. “You can’t run a business like his without people trying to tear you into little pieces.”

“Tedi, I don’t know if something like today’s discovery can bring good. But—maybe it can bring peace.”

Tedi shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know about peace, but I must find out what happened to my—baby.”

A chill touched Sister at the base of her neck just as a blazing bolt of lightning hit close to the house. Sparks flew, pink sparks widened into a halo of fireworks, and then the room went dark.

Ken Fawkes, the Bancrofts’ son-in-law, said, “Dad, it must have hit the transformer. I’ll crank up the generator.”

Ken had fallen into the habit of calling his father-in-law “Dad.”

The servants glided into the room, lighting candles, carrying hurricane lamps. Being plunged into darkness was not an uncommon experience in the country.

Sister wondered whether she should tell Tedi what she felt, felt so strongly that it was as if she’d been hit by that bolt of lightning. “Tedi, you will find out.”

Tedi turned to look directly into her friend’s warm eyes. “Yes, I think I will. I don’t think I’m going to like it.”

Sister kissed her friend again. “So many people want to see you, Tedi. I’ll come by tomorrow.”

“No, no, let me come to you. I want out of this place.”

“Good.” Tedi embraced her one more time, holding her tightly, then released her.

Sister nodded to people, shaking hands as she made her way over to Sybil, Nola’s older sister. Sybil, an attractive forty-six years old, was red-eyed from crying. The sisters had resembled each other, but in Nola, Sybil’s features had found perfection. Sybil’s jaw was a trifle too long, her eyes a light blue, whereas Nola’s were electric blue just like Tedi’s.

Scattered throughout the house were family photographs. If Nola had not been in those photographs your eye would have focused on Sybil, a pretty girl. But Nola was there and you couldn’t take your eyes off her.

On a few occasions, Sybil’s resentment of her sister would explode. Everyone understood, even Sybil’s own peers when they were children. It was damned hard to be outshone by your bratty little sister, and yet Sybil did love her. The two of them could fall into transports of giggles, pulling pranks, riding first flight in the hunt field. Both were good students, both were good with people, and both clung to each other as the children of the very rich often do once they discover they are very rich.

“Sister—” Sybil didn’t finish her sentence as the tears came.

Sister took her in her arms. “Be strong. Grab mane. Eyes up.” She told her the same thing she used to tell her when Sybil faced a big fence as a small child. And Sybil had been good to Ray Junior. Sister loved her for that. Sybil was a few years older than her son, yet always paid attention to him and rode with him. Both of them could ride like banshees.