Jill Churchill - A Groom With a View

Before Jane could compose any reply, Eden jumped in. "But my dears, Livvy told me she wanted you two to be the guests of honor. You can't ask a guest of honor to do all the drudgery. Livvy wanted you to just sail in and thoroughly enjoy yourselves without having to fret over whether the flowers had arrived or the dresses fitted.”

Eden turned and winked at Jane, but Jane didn't need the wink to know that Eden was lying through her spectacular teeth.

“Well, there is that aspect," Aunt Marguerite said. "It's so like Livvy to want to spare us trouble. Such a dear girl. And she's marrying such a handsome man."

“Get your mind out the gutter," Iva snapped.

Marguerite glowered. "Just because I'm not a dried-up spinster like some I could name—"

“I could have had as good a husband as you did, dear," Iva came back, "if I'd been foolish enough to believe that fake English accent and—"

“Now, my dears, let's don't have any tiffs," Eden said. Jane was surprised to learn that Eden could speak quite loudly when the occasion demanded it.

“Let me show you to your rooms," Jane said. "Oh, we know where they are. Just up the stairs," Iva said.

“No, actually, those rooms are taken," Jane said, resisting the urge to wring her hands in despair.

“But we always stay in the big center room," Marguerite said.

“I had to put the seamstress in there so there would be room for her sewing," Jane explained.

“The seamstress is still sewing? Here?" Iva screeched. "Well, I can tell you if I'd been in charge, those dresses would have been done weeks ago. Still, we'll take one of the rooms next to it.”

Jane sighed. She wasn't a confrontational person, but she was going to have to make clear just who was in charge or these ladies were going to run over her. They'd obviously spent decades practicing the art on each other.

“That's quite impossible," Jane said, looking Iva straight in the eye. "Livvy's father will be in one of the rooms. He is, after all, the owner of the house and the man who's paying for the wedding, and the bride gets the other one. I'll show you where you're staying.”

They trailed along behind her, snipping at her and each other the whole way. When Jane returned to the main room, she found Shelley puttering around with a dust cloth. "I sent Eden up to the dressmaker. What a glamorous number she is," Shelley said. "You look frazzled."

“Wait until you meet the aunts," Jane said. "They're here already?"

“Apparently they got in a dispute about starting early enough tomorrow and the one with acar insisted they come today instead. They're terrors. Shelley, we're surrounded by a bleating flock of cranky old ladies."

“You'll cope. And if you can't, I'll read them the riot act."

“I already coped. I was very firm with them. I'm turning into you."

“Then why don't you look more cheerful?" Shelley flicked the dust cloth over an old Victrola.

“I had an interesting chat with Eden," Jane said. "This family, it seems, is much stranger than I thought. And Eden doesn't seem to think Livvy's in love with Dwayne. Shelley, I'm horrified that I might have done all this work and the bride's going to bolt at the last minute."

“Do you really think so?" Shelley asked.

Jane repeated the gist of the conversation she'd had with Eden. "So she's just marrying to please her father with a mob of grandsons."

“According to Eden," Shelley reminded her. "But she may not be right. Livvy might be madly, passionately in love and is just too boring and repressed to show it. And even if she's not wild about him, she's getting a good-looking husband, a father for potential kids, and he's marrying into a lot of money. Marriages have been made for worse reasons and thrived.”

Jane thought for a moment. "I never heard her say a warm word about Dwayne at our meetings. Of course, I never heard her express much of an opinion about anything. You're right. And it's not my problem. If she bolts, she bolts. Nobody can blame me. Though I'm sure the aunts will try to.”

Jane let Mr. Willis know that there would be two more for dinner, then she and Shelley went in search of the missing members of the party. They found Larkspur digging around in an area next to an old well. "Finding anything?" Jane called to him.

He spun around so quickly he nearly toppled right in. "What a fright you gave me!" he said guiltily. "Just digging up some scilla bulbs that were planted around the well. I haven't seen them bloom, of course, and they might be utter duds—" He was babbling.

“You don't happen to know where Uncle Joe hides out, do you?" Jane asked, cutting him off as he launched into a description of the various hues of scilla.

“I do happen," Larkspur said. "There's a dreadful little house through the woods right there." He pointed toward an overgrown path. "It looks like a duck blind that took on a life of its own. I saw him leaving it and, I blush to admit, took the littlest peek through the window. He's made it quite comfy."

“Let's go roust him out," Shelley said.

They started off, and Jane turned back for a second. "Will you be here for dinner, Larkspur? If so, you need to tell Mr. Willis."

“I may stay," he said. "It looks like rain and I don't want to drive back in the dark in a nastydownpour. Yes, I'll stay over tonight and run back to the shop in the morning."

“He was blushing," Shelley said when they got into the woods. "I wonder why."

“And how did he happen to come prepared to stay overnight?" Jane asked.

Shelley smiled. "He planned to stay, didn't he? I think he believes in this treasure story. Jane, did you see the size of the holes he'd dug around the well? Scillas are little bulbs that are just an inch or two under the surface. Larkspur was digging his way to China.”

Jane laughed. "Just what I was thinking. But why the well?"

“If you were going to bury a treasure, you'd need to put it where you could easily find it again. Near a landmark that's going to be there for a good long time."

“We need to ask Eden about this treasure story," Jane said. "She's a good source of information.”

Uncle Joe's hideout must have been a gamekeeper's cottage in a previous era. It was the lodge in miniature with the same well-weathered wooden clapboards, small windows, and a roof that had seen better days. Jane tapped on the door, waited a moment, then knocked more loudly. There was still no answer.

“Maybe he saw us coming," Shelley said.

“Do you suppose we could slip some sort of homing device on him?" Jane suggested as they started back to the lodge. "Or maybe put one of those invisible dog fences around the house and a collar on him?”

Shelley's reply was blotted out by a sudden, horrifying flash of lightning and a deafening blast of thunder.

They scurried like frightened rabbits and before they got safely inside, they were soaked with rain. By the time they'd changed clothes, there were a few shafts of sunshine and the rain was just a drizzle. Typical spring weather in the Midwest. Jane gazed out the tiny window of her little monk's cell room and could see the next lightning-flickering bank of black clouds coming in.

“It's going to be nasty," she called to Shelley, who was fluffing up her hair in the bathroom they shared.

“Good," Shelley answered. "It'll be fun. A big fire in that monster fireplace, the smell of kerosene lamps, Mr. Willis making cocoa in the kitchen, toasting marshmallows—"

“—singing camp songs?" Jane added. "Get a grip, Shelley. And keep in mind that if we lose power, Mrs. Crossthwait's sewing machine won't work and we'll have to pitch in and hand-sew in the dark.”

Five··

Mr. Willis prepared a superb "country" dinner a thick, rich beef stew with baby carrots, meat so tender it fell apart, and a broth so perfectly spiced it would have been delicious all by itself. There was also cornbread that Jane would swear for the rest of her life was the best she'd ever tasted. After baking it, Mr. Willis had cut squares, sliced them in half, slathered them with an herbed butter, and lightly broiled them. Mr. Willis wasn't afraid of cholesterol, it seemed.