Murder at Longbourn by Tracy Kiely Page A

her that I was going to Aunt Winnie’s, she probably thought that I had made the whole thing up and was now huddled on my bed in the fetal position gorging myself on Ben & Jerry’s. She was completely absurd. I hate Ben & Jerry’s.
    I deleted her message with an angry jab of a few buttons. I was debating calling her back when I heard the front door open. Voices floated in on a blast of cold air.
    “This is a horrible night to be out. Really, Jackie, I don’t know why I let you talk me into coming to this. I hate these things. They’re so tiresome.” It was a woman’s voice. She spoke in a crisp, autocratic tone.
    Next came Jackie’s voice, all breathy and excited. “Oh, don’t be that way, Linney. It’ll be lots of fun. You’ll see.”
    I exited the office. In the foyer stood Jackie and a woman I assumed was Linnet, mainly because I’d just overheard Jackie call her that. I’m clever that way. While the two women shared certain physical characteristics—they were both in their late seventies and of a similar height and build—they couldn’t have been more different in their manner or dress. Linnet wore an extravagant fur coat over an elegant cream suit of cashmere. Jackie wore a serviceable black coat over a plain black dress of thick wool. Linnet’s face was artfully, although heavily, made up. Jackie wore no makeup. Linnet’s silver upsweep was, upon closer inspection, actually a wig, but the effect was still regal. Jackie, once again, was almost hidden underneath an enormous hat. This one was black silk with a large white velvet peony pinned to the upturned brim.
    Jackie greeted me enthusiastically. “Hello, Elizabeth! We aren’t late, are we? The snow slowed us up. It’s really coming down now. Linnet was just saying how much she’s looking forward to tonight.” I ignored this little lie, as did Linnet. Jackie turned to her friend and continued, “Linnet, may I present Ms. Reynolds’s niece, Ms. Elizabeth Parker?”
    Linnet extended a perfectly manicured hand. “How do you do? Jackie’s told me so much about you.”
    This I did not doubt. “It’s very nice to meet you,” I said. “I understand that you’ve recently moved to the area.”
    “Yes,” replied Linnet. “I bought one of those cottages down by the beach.” I had seen the houses she was referring to on the drive in yesterday. To refer to them as cottages was like calling Versailles a house in the country.
    “Moving is always such a hassle,” she continued. “But, of course, having Jackie with me has been a tremendous help.”
    “Have you two been friends long?” I asked.
    Jackie opened her mouth to answer, but it was Linnet who spoke first. “Oh, my, yes. Jackie and I have known each other all our lives. We’re actually distant cousins. My grandmother and Jackie’s grandmother were second cousins or something like that. And we were roommates in college. We were inseparable back then. But after I got married, we lost touch.”
    “Linnet’s husband passed away last year,” said Jackie.
    “Oh,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
    Linnet waved her hand slightly. “Thank you. But he’s in a better place now,” she said matter-of-factly. “That’s actually how Jackie and I came to be reunited, as it were. When news of Marty’s death was posted in our alma mater’s newsletter, Jackie saw it and wrote me. Well, once we caught up with one another and compared notes on our lives, and I learned of Jackie’s situation, I insisted that she come and live with me.”
    Jackie ducked her head a little. “Linnet’s been very kind,” she said softly.
    Although Linnet waved her hand again, as if to dismiss Jackie’s words, I noticed that she was smiling slightly. I felt a pang of sympathy for Jackie. I had known Linnet all of two minutes, but she had already managed to make it clear that Jackie owed her current improved situation to Linnet’s own generosity. It struck me that while Linnet Westin might be generous to those in