matrimonial adventures. I came to convey my condolences to Jeanette.”
She picked up the small silver bell on the long library table and rang it. One of the maids, whom I suspected of eavesdropping, promptly entered with my wildflowers in a stoneware vase. I guessed they didn’t rate one of the castle’s many Mings.
“Show Miss Bentley to Miss Jeanette’s room, Rose, then come back immediately. That fire’s going out.”
I looked over at the fireplace, noting that the blaze was already so high it threatened to set an entire shelf of leather-bound first editions on fire. I decided that Aster Edwina simply didn’t want the maid to overhear whatever the grief-ridden Jeanette might blurt out. Like tyrants everywhere, she preferred to do the blurting.
In testimony to old stone’s acoustic properties, I could hear sobs before we were halfway up the staircase to Jeanette’s suite. The castle had twenty-two bedrooms, but now that the anti-Trust Gunns had found other living arrangements, many went unoccupied. Jeanette and Grayson had used the general exodus as an excuse to move into the Reynolds Suite, so-named for the portrait of the Duchess of Marlborough by Sir Joshua Reynolds hanging on one wall. The Duchess was dressed in white but sported a pink sash, and it was this sash which had inspired Jeanette’s clumsy attempt at decorating.
This evening the Duchess looked sickly in the dim light, but not half as sickly as Jeanette, who lay slumped on an upholstered pink chaise by the fireplace. Her pink peignoir, the exact shade of the Duchess’ sash, also matched the silk hangings on the canopied bed. Even the ice pack Jeanette pressed to her head had been covered in the same pink silk. But the half-empty bottle of Junipero Dry Gin that stood open on the floor next to the chaise wasn’t pink. Since I could see no glass anywhere, I could only surmise that the new widow was drinking straight from the bottle.
Without opening her eyes, she said, “Rose, I told you. No visitors.” Her voice sounded hoarse.
“Miss Aster Edwina told me to bring Miss Bentley up, Ma’am.”
Jeanette opened her eyes. They were so red they appeared to be bleeding. “Teddy? Is that really you?”
I leaned over the chaise and took her hand. “Please accept my condolences. I brought you flowers but Aster Edwina kept them downstairs.” Behind me, I heard the door close softly as the maid left the room. I could only hope that she followed Aster Edwina’s orders and went straight back to the library.
Jeanette grasped my hand tighter. “My darling is gone!”
To relieve the pressure, I sank to my knees. “Yes, I know. And I’m so sorry.” With her husband’s lack of height and too-generous stomach, he hadn’t exactly resembled Prince Charming, but she had loved him and that was the only thing that counted. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Sit with me and maybe Aster Edwina won’t come back in. She’s been…She’s been…” She trailed off and began to sob again.
Aster Edwina had probably been paying regular visits to her room, demanding that she buck up, pull herself together, keep a stiff upper lip, and all the rest of that insensitive claptrap. But my old friend had never been made of such stern material.
In many ways, she and Grayson reminded me of deep sea anglerfish. Upon finding a mate, the male gives his lady love a bite, attaching himself to her like a pilot fish to a shark. Unlike the pilot fish, the male anglerfish never lets go. Little by little he dissolves until his skin and internal organs fuse with the female’s and the male no longer exists as a separate entity. Technically a parasite, he has truly become one with his mate. After a while he dies, but the female, still connected to him, lives on.
As if Grayson was biologically attached to her, no one ever saw Jeanette without him. He took her shopping, he waited in the car while she visited friends, and at the castle dinners I had attended, he sat
She picked up the small silver bell on the long library table and rang it. One of the maids, whom I suspected of eavesdropping, promptly entered with my wildflowers in a stoneware vase. I guessed they didn’t rate one of the castle’s many Mings.
“Show Miss Bentley to Miss Jeanette’s room, Rose, then come back immediately. That fire’s going out.”
I looked over at the fireplace, noting that the blaze was already so high it threatened to set an entire shelf of leather-bound first editions on fire. I decided that Aster Edwina simply didn’t want the maid to overhear whatever the grief-ridden Jeanette might blurt out. Like tyrants everywhere, she preferred to do the blurting.
In testimony to old stone’s acoustic properties, I could hear sobs before we were halfway up the staircase to Jeanette’s suite. The castle had twenty-two bedrooms, but now that the anti-Trust Gunns had found other living arrangements, many went unoccupied. Jeanette and Grayson had used the general exodus as an excuse to move into the Reynolds Suite, so-named for the portrait of the Duchess of Marlborough by Sir Joshua Reynolds hanging on one wall. The Duchess was dressed in white but sported a pink sash, and it was this sash which had inspired Jeanette’s clumsy attempt at decorating.
This evening the Duchess looked sickly in the dim light, but not half as sickly as Jeanette, who lay slumped on an upholstered pink chaise by the fireplace. Her pink peignoir, the exact shade of the Duchess’ sash, also matched the silk hangings on the canopied bed. Even the ice pack Jeanette pressed to her head had been covered in the same pink silk. But the half-empty bottle of Junipero Dry Gin that stood open on the floor next to the chaise wasn’t pink. Since I could see no glass anywhere, I could only surmise that the new widow was drinking straight from the bottle.
Without opening her eyes, she said, “Rose, I told you. No visitors.” Her voice sounded hoarse.
“Miss Aster Edwina told me to bring Miss Bentley up, Ma’am.”
Jeanette opened her eyes. They were so red they appeared to be bleeding. “Teddy? Is that really you?”
I leaned over the chaise and took her hand. “Please accept my condolences. I brought you flowers but Aster Edwina kept them downstairs.” Behind me, I heard the door close softly as the maid left the room. I could only hope that she followed Aster Edwina’s orders and went straight back to the library.
Jeanette grasped my hand tighter. “My darling is gone!”
To relieve the pressure, I sank to my knees. “Yes, I know. And I’m so sorry.” With her husband’s lack of height and too-generous stomach, he hadn’t exactly resembled Prince Charming, but she had loved him and that was the only thing that counted. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Sit with me and maybe Aster Edwina won’t come back in. She’s been…She’s been…” She trailed off and began to sob again.
Aster Edwina had probably been paying regular visits to her room, demanding that she buck up, pull herself together, keep a stiff upper lip, and all the rest of that insensitive claptrap. But my old friend had never been made of such stern material.
In many ways, she and Grayson reminded me of deep sea anglerfish. Upon finding a mate, the male gives his lady love a bite, attaching himself to her like a pilot fish to a shark. Unlike the pilot fish, the male anglerfish never lets go. Little by little he dissolves until his skin and internal organs fuse with the female’s and the male no longer exists as a separate entity. Technically a parasite, he has truly become one with his mate. After a while he dies, but the female, still connected to him, lives on.
As if Grayson was biologically attached to her, no one ever saw Jeanette without him. He took her shopping, he waited in the car while she visited friends, and at the castle dinners I had attended, he sat
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