by Glenna Mason
“I'd forgotten how truly magnificent your home is, Allie,” Elizabeth stated, her sense of the beautiful awakened. Elizabeth currently lived in the main house on the Longbourn estate, having exchanged residences with her parents, when they began their world campaign for the betterment of the plight of animals. The big house was much more convenient to the barns, a plus now that she was in charge of the daily routine at the breeding farm. The cottage, which had served her, Peter and Amelie well for five years, was in a more private and less accessible setting, resting peacefully in a far flung field at the rear of the property.
“Speaking of to die for, this entry hall is it! I love living in a hundred-plus-year-old house, but I have to admit that sometimes the charm of old—well, you know—isn't priceless. This place is palatial.” Elizabeth allowed her hand to brush the patina of the brilliantly maintained piano. “You play quite well, as I remember,” said Elizabeth.
“Yes, Lizzy, I admit I do. I planned to be a concert pianist when I studied at Julliard, but as you know, I married Will instead. I've never regretted the decision, not for one moment, and I still keep my hand in around town.”
She ran her hands up the keys of the piano, a ten second Chopin melody emerging. “I practice two or three hours a day. It is my passion.” Allie's head spun around the gorgeous entry, as she swept her hand around in emphasis. “And I must admit I like a new house for one reason, Lizzy. Less to do means more time to play.”
“I lean to singing myself,” Elizabeth said with a grin. “The off-key kind in the shower.” They both laughed. “But I love music of all kinds. Would you play for me before I leave?”
“Lizzy, I thought you'd never ask,” Allie responded with a hearty laugh. “Let's get our tea and have our chat, and then we'll come back out here.”
In the kitchen Allie had some iced tea with mint ready to pour and some homemade cranberry bread ready to slice.
“I know you are here about the horse theft,” Allie said, when they were seated, sipping tea. “Although I have stretched my mind and searched my memory in hopes of getting the ransom,” she continued, pausing for effect and then smiling, “I'm afraid I have little to add, Lizzy. Saturday morning when I took Argyll out for a walk at seven-thirty, I saw the Taylor boys across the way, pitching baseballs like they do so often. I waved. They waved back. Argyll and I were only out a few minutes. I wanted my coffee, I'm afraid.”
“Hmmm.”
“I am sorry, Lizzy. My only assistance is to narrow your time; the van did not go by between seven-thirty and seven-forty.
“Allie, that actually is a help. It all adds up.”
“Is it? Good!” Allie replied, leaning down to give the Scottie a bite of cranberry bread. “Are you ready for some music?”
“I am, truly.”
“Come on then.”
Elizabeth sat on the piano bench beside Allie and received an hour of musical heaven. Allie played Beethoven sonatas, Chopin nocturnes, and Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue, before she switched to an encore of show tunes.
Elizabeth, finally rising to leave in a state of wonder, said sincerely, “Allie, I do not know when I have enjoyed an hour so much.” She hugged her hostess and asked, “May I come again?”
“Lizzy, come every day, if you like. As I told you, I play two or three hours a day and love playing for someone.”
Feeling transported to another and better plane, Elizabeth headed the car toward the last two houses in Jackson Retreat.
Elizabeth didn't expect much luck at Mr. Jones' house, and as she had anticipated, she was welcomed with “Mr. Jones is at his office, Miss.” She decided to consult Jackson on the phone, before she interviewed his staff and barn personnel. One could not possibly be too careful with lawyers. “I'd better get his permission first,” she warned herself.
Then Elizabeth crossed the boulevard to the Chevalier establishment. Again she was not surprised to find that “The monsieur is not at home.” His butler said, “He will return to Kentucky this Saturday. Then Monsieur Chevalier will be in residence for several months. You may call back any time after Friday, Miss.”
In the end she decided to leave the Jones and Chevalier personnel to the police.
So now, humming the Moonlight Sonata, still in a state of awe that certain sounds could be put together with such incredible effect and that a mortal man could have the innate talent to put them together, Elizabeth headed back to her house for the more mundane task of planning tomorrow night's dinner party.
Nevertheless, it was with a slight excitement about the project that Elizabeth scaled the front steps two at a time and shouted down the hall, “Anybody home!” knowing full well that they all were. “Peter! Amelie! Nanny Lulu!”
Nanny Lulu had been a member of the Gardiner household since Francine Gardiner Bennet was a baby. And now at ninety-two, she was definitely its grand dame. Her actual nannying ended when Jane reached puberty and insisted in a flurry of tears that no other middle schooler had a nanny checking on her at school. Relieved that very day of official duties, Nanny Lulu had, nonetheless, continued through the years running everything and everybody.
For years Nanny Lulu occupied the maid's room, a small, but lovely, bedroom up the back kitchen stairs, which was conveniently situated one room away from the nursery. Sunshine poured into the bedroom most of the day from three sides of windows onto highly polished light pine floors. It was basically a very livable space, except for the narrow, steep staircase.
When Libby Bell arrived five years ago, Nanny Lulu announced that her knees were just too old to chase a baby. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, but the pronouncement set Francine to thinking. She concluded Nanny Lulu's knees were also too old to continue climbing those treacherous back stairs.
Hence she and Doc moved to their former master bedroom, upstairs, front left, and gave Nanny Lulu the first floor master suite, which they had added years ago to get away from the noise of their kids. Francine pooh-poohed Nanny Lulu's weak objections, claiming that now that the children were grown, she actually preferred the upstairs master, with the morning sun streaming its warm welcome, to the darker one on the backside of the house.
So Nanny Lulu moved down and now lived in the apartment sized addition, complete with sauna, which, as Francine always pointed out, was good for Nanny Lulu's knees.
Peter and Amelie had been fixtures in Elizabeth's life a much shorter time, but even so had worked for Elizabeth now for six years, first when she lived in the cottage and then later moving with her, when she switched houses with her mom and dad. Peter was not only Elizabeth’s butler, but also her secretary and general factotum. Peter organized Elizabeth’s life on a daily through annual basis. And Elizabeth imagined that if the solution of mysteries became a major pastime in her life, he would enter into that scheme of things with the same panache of that exhibited by Lord Peter Wimsey's butler, Bunter.
Peter originally trained with Sir William's staff and was consequently a full-fledged, efficient, schooled-in-everything, proper butler. It was while in the Lucas traveling entourage that Peter met his lovely French wife Amelie, herself trained as a lady's maid, who also just happened to be an excellent French chef.
When Elizabeth was hired at Eastern Kentucky University and set up housekeeping at the cottage, Sir William, always like an uncle to Elizabeth, asked if she would like the pair to join her nonexistent staff. Being a novice in everything domestic and logistical, Elizabeth gratefully accepted his generous offer.
Peter and Amelie now occupied Kitty and Mary’s former bedroom, a large and very pleasant bedroom in the middle of the upstairs on the front side of the nursery; the nursery had officially become Lydia’s bedroom when Kitty moved into the larger bedroom with Mary. Elizabeth converted the nursery into a sitting room for Peter and Amelie. They had their own private bath.
Sybil, who was in charge of cleaning, now occupied the actual maid's room and used the full bath located on the first floor next to the kitchen and a side porch.
> That left Elizabeth with her parent's aforementioned, so-called master bedroom on the front left and a beautiful guest room on the front right. As children, Elizabeth and Jane had shared the front right bedroom, a spacious, light-filled room with French doors to the veranda and a separate bath—that is until the master suite was built and Elizabeth had graduated to the front left bedroom, where she now once again resided.
A set of split stairs from the landing led up to the spacious hall, which opened onto the upstairs veranda and to the two front bedrooms. All the front rooms on both levels had doors which opened to the verandas. It was on this upstairs porch that Elizabeth hoped to host her dinner party, that is, if the warm weather held.
Elizabeth tossed her purse and keys on the entry hall table as Peter elegantly entered the hall. “Yes, Miss Elizabeth,” he answered. “We are all here.” Then the formality relaxed and a smile spread across his fine-tuned face.
“Peter,” Elizabeth began breathless, “I'm desperate! I have hundreds of guests coming tomorrow night—well, actually twelve-ish—it's so-o-o, well, uh, soon. And we,” Elizabeth paused, feeling guilty to be including Peter et al into her lack of foresight, “well, actually I, Peter, haven't done a thing.”
“Miss Elizabeth, as you well know,” Peter said very sedately, seeking to calm her escalating concern,” it will be fine.”
“It will, won't it, Peter? It's just that I feel so guilty, planning a last minute dinner party, when I know the brunt of it will fall on you and Amelie.”
“That, Miss Elizabeth,” he said in his inimitably even voice, “is what you pay us for.”
“Oh,” Elizabeth sighed, obviously a little relieved, “it is, isn't it? Thank you for taking that attitude, Peter.”
“Now, Miss Elizabeth, if I could just have a few of the particulars.”
“I'd say call up Maria and ask to borrow her cook Rosa and ask Rosa to bring her husband Jim to help you set up. And ask Maria to send a couple of her multitudinous staff to help Sybil clean and clear up. I do not want her quitting on me.”
“That is hardly likely, Miss Elizabeth. She lives here,” Peter said. “But, if you desire, I will contact Mrs. Webb and get some extra staff in.”
“I'm sure Maria has it all arranged anyway. She knows me,” Elizabeth guessed.
“And, Peter, let's have the party on the porches. Otherwise do the party as you want.”
“Yes, Miss.”
Still feeling a little guilty, Elizabeth continued to rattle on, “You know what Sir William likes; you know he expects everything to be perfect. Oh, and the liquor cabinet, be sure it's stocked.” She paused and then added, “I will do the flowers.”
Amelie entered the hall. “Oh, Amelie, here you are. Peter will need your expert help.” Smiling, she added, “Peter, you are a doll. Plan it out. We'll confer about final details tomorrow.”
“Yes, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Oh no, Peter, I totally forgot. Please call and invite the Andersons, the Taylors and Jackson Jones. Any that can come, please add to the current list of twelve. I'll ask Tish Pope.”
Elizabeth now knew that everything would be handled with perfection, because she basically had nothing to do with the menu or the preparations.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Elizabeth arrived at Jane's for lunch precisely at one, since she knew that Jane, who was sandwiching the lunch between patients, would not be home early herself. Gage and Maria pulled up behind Elizabeth, followed closely by Kitty. Jane skidded to a halt a minute later. They all entered the house together, where they were greeted by Charles.
With the family seated around Jane's kitchen table, Gage broke his news, but not until he had emphasized a caveat. “What I am about to tell you does not go beyond the six of us. No exceptions! The stakes are too high and the press too ubiquitous. The police are nixed. Sir William trusts each of you, or I would not be disclosing anything. He knows that you will respect his wishes, and he wants you apprised of what is going on. Agreed?” All nodded in the affirmative, completely transfixed.
“Sir William heard from the kidnappers this morning around ten. All of the owners have received the same demands; they have all sworn each other to absolute secrecy, which Sir William is breaking with my disclosure to you, but which we hope all the other owners will honor.
“The secrecy must be maintained until after the exchange and the owners are on their way home with the horses. The drop off location will not be known until the owner is en route Saturday morning. They are to leave their properties unnoticed. Instructions will be given by cell phones. The owners are to deliver the cash personally, alone and unarmed in unmarked horse vans. Sir William will deliver two million in unmarked bills. The main safety net for the kidnappers is the threat of future retaliation. The implication is that this is an organization of large proportions, and, if some are caught by virtue of an owner not following instructions, others will retaliate against said owner. The owner could likewise jeopardize the return of the other owners’ horses, depending on the timing.”
“Two million!”
“Sir William anticipated that amount. Not too much! Not too little! He and the others are satisfied. Their insurance will cover the bulk of it. Sir William has a much larger policy on his brood mare Alexis than on her foal, but both are substantially covered. Still he must come up with the full amount up front and by Saturday, as must all the others. One failure is failure for everyone.”
“Is it possible an owner will fail?” Elizabeth asked, worried now.
“It will not be allowed to happen,” Gage said.
“Now the key is that no one must get an inkling that the call has come in and certainly no idea of its contents. The consequences are just too dire; barns, stock, even homes are at risk. The owners take the threats exceedingly seriously. They do not want to live under attack for years into the future.
“Sir William will take a great deal of trouble to be sure he leaves unobserved. He is a brilliant man and so will doubtless succeed. So will the others, despite the hordes of reporters camped at their doors.
“Even though ten horse trailers will be traveling down the expressway, they will be entering the I-75 at different times and at different locations. Since all are required to be insignificant looking, they will not stand out and just be horse trailers in Kentucky in March.”
“And,” Maria interceded, “I am giving a surprise return home party for Daddy, Alexis and Junie at the barn. As soon as Daddy calls, I will invite the Pope Road neighbors to join us there and all the Stantonfield staff. I would appreciate it if you could just mark off Saturday afternoon and be there. The barn personnel are the most important, but I've no doubt I'll catch a few others too. Naturally I will have everything ready.”
“Naturally,” said Elizabeth, jealous of Maria's ability to organize such mammoth undertakings at a moment's notice.
“Lizzy and I will help with the food,” offered Jane, “since you cannot even alert your kitchen personnel.”
“Please remember that it is a surprise party.”
“Tomorrow night at Elizabeth's we must be especially careful,” warned Gage. “We are there to gather information, not to let anything slip.”
“We understand.”
“Sir William will receive a last call between eight and nine on Friday night to get any last minute instructions and to be sure he has the money.”
“That's it, folks. Let's eat!”
The Bennet siblings, Maria, Charles and Gage dug into country ham, beaten biscuits, cheese grits and green salad. Shortly Jane checked her watch and announced, “I have to go. I have a patient at two o'clock.”
They all grabbed a couple of homemade chocolate chip cookies on the way out. Back to work for everyone.
Elizabeth had an assignment for herself right after lunch. She had gotten no more forward by using her “little gray cell” technique in her Dupin “book closet,” so she had decided to resort back to Sherlock and the deer stalker/magnifying glass mode. She was g
oing to return to the scene of the crime, Clancey's Field Thirteen.
Elizabeth's plan was simple. She would scour the field from the Clancey rock in a broad swath to the gate and then in the lane toward Lancaster to be sure she and the overstretched police had not missed something—some small potentially incriminating clue. She would expand her search all the way to the stand of trees in the lane, which would be the likely spot of cover for an illicit horse van.
Thank goodness for Spring Break. With her detection agenda thrown in, her schedule was a tight one: be in the Field Thirteen by three, check out the Bennet property in her daily rounds by three-thirty, be at Tish Pope's drinking martinis per invitation by five, and arrive for Monday night dinner at Jane's by seven.
“Poor Jane,” Elizabeth commiserated. “If I had to serve guests two meals in one day, I'd expire.”
Plan firmly in gear, Elizabeth headed to change. At two-thirty Elizabeth rode out. Expanding her perimeter worked. Searching near the gate and the lane instead of in the middle of the field, Elizabeth found a cigarette butt thrown into a trench to the left of the gate just inside Sir William's Field Thirteen. Success. Who would loiter out here for a cigarette? A man stealing a horse. That’s who. She was about to head up the lane for an investigation of the stand of trees, when she noticed Clancey and O'Shaunesey in a lower field. Waving a greeting, she kicked Gypsy into high gear and headed in their direction.
“Sorry about the trespassing,” Elizabeth said, pulling Gypsy to a sharp halt next to Clancey, O'Shaunesey and their mounts. “I was looking for clues. I found a cigarette butt, which I am taking to the police.”
“Did you now, lass?” said O'Shaunesey.
“Give me five,” added Clancey, raising his right hand.
“It isn't much, but if they catch the ‘Bopper’ and have his DNA, this butt could place him definitively in the field. Otherwise I can just say I helped Sir William clear his land,” Elizabeth said with her biggest smile. She was truly glad to see Clancey back in Field Thirteen and protected to boot.