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Posted on Monday, 2 April 2001
Elinor had been enjoying herself until dessert when Lucy deigned to address her thus, "La! My dear, your clothes are so quaint. It is not your fault of course, you have an excellent taste, but what else can be expected since you married with no attention to money? It really is sporting of you to stick to such a low budget. Since my dear brother Edward can't afford to buy you beautiful things, perhaps Robert and I shall get you something nice for Christmas. After all, we can certainly afford to lend a hand to our relations."
Elinor rolled her eyes. Edward caught this exchange during a lull in his conversation with his brother and turned. He smiled at Elinor and said, "I think my wife has an excellent taste as well Lucy, she is able to select such clothes as are becoming and appropriate for an occasion without being too gaudy or pretentious. No one looking at her would think that she was trying to overcompensate for feelings of inadequacy. This is especially fortunate for me, of course. Were she to dress like this all the time, her beauty would cause me to neglect my duties to a shocking degree. In combination with her sweetness and intelligence, it has already proven an overwhelming distraction. It's not depression that makes it so difficult to get out of bed in the morning." He looked at his wife with an expression on his face reminiscent of "the look". (Note: Don't act like you don't know which look I mean! ;-)
Lucy huffed and looked offended. Elinor barely kept herself from laughing out loud. While inclining Elinor to swoon, unfortunately Edward's speech was not enough to tame Lucy's tongue. It was sharpened by an emotion rather like jealousy. Robert never spoke of her (Lucy) that way! "How...delightful for you. Hopefully, Edward will begin to get over his grief and disappointment of the past few years," she whispered shrewishly in Elinor's direction.
Elinor knew she was referring to her (Lucy's) marriage to Robert, and Edward's supposedly 'broken' heart. She made no reply, but in trying to suppress her laughter, she was seized by a coughing fit.
"Of course," continued Lucy more loudly, "your whole family is rather unlucky in love. This is the first time I've seen your sister so happy for ages. I suppose she is still pining over the loss of that jerk John Willoughby with your mother and Margaret's encouragement. How uncouth." The fact that Lucy had purposely invited John and Sophia Willoughby to the party had not escaped anyone especially after the couple in question had greeted Fanny. It seemed odd that the person whose handwriting was on all the invitations should in a fit of surprise exclaim, "Who invited you?" but there you have it. Marianne couldn't care less of course, because Peter is dreamy, but she felt quite awkward about the way Willoughby kept glancing at her.
Elinor stood seething with rage. "I will not listen to this rubbish any more. You have some nerve. I have accepted your abuse so long as your cruelty has been directed at myself. However I will not sit idly by while you malign my sisters and my dear mother."
Lucy stood and faced her. "Well it is pity that you have such unfortunate relations. I am only telling the truth. There is nothing you can do about it."
Edward rose and came to Elinor's side to intervene but Elinor did not want any assistance. "Thank you Edward, but I am by no means finished with my malicious sister-in-law." She turned back to Lucy. "If you think I will allow you to get away with such behaviour, you are very much mistaken, but this is an important night for Robert and I will not cause a scene here," Elinor said suppressing the urge to slap the smug smile off of Lucy's face. "So for now I will conclude by saying that my relations, with the exception of yourself are people of intelligence and kindness, which is more than can be said for you." With this, Edward and Elinor turned to leave her, but Lucy confronted Elinor once more.
It had become patently obvious that Lucy was not going to be dissuaded from continuing this confrontation immediately. Luckily, before they had drawn too many stares, Elinor and Edward convinced her that Norland was a big place and they could easily pick up where they had left off in a room with fewer reporters. Once they had reached the third floor sitting room, which incidentally was almost as far from the ballroom as you could get within the house, Edward whispered to Elinor that he would go get Robert to calm Lucy down.
He hurried back to the party and frantically searched for his brother. Once he reached the ballroom he'd had to slow down dramatically to avoid suspicion. Finally he spotted Robert in a group with Fanny. He drew them aside and explained the situation. Robert asked Fanny to hold down the fort and left immediately with Edward. When they reached the third floor, they could hear their wives talking.
"Lucy, this is ridiculous. I am not trying to destroy your life. As for looking down on you, if you were reasonable you would admit that you are the one who's always looked down on me."
"Liar! You turned them all against me!"
"I did what? Who are you talking about? You're not making any sense. No one is against you. The whole ballroom downstairs is full of your friends. You need to calm down and take a deep breath Lucy. And you definitely need to stop shoving me."
"Are you gonna make me, Ellie? You deceitful, backstabbing, hypocritical..."
"That's enough with the name-calling Lucy. I haven't done..." Elinor's sentence was cut off by her scream and a crash. At that Robert and Edward started running. When the reached the end of the hall, Elinor was on her back trying to pry Lucy's hands from her throat.
Some of Robert's political colleagues had overheard Robert and Edward downstairs and followed at a discreet distance. What they saw when they arrived exceeded their barbaric expectations. George Wickham and his compatriots had taken it upon themselves to lay odds and collect bets. The odds were 2:1 in favour of Elinor, because while Lucy certainly had street smarts, catfighting talent and viciousness, they all agreed that Elinor's suppressed anger and wounded dignity would be tough to beat. As John Thorpe observed (astutely for the first time in his life), it's always the quiet ones. Let us not inquire as to why Henry Crawford saw fit to videotape the fight. In fact, let us not inquire as to why Henry Crawford had his camcorder handy in the first place. They crowded into the room and got quite rowdy since they were all jockeying for the best vantage point. That competition only got worse when signs started blocking the view. There were more signs than at a WWF event, except that instead of 'Austin 3:16', they curiously read 'Austen 3:16'. Among the many of life's mysteries, this event joined the ranks of the unsolved. It wove its way into the immutable folklore of the ages along with questions like, 'Is Elvis alive?' 'Was there a second gunman on the grassy knoll?' 'Why do the TV gurus allow Joan Rivers to critique other people's clothes?' No one ever discovered exactly where the Austen 3:16 signs came from or what they were trying to imply.
Because of the crowding, Rob and Edward were only able to make one attempt to separate Elinor and Lucy, which failed. They did however manage to make Lucy stop choking Elinor, so she could fight back. As Elinor struggled to get Lucy off of her, it occurred to her that defensive measures were not going to be enough. She tried to roll herself on top or pin Lucy's arms, but each time she did Lucy got angrier and countered. Then, inexplicably, Lucy started shrieking and got up. She was being hit with what seemed to be little golden beads. Harry had heard the commotion from the nursery directly below and come to his Aunt's rescue with the infamous slingshot gun.
Robert stopped Harry and went to calm Lucy and was fairly successful considering the circumstances but suddenly she broke free of his grasp and fell to the floor. "My beads! You little brat, it was you who ruined my beaded red dress," she screamed. Harry wisely ran back to the nursery.
"Lucy, sweetheart, I think you need to take a rest. You're not making any sense."
"Let go of me! Let go. I'm going to kill that runt."
Robert was at a total loss. She'd in a matter of moments switched the focus of her rage from Elinor to Harry. Lucy was struggling like a wild animal and if he let her go she might hurt someone. He looked around the room as if for inspiration. He saw Edward examining the bruises on Elinor's neck and noticed that the audience had not yet dispersed. He realized that Wickham and his clique, while loyal colleagues and party members might not be the best audience for whatever might follow. They knew too much already and the vast majority was already talking incessantly as if they had knocked back a few too many cocktails at the open bar. "Ed, you guys are spending the night too, right? Why don't you take Ellie to your room, I'm taking Lucy to ours."
"Rob, I'm fine," Elinor reassured him as she stood up. "It's just some bruises that I can cover with my scarf." She and Edward walked over to him.
"How are we going to keep them from saying anything? You taking her out of the room will prevent further damage, but they've already seen enough to sink your campaign if they talk." Edward looked around in concern. "They look like they've seen the bottom of a few too many glasses if you catch my drift."
"I'll talk to my manager and Fanny...I don't know what we'll do but first we have get Lucy...Lucy stop that, you're acting like a child."
"Rob, didn't she mention last week that her doctor had prescribed tranquilizers a couple of months ago that she wasn't taking?" inquired Elinor.
"Yes, I think they're in her vanity."
"Why don't the two of you go convince her to take them. Take her to Marianne and Peter's room, it's farther from the nursery. The kids do not need to hear this, Grace has already been having 'monster-under-the-bed' nightmares this week. I have an idea to handle this bunch." She looked out the window. "The party is almost over, I can see the valets bringing the cars around." Robert and Edward looked at her with uncertainty. "Trust me, just go."
After they'd left, Elinor locked the door behind them and pocketed the key. "Attention everyone! We are locked in this room. Would any of you care to venture a guess as to why?"
Several of the men stood in righteous indignation. At least one might assume that was their intention despite considerable swaying and staggering. Elinor tried not to laugh as she spoke. "None of you will mention a word of what you saw or heard just now, am I making myself clear?"
There were several shouts of protest and defiance.
"Allow me to clarify the terms of this verbal agreement. You will not mention anything about this alleged fight to the press, your families, girlfriends, acquaintances, etc. and in return, Edward, Robert, Lucy and I will not mention to these same people that you all were this drunk, that you saw this scuffle and did nothing to assist me or break it up short of cheering, and finally that you hindered Robert and Edward from doing so."
The room fell deathly silent. "It would certainly be a shame to spoil the campaign of your colleague. And almost as big a shame to ruin your own." She opened the door. "I'm not drunk and so I will remember you all. I suggest you remember that. As you all know I'm a lawyer and you better believe I'm not bluffing. You can return to the party if you like, but bear in mind that leaving this room indicates your agreement with these terms."
All of the men left the room grumbling and complaining. As Nancy (Anne if you prefer) might have said before she met Jay, "So what else is new?"
Posted on Tuesday, 10 April 2001
"Jay, if you would be so kind, could we borrow your lovely fiancée for a little while?"
"Elinor, what's going on? Why are you looking so pale? What's that mark on..."
Margaret clamped her hand over Nancy's mouth. "We'll tell you in a second, just come with us."
"Don't worry Jay, we're not leaving you alone. Nick and Peter will be here to distract, I mean entertain you," fumbled Marianne.
The three sisters rushed Nancy into the cloakroom. "I don't understand. How did you get that bruise on your arm? And why on Earth is Margaret acting like James Bond?"
"Dashwood..." Margaret tossed her hair. "Margaret Dashwood. I would have been wicked as a secret agent."
"Marianne, I thought you said the makeup hid the marks."
"I was so worried by the ones on your neck I didn't even think to check your arms. Where's the compact Mar?"
"Couldn't you just see me with weapons hidden in my garters?"
Nancy frowned. "You three are going to drive me stark raving crazy!"
Marianne grabbed Margaret's purse and found the compact. "These bruises and a bunch you can't see anymore on her neck and shoulders are courtesy of your sister."
"Who hopefully by now is heavily sedated thanks to Rob and Eddie," Nancy looked shocked so Margaret continued. "They got into an argument and Lucy went a bit overboard."
"Oh my goodness, I was worried about this ever since she knocked you over when we met you in front of those shops. She's just been getting angrier and angrier at you," Nancy cried.
"I wish you had warned me," said Elinor ruefully.
"She told me she had it under control. I've tried to help her. I encouraged her to talk with me, I suggested therapy but she just rejected that idea out of hand. I took her to Sam a few months ago to get her some pills to calm her down, but I looked in the bottle on Thursday. I don't think she's taken a single one. I'm so sorry Elinor; this is all my fault. Look what she's done to you!" exclaimed Nancy in distress.
"This is not your fault Nancy, we've all seen what has happened to Lucy. It seems you're the only one who tried anything besides hoping it would go away," Elinor reassured her. She gave a brief description of the event. "I'll be fine honey, the reason we're worrying you with this is because of the witnesses to the fight."
"I still don't see the problem, if they agreed to your ultimatum, then what are we going to do?" inquired Nancy.
Marianne nodded. "Exactly; I don't see why you and Mar are so worried about Henry Crawford. Why is he a risk more than any of the others? Wasn't he an old professor of yours Ellie?"
"Yes, and he was the coach of Mar's swim team at Barton until she graduated and took over."
"And while he was our coach..." began Margaret.
"...the pervert videotaped your team while they were dressing." finished Nancy.
"See Ellie, I told you she'd understand. What worries us is that if he had a camera small enough to fit in a crack in the wall, then he might have a pocket cam."
"He does, a digital one. I dumped him after I caught him using it while we were dating last year. If he taped the fight, it could be on the internet in an hour."
"Nancy, that's precisely what worries me. Margaret says she has a plan, but she needs your help." After Elinor had finished speaking, Margaret outlined her plan.
"I don't think so, I love you guys, but no way."
"Nancy, I feel the same way, but we have no other ideas. No one will know. Crawford is so drunk he can't even remember his name, Peter has Jay and Nick distracted and it'll just be him and the two of us," explained Margaret.
"Well what about Elinor and Marianne? And I don't want to lie to Jay!"
I don't want to lie to Nick either! Peter will tell them what we're doing after we get Crawford out of the room." Margaret smirked. "As for these two, their mission is even more precarious than ours. They have to tell Fanny that Lucy almost wreck her carefully planned party."
"I'm sold. In comparison dealing with Henry will be a walk in the park." Nancy took a deep breath to mentally prepare herself. "Margaret, how can you smile, how can you be enjoying this?"
"I've been waiting to get him back for that locker room stunt for two years." Margaret dragged Anne back into the ballroom pretending she couldn't hear Elinor and Marianne's pleas that she just stick to the plan. She stopped when Marianne reminded her of her 'prank moratorium'. "That only applies to the Ferrars Fun-Bunch and their extended family." With that they disappeared into the crowd.
"Elinor, I have a bad feeling about this."
"Marianne, the next time Mar has a plan, remind me to tell her to shut up."
"Margaret this was your plan, now take the jacket off. You must have known that his focus wouldn't be on our faces!"
"Sure it's one thing in theory, but I'm cold and this is embarrassing. I can't believe I let Marianne talk me into buying this dress."
"Well it's certainly coming in handy now. Uncross your arms! You don't look sexy and confidant standing like that."
"This is what I have to do for revenge, this is what I have to do for revenge, this is what I have to do for revenge...Nancy what are you doing to your dress?"
"The slit zips higher than I thought would be appropriate for a party at Norland. There, now remember, low voices, slow walking, tilt your head. And don't argue, I dated the depraved jerk, I know what's best.
"Here put these opera gloves on. The last thing we need to worry about are fingerprints." As Margaret put her own gloves on, she looked down at her dress and sighed.
"It's not as low cut as you think, look in the mirror," said Nancy soothingly as she pulled on the gloves.
"You're supposed to roll the gloves like this. Okay, let's go before I change my mind." As they opened the door they saw Elinor, Marianne, John and Mrs. Ferrars trying to calm Fanny back down. They walked over to Henry Crawford, who mercifully was not far from the door to the powder room where they had left the rest of their outfits. So close in fact that they had only to hook their arms in his and guide him into the other room. It was all so fast that his first protest didn't come until after the door had been shut.
"I've missed you Henry baby," said Nancy running one hand through his hair and sliding the other over his shoulder to pull his tuxedo jacket off.
"I thought you hated me," he slurred drunkenly.
"I could never hate you baby." Nancy ran her hands under his collar and bow tie. She stuck her hands in his pants pockets and then signaled to Margaret that the camera wasn't there. Margaret approached from behind to grab the jacket from the floor.
"You said you never wanted to see me again...Hey what's she doing here?"
"Don't you worry about that baby, she's just here to make sure no one interrupts us." She draped herself on him and turned him away from Margaret. "Ouch! Darling, you've stepped on my foot. Could you take off your shoes?" He complied, kicking them behind him. Margaret frantically searched the shoes and the jacket pockets. She struck gold on his inside left pocket and gave the signal.
Nancy shoved Henry off of her with such force that he landed on the floor. "Took you long enough Margaret. I'm going to have to bathe in acid after this!"
"Sorry, it's just that there's 183 pockets in this thing and I'm not used to working in gloves past my elbows. Does he have any others?"
"No, I checked. So what's phase two?"
"Ah it's simple, yet brilliant, and completely untraceable. Look at all of these files! How much do you want to bet that most of these are not of the future ex-Mrs. Crawford? In fact, our darling Henry, if I have anything to say about it, you will soon be out of a job. Oh man, you are a dead duck, that's Professor Rousseau's daughter Lisa he's making out with there. She's sixteen. There's Ellie and Lucy...Here's my swim team...hey Kylie didn't go blonde until last week...and I'm in a coaching uniform. This is Wednesday's practice. You lying dirtbag, you swore you removed all those cameras." She only got one kick in before Nancy restrained her.
"Mar, if you don't cool it someone will hear you. This can't be connected to us in any way, or someone might believe him if he remembers what we did."
"Fine, I suppose I can just get Mark Sutton to beat him up when this evidence anonymously finds it's way to the school paper and the scandal hits. You remember him don't you Henry? He's an awfully big guy and he's just been promoted to first-string defensive linebacker. I'm sure he won't be pleased when he sees this footage of Ashley in a towel. They just had their eight-month anniversary. In fact, I seem to recall that several of the girls date football players. And Penny's older brothers are awfully overprotective. I suppose I can content myself with that."
"I need a drink." Henry looked desperate.
"Here, enjoy while you can." He looked defiantly at Margaret who was holding a flask out to him.
"I don't think Margaret is exaggerating. Next week you might have to drink through a pipe in your throat."
"Spare me, I'm not drinking anything you witches give me."
Margaret rolled her eyes. "You idiot. That's the brandy I pulled out of your coat. I don't walk around carrying doctored drinks. Can't you see your own monogram on the flask?"
At this point his head was lolling around already but Henry took a big swig and swallowed. He couldn't keep his balance sitting so he dropped to one elbow. "What are you going to do with me?"
"Nothing. The way you're drinking, you won't be able to get back up off the floor. I dare say you'll pass out in a minute. After we fix ourselves up, we'll leave the door open and someone will find you. This camera is registered in your name according to this readme file. I'm just going to put the whole thing in this Ziploc bag and give it to Kylie. She won't be terribly impressed by this shot of her underwear so she'll be more than happy to say that the camera was left on her desk at the newspaper overnight."
"We had better ditch the opera gloves, where did you get them?"
"Fanny's closet. I'll dump them in the laundry chute." When Margaret finished speaking, they heard a soft thud. They turned and saw Henry lying on the floor. Margaret checked his pulse and confirmed that he was unconscious. The ladies fixed their makeup, adjusted their dresses and hair. Nancy reached for the door. "No, Nancy wait. Let me open the other door first. We're going out this way so no one will see us. When I say 'go', open that door and then run through this one...Go!"
Collapsing in laughter on the front stairs, the pair had to cover their mouths to keep quiet. Margaret was first to recover. "We'd better be seen talking to Nick, Peter and Jay before they find him."
"What are we going to do with the camera?"
"Lock it in my father's desk in the library, I already swiped the key."
Nancy got to her feet and followed Margaret. "Mar, haven't you forgotten something?" Margaret turned and looked at her quizzically. "Your jacket?"
"Oh forget that, I'm used to it now. Besides, hopefully this will distract Nick's questions until after the guests leave."
"Whatever you say, Agent Dashwood."
"Agent Steele." They saluted each other and went to finish their job.
With all the evidence hidden, Lucy suitably calmed and the witnesses effectively silenced, our friends breathed a collective sigh of relief. The other guests were none the wiser and many had already taken their leave. Margaret and Nancy managed to keep it down to soft giggling when Henry Crawford had had to be carried to his limousine after being found by his furious wife. All was as it should be. Now, as you might be aware, I'm a soap fan. Much of my knowledge of writing (plot-wise) has come from this source. As such, I feel it incumbent upon me to warn you that 'everything as it should be' is the soap opera kiss of death. Lasting happiness on soap operas is reserved only for the older or superfluous characters. To be young, attractive or important on a soap opera is to be continually beset with problems and complications.
Thus the news will not shock my fellow soap fans. At least not to the extent that John Dashwood was shocked when he looked in the cloakroom for his mother-in-law's wrap and found John Willoughby on the ground with a bullet wound in his forehead.
Posted on Monday, 23 April 2001
"What the devil happened here? And before you begin, mother-in-law dearest, I'd like to hear it from Mr. Dashwood." As John launched into the sorry of how he had found Willoughby, police Commander Thomas Palmer gestured to Mrs. Jennings that she too would have her turn to speak.
When he'd heard the account, Palmer ordered the perimeter of the ground surrounded. "No one leaves without making a statement. Henderson, get forensics started in the cloakroom once the coroner is done." After assigning other detectives to their duties, Palmer judged it best to speak to his mother-in-law first. Otherwise, she would be constantly underfoot during the investigation and valuable time would be lost. The likelihood of finding a killer was best within the first 48 hours and decreased exponentially after that.
"Thank goodness it's you Tom, you're such a comfort in situations like these."
Palmer tried not to snort. He tried to remember that his mother-in-law was crazy in a harmless sort of way. Thank goodness he had gotten Charlotte away from her when he had. Until they had started dating, she, like her mother, had had a very casual relationship with reality. She'd seen that there was life beyond gossip and begun to apply herself to her studies. Today she was a nurse. Charlotte hadn't changed completely of course. Coming home to her smiles and optimism was a breath of fresh air after days or nights spent trying to out-think criminals. It was even worth the lessons in tact.
He closed his eyes a brief moment remembering that he'd promised Charlotte he'd be patient with her mother. "Claire, I have to take a look at the cloak room and speak with the coroner and some witnesses. After that, you will be the first person I talk to." He looked at her expectantly. Was that patient?
"Alright dear, I'll just have a seat over there with Mrs. Dashwood." She patted his arm and went to the dining area where Mrs. Dashwood was sitting.
It worked! If it weren't for the gruesome task at hand, he would have jumped up and shouted hurrah. He thought about that for a second. Well if it weren't for the fact that everyone would think he was insane and the gruesome task at hand, he would have jumped up and shouted hurrah. He thought about that for a second. If it weren't for the fact that he never raised his voice and that everyone would think he was insane and the gruesome task at hand, he would have jumped up and shouted hurrah. He thought about that for a second. If it weren't for the fact that he spoke mainly in a sarcastic monotone...that was enough. "I'm turning into a Jennings," he muttered under his breath before continuing with his job. He found Sophia Willoughby and expressed his sympathy. Palmer explained the situation to her and her father, all the while marveling at the gall of the man for coming here. The police had been trying to prove Richard Grey and his syndicate's guilt of any number of crimes for more than twenty years. Only corruption could, in such a short time, produce the kind of cash that made his daughter's colossal trust fund look like a drop in the ocean.
He found the forensics team hard at work. He went and joined the officers who were questioning the almost five hundred party guests until half an hour later when Lieutenant Henderson waved him over. "This is going to be tough one Tom. These are just our initial findings, but I don't think there'll be too much more. First the coroner said death was caused by a single bullet wound to the forehead. It appears to have been from point-blank range. Almost instant death around 11:37p.m. It was angled slightly up, which lead her to believe that the killer was a good deal shorter than the victim. The bullet is lodged in the right frontal lobe, but as far as I can tell that's nothing to do with whether the perpetrator was right or left-handed, rather where the gun was placed. Judging be the size and shape of the entry wound, it's a small caliber bullet, probably a small handgun with a silencer. No prints, no fibres, and what's more no evidence of a struggle."
"Willoughby knew his killer. It sounds like a professional job."
"Are you thinking this is linked to Grey?"
"It's almost got to be. Everyone knows how fanatical Richard Grey is about revenge. No one else would touch his son-in-law, they'd be signing their own death warrant. You'll notice that when he came to take Mrs. Willoughby away, he made no threats, no ultimatums to us, nothing. Either he already knows who did it, or he did it himself. Willoughby was 5'9'', Grey is an entire head shorter, so that covers the angle."
"You think Grey shot his son-in-law? You're crazy. First of all, Willoughby was his right-hand man, heir to the throne so to speak."
"Maybe he crossed a line. Willoughby wasn't exactly a paragon where money was concerned."
"Granted, but Willoughby wasn't exactly strapped for cash anymore."
"Funny thing about that, he wasn't really strapped for cash to begin with, not by normal standards anyhow. Money wasn't a means to an end with him, it was an end in and of itself. Besides, money wasn't his only weakness and you'll agree that Grey isn't exactly a 'second-chances' kind of guy."
"Fine, but that doesn't explain why he would kill him. Our guy on the inside hasn't reported anything to indicate any discord. He has on the other hand said that Willoughby was leading a very complicated smuggling scheme. If that were true, why would Grey risk so much by eliminating him? Why not just have him beaten like he did to Willoughby's predecessor?"
"I'm not exactly convinced by Zimmer's reports. Did you read this month's? Once again, he answered every question but the ones he was assigned. Not a word about the gunrunners either. He's as crooked as a stick in water. I gave my copy to my secretary as material for her origami class. Anyway, beating Willoughby leaves Grey with the problem of Sophia. She wouldn't be pleased. He may give orders to the goons, but he takes orders from the princess."
"She'd object to bruises, but not to a hole in his head? You've lost it on this one Tom. Besides, I spoke with Mrs. Dashwood. She swears up and down that Grey wasn't invited and that the only reason the Willoughbys were here is because her sister-in-law was trying to be a pest."
"Yeah, Lucy always tries to rub it in to Marianne Brandon that Willoughby left her for the princess. It's not even really to hurt Marianne, she just wants to tick off her sister Elinor."
"Who, the lawyer?" Henderson looked thoroughly confused.
"Sure, I said she was trying to tick her off, not that it made any sense. At any rate, it most likely didn't work. Elinor and Marianne probably just laughed it off. Well, it worked a little. According to several of the witnesses the guys interviewed, Marianne had quite a job avoiding Willoughby and the princess was not impressed with him...that's it! Never ask me to think after I've been questioning hysterical witnesses, it turns my brain to noodles. Princess Sophia was jealous. She's always known that Willoughby was in it for the money." Palmer started flipping through his notebook. "Mrs. Keswick says she was spitting Marianne's name out like a bad taste. Vicky Devlin said quote, 'She was furious about the way Willoughby was looking at his ex-girlfriend.' I've got at least 11 more witnesses, men too, that say almost the same and the other guys have more." He scratched his head and turned some more pages. "Aha! Six witnesses that heard Sophia on her cell phone to her mother, complaining about her husband's behaviour. That's how Grey found out without being present."
"You've almost got me convinced, except for one minor detail. I'm the one who called her parents after confirming to her that he was dead. I heard the butler hand the phone to Grey. There are no witnesses who saw him here. Sophia says she told her husband she was ready to leave and he'd gone to get their coats around 11:30."
"It's only a twenty minute drive but you're right, without the gun or a witness it's only circumstantial."
"Motive, means, opportunity. It's still pretty much the closest we've ever gotten. Cheer up." Palmer raised an eyebrow at him. "Sorry, I forgot who I was dealing with."
The lieutenant went back to his work, leaving Palmer to stew over the dilemma. When he looked up he saw Mrs. Jennings' approaching him and remembered his promise to his mother-in-law. There was no point in telling her not to come into the crime scene, she wouldn't listen and they had already signaled that they were finished. She started her story almost before she was within hearing range. Palmer suppressed a sardonic smile when he remembered the bet he and Charlotte had jokingly made one time when her mother had been particularly loquacious. 'I bet a twenty that one day, my mother's meddling will solve one of your cases.' Mrs. Jennings had almost come to the point when Palmer started paying attention to her again. It was a talent he had perfected over the years; she spoke slightly faster when she was saying anything of relevance. "And such a shame too, because before waiter dropped the tray, I had taken one of the canapés and they were just delicious. In fact, it was Willoughby who recommended them to me just before Sophia led him away. Her father and his friends were outside wishing to speak to them about her mother's condition. She has angina and Sophia said they'd just taken her to the hospital after an attack. That poor family, imagine two tragedies like this at once."
"Just a moment Claire, Sophia Willoughby's father was here? Richard Grey was at this party while Willoughby was still alive?"
"Ever since 60 minutes did that exposé on his organization and how they skirt the law, he and his associates and their families haven't been exactly fashionable in polite society."
Palmer was almost tearing out his hair. "But you're sure he was here? You saw him?"
"No, not with my own eyes but Tom, is it very important? Sophia said her father and some others were outside waiting for them."
"Yes, it's incredibly important. We have no other way of linking him to the crime."
"You'll find something dear. You're so clever, if you suspect him, then I have no doubt that he's guilty."
He was touched by her faith in him. His lip twitched. Most of his acquaintances would not even have noticed, but after knowing him for twelve years, Mrs. Jennings knew a smile when she saw one. She smiled back brightly. "He is an awful man, but such a generous husband and father. He always gives Jean and Sophia new things whenever they ask. Not like James Alexander, the tightwad. Just look at this coat of Wendy's. Six years old if it's a day and in a frightful state, " she held the slightly worn sleeve out to him, "and he won't even consider letting the poor, sweet girl have a new one." She pushed the coat back into position and a gun with a silencer fell out of the coat's sleeve.
Palmer was at home playing Candyland with Charlotte and their son while waiting for the results of the forensics report on the gun. The phone rang and he grabbed for it.
Except for the gleam in his eye, he might have been reading aloud from the dictionary. "Well shut my mouth, matches on the bullet and Grey's prints. I owe you a twenty, Charlotte."
"I told you so," she smirked.
Posted on Wednesday, 9 May 2001
This article comes to you two weeks late as a result of a gag order issued by Justice William Baines, which has been lifted only today. We are now permitted to discuss the events of the evening but not the tragic death of John Willoughby. I predicted a conflict in March, but I never imagined the events of last night. Allow me to start by confessing that tension between the two young Mrs. Ferrars was the least apparent conflict of this evening. But I'm getting ahead of myself. The evening began well. The dinner was impeccable.
[Long list of prominent guests and then a minute discussion of the fashions, which if included, might have caused even Mrs. Jennings to lose interest.]
If I had not witnessed the disintegration of the evening from an elegant party to a drama worthy of cut-rate dinner theatre, I would never have believed it. But I will say this, for the first time in ten and a half years, I can truthfully make this statement. From what I could gather, neither Lucy Ferrars, nor Margaret Dashwood was responsible for the commotion. However, that is not to say that they were above speculation. Mrs. Robert Ferrars was conspicuously absent after dessert and Miss Dashwood appeared quite cozy with Nicholas Morton VI. Furthermore, she is wearing a ring on her third finger that looks suspiciously like the Morton heirloom engagement ring, which if you recall I in January disclosed had been replaced by another ring on Isabella Morton's finger. You heard it here first. While the happy couple did not wish to comment on their relationship, according to an insider, they have been engaged for more than a year.
As weddings are contagious, so would it seem are engagements. James Rushworth is now engaged to Anne Steele. Even I must admit that I did not see that coming. Unfortunately, the happy couple in this instance are equally unwilling to discuss the connection beyond the fact that they met on a blind date.
To the "Oh, how the mighty have fallen" file, we now must add Henry Crawford. He had to be carried from the ball after collapsing in a drunken stupor. While a college campus is normally a hotbed for gossip, I have never before viewed a college newspaper as a rival. However, in this case, I have been scooped. The Monday following the ball, a Miss Kylie Lasseter reported in the Barton University Campuslink that Crawford had been taking undue advantage of his position as a senior member of the kinesiology department to ogle, and in some cases to make advances towards a great many of the female students and the 16-year-old daughter of one of his colleagues. This accusation was made on the basis of the files found in a digital camera and an incriminating typewritten note, which mysteriously appeared on Miss Lasseter's desk before she arrived at the newspaper office Sunday morning. This camera was proven to be the property of Mr. Crawford. We cannot confirm the names of any of the victims to protect their privacy, but according to the police, Mr. Crawford was in the habit of concealing cameras in various locker rooms in the girls' gym and in his office. He has since lost his position at the university, Mrs. Crawford has filed for divorce, and criminal charges are pending.
"Please stop! No more, I can't take it," Margaret begged, "my sides are killing me!"
"So then stop laughing Mar-Mar!"
"You are so lucky that I can't reach through this phone and hit you for that Eddie! What does the rest of it say?"
"I thought you wanted me to stop reading," he said mockingly.
"I just got out of biochem, don't make me get up and buy a paper!" She listened as he read the remainder of the article. When he finished, she started laughing out loud even harder than before. "How does he get more pompous with every article? You'd think there would be some kind of upper snootiness-limit imposed by law," she choked out.
"Elinor says that if I cause you to have a seizure, she's never going to bake me cookies again."
"Tell Elinor that you like my cookies better!"
"I wasn't aware you baked cookies Mar-Mar."
"Liar, what about those oatmeal cookies I brought you at Christmas?"
"I don't remember any cookies. All I can think of was that box of hockey pucks you gave me that I donated to the community center. The kids thank you."
"You low-down, wretched, scum-sucking, bottom-feeding, trash-talking, mean, awful, horrible man! I worked so hard to bake you those cookies. It took hours and I got flour in my hair and butter on the cabinet doors and wrecked my nails and Nick asked if it was snowing in the kitchen and..." Margaret dissolved into tears.
Edward frantically turned to his wife. "Ellie, take the phone, I think I made her cry."
Elinor rolled her eyes and whispered, "I knew it would come to this, I just thought she'd get to you first." She took the phone and heard Margaret wailing. "Honey, he's just teasing you. You know he's been raving about those cookies for months." She suddenly went silent and all Edward could hear was a very high-pitched whining noise coming through the phone. Elinor gave him a scathing look. "I know sweetie, you're under a lot of pressure and you don't need people undermining your capabilities...That's right, you give 100% to everything you try...Of course no one expects you to be Mrs. Fields...or Martha Stewart...or the perfect society girl...you have other more important things to do...of course Nick isn't going to be disappointed in you...he loves you for yourself, not because he thinks you'll...no, you're not being overly emotional...you don't have to apologize, however if Edward know on which side his bread is buttered he's certainly got a fulsome and abject apology to make to you."
She sternly handed the phone back to him. Margaret was hiccupping and sounded as though she had just stopped crying. "Mar, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it. I thought we were just joking around as usual and it never occurred to me that what I said would hurt your feelings. I mean normally you're such a good sport about this sort of thing...not that I'm implying that it's your fault... I know that you have a lot on your plate right now and if I came across as anything less than completely supportive, I am truly sorry." Edward turned his head to see why Elinor had fallen against him. She was gasping for breath from laughing. "Why do I get the feeling I've been had?"
"Sucker. Don't mess with me, Eddie. You'll never win."
"That was horrible! How could you? You know how terrible I feel when I hear a woman cry!"
"Yada yada, Eddie, we could run this circle all day."
"You're right, I concede defeat. But I'll be taking my revenge on your sister." He raised his eyebrows suggestively at Elinor.
"Is her virtue in serious danger Eddie? She'll have to stop laughing at you first."
Posted on Monday, 9 July 2001
If you want to hear what Judge Judy sounds like, go to this site:
http://www.judgejudy.com/judyspeak/judyspeak.asp
"All parties on Ferrars vs. Ferrars please step forward."
Announcer: Lucy Ferrars is suing her sister-in-law, Elinor Ferrars for medical bills incurred from an assault, malicious slander and emotional distress. Elinor claims that it's all in Lucy's head.
Judge Judy entered the courtroom and Byrd the bailiff spoke. "Hello your honour, this is case number 4354257 on the docket in the matter of Ferrars vs. Ferrars. All parties have been sworn in, you may be seated."
"Alright Ladies, I've read all the papers. Quite frankly, I think this is a huge mess." The Judge was about to continue when Lucy felt compelled to throw her two cents in.
"It's all her fault your honour, it all started..."
"Don't interrupt me madam! I had the patience to read through the mountain of paper that you gave me. You can certainly wait to speak until I ask you a question."
"I'm sorry your honour." Elinor turned and looked at Lucy in shock. Since when had she apologized for anything?
"Now, since you seem to have such trouble expressing yourself briefly you will only answer direct questions. First, your sister-in-law's answer alleges that your accusations are based on fiction. Describe the incident for me."
"It was a fundraising ball for my husband's political campaign. I was having a lovely time in light of the fact that my dress was so clearly superior to everyone else's. It was bright green and had ruffles on the..."
"I'm not interested in that. You're trying my patience Madam."
Lucy seemed shocked at the concept that someone might not consider the fashions of the evening as supremely important. "Well I was mingling and had just run into Mrs. Wesley..."
"I don't care! Madam, if you don't follow instructions I will dismiss your case! Don't waste my time. I want you to describe the incident. Not the dresses, not the other guests, only your confrontation with your sister-in-law." Judge Judy's voice had gone from its usual level of bare tolerance to shrill.
"All of a sudden Elinor approached me and tried to pick a fight. She kept insulting me. I tried to ignore her, but she was starting to cause a scene. I didn't want Robert's big night to be ruined, so I suggested that we take the argument away from the other guests. I took her to the upstairs parlour and tried to reason with her. She just got angrier and started to slap and push me. The wounds I received as a result caused me great anguish, plus I had to stay in bed for several days so I couldn't run my household or look after my kids. I have pictures of my wounds."
The Judge breathed a sigh of relief. "Was that so difficult? Let me give you some advice. More people will listen to you if you get to the point quickly. Now, were there any witnesses to the altercation?"
"Only my husband Robert and his brother, Edward."
"Are they here as witnesses?"
"No, your honour, they were unable to attend."
At this point Elinor couldn't allow the lies to continue. "Pardon the interruption, but Edward is here as my witness, your honour."
Judy rolled her eyes. "Thank you Mrs. Ferrars. Byrd, why am I not surprised?"
Byrd smiled. "Because you're smart."
"That's right! And you," she said, pointing at Lucy, "Would do well to remember that! Don't lie to me. They don't keep me here because I'm beautiful. Frankly madam, I was suspicious well before you told that whopper. You see the description of events you gave dovetailed very closely with the pretrial papers I read. (Lucy looks smug). But not yours, hers. Your papers said no such thing. You babbled for more than twenty pages about her animosity towards you and her so-called attempts to ruin your life. Why do you think that is?"
Lucy relaxed, thinking that they had finally gotten to the point where she could expose Elinor's supposed plot against her. "She can't live with the fact that Edward loves me and only married her because I left him." Her dramatic moment was spoiled by the riotous laughter from Elinor's witnesses.
"That wasn't the question. I warned you! Try that again and I'll throw this case out! My question was this. Why are you testifying to a version of events that was not discussed in your pretrial papers? Don't answer, it was a rhetorical question. Now be quiet. Don't say another word unless I ask you a direct question." She turned and spoke much more softly. For her, that is. "Mrs. Ferrars, the defendant. In your papers, you suggest that her accusations of aggression, verbal or otherwise, are unfounded. You've described the situation as mutual dislike stemming from certain events that took place because your husband was engaged to her at some point."
Elinor nodded in agreement. "Yes, that's a fair statement."
"And you deny all the things she's accused you of?"
Elinor stood tall and confidently said, "Yes, ma'am. I stand behind my pretrial statement."
"Very well, then I'll hear your witnesses now."
"My first witness is my husband Edward."
"Step up. Tell me what you witnessed in regard to this fight."
Edward looked incredibly nervous as he moved to stand by Elinor. "R-R-Robert and I,"
"That's your brother and the plaintiff's husband?"
"Y-Y-Yes. I h-h-had left L-Lucy and Elinor upstairs to f-f-find Robert so he c-c-could calm Lucy down.
"So she was very agitated. Is that common?"
"V-V-very common. A-A-As I was saying, when Robert and I g-g-got up the stairs L-L-Lucy was y-y-yelling that Elinor was d-d-d-deliberately t-t-trying to destroy her. E-E-Elinor was trying t-t-to be reasonable and w-w-was asking Lucy to s-s-stop p-p-pushing her. T-T-there was a loud c-c-crash and w-w-we got worried so w-w-we ran. When we g-g-got there, L-L-Lucy was sitting on t-t-top of Elinor and h-h-had her hands wrapped around Elinor's th-throat. W-w-we tried to b-b-break it up, but b-b-by then some guys who'd f-f-followed us were in t-t-the way."
"How was the fight stopped?"
"Our n-n-nephew H-H-Harry shot Lucy w-w-with a toy gun."
"Alright, sit down please. Mrs. Ferrars, your response mentions that your injuries were far worse than hers. Can you prove this?"
"I have pictures of my injuries, which you could compare with her pictures."
"Good. Byrd, collect the pictures from both the plaintiff and defendant."
"Your honour, my point in showing you these pictures is that although my injuries were limited to scratches and bruises on my neck, shoulders and arms, I was injured to a greater extent than Lucy. Leaving aside the fact that I contend she instigated the fight and thus she should be responsible for at least half the damages. I saw my doctor once only at the insistence of my sisters and he said my injuries were nothing to worry about. Since her injuries were even more minor, I don't see how she could have incurred any losses."
"Well Mrs. Ferrars?" Judge Judy asked with a pointed look at Lucy, "What do you have to say about that? Looking at these photographs I see that she is corr..."
"Those photographs are doctored Judge! I have this photograph cut from our newspaper's coverage of the party. It was right at the end as you can see from the state of the tables. She had no injuries at all."
"Your honour, my photographs were taken by my sister Margaret, who is present, before she and our sister Marianne helped me cover the marks with makeup. We didn't wish to draw attention to the fact that there had been a fight."
"Liar! You try to twist everything."
"Listen to me Mrs. Ferrars. This is your last warning. No more outbursts! If you have anything to say, you will direct your remarks to me. Now, Mrs. Ferrars, I will hear from your sister who took these photographs."
Margaret stood and took her place next to Elinor. "Dashwood, Margaret Dashwood. I was sipping a martini with Marianne when we saw Elinor signaling to us to come over. She'd just descended the stairs and when we reached her she told us what had happened. We went into the library and I took the pictures. I think we handled it quite well. Lucy's been irrational for a while, and this was really not too much worse than what we expected."
Lucy jumped in again. "Your honour, I don't want to interrupt, but she's lying. Lots of people know me and would vouch that I'm perfectly lucid. I'm a favourite of John and Mary Middleton."
"Nice try Mrs. Ferrars, but I know them. They'd like anyone who kept them from spending anytime alone, madam. Before you continue Miss Dashwood, just to allay any suspicions, did you tamper with these photographs?"
"Absolutely not. Those are the original Polaroids, just as I took them." The judge motioned for her to continue. "We covered up what we could and then set into hushing up the rumours of the fight. We got Lucy's sister Anne Steele to help us." Margaret pointed Nancy out.
"Thank you Miss Dashwood. Be seated. I'd like hear from Miss Steele now. Step up." Once Nancy had replaced Margaret, Judge Judy proceeded. "You are the plaintiff's sister?"
"Yes, ma'am. Lucy has resented Elinor for years. She blames her for anything that goes wrong even when logic dictates that Elinor is in no way to blame. Lucy has gotten increasingly vehement about her anger towards Elinor. I tried to convince her to get help but she refused."
"Thank you, that's all. Mrs. Ferrars, the defense has a very convincing case. Your sister-in-law has witnesses to substantiate her claims and evidence, but what's more, common sense suggests that she's telling the truth. Look at these pictures. Byrd, show her the photos. You can barely see any marks on you at all. Those that are visible are clearly defense wounds."
"It's just the lights! Or she doctored my pictures!"
"You're full of bologna, Madam! Your case is dismissed." She banged the gavel.
Elinor opened her eyes and sat bolt upright in bed. She looked panicked. Edward slowly stirred beside her. "What's wrong hon?"
"I had a bad dream."
He sat up, turned on a lamp and put his arms around her. "This must have been some dream, you're trembling. Do you want to tell me about it?"
"Okay." Elinor took a deep breath. "I dreamt that Lucy sued me over the fight. She accused me of all the usual stuff. But everything was weird. You'd started stuttering again and Margaret was acting like James Bond."
"Don't worry, it was just your imagination. I'm used to how beautiful you are now, so the stuttering is gone for good."
Elinor laughed but still looked distressed. "But don't you see Edward, I can't even escape from her in my subconscious. She's messing with my dreams now."
"How did the lawsuit turn out?"
"We won."
"So how is that a 'messed-up' dream? While I shudder to think of Mar-Mar's Bond voice and my stuttering, it sounds like everything worked out."
"It was Judge Judy's court."
He held her tighter. "My poor angel. That must have been horrible for you."
"No, that's just the problem. Listening to her ream Lucy out finally made me see why you, Rob and Peter find the show so funny. Look at what she's reduced me to. I'm not a vindictive person. I'm not." Elinor began to cry.
"Don't cry. Wanting Lucy to get her just desserts isn't vindictive, it's human. No one would think any less of you."
"But I think less of me. Edward, I think I'm going crazy with stress. After last week's dinner at Fanny's I started to seriously consider moving to India. My only reservation was that it might not be far enough away. The last few weeks I've been nauseous, tired, forgetful, and overly emotional among other things. When have you known me to be like that? I skipped my last period entirely just like I used to during exam-time. I'm regular as a clock normally."
"Ellie, I don't want to diminish the importance of what you're feeling, but don't those symptoms suggest an alternative explanation to you?" It was clear he was trying very hard not to smile.
She pulled away from him. "Don't joke with me! I can't have a baby in the middle of a nervous breakdown!"
Edward started to smile in earnest now. "Maybe you're not having a nervous breakdown hon."
An expression of understanding dawned on Elinor's face and she settled back into his arms.
Posted on Monday, 9 July 2001
About seven months later
"Fanny, I must say I never imagined that you had saved all this stuff," exclaimed Mrs. Dashwood.
"Ellie, I'm not going to tell you again. If you try to lift another box, I will tie you to that chair," declared Mrs. Ferrars.
"Emily, don't tell me Edward has gotten to you as well! Do you know that they won't even let me get a book off the shelf at work now? I'm not an invalid."
"Darling, this is your last chance to relax ever. Take advantage of it. If my grandchild is anything like her father..."
"Or Harry and Grace," chimed Margaret.
"Or Margaret, " added Fanny and Marianne.
"Or you," muttered Lucy in her corner.
"... then trust me, rest now."
"Oh look Elinor, you wore this on your first birthday. Isn't it sweet?" Mrs. Dashwood held up a little pink dress.
"It's smaller than I am!" squealed Grace.
Lucy looked ill and left the attic. The others finished going through the boxes after a couple of hours and brought their finds down to the sitting room.
"So have you and Edward discussed names?" inquired Margaret cheerfully. A little too cheerfully really.
"Yes, we're thinking of Caitlyn or Arianne for a girl and Justin or Charles for a boy. We just need to pick the order," replied Elinor. This sparked a huge debate.
Several minutes later, a light went off in Elinor's head and she asked, "What made you think of names Mar? Was that a book of names you were reading in the attic?"
"No actually, it was your diary from when you were fourteen."
"Margaret!"
"Well excuse me. I think I deserve to. After all the effort I put into trying to open the lock when I was eight, I've earned a reward. Besides it was very educational. Did you know that when you were in the eight grade you wanted to marry Tyler Richardson who apparently sat across from you in math class?"
Elinor blushed and Marianne rushed to her defense. "I seem to remember that you had several..."
"But that's not the best part!" Margaret broke in. "She was going to be Mrs. Elinor Richardson, they were going to have two girls and a boy and the eldest girl was going to be named Lucy!" Margaret roared with laughter and after the others recovered from their shock, they joined in.