Page 49 of Death at Fournier Downs
“Or her,” Audrey reminded.
“However, I wonder…” Cassie said, still looking at her drink. “I wonder if perhaps I should put off the Little Season and instead return to Aunt Hestia.”
The words tumbled past her lips so swiftly, it took Audrey a moment to understand her suggestion. She sat forward in one of the wicker chairs the footmen had carried from the house. “Put it off? But the Little Season is important, Cassie. Why would you wish to return to Edinburgh?”
Philip, too, looked concerned as his sister shifted onto her knees.
“I just think it might be best after everything that has happened,” she said without meeting Audrey’s eyes. First, she had been having trouble writing to Genie. Now this.
“If it is the taint of scandal that worries you—”
“No, it isn’t that,” she quickly said. “I just wonder if it isn’t the right time. What with Genie entering confinement and now with this mystery here in Hertfordshire surely making its way around London…”
Philip stood, and Audrey was glad to see he did not stumble. The ratafia had not dazed him yet.
“No. You will have your Little Season as well as your official Season, Cassie. It is what you deserve. We have isolated you far too much this summer.”
“I chose to stay here,” she argued.
“Because you are kind and caring of your older brother, yes. Allow me to do you the same courtesy,” he said. “You are far too young to be playing nursemaid. You will go to London and enjoy yourself.”
Cassie stopped twirling the stem of the cordial glass between her thumb and forefinger. “And what if I do not wish to?”
Philip blinked, staring at her in confusion. Audrey, too, was flummoxed.
“You’ve been planning for your debut for years,” she said with a shake of her head. “Why would you wish to postpone it now?”
Cassie shrugged, still avoiding both Audrey and Philip’s eyes. “It just seems silly and selfish to go have fun after all that’s happened here recently.”
Audrey had not realized just how deeply Cassie had been affected by the deaths, though now she felt insensitive for it. Finding a dead body had distressed her far greater than she’d realized. Or perhaps Cassie’s reaction was natural. Which made Audrey question if her own, less affected reaction was not.
“I understand, but we must carry on,” Philip said, sounding less understanding, as he’d just claimed to be, and more impatient. “Look at Bainbury, for heaven’s sake. I can’t stand the man and detest using him as an example, but even he is trying to move forward with the business of life. Renfry and his betrothed have arrived, and even though they now must include a funeral into their plans, they still intend to spend the week at Bainbury Manor before they wed.”
A shrill and sudden whimper ripped up Cassie’s throat, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes squeezed shut, and for a moment, Audrey froze with concern.
“Cassie?” She started to stand and go to her. But Philip’s sister jumped to her feet, her glass of ratafia spilling from her hand.
“I…I’m not feeling well. Can we return to the house?”
Philip gestured to the footmen, who immediately came forward to pack up the picnic, and then held his arm out to his sister.
“It must be the heat,” Cassie said, as the three of them started down the knoll, toward the manor.
“Should we send for Doctor Ryder?” Audrey asked, still reeling and confused over the rapid change in her mood.
“No, no. That’s not necessary. Truly, I will be fine.”
Audrey nodded, following Philip and his sister as they walked arm in arm, returning to the manor. As soon as they were inside, Cassie broke off from him and went to her room. Philip stood in the downstairs hall, watching her disappear with a frown of concern. He turned his frown toward Audrey next.
“This has been too much for her,” he said. “Do you think she is afraid?”
“So afraid that she would not want to take part in the Little Season? I can’t see how. If anything, she should want to be away from this place even more desperately.”
Philip slowly retreated into his study, and Audrey followed. The room’s dark wood paneling and drawn curtains had helped to keep the air cool in comparison to the atypical summer heat outdoors. Audrey sank onto the corner sofa cushion and wished they could still be on the picnic blanket making up silly names for their nephew.
“Do you think there is something wrong with me, Philip?”
Audrey hadn’t expected the question to sound so plaintive. Philip, at the sideboard to pour himself a brandy, peered over his shoulder at her.
