A mighty crash of thunder startled An’gel, and she glanced toward the windows that faced the front lawn. The day had grown even darker, and An’gel heard the rain splatter hard against the house. She uttered another quick prayer for the safety of everyone on the wet roads. She was getting up to go in search of Estelle when she heard the doorbell ring.
There was no sign of the housekeeper when An’gel walked into the hall. She went to the door and opened it to find Richmond Thurston, Mireille’s lawyer, on the verandah.
“Do come in, Mr. Thurston.” An’gel waved him in.
“Thank you, Miss Ducote.” Thurston propped his dripping umbrella by the door on the verandah and stepped inside. “Terrible storm out there right now. I just about made it to the porch when the heavens opened up.”
“Yes, it certainly is a downpour.” An’gel started when the thunder crashed again. Her nerves were enough on edge already without the added stress of a violent storm.
“I trust you’re keeping well, despite the weather.” Thurston smiled, and An’gel felt the pull of the man’s charm. He had a way of looking at one that made the person feel like she had the lawyer’s complete attention.
“As well as can be expected, under the circumstances,” An’gel said. “Won’t you come into the parlor, Mr. Thurston? I’m afraid I have something to tell you, something upsetting.”
“Of course, dear lady,” he said as he followed her. “What is wrong?”
An’gel waited until they were seated in the parlor before she told him about Mireille. His face darkened as she explained the reason for her cousin’s sudden collapse.
“I swear I’d like to horsewhip that girl,” he said with such fervor that An’gel had no trouble believing he would actually do it, given the opportunity. “I’ve never in my life known anyone so completely self-absorbed.”
Before An’gel could reply, the lawyer stood. “Where is she? I’m going to talk to her.”
An’gel thought about protesting but realized that would likely prove futile. “In her bedroom most likely. What are you going to say to her?”
“The first thing I’m going to tell her,” the lawyer said, “is that the wedding will have to be postponed. She can’t get married while her grandmother is in the hospital.” He expelled an angry breath. “Girl has no business getting married anyway, at least not to a congenital idiot like Lance Perigord. The boy’s as queer as the proverbial three-dollar bill, for one thing. He should be stopped, for his own protection, if nothing else. Sondra will destroy anyone she marries.”
The lawyer didn’t wait for a response from An’gel. He strode out of the room, his face again red with anger. An’gel worried for a moment that he might strike Sondra, but then decided she didn’t have the energy to involve herself any further. At the moment she felt every one of her eighty-four years, and she leaned wearily back on the sofa.
Her thoughts quickly turned to Mireille. In light of what Mireille had told them earlier, not long before the frightening incident that sent her to the hospital, An’gel fretted that her cousin would not survive. With her heart already in bad shape, the bad shock Mireille had sustained might be more than her heart could bear. An’gel said another quiet prayer for Mireille’s recovery.
She wondered how long it would be before Dickce or Jacqueline called to give an update on Mireille’s condition. She realized then that she didn’t have her cell phone with her.
Where had she left her handbag? She thought hard for a moment. In the dining room, she decided. She got up and went across the hall to the dining room. She found her handbag on the floor beside the chair where she had eaten. She noticed that someone, either Estelle or Jackson, had cleared everything away.
An’gel pulled her phone from the bag and checked to see whether she had missed a call.
No calls. She debated whether to call Benjy to apprise him of the morning’s events but decided not to burden him with the news. There would be time enough later to fill him in. Besides, there was nothing he could do. Nothing she could do either, other than wait.
Replacing the phone in her handbag, An’gel headed to the back of the house to the kitchen. As she neared it, she heard voices through the half-open door. When she walked in, she caught the tail end of a remark from Estelle, who was speaking to the butler.
“. . . rat poison in her food.”
CHAPTER 11
“Estelle, what are you talking about? Rat poison in whose food?”
The housekeeper flushed as she turned to face An’gel. Her tone was defiant when she replied. “Sondra’s food, that’s who. I figure we’d all be better off if someone put rat poison in her food. That’s what I was telling Jackson when you came in.”
The elderly butler nodded. “Yes, Miss An’gel, that’s what it was. Just talk. Estelle was telling me what happened to Miss Mireille and what Miss Sondra done to cause it.”
“As long as it stays talk, then we’re fine.” An’gel spoke sternly. “I know we’re all furious with Sondra, but let’s not get carried away.”
Estelle didn’t respond, but Jackson nodded and said, “Yes’m.” He cleared his throat. “Have you heard anything from the hospital yet?”
“No, not yet,” An’gel replied. “I came in here hoping for some coffee or some hot tea, if it’s not too much trouble.”
Estelle muttered something An’gel couldn’t hear, but the butler looked startled. The housekeeper brushed past him, headed for the stove. She picked up a kettle, took it to the sink, rinsed it, then filled it with water. “Tea’ll be ready in a minute.”
“Miss An’gel, why don’t you go back to the parlor, and I’ll bring your tea soon as it’s ready.” Jackson moved forward as if to escort An’gel from the room.
“That’s fine, thank you. Before I forget, Mr. Thurston is here. He is upstairs with Sondra at the moment.” An’gel turned to leave but paused for one more remark. “If either of you hears from Jacqueline, please let me know. I’ll do the same if my sister calls me.”
Estelle nodded in her direction, and Jackson assured her he would bring her any news immediately. An’gel departed the kitchen and made her way back to the front parlor.
Thunder rattled the windows every so often, and An’gel worried that the storm seemed to be hanging over them. At this rate, she thought, the roads might start flooding.
Seated once again on the sofa in the front parlor, she pulled out her phone. She decided she would call Benjy to assure herself that he and the animals were safe. To her annoyance, she had no reception on her phone, thanks to the weather. Disgusted, she dropped her phone back in her purse. She eyed the telephone extension on a nearby table, but she hated talking on a landline during a storm. She was concerned about Benjy, Peanut, and Endora, but she didn’t want to risk either Benjy or herself getting electrocuted.
An’gel felt restless. As long as the storm raged, they might not get any word from the hospital, and she fretted over Mireille’s condition. She was also curious about the conversation taking place upstairs between Thurston and Sondra. Perhaps she ought to go up and check after all.
Before she could suit action to thought, Jackson entered the parlor bearing a tray with her tea. He set the tray on the coffee table in front of the sofa.
“Thank you, Jackson,” An’gel said. “I’ll pour for myself.”
“Yes’m.” Jackson hesitated for a moment. “Miss An’gel, do you think Miss Mireille’s going to be all right? I just can’t imagine this house without her.”
An’gel felt a lump in her throat. “I sure hope so, but only the good Lord knows. I’ve been praying that she’ll come back to us and be fine.”