Rosalind ran to the window.
Three carriages had stopped in front of Van Doren’s house.
“Finally, Lynette!” she cried. “They have come.”
She struggled with the window to get it open and stuck her head out just as Van Doren helped Beatrice from the carriage.
“Beatrice!” she shouted.
Her sister turned at the sound. “Oh hello, Rosalind! Goodness we are arriving so late—you know how these trips are. And there is Juliet at her window too. And Cordelia. Oh, and there is Viola. Hello!”
“Beatrice,” Juliet called, “Papa has sent a note that you must dine with us. You will come?”
“Of course we will come,” Beatrice said laughing.
Van Doren said something, but Rosalind could not hear what it was. From his expression, though, he did not look quite as enthusiastic over the prospect.
Typical Van Doren. No matter though, Beatrice was coming and she could leave Van Doren where he was if he did not like it.
“We will just change our clothes and then be over,” Beatrice called, as Van Doren led her into the house.
Rosalind had hurried Lynette to finish her hair and then flew down to the drawing room, as did all her sisters.
In under an hour, dear Beatrice was among them once more and Papa and Darden had looked ever so pleased to see Van Doren. Though really, their recently acquired brother-in-law seemed a bit grumpy from his journey.
It turned out that a carriage wheel had cracked and needed replacing and then a horse had thrown a shoe and Van Doren was convinced that all these delays could not be comfortable for his wife. His wife, however, seemed none the worse for wear.
They had already told Beatrice about lovely little Bess and her pups, and Beatrice had already declared she must have a pup once they were old enough to leave their mother.
Van Doren, who always had the ability to surprise them these days, said that if Beatrice required a dog, then she must have one. Rosalind had been certain he’d be against it. Especially when Juliet described Bess’ intestinal problems and hinted that those problems might run in her family.
They then told Beatrice of their charming encounter with Madame Tussaud.
“We entertained her until she was speechless,” Juliet said.
“I bet she was,” Van Doren said.
Ignoring Van Doren’s swipe, Miss Mayton said, “She was very touched to hear of my poor Phillipe, as he was a fellow Parisian.”
“Oh yes,” Cordelia said. “She was particularly struck to discover he’d hung himself in his garret. She really had not anticipated the story would end so.”
“Nobody ever does,” Van Doren said.
“Pour l’amour d’Eloïse je ne peux plus continuer,” Miss Mayton said softly.
“That was the note pinned to his coat,” Juliet said, brow raised in Van Doren’s direction. “For the love of Eloise, I can no longer go on.”
“They all leave such poignant goodbyes, don’t they?” Van Doren asked.
“Beatrice,” Viola said, “has Van Doren recently threatened to do a violence to himself over his love for you?”
“Not recently,” Beatrice said, a giggle escaping her.
“Do not rule it out,” Van Doren said. “I’m beginning to feel a violence coming on.”
“Will you be pinning a note to your coat, then?” Juliet asked.
“Indeed,” Van Doren said, staring at Juliet. “It will read,‘Done in by lunacy—could no longer go on.’”
