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Eloise almost choked trying to keep her laughter in.
“Is that right?” Amy said, her eyebrows climbing up her forehead. “You do know we read murder mysteries, do you not?”
Miss Penelope giggled. Actually giggled. “Yes, we know that. We think it might be quite titillating to read about such things.” She looked over at Miss Gertrude. “Don’t you agree, sister?”
Miss Gertrude nodded so enthusiastically that her hat became loose and slid to the bridge of her nose.
Eloise was now red-faced, and Amy feared the poor girl would choke to death if the conversation did not end soon.
“Well, we would certainly be happy to have you join us,” Amy said, as Eloise mumbled something and walked away.
Thank you, Eloise. ’Tis so nice to have the support of friends.
“We meet on Thursday evenings at the Atkinson and Tucker bookstore around eight o’clock. Do you know where that is?”
“Oh, yes. We know where you meet.” Miss Penelope linked her arm into her sister’s. “I look forward to seeing you Thursday next.” She nodded, and the two of them walked off, their heads together, whispering furiously.
Well, that was certainly surreal.
“Are you ready to leave, Amy?” Aunt Margaret had broken away from the group she and William had been speaking with.
“Yes. I just need to find Eloise. She’s wandered off somewhere.”
Once they had all gathered, Aunt Margaret, Amy, William, and Eloise climbed into the Wethington carriage, which, fortunately, was a good-sized vehicle.
“Whatever would make Miss Gertrude and Miss Penelope believe they would enjoy reading about murders?” Eloise asked.
“What?” Aunt Margaret asked.
Amy grinned. “It seems the Misses O’Neill have been hiding a penchant for murder mysteries. They said they wanted to join our mystery book club.”
Aunt Margaret laughed. “That will be quite an interesting meeting to see. If I didn’t abhor reading about
grisly, gory, bloody murders, I would go just to see how it all goes.”
Amy huffed. “We don’t always read about grisly murders. It’s a mystery book club, which means we read all sorts of mysteries. The Sherlock Homes stories are not gruesome at all. Well, not usually, anyway.”
“But you read Edgar Allan Poe, don’t you?”
Amy shifted on her seat. “Yes. On occasion.”
Eloise decided to add to Aunt Margaret’s condemnation. “And we’ve read a couple of your books too, Amy. They can be quite terrifying.”
“Thank you so much for that, Eloise.” Amy glared at her.
Eloise laughed. “Oh, give off. You know I love your books.”
The ride from the church to Amy’s home didn’t take very long. There was continued speculation on why the two ladies from the church wanted to join a mystery book club, but no one seemed to come up with a logical reason.
They all climbed from the carriage and made their way up the steps and into the house. It took a bit of time for them all to remove their outer garments, hand them off to Stevens, and then proceed upstairs to the dining room.
“Oh, I smell lamb,” Aunt Margaret set as she sniffed the air. “My favorite.”
They each took their regular seats, and Amy shook out her napkin and placed it on her lap. “I have decided to become a vegetarian.”
Three pairs of eyes looked in her direction. “What?” Aunt Margaret said, her hand poised over her glass of wine.
“I have decided that it is more ethical for the animals and better for my health to refrain from eating meat.”
