that magnitude. Elizabeth had no intention of offering any advice on the subject, because she wanted no part of the guilt that Satisky seemed to be stuck with either way. She wished he hadn’t chosen to confide in her. One thing was certain: she had better get him off that subject before whoever-it-was-that-just-walked-by-the-door decided to stop and listen. God help her if anyone thought she was encouraging Satisky to have doubts! She would be accused of trying to steal her cousin’s fiancé, or trying to improve her chances for the inheritance, or both. She could imagine Aunt Amanda’s reaction to the situation.
“We shouldn’t be talking about this!” she whispered to Satisky. “Don’t even think about it anymore! Just—don’t!”
CHAPTER NINE
A MANDA C HANDLER SURVEYED the breakfast table with the air of a general conducting an inspection. In honor of the houseguests and the forthcoming wedding, this breakfast would be a family occasion, like those on weekends, when she would set aside time for getting together to discuss the plans for the day—usually
her
plans for
their
day. Despite the protests of Captain Grandfather and Dr. Chandler, who had to juggle early appointments, the meal was served at exactly ten o’clock—the shocking lateness being a concession to Geoffrey, who maintained that nothing short of Armageddon would arouse him earlier.
“And where is Eileen?” Amanda asked crisply, her eyes on Michael.
He looked away, murmuring something unintelligible.
“Elizabeth, would you please go upstairs and knock on her door? Tell her that we are waiting.”
Elizabeth hurried from the dining room, hoping that Eileen had just overslept. If she had decided to prolongher hysterics for another day, everyone’s nerves would start to go. She reached the upstairs hall. Eileen’s door was closed. Elizabeth tapped gently. “Eileen! Are you awake? It’s breakfast time!”
There was no sound from within.
Elizabeth tried the door. The handle turned easily, and she peeped inside. The bed was neatly made, and its occupant was not in the room. Elizabeth went back to the dining room and reported this to Amanda, who received the news in tight-lipped silence.
“I expect she’s out painting,” said Captain Grandfather. “When I got up at the sensible hour of seven”—he paused to glare at Geoffrey’s rumpled dressing gown—“I found a box of cereal and a used bowl on the table here. I expect she got an early start today.”
“She needs time to work on it,” mumbled Geoffrey sleepily. “Why not just leave her alone?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it!” snapped Amanda. “This is one of my little girl’s last family breakfasts as a—as a—”
“Chandler,” suggested her husband softly.
“Thank you, Robert. As a Chandler.” She turned to Dr. Shepherd with a careful smile. “Dr. Shepherd, you must think we have shocking manners! But I’m sure you know what a special time like this can do to the nerves of a sensitive girl like Eileen. But I do apologize for her.”
Shepherd murmured that he quite understood and went on eating his eggs.
“Charles,” Amanda continued, “go and fetch your sister, please. Or, perhaps Michael would like to have a few moments—”
Charles stood up quickly. “Now, Mother, you know she especially doesn’t want him to see the painting before it’s finished. I’ll go get her. Save me some toast.”
“Have you talked to her since last night?” Elizabeth whispered to Michael.
He shook his head. “I thought I’d just leave her alone,” he muttered.
Amanda interrupted them at this point to deliver a monologue on wedding rehearsal plans, and CarlsenShepherd began to talk quietly to Captain Grandfather, moving the silverware around in positions suspiciously resembling the armada of the previous evening’s game.
“Who won?” asked Dr. Chandler, indicating his coffee spoon, which had just been turned into a Turkish fleet.
“Well, I did,” said Shepherd,
“We shouldn’t be talking about this!” she whispered to Satisky. “Don’t even think about it anymore! Just—don’t!”
CHAPTER NINE
A MANDA C HANDLER SURVEYED the breakfast table with the air of a general conducting an inspection. In honor of the houseguests and the forthcoming wedding, this breakfast would be a family occasion, like those on weekends, when she would set aside time for getting together to discuss the plans for the day—usually
her
plans for
their
day. Despite the protests of Captain Grandfather and Dr. Chandler, who had to juggle early appointments, the meal was served at exactly ten o’clock—the shocking lateness being a concession to Geoffrey, who maintained that nothing short of Armageddon would arouse him earlier.
“And where is Eileen?” Amanda asked crisply, her eyes on Michael.
He looked away, murmuring something unintelligible.
“Elizabeth, would you please go upstairs and knock on her door? Tell her that we are waiting.”
Elizabeth hurried from the dining room, hoping that Eileen had just overslept. If she had decided to prolongher hysterics for another day, everyone’s nerves would start to go. She reached the upstairs hall. Eileen’s door was closed. Elizabeth tapped gently. “Eileen! Are you awake? It’s breakfast time!”
There was no sound from within.
Elizabeth tried the door. The handle turned easily, and she peeped inside. The bed was neatly made, and its occupant was not in the room. Elizabeth went back to the dining room and reported this to Amanda, who received the news in tight-lipped silence.
“I expect she’s out painting,” said Captain Grandfather. “When I got up at the sensible hour of seven”—he paused to glare at Geoffrey’s rumpled dressing gown—“I found a box of cereal and a used bowl on the table here. I expect she got an early start today.”
“She needs time to work on it,” mumbled Geoffrey sleepily. “Why not just leave her alone?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it!” snapped Amanda. “This is one of my little girl’s last family breakfasts as a—as a—”
“Chandler,” suggested her husband softly.
“Thank you, Robert. As a Chandler.” She turned to Dr. Shepherd with a careful smile. “Dr. Shepherd, you must think we have shocking manners! But I’m sure you know what a special time like this can do to the nerves of a sensitive girl like Eileen. But I do apologize for her.”
Shepherd murmured that he quite understood and went on eating his eggs.
“Charles,” Amanda continued, “go and fetch your sister, please. Or, perhaps Michael would like to have a few moments—”
Charles stood up quickly. “Now, Mother, you know she especially doesn’t want him to see the painting before it’s finished. I’ll go get her. Save me some toast.”
“Have you talked to her since last night?” Elizabeth whispered to Michael.
He shook his head. “I thought I’d just leave her alone,” he muttered.
Amanda interrupted them at this point to deliver a monologue on wedding rehearsal plans, and CarlsenShepherd began to talk quietly to Captain Grandfather, moving the silverware around in positions suspiciously resembling the armada of the previous evening’s game.
“Who won?” asked Dr. Chandler, indicating his coffee spoon, which had just been turned into a Turkish fleet.
“Well, I did,” said Shepherd,
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