Page 25 of The Perfect Guests
“Fine. Well, Beth, in that case—would you write down your new address for me?”
“What?” Nina said. “She’s not going anywhere.”
Jonas pulled a face. “Well, I doubt she’ll be happy to stay here much longer if you keep treating her like this.”
My heart jumped erratically. How was Nina going to react?
She turned slowly and stared at me. It was probably the first time she’d looked me directly in the eye since I told her I’d pretended to be her for her grandfather’s visit.
“I honestly don’t want to take your place,” I said meekly. “I never meant to—”
She gulped, and then she flung her arms around me.
“I know,” she sobbed. “And I don’t want you to leave. I’ve been really horrible. I was jealous of you getting to meet my grandfather, but I know it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. I’m sorry, Beth. I’m sorry.”
Jonas sighed loudly. “Girls.” He raised his eyebrows. “Are we going swimming, then, or what?”
Nina and I wiped away our tears, and we ran upstairs to change into our swimsuits. She was extra nice to me for the rest of the day, but I was conscious that our reconciliation was down to Jonas, and I watched him more closely than usual as the three of us messed around in the shallows. When Nina floated out into deeper water, I seized my chance and thanked him privately.
“Well, I had to do something,” he said, holding my gaze. “I’d hate to see you go. I like you, Beth.”
In that brief moment, I forgot about all my worries.
“I like you too,” I said.
“Do you think maybe, one day—” he began. But Nina was splashing toward us, shouting that she’d seen a giant pike, that it had nibbled at her toes. Our moment of intimacy was over, but I smiled to myself each time I thought about his words.“I like you, Beth.”Things weren’t so bad at Raven Hall, after all.
Sadie
January 2019
The next course looks intriguing,Sadie thinks. Thick lamb chops, a medley of green vegetables, and something round, stodgy, and golden brown. She prods it with her fork; it’s larger than the palm of her hand, and it’s clearly been fried, but she can’t work out what it is.
“Puffball mushroom,” Nazleen says, with more than a trace of unease.
“Ah, yes, lovely,” Everett says, and he tucks in with gusto, giving Sadie the confidence to nibble a tiny piece of hers. Not bad. She slices into her lamb, and a thin, bloody liquid oozes instantly across her plate.It’s a good job there are so many courses,she thinks,because at this rate, I won’t finish any of them.She takes another sip of her wine.
The guests continue to ask one another questions while they pick at their food, and Sadie tries to keep track of the replies in her head, wishing she could jot down some notes. She’s confident she’sdrawing closer to identifying the guilty party, but she keeps changing her mind, and the alcohol isn’t helping... Which guest swore they came downstairs empty-handed? Which clue has she overlooked? As people begin to set down their cutlery, Nazleen appears to remember something.
“Oh.”
Nazleen reaches for the game cards, and she takes a sip of water before she begins her next speech, and Sadie realizes with a jolt of surprise that Nazleen hasn’t been drinking wine like everyone else. Perhaps it’s Nazleen’s choice, or perhaps it’s a condition of the hostess role; the rest of them have been plied with drinks all evening, but maybe the company felt one person should remain sober and in charge.
“It was Nazleen,” Zach whispers at Sadie’s side. “Don’t you think? I’m pretty sure Lady Nightingale murdered her own husband...”
Nazleen raises her voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have a card here for each of you which will provide you with details of the last conversationyouhad with Lord Nightingale. This will be new information for you, and something you will now want to question one another about.”
Mrs. Shrew closes her eyes as if she’s in pain, but Genevieve gives Nazleen a bright smile and helps her to hand around the small envelopes.
“Please keep your own cards private,” Nazleen says. “And remember, you must answer all questions truthfully.”
Sadie tears open her envelope and pulls out a square card.Miss Lamb,it reads,In your last conversation with Lord Nightingale, he told you he used to be a friend of your mother’s.Sadie blinks and reads on.He said you must have been a great disappointment to your mother, turning up at grand houses in the hope of employment, unable to hold down a job.
Sadie’s pulse races. She knows this is about her character, but it feels disturbingly close to home—to her recent sacking from the shop, and to her belief that she was a disappointment to her own mother. It’s unnerving. She glances at the serious expressions of the other guests as they each read their private cards. Everett rips his into quarters and posts them in the empty gravy boat in front of him with a snort of disgust.
Sadie drops her gaze back to her own card and reads the second paragraph.Lord Nightingale told you there would never be a place for you at Raven Hall.“Over his dead body”was the phrase he used. He felt the same way as your mother—he knew you’d never amount to anything.
Sadie’s vision blurs. This is just a game, so why does it feel so personal—sonasty? At her side, Zach folds his card carefully in half and slides it into his jeans pocket.
