Damn. Even the bloody cat had managed to get here before he had.
“Jane,” he said with what he thought was a heroic measure of patience, “I really need to speak with your sister.”
“Elizabeth?”
No, Susan. “Yes, Elizabeth,” he said slowly.
“Oh. She’s in the sitting room. But I should warn you”—Jane cocked her head flirtatiously—“she’s very busy. We’ve had a lot of guests this afternoon.”
“I know,” James muttered, waiting for Jane to move so that he wouldn’t run her over on his way to the sitting room.
“Maw!”
“That cat is not very well-behaved,” Jane said primly, showing no signs of moving now that she had a new topic of conversation. “He has been whining like that all day.”
James noticed that his hands had balled into impatient fists. “Really?” he asked, as politely as he was able. If he used a tone of voice that reflected how he was really feeling, the little girl would probably run screaming in the other direction.
And the path to Elizabeth’s heart definitely did not include reducing her younger sister to tears.
Jane nodded. “He is a terrible cat.”
“Jane,” James said, squatting down to her level, “could I speak with Elizabeth now?”
The little girl swept aside. “Of course. You should have asked.”
James resisted the urge to comment further. Instead, he thanked Jane, kissed her hand again for good measure, and then strode off to the sitting room, where, much to his great surprise and slight amusement, he found Elizabeth on her hands and knees.
“Malcolm,” Elizabeth hissed, “you get out from under that cabinet right now.”
Malcolm sniffed.
“Right now, you miserable little kitty.”
“Do not refer to my cat as a miserable little kitty,” Lady Danbury boomed.
Elizabeth reached out and tried to grab the recalcitrant furball. The recalcitrant furball replied with a claw-filled swipe of his paw.
“Lady Danbury,” Elizabeth announced without lifting her head, “this cat is a monster.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Malcolm is nature’s perfect kitty, and you know it.”
“Malcolm,” Elizabeth muttered, “is the spawn of the devil.”
“Elizabeth Hotchkiss!”
“It’s true.”
“Just last week you said he was a wonderful cat.”
“Last week he was being nice to me. If I recall, you called him a traitor.”
Lady Danbury sniffed as she watched Elizabeth try to grab the cat again. “He is clearly overset because those beastly children were chasing him around the house.”
That was it! Elizabeth hauled herself to her feet, fixed a deadly stare in Lady Danbury’s direction, and growled, “No one calls Lucas and Jane beasts but me!”
What ensued wasn’t quite utter silence. Blake was audibly laughing under his hand, and Lady Danbury was sputtering about, making strange gurgling noises, and blinking so hard that Elizabeth would swear she could hear her eyelids clamp shut.
But nothing would have prepared her for the sound of slow clapping coming from behind her. Elizabeth turned slowly around, twisting to face the doorway.