Arthur gave her hand a squeeze as silence settled over the carriage, Eunice returning the squeeze a few minutes later when the carriage began to slow and then stopped.
“I’m going to be right beside you,” he said after she drew in a deep breath and slowly released it.
“And I’ll be on the other side of you,” Georgette said before she reached out and took hold of Ivan’s hand. “I’m going to need you to hold fast to my arm, dear. I’m beginning to feel butterflies in my stomach. I would hate to give the family something to gossip about if I were to swoon right inside the entrance hall.”
“I won’t let you fall,” Ivan said as the door to the carriage opened.
After Arthur stepped to the cobblestone walkway, he helped Eunice and Georgette out of the carriage, blinking when his gaze settled on the entranceway to the house, the white pillars flanking that entranceway swathed in yards and yards of black bunting.
“Looks as if the family has gone all out to mourn their soon-to-be-declared-deceased relatives,” Eunice said dryly. “I find myself wondering how much all that bunting cost, given what can only be described as an impressive display.”
“And I find myself wondering if they’ve moved up the date of your memorial,” Arthur said, taking Eunice’s arm. “The original plan was to have you declared dead on your birthday, which isn’t for two days, and then hold a memorial service that day as well.”
“Maybe they’re just getting ahead of the service,” Eunice said, returning her attention to the house. “It’s still as ostentatious as it ever was. Frankly, I always liked the original house Grandfather built when he first moved to town, the one that Howard lives in now.”
Georgette rolled her eyes. “Your grandfather would have never been satisfied to stay in that house. Yes, it was the nicest house in town back in the day, but this...” She gestured to the house in front of them. “This house, as Father enjoyed telling everyone, cost over two hundred thousand dollars in the early 1860s when he built it. He used to love to tell me what an enormous sum of money that was, but one he made in less than a year back then.”
Arthur turned his gaze back on Mason Manor, unable to argue with Eunice’s declaration that it was ostentatious, although it wasn’t nearly as ostentatious as some of the homes that lined Fifth Avenue in New York. Three stories high and made of red brick, the front steps led to a porch flanked by four white pillars and a double door a carriage could easily pass through. Stained-glass windows were inlaid into the doors, the light coming through those windows making a pattern on the tiled front porch. It made for a lovely welcome for guests and also hinted at the splendors one would find once they crossed the threshold into the house.
“I suppose it’s too late for us to jump back into the carriage and flee?” Eunice muttered right as Lloyd, Ann, Cooper, and Judith came to join them, Lloyd moving to take Eunice’s hand.
“You’ll be fine, my dear. Chin up and remember”—Lloyd waved his cane toward the house—“all of this is yours. You and your mother are not the interlopers here. The members of your family who want to steal this from you are.” He tapped his cane on the ground. “And if they prove difficult, also remember that we’ve come armed and ready to fight.”
“Let us hope you won’t need to use that nasty blade concealed in your cane,” Eunice said before she lifted her chin and linked arms with her mother. With Arthur walking beside her, and Ivan moving to walk on the other side of Georgette, they made their way to the front door that was already beginning to open.
“May I help you?” the butler drawled.
“Seems as if someone got rid of Stanford,” Eunice said, arching a brow Arthur’s way.
“Stanford left about a year after you did,” Arthur said quietly. “That’s Mr. Crawford. He’s only been on the job about three months, which is actually a record. I believe the butler before him only lasted a month.” He leaned closer to Eunice. “They apparently have issues with Mrs. Wagner.”
“Mrs. Wagner? As in my old tutor’s mother?”
“One and the same,” Arthur said. “She’s taken on the position of Raymond’s personal secretary—a personal favor, or so she told me. Vincent owns a bookstore in town, and Mrs. Wagner was assisting him with running the store but felt compelled to accept the personal secretary position because Raymond told her he was overwhelmed seeing after all the tasks needed to be done to keep Mason Manor running smoothly. Mrs. Wagner, from what I understand, was your grandfather’s personal secretary at times.”
“Mrs. Wagner started out as Father’s nurse years ago,” Georgette piped up, “after the carriage accident that killed my mother.” She lowered her voice. “Rumor had it she was more than a nurse to Father, which might have motivated him to offer her the position of his personal secretary after he recovered enough to where he didn’t need a nurse.”
Eunice’s eyes turned wide. “Grandfather had a mistress?”
“I don’t know for sure,” Georgette said with a bit of a shudder. “It’s not as if fathers normally discuss that type of tawdry business with their daughters, but it would explain why he purchased her a house in town and paid her expenses for years.”
“We’re going to have to add her to the list of prime suspects, even though she’s not family,” Eunice muttered before she turnedher attention to Mr. Crawford, who was shifting on his feet, clearly waiting for someone to explain what they were doing there.
Deciding it might be for the best if he explained that, Arthur stepped forward, drawing Mr. Crawford’s attention.
“Ah, Mr. Livingston. I didn’t see you there,” Mr. Crawford began. “I wasn’t aware you were expected this evening.” He took a step toward Arthur. “I’m afraid you missed the memorial. It was at four.”
Arthur frowned. “I thought the memorial was supposed to be held on Eugenia Howland’s birthday, which isn’t for two days.”
Mr. Crawford lowered his voice. “Mr. Raymond Mason changed the date of the memorial because a Mr. Loring is to arrive in Butte a few days earlier than expected.”
“Isn’t Mr. Loring the man interested in purchasing Mason Mines?” Ann asked, catching Eunice’s eye.
“I believe so, which explains why the memorial was moved up, because the family couldn’t sell Mason Mines without first doing away with me and Mother. But speaking of the family...” Eunice nodded to Mr. Crawford. “May I assume the entire Mason family is gathered here in a united show of mourning?”
Mr. Crawford blinked. “I suppose you could call it that, but if you’re here to visit them, I’ve been given strict instructions that they’re not to be disturbed. They’re currently gathered in the music room, and—”
Before Mr. Crawford could finish his sentence, Eunice slipped around him and into the house, leaving the butler dithering on the porch.
