Mrs Bennet and the Body in the Library

By Susannah Donim

Mike settles in as Mrs Bennet, the Mistress of Longbourn, and learns to live the life of a 19th Century married lady.

Chapter Ten – Mistress of Longbourn

At eight-thirty on Monday morning, The Pride and Prejudice Experience would open to invited guests – sponsors and their families, friends of the Earl and Countess of Hadleigh, local dignitaries, and the Press. So we spent the weekend in intensive preparation and rehearsals – in full costume, of course. So I now had to get used to wearing my Mrs Bennet costume, complete with corset and petticoat, for ten hours a day. And this wasn’t like wearing a padded body shaper. My new curves were firmly attached, and my corset was no longer for decoration. It was essential support.

As MacNair had promised, Dennis brought in experts to teach us what we needed to know. We had to learn every detail of the lives of the Regency gentry. We listened to the music of the period; we practised dances (Tom, as my husband, was surprisingly good at what he called ‘Period Movement’ and carried me through, despite my now considerable weight); we learnt the names of household items, furniture, articles of clothing, and foodstuffs; and we ladies tried a little embroidery (just enough to look like we knew what we were doing). My unladylike fingers were soon punctured in several places from my poorly controlled needle. I would have to keep my lacy gloves on at all times.

The men didn’t have to know the details of our feminine clothes and undergarments – their equivalents were much simpler – but they did have to learn about the responsibilities of being a rich landowner – business, revenues, investments, official documents, taxes, rents, and all about the local service providers such as thatchers, blacksmiths and feed merchants. We ladies had to know about local grocers, butchers, drapers, milliners, and dressmakers.

The men also had to learn how to shoot. A clay pigeon thrower was hired for the duration, together with a couple of professionals who would make sure that neither our boys nor any visitors would blow each other’s heads off. We ladies put on our outdoor coats and bonnets and wandered down to watch their efforts. Inside me, Mike wanted to try his hand too, but as Michelle (and Mrs Bennet) I thought the shooting was noisy and frightening. I stuck my fingers in my ears and cringed, like the other women.

Tom showed himself to be the best shot of all the gentlemen. (I was beginning to think that 1813 was his forte.) The guns were fully functional modern replicas of 19th Century weapons. They and our minders were much in demand for television and movies.

It turned out that Derek and Rob, playing Darcy and Bingley, both had riding lessons as kids. Dennis arranged a short refresher course so that they were just about able to ride over to Longbourn on horseback from the Hadleigh Home Farm, where their mounts were stabled. They could both manage to trot their horses. Rob was sure he could canter, but quickly learned that was over-ambitious. Hilary told him not to be so stupid. I think she fancies him.

It was an exhausting weekend. Nobody was interested in going out in the evenings, so we all had dinner together. Cheap but very palatable beer and wine flowed freely. It was like a big house party and excellent for bonding as a team.

All the young people were very respectful to Tom and me, as members of the older generation – much older in Tom’s case. All the youngsters were on first name terms, but the catering staff called me ‘Mrs Bradshaw’ and Tom, Mr Hawthorne. When it came to serving the vegetables and pouring the tea, I was expected to be ‘mother’.

I’m not sure I can take six weeks of this.

* * *

With everything we had learned over the weekend rattling around in our heads we were finally ready to greet our visitors.

The Countess was our first guest and officially opened the Experience. She was resplendent in a fine Regency gown, as befitted her station. We were a little surprised that her husband, the Earl, didn’t accompany her. Perhaps he wasn’t an Austen fan. Instead she was escorted by Dennis, looking very smart in Regency breeches, tailcoat, waistcoat and cravat. Mary Manners tagged along behind them, dressed as a lady’s maid, in a slightly upmarket version of Amy’s outfit.

I had been dreading the morning dressing session. On the first day Esther was on hand to walk Amy and me through the procedure. I would show up in Mr and Mrs Bennet’s bedroom at the front of the house in just my shift. I would put on a fancy ladies’ dressing gown of the period. Regency women didn’t wear much makeup around the house; Esther showed us what was appropriate. Amy was fully dressed as Hill, the maid, of course.

Some women – Mrs Bennet included, apparently – wore paper and cloth curlers in their hair at night. So Esther showed Amy how to put them in my wig, and how to remove them and dress my hair afterwards. So in curlers, shift and dressing gown, I would wait in the beautiful master bedroom for my maid to show our visitors in.

Lady Susan sat through my first dressing session. She asked several intelligent questions. She giggled a little as Amy removed my robe and fastened my corset, while I puffed and panted. Her Ladyship wanted to know how a Regency lady’s underwear compared with a modern bra and panties for comfort. I was about to answer (although of course I didn’t have as much experience of 21st Century lingerie as I now did of the 19th Century equivalent).

Just in time I saw the trap. “I’m sorry, My Lady, I don’t understand the question,” I said timidly. “All my underwear is nearly new. I obtained what I’m wearing in Meryton last Candlemas.”

She laughed. I wondered if Dennis had put her up to it, or if she just hadn’t understood that we weren’t supposed to know about anything after 1813.

When Amy had helped me on with my petticoat and dress, stockings and shoes, cap and gloves, I led my guests downstairs to the dining room.

Lady Marsham sat down to breakfast with the whole family. We were waited on by Amy and (to my surprise) Mary Manners, who seemed very happy to play the maid. The two servants collected the food from the kitchen for us, although in future, we would be served by Amy and members of the catering staff in Regency servants’ dress.

After breakfast Linda (as Mary) played some dance music and the Countess joined in with enthusiasm, following our teacher’s instructions competently. Later Sam and Douglas, as Lydia and Wickham, would be doing the teaching.

Other groups of visitors followed and we were all kept busy showing the 21st Century guests our 19th Century lives and answering their questions.

Things went wrong that first day of course. Some of the cast slipped up and showed a knowledge of modern life that they weren’t supposed to have. But Dennis had been watching and listening carefully, and when the visitors had all gone he called us together and gave us his notes.

He said we should consider today a Dress Rehearsal. Proper paying customers would be arriving tomorrow. He was gracious and good-humoured and assured us we were doing very well. He finished by reminding us that from next week, the Experience would be closed on Mondays. That would be our day off, when we could do our laundry in the village, go into town, or do whatever we wanted.

When he had finished we were dismissed for the day. We were able to get out of our constricting costumes and put on something more comfortable for dinner. I decided Mrs Bennet’s minimal makeup regime would be quite sufficient for Michelle Bradshaw’s quiet dinner with friends. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone, after all. Nevertheless, Tom tried to be gallant, opening the staff room door for me and holding my chair. I had made sure to wear my engagement and wedding rings to remind him I was a married woman, so I assumed he was just being polite.

* * *

That evening as Holly and I were changing in our shared bedroom, she said, “You obviously don’t have enough casual clothes,” she said. “We’ll have to go into town next Monday and get you some new things.”

Unfortunately, she was right. Perhaps we should have anticipated that we would need modern clothes every day, but we hadn’t.

“Some trousers, I hope?” I still wasn’t keen on the idea of trying things on in a womenswear shop.

“I suppose so,” she agreed. “But I’m afraid that big round bottom of yours will attract a lot of attention in pants.”

I hadn’t thought of that. Dresses and skirts weren’t so bad, I supposed.

“By the way,” she said, changing the subject, “according to Dennis’ rota you and I are supposed to be helping Sheila and Esther dress the female guests up at the Hall from ten till twelve tomorrow morning.”

“I can’t do that!”

Actually, I could and would very much enjoy it. But probably too much; there was a serious risk of an unseemly arousal which could give me away.

“Oh, I thought you’d be keen to help bare-breasted women into their corsets?” she said. She knew me too well. “Don’t worry, I don’t trust you enough to let you do that. I’ve discussed it with the others. They agree that my Auntie Michelle shouldn’t be allowed near naked female strangers. Each of us will take an extra turn, so you’re off the hook.”

“Thanks,” I said. “The only naked woman I want to see is you. You realise you’ve spoilt me for appreciation of the female nude? No one else could ever match up.”

She snorted, but I could see she was pleased with this shameless flattery.

“I don’t mind – it means I get out of more of the morning dressing sessions. Of course, it means you’ll be getting dressed for visitors every day,” she said. “No dodging that pleasure for you. You’ll need Amy every morning too. Perhaps Dennis could ask Mary Manners to help with dressing the guests. She seems to like being a lady’s maid.”

* * *

So if Monday was our Dress Rehearsal, Tuesday was First Night, or rather Opening Day. Once they’d paid their hefty entrance fee, guests were welcome to stay as long as they liked until we closed at six. They had to book in on arrival for sessions with us characters – watching us dress; sharing our mealtimes; dancing lessons with Lydia and Wycombe; tours of the house with Kitty; discussions of the life of the landed gentry with Mr Bennet in his study; carriage rides and walks in the park with Elizabeth, Jane, Bingley and Darcy.

On the first day nearly every session was full. Plenty of visitors came to several sessions. Most guests behaved sensibly and didn’t try to spoil the illusion. We gradually got used to their questions and made fewer mistakes. Nevertheless it was hectic and by six o’clock we were all exhausted.

As on the previous day no one had the energy to go out and we all sat down to dinner together again. Dennis was very pleased with how it went.

“We were sold out today,” he said. “If those numbers hold up throughout the summer, we’ll cover our costs easily,” he said, “and could be in profit by mid-July.”

“Is that likely?” asked Tom Hawthorne, veteran of ‘papering the house’ on Opening Nights.

“Probably not,” Dennis admitted, “but it was a very promising start. We might average 70-80% capacity, which would be more than good enough.”

“I’m not sure I could manage if every day was like today,” I said. “I’m pooped.”

Several of the others nodded.

“Hear, hear,” said Amy. “My back is sore from all the curtseying.”

“But you’ll be building up your muscles from fastening Auntie Michelle’s corset,” said Holly.

They all laughed as I blushed, though not everyone at the table was privy to the real joke.

“I recognised quite a few faces,” Dennis continued, “so most of today’s visitors were probably locals. As far as I could tell they were all enjoying themselves, so hopefully they’ll tell their friends. I’m expecting some decent reviews in the local press too, maybe even the nationals.”

“Presumably things will change when the schools break up for the summer holidays,” I said. That’s the week after next, isn’t it?”

“That’s a very good point, Michelle,” Dennis said. “This isn’t really an Experience for children, but there are bound to be visitors with kids hoping for a family day out. We’ll have to dream up some ways of keeping them amused.”

* * *

The rest of that week was only a little less busy than Opening Day, but things got easier for us. We were gradually settling into our performances. It was surprising how often guests were tongue-tied at the beginning of a session, so we each developed an opening speech to welcome them in character and get the conversations going. We became familiar with the questions they asked and soon had stock answers to them.

Gradually Mrs Bennet took over Michelle’s life, Michelle having already taken over mine. I was now beginning to think like a social-climbing 19th Century matriarch, country hostess, and mother-of-five. I primped and posed when passing a mirror, adjusting my bosom, straightening my petticoat, and making sure my hair and makeup were just so.

I feigned affection with my stage husband, (short of actually kissing, which no Regency lady would have done in public; at our age maybe not even when alone with him in their boudoir). I got in the habit of telling my silly daughters off for squabbling and unladylike behaviour. I dropped much of that in the evenings of course, but I had to maintain every other aspect of my femininity as Tom and Linda weren’t in on the secret, and nor was Dennis, who had a habit of popping up unexpectedly at any time.

Every now and then I noticed Holly staring at me with a look of surprise on her face. Well, if Mike had disappeared – hopefully, temporarily – she only had herself to blame. What did she expect? I was just trying to bury myself in the role, like any good actor. Anyway, some parts of Mike usually put in an appearance at night after we had pushed our two camp beds together.

The time of the day I hated most was the morning when visitors came in to watch the household getting dressed. As Sheila had told me, few Regency women wore drawers, but we women all insisted on modern panties for comfort and decency’s sake. These were concealed from visitors’ eyes by our shifts.

Going without a bra was uncomfortable for some of us larger ladies. We had to get used to our corsets for support, as Sheila had said when she had fitted me out with my first costume. Our audiences enjoyed seeing us being squashed into these (especially me). It was embarrassing enough appearing in just a shift, all too obviously distorted by my huge boobs and buttocks, but Amy’s Herculean efforts to cram all my artificial flesh into my corset never failed to generate laughter, which was even more embarrassing.

At dinner Amy joked that she had never been so intimate with anyone, not even her own mother. Holly didn’t seem to think that was very funny.

Surprisingly few men showed up for these sessions, for which all of us ladies were profoundly grateful, and those who did were firmly constrained by their own womenfolk from getting too close to us.

Our guests often asked detailed (and quite embarrassing) questions. We had to state quite firmly that no lady would dream of discussing their ‘private parts’ in public. Fortunately my prostheses were quite convincing enough if they were exposed accidentally while I dressed – especially my impressive cleavage.

So there was no chance that any part of my male anatomy would be revealed in my morning toilette or in the evening dressing session, when I changed out of a decent day dress into a low-cut evening gown. This required a different corset, designed to elevate the bosom like a modern push-up bra. That was even worse. It felt like my boobs were going to pop out at any moment.

My dress was a gorgeous pale-yellow confection in imitation silk, and I couldn’t help feeling like a princess when I wore it – until I saw my daughters, who wore similar gowns but were much prettier and, of course, slimmer. The dress had short puff sleeves, which would have exposed my bony masculine arms, but Sheila was able to find a pair of evening gloves that fitted me and covered my arms up to above the elbow.

I also had to wear a ridiculous feathery cap which sat on top of my curly wig like a duckling bobbing up and down on a pond.

Thus attired, I took my husband’s arm and allowed him to lead me down the main staircase and into the dining room where we would entertain our last batch of visitors of the day to a pre-prandial sherry (although they wouldn’t be staying for dinner).

As Dennis had hoped, when the local papers came out that weekend, their reviews of The Pride and Prejudice Experience were excellent. Some of the nationals also picked up the story and advance bookings doubled overnight. Dennis was delighted, and at close of play on the Sunday of the second week, he and the Countess, accompanied as ever by her faithful companion, Mary Manners, treated us all to champagne with dinner.

* * *

On our first day off Holly insisted on dragging me all the way into town to get some clothes, Hadleigh village not boasting a decent ladies’ boutique. She suggested I wear tights and the highest heels I had, to try and get used to them. I didn’t see why I needed to do that, but it was just easier not to argue. Amy and Sam tagged along. With four of us we could afford a taxi, although Holly could have paid for one alone (or maybe bought one, if it came to that).

“Marks and Sparks first,” she said. “Auntie needs lots more underwear. They sell nice slacks too.”

“I may have changed my mind about trousers…” I began.

“So have I,” she said. “You’re definitely getting a pair. That bum needs showing off.”

Amy, Sam and the taxi driver all giggled.

* * *

I didn’t actually have to try any underwear on at M & S, but Holly still made it as embarrassing as possible by pointedly asking what style of panties (boyshort, brief, thong…) and bras (push-up, balconette, shelf, demi, racerback…) I preferred. Amy and Sam struggled to keep their faces straight. Holly knew perfectly well these questions would floor me, and I could hardly ask for explanations with other lingerie shoppers all around us. I said I didn’t care; Granny knickers and any bra in my size that wasn’t padded (my breasts were quite big enough), would be fine.

The girls selected several cheap, age-appropriate tops for me and a couple of frilly nighties. I had to try on some dresses and skirts too. At this point, having had their fill of embarrassing me, Amy and Sam wandered off to do some shopping of their own. We arranged to meet later at the nearest coffee shop for elevenses.

Holly accompanied me into the fitting room. She helped me out of my dress and explained how to put a skirt on. I hadn’t realised it would be a challenge. She offered me what she called a pencil skirt in blue denim.

“You can step into it,” she said. “Or you can put it on over your head. Actually, I think you’ll have to step into most skirts. If it doesn’t have an elasticated waist; you’d never get it over your boobs.”

“Thanks for your tact,” I said. “It’s a good thing I’m not sensitive about my body image.” She chuckled. “So how do I know where the zip goes? Presumably not the front, so side or back?”

“I’ve never really thought about that,” she said. “It’s usually obvious. Assume the label is supposed to be at the back; that should tell you where the zip goes.”

The skirt was size 16 but it was still a bit of a struggle to get it over my hips. When I had finally wrenched it up to my waist, it was a fairly good fit.

“OK, that’s fine,” I said. “Let’s pay for everything and go.”

Hah, fat chance! I had to try on half a dozen more dresses and skirts in various styles and colours before Holly announced herself satisfied. Then we moved on to the slacks.

“You need one pair of jeans, and one smart pair for best,” she said.

“But we can hardly carry all the bags we have now,” I whined, “and we don’t have a car we can drop stuff off in.”

“Two more bags won’t make much difference. Amy and Sam can help.”

Trousers proved to be difficult. Unsurprisingly, my combination of waist, hips and leg length was unusual for a woman. We eventually found what we – that is, she – had been looking for. I posed in front of the dressing room mirror in a pair of jeans and a red top.

“Don’t you think your Aunt Michelle is a little old for these?” I said.

“Probably,” she agreed, “but I don’t care. You look scrumptious! You can wear those home. The girls will be most impressed.”

So, fully laden with bags of my new clothes, we made our way to the coffee shop, my denim-clad legs making whiff-whiff noises all the way, as my inner thighs rubbed together.

When the taxi dropped us back at Hadleigh House in time for a late lunch we saw from Dennis’s ‘cast notice board’ in the staff common room that the Experience was booked solid for the next six days, and well into next week. We were a hit!

The only other chores we had to do that day was laundry. So we spent most of the afternoon relaxing. Our second week as the Bennet family would start tomorrow, bright and early.

* * *

Life in the 19th Century went on for the Bennet family and our guests. Dennis’ experts stayed with us to oversee our efforts at dancing, needlework and shooting. They dressed in Regency clothes too and took on the identities of minor characters from the novel.

The arrangements for laundry and cleaning worked efficiently, which was just as well because it was midsummer and hot. Our costumes were modern replicas, rather than authentic 19th Century clothes, and made of light artificial materials, but they still covered us completely with several layers. The gentlemen perspired heavily and we ladies glowed – a lot. I don’t know how the laundrymaids knew which rooms to return the cleaned clothes to, but they never seemed to have any problems. Of course, my dresses and petticoats were several sizes bigger than any of my daughters’. When we came back to our bedroom after a long day there were always two clean shifts on the camp beds, but mine was nearly twice the size of Holly’s.

“Here, I think this one’s yours, Porky,” she would say with a grin.

As predicted, the beginning of the school summer holidays in mid-July brought us new challenges with families bringing in children of all ages. The older kids weren’t too much of a problem. The boys (and a few girls) were keen to try clay pigeon shooting with our experts, who were now masquerading as Colonel Forster and Wickham’s friend, Denny. The girls (and no boys at all) happily tried their hands at embroidery. Unfortunately, we only had access to one expert at needlework, so the rest of us ladies had to take turns at helping out. In my case, it was a case of ‘Do as I say; don’t do as I do’. Everyone was surprised that a woman of my age was so incompetent at this essential skill (at least for a 19th Century gentlewoman).

The Countess arranged for the local Archery Club to set up a stand near to the guns, which kept several kids busy for hours.

Also, the Hadleigh Home Farm Stables offered riding lessons and were delighted with the extra custom – nothing to do with The Pride and Prejudice Experience, but a good (though not cheap) two hours’ worth of childcare.

We were lucky with the weather. July and the beginning of August were hot and sunny. We didn’t need to fall back on our training in children’s games of the early 19th Century and other emergency indoor activities.

The Experience was still at the centre of all this, but it was rapidly turning into a Hadleigh Summer Festival.

* * *

On every other Monday I had to make a clandestine trip to Transformations to have my prosthetics removed and cleaned, and my skin checked for rashes and signs of hair growth, especially under my double chin. I had to undergo more close shaves and waxing but whatever that soothing cream of Vera’s was, it seemed to make the hair removal process much easier. The visits got progressively shorter and less uncomfortable, and afterwards I joined Holly and the others in town for a girly day of laundry, shopping, movie going, and 21st Century eating. I don’t know what Derek, Douglas and Tom did on their days off, but I was hardly in a position to join them in their boys’ activities.

One Friday afternoon, when Diane, as Kitty, and I were entertaining our visitors for afternoon tea, Holly came in suddenly. This was unexpected, as she and Hilary, as Jane, were supposed to be walking round the gardens with other guests.

“Excuse me, Mama,” she said. “A matter has arisen which demands your attention.”

Hill, who was pouring cups of tea, looked up in alarm.

“What is it, dear?” I said, remaining in character.

This was effortless now. In fact, being Mrs Bennet came naturally now. Remembering how to be Michelle was more difficult, let alone Mike.

“I think it would be best if you came with me into the kitchen.”

“Oh, what has that cook done now?” I said, crossly. I stood up. “Elbows off the table, Kitty! Remember your manners.”

“Sorry, Mama,” said Diane.

“Please excuse me, ladies and gentlemen,” I said. “I shall return momentarily.”

Concerned at leaving Amy and Diane on their own to cope with six guests, I hurried after my daughter/niece/girlfriend. In the kitchen out of sight of any visitors, Holly turned round and waved a piece of paper at me. She was clearly agitated.

“I’m going to have to go,” she said. “Mary Manners came over with a message. My father has had a heart attack. My mother will need me.”

“Oh God!” I said. “That’s awful! How bad is it?”

“Well, apparently it was touch and go for a while, but he’s out of danger now. It was my mother on the telephone. She sounded very upset, but Mary eventually got her to say that he was in hospital and being well looked after. Mum wants me to go to her.”

“Of course, you must! How will you get there?”

“Mary said that there will be a car up at the Hall for me. She and the Countess are amazing! Also Mary contacted Dennis. He’s busy working out what to do with no Lizzy for a few days. He said he won’t expect me back till after our next day off, and if I need more time, I’m just to let him know.”

“If there’s anything I can do…”

“No, no, I don’t think so, babe. You’d better get back to your guests. The Experience can do without Lizzy for a few days, but they can’t manage without Mrs Bennet.”

“OK. Give your parents my love. Let me know how they are tonight.”

* * *

Holly called on my mobile that evening. Her Dad was going to be OK, but her mother was still in shock, so Holly was going to stay with her over the weekend. She would try and get back on Monday night to resume her duties on Tuesday. So I would have three full days without her. Weekends were always busy, but I would have to find something to do in the evenings and during the day on Monday.

Unfortunately my options were limited. Mike might have gone for a run or arranged a game of squash, but now that I was for all intents and purposes Michelle, an overweight forty-year-old woman… Any form of running was out; my new breasts would be swinging hard enough to knock me over and rip the skin off my chest. I didn’t have a sports bra, and in any case I doubt they make them big enough. I suppose I could read a romance novel or practise my embroidery. Neither appealed.

At least Friday night wasn’t a problem after I finished talking to Holly. At seven-thirty I went into dinner, as most of the cast did most days. The catering was excellent, the company was convivial, and going out to one of Hadleigh’s two pubs or its one Chinese restaurant was too much bother.

Everyone wanted to know about Holly’s father – my brother-in-law to those who didn’t know the real me. I told them what I could and they asked me to give her their best wishes when next we spoke.

Knowing I wouldn’t be called upon to ‘perform’ for Holly later, I drank more than usual.

I decided on an early night. I went up to our bedroom. I stripped off and threw my bra in the suitcase we had set aside for our own laundry. I immediately felt the weight of my breasts swinging free. I put on one of my new nighties for the support provided by its built-in cups.

I stared at myself in the room’s one mirror. The nightie was short with a slit up the side. Holly had insisted on that, ‘to facilitate access’. My ample buttocks poked out enticingly. The result was… quite sexy, actually.

Perhaps it was time I stopped complaining about this body. I turned sideways, the better to evaluate my bounteous bosom. At first, I had resented all the additional flesh on my chest, hips and buttocks, and it certainly curtailed my movements dramatically, but now that I was getting used to it, I had to accept that Ingrid’s software had done a great job. Michelle was very well-endowed; she was a total MILF! If I were still a man, I would definitely find this body attractive despite its advanced age.

I removed my wig and wig cap and combed my own hair straight. It was getting quite long now. It needed a wash. If I had it styled like a woman’s, I might even be able to dispense with the hot and itchy wig…

I went along to one of the communal bathrooms. It was still quite early and it was unoccupied. I went in to remove my makeup, wash, and clean my teeth.

I went back to the bedroom. I checked my little ladies’ watch, which of course I could only wear in the evenings. It was a gift from Holly that strained my eyes whenever I needed to read it. It was just starting to get dark. I put on the bedside light. Maybe I’d read in bed, though that always made me doze off. I was looking forward to catching up on my sleep. I didn’t usually get much with Holly ravishing me half the night.

I pulled back the duvet and was about to get into bed when there was a knock on the door. I looked around for my dressing gown, then I thought, what would be the point? Mike was fully dressed. I was wearing an elaborate costume which concealed my modesty more effectively than a boiler suit.

“Come in,” I said.

It was Sam. It was only just after nine-thirty, but she was in her nightwear too.

Next: The Body in the Library