Timothy knew from Hazel’s silence that something was troubling her but was too politic to raise a concern himself. She would discuss it with him when she was ready, and would raise it at her own pace. He guessed though that it concerned her discovery. Perhaps she had brought the credit card receipt and the restaurant bill up with James and had not been satisfied with his answer. For now, all he could do was to be there to offer his support and comfort and hope that led in a direction he could take advantage of. If they had been alone in the drawing room he would have held her hand while he sat with her, but in the crowded ballroom there were too many pairs of eyes to see the gesture and misinterpret or actually, as far as his own things went, to correctly interpret.

Their silent reverie was interrupted again by more guests, this time people that both knew well. Mark Peters, and Rob and Sheila Bishop, had been talking with James and Julian but came over to the seated pair when the brothers had left them. Rob pulled another chair across for Sheila to sit on next to Hazel. She sat, and immediately started to tell Hazel and Timothy the same news as she had shared with the brothers and Mark about their plans to island hop in the Philippines the following year.

Having just heard it once already, Mark left them to circulate among the other guests. The room was full of important people after all. Perhaps one of them would be ripe to become a client, which he could sorely use. Within seconds of leading Hazel’s group he almost literally bumped into Peter Marks, Lord Allenby’s solicitor. He was obviously indulging in the wine being circulated just a little more than he should, though luckily he wasn’t driving. Peter’s wife Beryl had obviously guessed what Mark was thinking and jiggled at him car keys in one hand and a half drunk glass of orange juice in the other, while raising her eyebrows. Mark sometimes felt that James had chosen Peter to act for him when the previous incumbent had retired purely for the fun of introducing them to each other, and for the look of confusion on other attendees’ faces when a business meeting required both his accountant and his solicitor to attend at the same time.

“Hello Peter,” said Mark as he caught Peter’s arm to stop him stumbling. “Anyone here I should talk to tonight, do you think?”

Peter was still quite young, in his early 30s, but the firm he worked for was old, respected and very successful. No doubt many of the guests present could be counted among their clients.

“Mark, old boy, good to see you. I dare say there are one or two good prospects here, yes.”

He looked around the room, pausing a half-dozen times to fill Mark in on the name and background of one of the men or women that came into view.

“That should do to be going on with,” he said. “They’re all clients of ours but I don’t think they have any business dealings with Lord Allenby so there shouldn’t be any conflict of interest. You know, Lord Allenby has been keeping us pretty busy himself recently, what with new business agreements and changing his will.”

“His will?” enquired Mark.

“Oops, shouldn’t have let that slip,” said Peter looking slightly concerned at his error. “Confidential and all that. Suffice to say that there’s not a lot he can do about the estate, that’s pretty much taken care of by the imposition of restrictions and requirements in the will that left it to him, but his personal wealth is a different matter. Let’s just say that if Lord Allenby dies first, Julian Allenby is in for an even more pleasant surprise than he could have hoped for!”

Mark almost wished that it was Julian he were dealing with right now, not James. Moving the dummy share accounts had saved him being discovered for now, but had brought the deception squarely out into the public. Soon it wouldn’t be just James who believed in their existence.

“Well, thanks for the leads, Peter,” said Mark, “now all I need to do is talk to them in person and hope they want to talk shop.” Mark left Peter to corner his first target.

Anne had been quite busy since helping with the presents but was enjoying herself immensely. She had been going from group to group making small talk and ensuring they had plenty to eat and drink, and filling them in on how the evening would go after the toast. She had, in fact, been doing the very thing that should have been Hazel’s responsibility. When she saw Hazel sitting with Timothy and Sheila, Rob stood behind them, she decided to take a short break for a while. She grabbed a glass of white wine from the tray held by Mrs Davis as she passed and returned her empty glass to the same spot. She realised as she squatted beside Hazel that they hadn’t spoken to one another since James’s return or even seen each other except for an odd glimpse across the ballroom.

“Hello Sheila, Rob, Timothy,” she said, “tiring work this, and thirsty too!” She took a large swallow of wine from the glass she was holding before turning to her sister and saying, in a low voice:

“I must admit, I’m a little surprised to find you sitting down. I would have thought you’d be in your element circulating among all of these guests.”

When it came to it, Hazel found that she just couldn’t be civil to her sister. She hardly lost her smile as she spoke in a whisper that only Anne could hear.

“I saw you come out of James’s room this afternoon. Right after I’d been there.”

‘So,’ thought Anne, ‘she finally knows’. And in letting Anne know that she knew she was also letting James know too. This meant that the issue would finally be forced into the open to be dealt with once and for all. Anne stood up again, and took an even larger swallow of wine than the first time, before walking off purposefully to find James.

Lady Valerie had felt almost like a schoolgirl as she had introduced Philip to one guest after another after they had helped open and list the birthday gifts. Now they had retired to the privacy of the drawing room to take a short rest before continuing.

“You know, I’m really rather enjoying this evening,” said Valerie, a twinkle in both her eyes and her smile.

“So am I,” agreed Philip, “shame it’ll end with me going home.” He squeezed her hand and jiggled himself in the sofa he was sitting in next to her so that he slid a little closer. “Still, I suppose we’d better get used to it. If James really does mean to dramatically cut down on his nights away, our opportunity to spend nights together will become few and far between.”

“Yes,” said Valerie after a slight pause. “You know, I wouldn’t claim that I haven’t thought about that, but it’s only just really hitting me now what it will mean.”

“Not to worry, old girl,” said Philip. “We’ll just have to visit houses and museums a bit further afield, so we’ve got excuses to stay away ourselves!”

Their conversation, which up until that point had been light and bubbly, concerning the people that they had just met and those that Valerie still wanted to introduce Philip to, became much more faltering as each became more involved in their own thoughts. They sat for several more minutes before they felt ready to rejoin the party.

Peter’s evening was going well. As he had expected the guests were gravitating toward the expensive canapés first and devouring them. Each empty plate was another support for his claim that there were more than there actually were. He was being kept busy at his drinks table filling glasses with wine and with juice for Polly and the Davis’ to restock their trays from and offer to the guests. Sometimes a guest approached Peter directly for a drink but generally they asked through the waiting staff. As people realised they could get things other than the wines and juices on the trays that were going around, more and more were asking for something special. Work for the waiting staff and for Peter himself got a little harder and more complicated. At 22:40 Peters watch alarm went off to remind him to open Lord Allenby’s bottle of Chablis. He did so and placed it in an ice bucket to keep it cool until it was needed.

As he was giving some more glasses a quick wipe prior to filling them with wine he thought he saw someone he recognized. He looked again. There was no mistaking the horse like features of Mrs Noelle Pruet. Mrs. Pruet had been a regular visitor at the house where Peter had been caught skimming off the top, which had eventually led to his imprisonment. He looked again at her. As he did so, she looked directly back at him. Was it at him? Or through him? He couldn’t decide whether there was a flash of recognition in that look or if the lady was simply attempting to refocus her eyes. She didn’t point, or cry out, or try in any other way to attract attention either to herself or to him. Peter began to feel he must have got away with it, for now at least. It had been nearly 15 years earlier that they had last seen each other and he had changed considerably since then. He had had a full head of hair which had been thick and dark, not the balding greying excuse which sat on his head now. Although she had been a regular visitor, she hadn’t been a frequent one and Peter could think of no occasion where they had conversed beyond a simple greeting or farewell. Besides, people like Noelle Pruet didn’t seem to think of those in serving roles as ‘people’ and probably hadn’t even properly registered him, then or now. All the same, he decided to keep a close eye on her for the rest of the party, and if possible to keep out of her view. He was making drinks for Polly to take to one of the guests when he saw Mrs Pruet, with what he assumed to be Mr Pruet, talking to Lord Allenby and Mr Julian. Was it his imagination, or had they all just been looking over at him?

“No Peter, a whisky and soda and a rum and coke,” said Polly, pulling his mind back to the job he was supposed to be doing. He looked at the glass of whisky that he had just poured coke into and pushed it to one side. He remade the drinks, correctly this time, and Polly went off to deliver them. No one was watching when he swallowed the whisky and coke in one single gulp.

Julian signalled Fred to come closer.

“I don’t think James or I will be wanting any more of these tonight,” he said, indicating the savoury snacks on the tray which Fred was holding. James agreed, though took a few in his hand anyway. “Why don’t you get rid of them and help the rest of the staff with drinks for the toast and with the cakes. It’ll soon be time.”

Fred agreed, and disappeared toward the kitchen to get rid of his tray.

“Well that’s what I call perfect timing,” said James to Julian. “I think we’ve just about seen everyone just before its time to do the public speaking bit.”

The plates on the tables had been moved back to make room for the trays of individual cakes. In between the cakes were trays of champagne and orange juice, in case guests didn’t have a drink to hand.

Julian looked around for something a little less common than a chair to stand on to make himself seem across the room. He could find nothing else though, so decided that would have to do. While he was climbing up on it, Peter appeared beside James.

“Your Chablis for the toast, m’Lord.”

“Ah, thank you Jeeves. Yes, being rather looking forward to this.”

When he had successfully climbed onto the chair and was sure of his balance, Julian cleared his throat loudly to attract everyone’s attention. When this only worked with those people nearest him he reached into a pocket and pulled out a pen which he used to tap the glass he was holding. The silence that had gripped the visitors immediately beside him rippled out until it filled the whole room. Everyone was looking expectantly at Julian, waiting for him to speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “if you haven’t got a drink you’ll find plenty on the table. You’ll also find mini birthday cakes. You’ll no doubt need the energy they’ll provide to last through my brother’s speech.” There was a small and polite ripple of amusement through the crowd. He glanced at his watch. It was 11:39. As the minute hand swung round to point to 11:40 he raised his glass and looked at his brother.

“Happy 60th birthday James,” he said, and took a large drink from his glass. The crowd around did likewise and James raised his own glass, turning in a circle and smiling and nodding at everyone as he did so. He took a small sip of the Chablis. It really was rather nice. He took another. Next to him, Fred appeared carrying the plate containing the two birthday cakes. He took the one with the candles and didn’t even bother to take them off before taking a large bite from it. He made appreciative noises as he discovered the extra icing inside.

Julian used his brother’s shoulder as a balance to get down from the chair he had been stood on, and once he was firmly back on the ground took the other cake. James grabbed the back of the chair but instead of climbing up on it, as Julian had been expecting, fell against it heavily and then sat down on it.

“You’re looking awfully flushed James,” said Julian, “are you all right?”

There was no reply. James’s breaths were becoming shorter and shallower and his features redder with every second that went by.

“Quickly,” said Julian to Fred, “find Dr West and bring him here.” There was no need for the instruction. Timothy had seen what had happened and was already forcing his way through the crowd to assist.

By the time he was beside James, the man’s breathing had all but stopped. There was nothing he could do. James took one last breath in, then no more. There was nothing particularly dramatic about James’s death, other than that it was witnessed by the entire room who by this time had realised that something very serious was happening.

The autopsy confirmed that James had died from an allergic reaction. It couldn’t identify the source, and of course without knowing that, it was impossible to say if he had been murdered or if he had just managed to ingest something accidentally. The inquest had returned an open verdict. Again with no source for what had killed him, there was little else it could do.

Before going to the ballroom to greet his guests along with Hazel, James went to his study. He used the computer there to transfer all of the funds Mark had moved into the cash accounts to his own two offshore banks. There was considerably less than he had been expecting. He would ask Mark to explain when he arrived at the party.

He joined Hazel just as the doorbell rang, and it was followed shortly afterwards by Jeeves bringing through the first guest. Others arrived in rapid succession after that. Hazel knew most of the guests so it was simply a question of greeting them as they arrived. For the few that she didn’t, James did a brief introduction and told her, once they were out of earshot, any details he had not mentioned when they were in front of him. She was polite enough to all of the arrivals, but James couldn’t help thinking there was a certain coldness in the way that she spoke to him when only the pair of them could hear.

Among the first few people to enter the ballroom were Lady Valerie and Philip Leslie.

“You’re looking beautiful tonight, as ever,” said Valerie.

“Why, thank you,” said Hazel, “you’re turned out rather well yourself”.

“I must admit,” said Valerie, “that it takes longer and longer every year but we have to keep on trying for others’ sake if not for our own”. She smiled and winked at Philip as she spoke. “Now James, I know it breaks with tradition but the guests will probably expect you to open their presents before they leave. I’m sure Julian won’t mind as there will be so many of them. Why don’t you do it after you’ve finished the formal greetings? That way, you can thank everyone in person, and it will save you the time of having to write all of those ‘thank you’ notes?”

“We’ll lend a hand when you’re ready to start,” said Philip, “you’ll need someone to write down who brought you what or you will lose track!”

When the bulk of the guests had arrived, and about half an hour after the party had started, James decided it was time to end the formal receiving. He went to find Mark Peters, who had been one of the first to arrive and who he had told on seeing him that he would need a word later on. He found him standing alone, the glass of orange juice that he had taken clasped tightly in one hand but looking as if it had barely been touched. Mark looked up as he approached.

“I’ve got details of all the accounts printed out here, Lord Allenby,” he said, patting his breast pocket as he spoke.

“Well,” replied James, “unless you’ve printed them off in the last half an hour they’ll be out of date. I transferred most of the funds out,” he said, “apart from a few pounds in each to keep them open in case we need to use them again”. He paused before adding “that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. There was a good deal less money there than I was expecting”.

Mark took a deep breath before beginning his explanation.

“So you see,” he said when he had delivered it, “if I had divested those shares we’d be lucky to see even a tenth of what we paid”.

“I see,” said James and went quiet as he thought. “Well it can’t be helped I suppose. I doubt the estate’s got sufficient cash to take them on, has it?”

Mark shook his head, to agree that it hadn’t.

“Okay, well we should be able to raise about half their value from my public savings accounts. Not all though. Need to sort it straight away though. You can use the computer in my study. Let me know as soon as it’s done, okay?”

Mark wasn’t sure if this meant he had got away with his plan or not. It did at least mean that he had a little breathing space. He headed off to James’s study to use the computer’s internet connection to transfer the funds.

James found Julian with Lady Valerie, Philip and Anne, and whispered to him.

“We both need to disappear for a short while, I’m afraid,” he announced to the small company. Julian took several of the canapés from the tray that Fred was holding, popping one into his mouth.

“We’ll be gone at least a quarter of an hour,” James told Fred, “so you needn’t hover around with that tray. Maybe help the others with seeing that everyone has drinks?” The brothers left the ballroom and ascended the staircase to James’s room.

Fred was glad of the change. As he had thought it would, his role was proving to be very boring. His parents and Polly were working much harder than he was, but for them time would be passing much more quickly. He took the tray back to the kitchen to leave it on the table for the time being. As no one was around this time, he took the opportunity to sample a couple of the small treats Polly had made. They were very nice. He didn’t linger there long. Peter had probably seen him leave and would question his absence if it was prolonged.

He returned to the ballroom and made directly for the drinks table. Instead of helping the others to serve drinks, as he was planning to do, Peter suggested that he start clearing away the dirty glasses. The trolley that they were being collected on, the same one that Mrs Davis had used to bring the trays of food through, was nearly full. Fred found enough room to squeeze on the used glasses Polly returned while he was there then headed back to the kitchen. He didn’t have to weave in and out of the company much, as most people parted to let him through. By the time that he had finished washing the glasses and had left them to drain, it was nearing the time that James and Julian were due to return. He refilled the tray of canapés from the remainder Polly had left on the kitchen table, which hadn’t fitted on the first time round. He put the full tray onto the trolley, using the middle shelf instead of the top one so that guests wouldn’t mistakenly take from it, and pushed it back through. When the brothers did return, Fred’s task was made much easier by their staying together most of the time.

James and Julian sought out Valerie and Philip who they found still with Anne but not joined by anyone else.

“James has just told me about your suggestion to open his presents early, rather than wait till after the toast,” Julian said to Lady Valerie, “and I think it is a splendid idea. I don’t mind at all. I’ve brought something to write them all down on,” he said, waving a small notebook. “If you don’t mind, Philip, I noticed that several of the guests have brought presents for me too so I’ll open those and circulate with him to thank them myself as we find them. Could you jot those down too? It won’t be nearly as long a list as James’s!”

Philip said that of course he wouldn’t mind listing Julian’s presents as well as James’s, and taking the notebook from him led the way across the room to the table of presents, followed by the rest of the group.

“Hazel not joining us?” asked Anne.

“Apparently not,” said Julian. “She disappeared to find Timothy as soon as the formal Reception ended, and we haven’t seen her since”.

The pile of presents on the table was large but with everyone helping the job proceeded quickly. James and Julian opened each present, telling Philip who it was from and what it was as they did so. Philip wrote each down on a list for each brother in the notebook. Lady Valerie and Anne cleared the wrapping paper away into black bags which had been left there especially for this purpose.

As expected, it took a much shorter time for Julian’s pile to be completed than James’s. Valerie’s was the last present Julian opened. He exclaimed in surprise and delight when he saw what the parcel contained. Even James stopped unwrapping his own gifts to admire it.

“It’s beautiful, Lady Valerie,” he said rising and giving her a huge hug and kisses on both cheeks. “I’ll take a much closer look tomorrow, see if I can’t get it working so we can watch the sideshow after we’ve eaten. Thank you, Philip”.

“You might as well help me with the rest of these if you finished your own,” said James, indicating the somewhat diminished but still sizeable pile of presents he still had to get through.

With both of them working on it the number of still wrapped presents rapidly dwindled.

“Ah, from Lady Valerie and Philip Leslie,” said James, unwrapping the parcel. “A rather nice display box. Ow!” He had been examining the box as he was speaking, and had pricked himself on the same nail as Philip and Valerie had themselves when they had first spotted it. A small red patch on his middle finger showed where it had broken the skin and drawn blood.

“Ah, booby-trapped,” chortled Julian. “Ideal for keeping things in that you want to know if someone has been looking at.”

Everyone laughed at this and the brothers returned to opening the remaining presents until the task was complete.

“As we’re in the swing of gift opening … ” said Anne, holding out identical looking small silver parcels to the two brothers.

They took it in turn to thank and kissed her when they opened them to reveal the wallets she had bought for them.

“I was going to put a bank note in from each of the countries you’ve been to,” she said to Julian, “as it’s a retirement gift as well as a birthday present and you’re not supposed to give them empty for luck”. She paused. “Problem was that I realised after I’d bought it that you’ve been to so many I’d have needed to buy a much bigger wallet, so I’ve put a British one in as your retiring here”.

Both brothers put the gift with their respective piles, not wanting to spoil the line of their dinner jackets by putting them in the pocket straight away.

With that job done it was time to start the task of thanking everyone for their gifts. They took their respective lists of whom had given what from Philip and set out to do so.

The brothers circulated from small group to small group, with Julian introducing himself to those he didn’t know. When they stopped to talk to Rob and Sheila Bishop, Rob said that he wanted a private word with James about business.

“Not tonight, Rob, if you don’t mind,” said James. “It’s a party not a business function after all”.

The more Rob insisted the matter was urgent, the more James protested that he didn’t want to talk shop. Julian took Rob to one side and left James to talk to Sheila.

“Whatever the matter is, Rob, it seems to have got you quite upset. Perhaps if you explain it to me, I can find a way to raise it with James at some point during the evening”.

Rob knew and trusted Julian. Besides, he had no other option left. He quickly explained the events that had led up to his current situation and the predicament this left him in.

“I was trying to give James another 30% of the shares of the company, making him an equal partner, if he would put up the money for the new machinery, or at least stand as guarantor for it,” finished Rob.

“Seems like a good deal to me. You know me well enough to know that I’d help if I could, but the choice isn’t mine. I’ll try to raise it with James tonight”.

They rejoined James and Sheila, from whom they had drifted further apart as they’d spoken. Rob was glad that they had. He had not so far told Sheila of his problems. There was no point in worrying her with them unless and until it was absolutely necessary. The pair had been joined by Mark Peters.

“Mark’s just been doing a bit of late business for me.” James told them on their return. “Just told me that it’s concluded”.

Julian excused himself and left the small group, then joined them again a few minutes later. Sheila was leading the conversation when he returned, talking about the holiday they were planning for the following year to the Philippines.

“We thought we could impose on you, James, to arrange for us to visit your factory in Cebu. That way we could offset some of the costs of the trip as legitimate business expenses. We might even learn something there that would help improve our own productivity,” she added. “From what I hear they’re doing a fine job producing your device”.

Rob stepped in before James could answer, not wanting him to give away any hint that these plans might be a bit premature.

“That they are, dear,” he said, “but we don’t want to bother James with that tonight. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of other opportunities to raise it before we have to finalise our arrangements”.

“We need to keep circulating,” said James. “Need to thank as many people as I can for their presents. Those I don’t thank personally I’ll need to write letters to, so the more I can get done tonight the better. I see Hazel sitting down over there next to Timothy in his wheelchair. Why don’t you keep them company for a bit?”

He headed off to join the next gathering of people he hadn’t spoken to since he had received them, without waiting for a reply. Julian followed quickly behind.

Hazel had made no attempt to mingle with the other guests once she had completed her formal greeting duties as hostess. As soon as this was over, she took a seat next to Timothy’s wheelchair. She was silent most of the time though pleasant enough when guests came over to talk to her.

She wanted very much to confide in someone what she had found out and Timothy was now the only person she could be sure would keep her secret. She liked Lady Valerie very much, but was certain that she would have to take James’s side, or at least that she would insist the matter be brought out and addressed immediately. She didn’t dare do it here though, in case their conversation was overheard by other guests. There might be a chance later, or if not at the much smaller function the following day. Perhaps she could even visit Timothy at his own home and accompany him back to the Manor. Then their conversation was sure to be confidential.

Timothy knew from Hazel’s silence that something was troubling her but was too politic to raise a concern himself. She would discuss it with him when she was ready, and would raise it at her own pace. He guessed though that it concerned her discovery. Perhaps she had brought the credit card receipt and the restaurant bill up with James and had not been satisfied with his answer. For now, all he could do was to be there to offer his support and comfort and hope that led in a direction he could take advantage of. If they had been alone in the drawing room he would have held her hand while he sat with her, but in the crowded ballroom there were too many pairs of eyes to see the gesture and misinterpret or actually, as far as his own things went, to correctly interpret.

Their silent reverie was interrupted again by more guests, this time people that both knew well. Mark Peters, and Rob and Sheila Bishop, had been talking with James and Julian but came over to the seated pair when the brothers had left them. Rob pulled another chair across for Sheila to sit on next to Hazel. She sat, and immediately started to tell Hazel and Timothy the same news as she had shared with the brothers and Mark about their plans to island hop in the Philippines the following year.

Having just heard it once already, Mark left them to circulate among the other guests. The room was full of important people after all. Perhaps one of them would be ripe to become a client, which he could sorely use. Within seconds of leading Hazel’s group he almost literally bumped into Peter Marks, Lord Allenby’s solicitor. He was obviously indulging in the wine being circulated just a little more than he should, though luckily he wasn’t driving. Peter’s wife Beryl had obviously guessed what Mark was thinking and jiggled at him car keys in one hand and a half drunk glass of orange juice in the other, while raising her eyebrows. Mark sometimes felt that James had chosen Peter to act for him when the previous incumbent had retired purely for the fun of introducing them to each other, and for the look of confusion on other attendees’ faces when a business meeting required both his accountant and his solicitor to attend at the same time.

“Hello Peter,” said Mark as he caught Peter’s arm to stop him stumbling. “Anyone here I should talk to tonight, do you think?”

Peter was still quite young, in his early 30s, but the firm he worked for was old, respected and very successful. No doubt many of the guests present could be counted among their clients.

“Mark, old boy, good to see you. I dare say there are one or two good prospects here, yes.”

He looked around the room, pausing a half-dozen times to fill Mark in on the name and background of one of the men or women that came into view.

“That should do to be going on with,” he said. “They’re all clients of ours but I don’t think they have any business dealings with Lord Allenby so there shouldn’t be any conflict of interest. You know, Lord Allenby has been keeping us pretty busy himself recently, what with new business agreements and changing his will.”

“His will?” enquired Mark.

“Oops, shouldn’t have let that slip,” said Peter looking slightly concerned at his error. “Confidential and all that. Suffice to say that there’s not a lot he can do about the estate, that’s pretty much taken care of by the imposition of restrictions and requirements in the will that left it to him, but his personal wealth is a different matter. Let’s just say that if Lord Allenby dies first, Julian Allenby is in for an even more pleasant surprise than he could have hoped for!”

Mark almost wished that it was Julian he were dealing with right now, not James. Moving the dummy share accounts had saved him being discovered for now, but had brought the deception squarely out into the public. Soon it wouldn’t be just James who believed in their existence.

“Well, thanks for the leads, Peter,” said Mark, “now all I need to do is talk to them in person and hope they want to talk shop.” Mark left Peter to corner his first target.

Anne had been quite busy since helping with the presents but was enjoying herself immensely. She had been going from group to group making small talk and ensuring they had plenty to eat and drink, and filling them in on how the evening would go after the toast. She had, in fact, been doing the very thing that should have been Hazel’s responsibility. When she saw Hazel sitting with Timothy and Sheila, Rob stood behind them, she decided to take a short break for a while. She grabbed a glass of white wine from the tray held by Mrs Davis as she passed and returned her empty glass to the same spot. She realised as she squatted beside Hazel that they hadn’t spoken to one another since James’s return or even seen each other except for an odd glimpse across the ballroom.

“Hello Sheila, Rob, Timothy,” she said, “tiring work this, and thirsty too!” She took a large swallow of wine from the glass she was holding before turning to her sister and saying, in a low voice:

“I must admit, I’m a little surprised to find you sitting down. I would have thought you’d be in your element circulating among all of these guests.”

When it came to it, Hazel found that she just couldn’t be civil to her sister. She hardly lost her smile as she spoke in a whisper that only Anne could hear.

“I saw you come out of James’s room this afternoon. Right after I’d been there.”

‘So,’ thought Anne, ‘she finally knows’. And in letting Anne know that she knew she was also letting James know too. This meant that the issue would finally be forced into the open to be dealt with once and for all. Anne stood up again, and took an even larger swallow of wine than the first time, before walking off purposefully to find James.

Lady Valerie had felt almost like a schoolgirl as she had introduced Philip to one guest after another after they had helped open and list the birthday gifts. Now they had retired to the privacy of the drawing room to take a short rest before continuing.

“You know, I’m really rather enjoying this evening,” said Valerie, a twinkle in both her eyes and her smile.

“So am I,” agreed Philip, “shame it’ll end with me going home.” He squeezed her hand and jiggled himself in the sofa he was sitting in next to her so that he slid a little closer. “Still, I suppose we’d better get used to it. If James really does mean to dramatically cut down on his nights away, our opportunity to spend nights together will become few and far between.”

“Yes,” said Valerie after a slight pause. “You know, I wouldn’t claim that I haven’t thought about that, but it’s only just really hitting me now what it will mean.”

“Not to worry, old girl,” said Philip. “We’ll just have to visit houses and museums a bit further afield, so we’ve got excuses to stay away ourselves!”

Their conversation, which up until that point had been light and bubbly, concerning the people that they had just met and those that Valerie still wanted to introduce Philip to, became much more faltering as each became more involved in their own thoughts. They sat for several more minutes before they felt ready to rejoin the party.

Peter’s evening was going well. As he had expected the guests were gravitating toward the expensive canapés first and devouring them. Each empty plate was another support for his claim that there were more than there actually were. He was being kept busy at his drinks table filling glasses with wine and with juice for Polly and the Davis’ to restock their trays from and offer to the guests. Sometimes a guest approached Peter directly for a drink but generally they asked through the waiting staff. As people realised they could get things other than the wines and juices on the trays that were going around, more and more were asking for something special. Work for the waiting staff and for Peter himself got a little harder and more complicated. At 22:40 Peters watch alarm went off to remind him to open Lord Allenby’s bottle of Chablis. He did so and placed it in an ice bucket to keep it cool until it was needed.

As he was giving some more glasses a quick wipe prior to filling them with wine he thought he saw someone he recognized. He looked again. There was no mistaking the horse like features of Mrs Noelle Pruet. Mrs. Pruet had been a regular visitor at the house where Peter had been caught skimming off the top, which had eventually led to his imprisonment. He looked again at her. As he did so, she looked directly back at him. Was it at him? Or through him? He couldn’t decide whether there was a flash of recognition in that look or if the lady was simply attempting to refocus her eyes. She didn’t point, or cry out, or try in any other way to attract attention either to herself or to him. Peter began to feel he must have got away with it, for now at least. It had been nearly 15 years earlier that they had last seen each other and he had changed considerably since then. He had had a full head of hair which had been thick and dark, not the balding greying excuse which sat on his head now. Although she had been a regular visitor, she hadn’t been a frequent one and Peter could think of no occasion where they had conversed beyond a simple greeting or farewell. Besides, people like Noelle Pruet didn’t seem to think of those in serving roles as ‘people’ and probably hadn’t even properly registered him, then or now. All the same, he decided to keep a close eye on her for the rest of the party, and if possible to keep out of her view. He was making drinks for Polly to take to one of the guests when he saw Mrs Pruet, with what he assumed to be Mr Pruet, talking to Lord Allenby and Mr Julian. Was it his imagination, or had they all just been looking over at him?

“No Peter, a whisky and soda and a rum and coke,” said Polly, pulling his mind back to the job he was supposed to be doing. He looked at the glass of whisky that he had just poured coke into and pushed it to one side. He remade the drinks, correctly this time, and Polly went off to deliver them. No one was watching when he swallowed the whisky and coke in one single gulp.

Julian signalled Fred to come closer.

“I don’t think James or I will be wanting any more of these tonight,” he said, indicating the savoury snacks on the tray which Fred was holding. James agreed, though took a few in his hand anyway. “Why don’t you get rid of them and help the rest of the staff with drinks for the toast and with the cakes. It’ll soon be time.”

Fred agreed, and disappeared toward the kitchen to get rid of his tray.

“Well that’s what I call perfect timing,” said James to Julian. “I think we’ve just about seen everyone just before its time to do the public speaking bit.”

The plates on the tables had been moved back to make room for the trays of individual cakes. In between the cakes were trays of champagne and orange juice, in case guests didn’t have a drink to hand.

Julian looked around for something a little less common than a chair to stand on to make himself seem across the room. He could find nothing else though, so decided that would have to do. While he was climbing up on it, Peter appeared beside James.

“Your Chablis for the toast, m’Lord.”

“Ah, thank you Jeeves. Yes, being rather looking forward to this.”

When he had successfully climbed onto the chair and was sure of his balance, Julian cleared his throat loudly to attract everyone’s attention. When this only worked with those people nearest him he reached into a pocket and pulled out a pen which he used to tap the glass he was holding. The silence that had gripped the visitors immediately beside him rippled out until it filled the whole room. Everyone was looking expectantly at Julian, waiting for him to speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “if you haven’t got a drink you’ll find plenty on the table. You’ll also find mini birthday cakes. You’ll no doubt need the energy they’ll provide to last through my brother’s speech.” There was a small and polite ripple of amusement through the crowd. He glanced at his watch. It was 11:39. As the minute hand swung round to point to 11:40 he raised his glass and looked at his brother.

“Happy 60th birthday James,” he said, and took a large drink from his glass. The crowd around did likewise and James raised his own glass, turning in a circle and smiling and nodding at everyone as he did so. He took a small sip of the Chablis. It really was rather nice. He took another. Next to him, Fred appeared carrying the plate containing the two birthday cakes. He took the one with the candles and didn’t even bother to take them off before taking a large bite from it. He made appreciative noises as he discovered the extra icing inside.

Julian used his brother’s shoulder as a balance to get down from the chair he had been stood on, and once he was firmly back on the ground took the other cake. James grabbed the back of the chair but instead of climbing up on it, as Julian had been expecting, fell against it heavily and then sat down on it.

“You’re looking awfully flushed James,” said Julian, “are you all right?”

There was no reply. James’s breaths were becoming shorter and shallower and his features redder with every second that went by.

“Quickly,” said Julian to Fred, “find Dr West and bring him here.” There was no need for the instruction. Timothy had seen what had happened and was already forcing his way through the crowd to assist.

By the time he was beside James, the man’s breathing had all but stopped. There was nothing he could do. James took one last breath in, then no more. There was nothing particularly dramatic about James’s death, other than that it was witnessed by the entire room who by this time had realised that something very serious was happening.

The autopsy confirmed that James had died from an allergic reaction. It couldn’t identify the source, and of course without knowing that, it was impossible to say if he had been murdered or if he had just managed to ingest something accidentally. The inquest had returned an open verdict. Again with no source for what had killed him, there was little else it could do.