Everyone deferred to Alex except for a few who fortunately had remembered that the reason for the boy’s return was not the reason for the return of the Prodigal Son. And that the lavish dishes served up were really the funeral baked meats, although the funeral was yet to come. Cocktails had been taken in the library, where Crabbe Holdsworth had held forth on Southey and Company. The disarray—the stacks of books off the shelves and on the floor—only seemed to whet his appetite for discourse on the Lake poets. Hawkes had moved amongst them with plates of skewered oysters and sweetbreads on small picks, which were utterly delicious. Crabbe Holdsworth was an oyster addict, apparently. Melrose remembered there had been many plump ones in the delicious mutton and oyster pie served previously. Millie would one day be chef at the Dorchester or Ritz if she kept this up. • • • Melrose wondered who had chosen the wine and wouldn’t have been surprised to find out this was Millie’s duty also.
