[MaC] More speculation in the lounge

[Mel Mason]

 Nicola, who was busy scooping the various and sundry items back into the 
bag, began apologizing: "I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Fitzroy, it was my idea. I 
know it's the height of rudeness to go through someone's bag."

Her husband took a step towards her. "Leave that!" he ordered.

Nicola turned to look at Marty Fitzroy with a look of utter disdain and 
contempt. She fastened Esme's handbag and held it out to the woman. "Pay no 
attention to that wretched man, Mrs. Fitzroy. Here you are, darling, and 
again, I'm so very sorry."

Esme seized the bag and clutched it to her.

Arabella stepped towards them. She had had rather enough of Marty Fitzroy 
bullying people, especially his wife. No wonder the woman was so nervous. 
"Really, Mr. Fitzroy," she said, in the voice of the Countess she had been 
for so many years, "that is hardly the tone to use after your wife has just 
swooned." Turning to Esme, she said, in a softer tone, "My dear, under the 
circumstances, it's a wonder more people aren't feeling faint."

"I'll not be spoken to like that in my own 'ome!" roared Marty Fitzroy, and 
he took a step towards Arabella, his fist clenching.

"Is there somewhere else you'd =prefer= to be spoken to in such a manner?" 
Vangie inquired, her voice frosty.

"Now Mr. Fitzroy, I'll not have this behaviour in this building." Hodges 
moved to step between the feisty dowager and the boor. The old man was still 
spry enough to make trouble for a brutish thug that threatened a lady of 
quality!

James couldn't let the elderly man take the brunt of the brutism of Marty.

"Marty." James said. "Hosting the party or not, there is no reason to be 
rude. Especially to the fairer gender, and especially given what's happened. 
Sit down."

He looked at Marty intently.

"Have we missed much?" said a voice from the service door. It was Oswald 
Skeffington-Nottle, with Marion Mauberley by his side.

Marion was still looking pale and tense, but in command of herself. Her 
glance, however, went immediately to Anton Barowenski.

He was still sitting on the sofa, once hand to his head, looking pale and 
shaken.

"Nope, a fainting spell and some fuss over Mrs. Fitzroy's handbag, an 
innocent enough mistake," Michael offered.

"You taking the lead again, old chap?" he asked with a wry smile. "I think 
Lucy's already pushed my name to the top of some list."

Oswald shot him a swift look.  "Miss Mauberley is an old friend too," he 
said.  "In somewhat less ... ah ... ambiguous circumstances.  How is Sandra 
these days?"

"Only Mr. Fitzroy behaving boorishly," Arabella said, holding her ground. 
Although she was quite short, she planted her feet, in their sensible little 
flats, as if she was not only massive, but capable of taking on all comers.

Marty glowered at her, but turned back to the bar.  "I've 'ad a shock," he 
muttered.  Perhaps he intended that to act as an apology.  "I was very fond 
of Nola, I was."

Esme, seated on the sofa, gave a high-pitched giggle and clutched tighter at 
her bag.

"Shock," Oswald mouthed at Marion.

Marjorie casually poured a drink for Fitzroy after James was done with the 
gin bottle. "Oh relax, Mr. Fitzroy... here." She put the drink on the 
counter.

"Then again, the last time I offered someone a drink to cool down they were 
killed..." She started to giggle at the macabre joke of the situation.

 "Drink," Oswald mouthed again.

Aloud he said, "Now, Miss Mauberley and I were planning on asking Mr 
Barowenski a few questions.  Perhaps ... is there anyone here who speaks 
Polish?  It might assist Mr Barowenski."

He glanced around the room.  "And perhaps we need to deal with those people 
who are quite rightly very upset ... Should we adjourn somewhere else? 
Several somewhere elses, if necessary."