Priory of Death: 5

The grand Saloon of the Priory seemed rather empty with just us, I thought as I entered. There was Scruff, looking rather embarassing in her sweater and trousers, no shoes on, iPod earphones hanging out of the collar of her sweater.
There were five other guests, two other women, three men. One of the men wore a clerical collar, another full Highland dress (odd, since we were in Ayrshire), and the third a dinner jacket. I knew none of them. The women wore evening clothes, one, a redhead, wore a designer gown from Paris that the catty side of me thought made her look like a prostitute. The other was a quieter blonde. I recognized both of them from school, and I wished I didn't.
"Jane!" Victoria hurried over to greet me. "Jane Hill was as school with me. She's frightfully clever, and she'd have been a scientist or something if her Dad hadn't been killed in action when she was at university..."
"ACTON," I corrected her. "My Dad was killed in Acton."
"Oh... Oh well, anyhow, this is Jane, Scruff's older sister. You know Amelia Grange," that was the girl who looked like a cheap street-walker. I don't wear a cat costume for nothing. Amelia was voted 'most likely to appear on the front page of a tabloid' in our dorm. "Amelia's a jounalist in Glasgow."
"Hi," I said frostily.
"Connie Yorke you know too. She works at the Museum in Manchester."
"Which one?" I asked. Victoria shook her head.
"I don't know, one of them. This is James Hamilton, the local minister. He's a nice man..."
"Hello," I gave him my hand, which he shook warmly. I noted his Glasgow accent when he greeted me.
"Jane Hill. Victoria's said a lot about you."
"Don't believe any of it."
"Oh, I don't."
"Duncan Campbell, from Skye," was the man in Highland dress. "We met him in Edinburgh..."
"Yes, where is your husband?" I asked.
"At the station collecting our last guest. The station's twenty miles away..."
"Well, it's better than driving all the way from London."
"She was meant to be here six hours ago."
"Minor delays, then?" I joked. I knew I was going to get catty later in the night, and I don't mean I thought there'd be any crime committed.
"And..."
"Stephen Richards," the quiet-looking dinner-jacketed man introduced himself. He was almost as short as I was. Mind you, I was wearing heels, which helps. Still, he was quite a short man. "I'm in the City."
"Which city?" I was so witty that night.
"London, of course!" Victoria laughed. "Sorry, Stephen, Jane has SUCH a sense of humor!"
"I live in London," I said. "But you must be in something financial, right?
"Of course, investment banking. I met your sister..."
"Oh, Scruff!" I laughed. "She's great, isn't she?"
"I don't think coming down for dinner dressed like that..."
"I do, I just wish I had the nerve. But she's sixteen, she can get away with it."
The dinner gong sounded. I grabbed Scruff and we hurried through to the dining room.
"You're not waiting for Mr. Hoffmann?" I asked Victoria.
"He said not to. Your know the trains..."
"Not well, but well enough to drive here."
We sat down around the huge oak table, and Victoria smiled at us all.
"It's so thrilling to have you all here at the Priory," she said. "I love this house. It's got such a history. Do you want to hear one of the stories about it?"
Knowing Victoria, I thought we probably wouldn't have much of a choice.
"Go on then," I said, feeling the way I did once in a party at uni where I was the only person there who wasn't drunk.
"The house is haunted!" she exclaimed delightedly. "And I'll tell you why!"