“I don’t recognize that aria,” I whispered to Amanda, “but I’m no expert on opera.”
“Signor Sgradevole seems to be indisposed,” said Mr. Endicott.
“No, he’s in the bathroom,” I punned sotto voce.
“And in agony,” added Amanda.
Attempting to cover the awkward incident, Mr. Endicott said: “Perhaps the eminent actress Meryl Mirren could treat us to the ‘quality of mercy’ speech from The Merchant of Venice.”
Ms. Mirren smiled, bowed slightly, then began to groan, and like the singer rushed from the room, but handicapped by a long skirt and high heels, more slowly.
I wondered if I should volunteer to fill in by telling a few jokes, but suddenly my stomach heaved. People around the room were now gagging and fleeing, stricken with an epidemic of nausea. I felt especially sorry for one man who was draped out a low window in a very undignified position, throwing up, probably because I was that man.
“Are you all right?” asked Amanda, concerned.
“I think so, except for a queasy stomach, weakness, a slight fever, and embarrassment. How do you feel?”
“Fine.”
“Not everyone ate the food, but we all drank the champagne. Perhaps it was poisoned.”
“But I drank it too.”
I was stymied.
“If I remember correctly,” said Amanda, “Joves was pouring drinks. Isn’t it unusual for a butler to act as a sommelier?”
“I think it is, but I’m not familiar with the customs of high society.”
Some guests were fleeing to the fresh air outside, hoping to calm their stomachs. Others were just leaving.
“Go get another drink,” Amanada suggested. Was she trying to get me drunk?
Mr. Endicott was apologizing profusely to his two stars and remaining guests. Joves poured me another glass of champagne, but I didn’t drink it. My previous experience had conditioned me like Pavlov’s dog, not to salivate, but to regurgitate. I returned to Amanda.
“As I suspected,” she said, “Joves could have easily slipped something into the drinks, or some of them.”
“But why?” We had more questions than the host of a game show, but no answers.
I managed to get Mr. Endicott’s attention for a moment. “You have a bartender and waitresses, so why is Joves dispensing drinks?”
“He likes to be helpful, to go above and beyond his required duties. That’s why he’s an excellent butler, like his father.”
“His father was also your butler/”
“Yes, until the terrible accident.”
“What happened?”
“I received a late-night telephone call. I had to meet someone. I’d had a few drinks and my chauffeur had the day off, so I asked Joves to drive me. He did, willingly. On the way there was an accident, not his fault. I was only slightly injured, but poor Joves was killed. His wife was dead, so I hired the son to replace his father and it has been a wise move. Competence seems to be a family trait.”
