They all reached the stairs at the same time, and headed down toward the dining room. Blake and Sybil exchanged a glance and were almost sure they would find the dining room empty, but as soon as they reached it, Sybil saw immediately that the silver and crystal were gleaming, the candles were lit, Phillips was standing at attention, and all of the Butterfields were in place, as though they knew precisely that guests were expected. Augusta looked them over as they walked in, like a drill sergeant inspecting the troops.
“What on earth are those on your feet, Countess?” she asked Quinne, who burst out laughing. She was wearing shocking pink velvet Doc Martens with matching fishnet stockings under a black velvet miniskirt, with a hot pink angora sweater. “Did you steal them from a soldier?” Augusta asked her, and Quinne giggled again. Her own grandmother hadn’t liked them on Christmas either, but she thought Augusta was funny. And she asked Magnus who he’d sold his hairbrush to. And then she saw Samuel and raised an eyebrow. “Ah, yes, one of those fascinating modern outfits. Blake wears them occasionally too. I never understand them,” she said, as Samuel stopped in front of her, thinking it was all a joke at first, bowed low, kissed her hand, and said, “Bonsoir.”
“Ah, of course, that explains it,” she countered. “French. Naturally. They used to wear satin knee breeches and brocade coats. So what can one expect from them now?”
“So do the British at court, Mother,” Gwyneth reminded her, and Sybil stepped up next to Samuel, to introduce him to Augusta properly. “Mrs. Campbell, this is Samuel Saint Martin. He’s Lili’s son, Bettina’s grandson.” There was a long silent pause where even Samuel looked stunned, and Augusta more so.
“Which makes him…my great-great grandson…” she said with a startled expression. As far as she knew, Lili was still a child herself. It was a big leap for her to understand.
“And his daughter, Laure,” Sybil introduced her as well, and she was wearing a proper black dress of Caro’s, and her own high heels, as Augusta stared at Samuel and his daughter, struggling to assimilate what had happened.
“I saw them in the front hall today when they arrived,” Angus added proudly.
“What were you doing there?” his sister asked him. He never left his room in the daytime, and wasn’t supposed to.
“Lost my bagpipes for a minute…Phillips found them. All well. Pretty girl,” he said, indicating Laure. Augusta glared at him and everyone laughed, which broke the tension.
“My brother has appalling manners where women are concerned,” she explained to Samuel. “And you’re French, then. But Lili is American. She was born here.” She was trying to sort it all out, and to Augusta, Lili still existed in the present. Gwyneth stepped in, from the other end of the table.
“She took French citizenship, Mother. Louis, Bettina’s husband, adopted her in France. Do you remember?”
“Oh, yes…of course I do…nice of him, since that other one disappeared,” she said, referring to Tony Salvatore.
“He died in the war, Mother,” Gwyneth corrected her. And Sybil led Samuel to a seat next to her at the table. Phillips had set the right number of places. He always did now, and had again tonight, as though someone had told him. She wondered if Gwyneth had. Samuel was looking bewildered when he sat down. Sybil introduced him to Gwyneth and Bert, his great-grandparents, who looked alive and well and in good spirits, contrary to the sad end he knew they had come to. And then Sybil introduced him to each of the children, while Caro and Andy explained to Laure who the players were, and their relationship to her. And sitting near each other, her resemblance to Lucy was even more striking, and so was Samuel’s to Bert.
“I’m not quite sure I understand,” he said softly to Sybil, as everyone watched him and his daughter. The Butterfields had obviously felt sufficiently at ease to include him and Laure at dinner that night, and be visible. After all, he was one of them, and so was Laure. They were Butterfields, whatever their name or nationality. “Have you hired actors to impersonate the family?” he asked her. How else could they all be there? What was remarkable was that they looked exactly like the photographs Sybil had shown him that afternoon. Blake felt almost sorry for him as he tried to absorb something that made no sense whatsoever and defied reason. Blake had been through it too, in the beginning, and he wasn’t even related to them.
“They’re not actors,” Sybil said gently, as Gwyneth overheard her and smiled. “We thought that the first time too. The family is all here. In this house. They never left after”—she chose her words carefully for their sake—“after they entered another dimension. They all came back, except your mother. She never really had any ties to the house. She was too young when she left.”
“Are you telling me,” Samuel stared at Sybil intently, “that the entire family is here, all of them, still living in the house a hundred years later?” Sybil nodded assent, and Samuel stared at them one by one, thinking it must be a joke, but as he looked at them, he knew it wasn’t. “That is unbelievable. It’s not possible. Did you know it when you bought the house?”
“No, we didn’t.”
“Did they appear to you one by one?”
“No. We heard noises and walked into the dining room three days after we moved in, and everyone was here, just like you did tonight.” And she’d seen them after the earthquake the night before.
“It was quite shocking at first,” Augusta said to him. “But we all got used to it, and they’re very nice people and we love them. We wouldn’t live without them now,” she added warmly, which impressed Sybil and Blake, and touched them. “And you, dear boy, are related to us, so we had to have dinner with you. We wouldn’t miss it. I hope you’ll stay here with us.” She was being unusually gracious, and Samuel was nearly speechless. His daughter was very quiet too. It really was like entering another dimension, and he had no idea how it worked or if they were now trapped there. Sybil could see a slight panic in his eyes.
“You can come and go as you wish. It’s just an honor to be included in the Butterfields’ lives. And it has worked very well for us.” Except that Magnus was disappointed that Charlie was slowly growing up, but they still had fun together. Magnus would always be the age he died.
“Can others see you?” Samuel asked the group collectively, and they all shook their heads.
“Only the Gregorys and two of the children’s friends, Max and Quinne,” Bert explained. “We’re very happy to have them with us. And we hope you and your daughter stay too, for as long as you like.” Samuel let Phillips pour him several glasses of wine before he felt calm again.