"Well, no, they can't all stay the night," Lady Beatrice agreed.

Lady Beatrice hung up, and smiled out at the happy couple still strolling around the lawn, saying little private things to one another.

"Lady Beatrice is a rather well-known amateur photographer, it turns out."

Lady Beatrice cried to the reverend, waving her camera at him.

Yet after only an hour in the company of Lady Beatrice, he had told her.

"What kind of name is Lady Beatrice for a vulture?"

Lady Beatrice, unfortunately, had never achieved a like immortality through the artist's brush.

He had stalked through the gardens before taking up with Lady Beatrice.

Lady Beatrice's eyes, glassy with fright, stared down the hall.

I am dependent upon my sister, Lady Beatrice, for everything.