Jasper's face twisted with contempt. He jerked his chin at the maid rushing toward the telephone.
"Stop right there," he commanded. "Don't touch that phone."
The maid froze, her hand hovering inches from the receiver. She glanced between Jasper and Old Mrs. Covington, torn between conflicting orders.
Lyra stepped forward. "Mrs. Covington asked you to make that call."
"And I'm countermanding that order," Jasper said, his voice sharp. "Grandmother is confused. She often gets like this—don't you, Grandmother? Mixing up people and relationships."
Old Mrs. Covington's eyes flashed with indignation. "How dare you! I know exactly who I'm talking about. She is Percival's wife!"
Penelope Quinn emerged from the hallway, drawn by the commotion. Her eyes narrowed at the scene before her.
"What's happening here?" she asked, coming to stand beside Jasper.
Orla quickly seized the opportunity. "Mrs. Covington is having one of her episodes. She's insisting that Lyra is married to Percival."
