“I should get him some more punch. Mother always says that punch encourages dancing.” She gave Beatrice a little nod, excusing herself, and hurried over to the punch table. Beatrice watched Louisa take up the ladle. She began to dole out portions, passing crystal glasses filled with sticky pink liquid around the crowd of chatting guests. Everyone’s movements seemed to loosen as they sipped. Except Mr. Croaksworth, Beatrice noticed as she shifted her gaze. He wore a serious expression as he accepted a punch glass from Louisa and drained it in one gulp. He looked ill at ease, eyes darting around
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