In The Beginning by Gail Daley (top 100 books of all time checklist .TXT) 📕

Bethany threw up her hands to protect her face and didn’t see King George until he butted her in the stomach. Still shielding her face from Lulubelle’s wrath, Bethany stumbled backward and landed on her rump in the raised flowerbed around the well. Lulubelle shrieked in anger, continuing to pummel Bethany with wings and beak. Meanwhile King George, the picture of innocence, ambled over to nibble on the forbidden flowers.

The uproar had drawn an audience: the two riders, Grandmother Giselle, Iris, Jeanne, and several of the stable and dairy hands had all rushed into the courtyard to see what was happening. Tessa, the stable girl in charge of Bethany's racing tricorns headed over to help her, but the younger of the riders got there first. He booted the indignant Lulubelle, still shrieking madly, off Bethany and knelt beside her.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

Bethany wiped away a trickle of blood from under her nose, noticing as she did so that her hand was covered with dirt and blood, and her dress had a streak of white bird poop all down the front. She looked up into concerned dark brown eyes and blew out a breath before she answered. "No, I’m fine, thank you." She wiped the dirt off her hand as well as she could and let him pull her to her feet.

"I’m Alec McCaffey, ma’am," he said, still retaining her hand.

"How, do you do," Bethany said, resigned to the ridiculous first impression she was making. "I’m Bethany St. Vyr. I’m sorry for the rude welcome. We don’t normally greet our guests with this kind of hullabaloo. May I present my sister Iris," she gestured to the ethereal girl with the silver gilt hair detaching the goat from the flowers. Iris nodded in acknowledgement but concentrated in pulling the goat toward the outer courtyard. "And this is my other sister, Jeanne." He looked over at the honey-haired amazon checking for injuries on the still complaining goose whose cries had turned from wrathful to pitiful.

"That dratted goose!" Giselle came bustling up, firing off orders. "Just look at you! Bethany, go in the house and let Lisette help you clean up. Jeanne! Iris! Get those critters off my patio! Tessa," she called to one of the watching stable hands, "Come and take the gentleman’s Tricorns."

She turned to the younger man, who reluctantly let go of Bethany’s hand. "You must be Alec McCaffey. I’m Giselle St. Vyr. My son has told me so much about you."

"Pleased to meet you ma’am," he bowed over her hand. "May I present my friend and mentor, Henry Miller?"

Henry laughed. "No need, son, I remember Mike’s mother well. Nice to see you again Mrs. St. Vyr."

"If you don’t mind, we prefer to see to our own Tricorns," Alec intervened. "We’ll join you in the house as soon as that’s done."

Giselle nodded. "I remember. Just come in that door and Stevens will show you where to clean up. We’ll have tea when you join us."

Bethany had retreated to the house where Lisette, her grandmother’s oldest friend and maid, pounced on her and led off to change her clothes and wash her face.

"I can’t wear that," she protested, when she saw the afternoon tea dress Lisette had picked out. "I’ll look overdressed."

"You need to make a better impression," Lisette retorted. "You want to get the upper hand in this marriage you use your best assets."

"Lisette, he just saw me with a bloody nose and covered in bird poop! Nothing can change that kind of first impression!"

"He watched you all the way to the door," Lisette retorted, undaunted. "Play your cards right and you’ll have him right where you want him."

After washing their hands and dusting off the trail dust, Alec and Henry were led to a room on the ground floor overlooking the patio garden. Giselle St. Vyr greeted them, offering tea or coffee and a selection of small cookies and sandwiches.

"My son will join us soon," Giselle promised. "After the shooting, he takes time to maneuver his new transportation."

"He was shot from ambush?" inquired Henry.

"Yes. We were lucky that we found him as soon as we did."

"Who is investigating the shooting?" Alec wanted to know.

He frowned when Iris responded, "The sheriff supposedly, but since he almost never leaves town, I don’t see how he could find out anything!"

"Well, if he investigated the attack," Bethany added, seating herself on the sofa, "he would have to go into who had the best motive to shoot Papa, and that would lead to his biggest campaign supporter—Ira Johnson."

She accepted the cup her grandmother handed her and passed it to Alec.

"Lulubelle suffered no injuries," Jeanne announced from the doorway. "No thanks to you kicking her." This last was directed at Alec with a glare. Lulubelle, he concluded, must be the goose.

"What about your sister?" he demanded. "That bird gave her a bloody nose and might have pecked out an eye!"

"Lulubelle was defending herself!" Jeanne declared, "She thought she was being attacked from behind and by that miserable Goat!"

"Did you discover how he got out again, Iris?" Bethany interjected hoping to change the subject before the argument could escalate.

"Well, there were hoof marks on the fence, so I’m thinking he must have climbed it. Goats are brilliant, you know, unlike geese," Iris responded sweetly.

"Lulubelle’s smart—" Jeanne retorted.

"Ah, I see my girls are making you welcome," Mike St. Vyr boomed out. Jeanne and Iris exchanged glares but quieted down at the sound of their father’s voice.

He rolled the chair into the room. "If that’s tea, I’ll take a cup."

Giselle poured it and handed it to Jeanne to take to her father, along with a small plate of sandwiches.

After tea, Michael St. Vyr and Alexander McCaffey retired to the den, while Henry went out to check on the tricorns. Iris set out to examine the repairs to the goat enclosure she had ordered. Giselle and Bethany departed to go to her room to decide on her dress for this evening. Jeanne claimed she needed to check on Lulubelle