"Of course." Beaming, Phyllida turned to hug Cedric. "I wish you both joy."
"Very kind of you, m'dear." Cedric patted her shoulder. "Well"-he blew out a breath-"at least you'll know why, if Mama comes screaming to cry on your shoulder."
Phyllida grinned.
Lucifer shook hands with Cedric and Jocasta, wishing them both well; then he and Phyllida took their leave.
"Well!" Phyllida said as he tooled the carriage down the drive. "Jocasta and Cedric! Whoever would have thought it."
Lucifer kept his mouth shut.
An instant later, Phyllida sighed. "Basil is going to have an apoplectic fit." She smiled and leaned back, the murderer's brown hat, temporarily forgotten, in her lap.
Chapter 17
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The next day was Sunday. Lucifer strode briskly up the common. An onshore breeze flirted with fleecy clouds in the pale blue sky. The last stragglers were making their way into the church; Lucifer joined them, sliding into a pew at the rear.
Scanning the congregation, he searched for Phyllida. He'd driven her home the previous afternoon; they hadn't discussed their next meeting. Leaving Dodswell watching the Manor, he'd come to ask her to spend the day with him, looking at books, reading inscriptions, strolling the lawns… whatever she wished to do.
He located Sir Jasper. Lady Huddlesford and Frederick sat beside him. Miss Sweet was there, too. He couldn't see Phyllida. Or Jonas.
The organ swelled; the congregation rose as Mr. Filing and the small band of choristers paraded in. Lucifer hesitated, then left his seat; he made his way as unobtrusively as he could down the aisle to Sir Jasper's side.
Sir Jasper smiled.
"Phyllida?" Lucifer mouthed.
Sir Jasper leaned close and whispered, "Headache. She's resting at home."
Headache. Lucifer drew breath, then nodded and retreated. At the rear of the church, he hovered by the last pew, then turned and quit the church.
Face setting, he strode back down the common even faster than he'd gone up. There was nothing-nothing-to suggest that Phyllida didn't have a headache. Women did get headaches; they also used the term to excuse other, less mentionable ailments. When he reached the Grange and discovered Phyllida laid down upon her bed, he'd be able to accept her indisposition as truth and the nagging worry rising like a tide in his mind would subside.
Until then, with a killer on the loose, focused on her, his imagination was primed and ready to bolt. Reaching the lane, he broke into a lope.
From the church, it was faster to reach the Grange via the lane. Within minutes, he was turning through the gateposts. Gaining the front porch, he rang the bell, then opened the door and walked in. "Phyllida?"
A door opened; Jonas emerged from the library. He stared at Lucifer, consternation showing through his usual benign mask. "She's not with you?"
Lucifer opened his mouth; Jonas stopped him with an upraised hand. "I walked Phyllida to the Manor via the wood. I just got back. She said you don't normally go to church and that you'd be there."
Lucifer grimaced. "Normally, but today I walked up to the church to meet her."
Jonas grinned. Lucifer turned back to the door. "I left Dodswell at the Manor, so there's no harm done." In the doorway, he paused and looked back. "Did she give any particular reason for wanting to see me?"
Still grinning, Jonas shook his head. "Nothing she wanted to share with me. But she was carrying that brown hat, and her reticule, too, and a parasol. I assumed she wanted you to take her somewhere."
"Hmm. No doubt I'll learn where soon enough." With a nod, Lucifer stepped back through the door and closed it behind him.
Take her somewhere. As he strode around the Grange and into the wood, he tried to imagine where Phyllida had in mind. He'd assumed they were at a temporary standstill with their investigations, that they'd need to consider the question of where next. Presumably Phyllida had already done so and had come up with an answer.
He knew where he would like to take her, but that didn't require either parasol or reticule. She didn't normally carry either when visiting the Manor.
He lengthened his stride. A few paces later, he started to jog. The path through the wood was too uneven to risk a flat-out run. The tide of impending panic hadn't receded in the least-it was welling even higher.
He did run through the kitchen garden, slowing only once inside the house. Dodswell met him in the front hall.
One look at his face, and the tide rushed in.
"Thank Gawd." Dodswell held out a note. "Miss Phyllida was here looking for you."
"I've been looking for her." Lucifer unfolded the note. Another note contained within it fell into his hands. Phyllida had written:
L-our tweeny brought this up just before I was to leave for church-she said she answered a tap on the back door and found it on the step. As you will see from the note, it appears we might at last have found Horatio's murderer, or at least someone who knows to whom the brown hat belongs. Molly is Lady Fortemain's seamstress. I intended asking you to accompany me to the rendezvous, however, that was not to be, and Jonas had already left before I realized you weren't here, and I didn't wish to take Dodswell and leave the Manor unguarded. If I haven't returned by the time you come back from church, perhaps you can meet me there, or on the way back. P.
A postscript containing a set of directions followed. Lucifer turned his attention to the other note, the one Phyllida had received. "Miss Tallent" was inscribed on the front in an obviously feminine hand. He opened the note. It read:
Dear Miss Tallent,
As you know, I work at Ballyclose, and I heard as how you was asking after who owned a certain brown hat. 1 know of a gentleman who has lost a brown hat, but I am not sure as it would be right to say who he is, not unless I am sure it is his hat.
I dont want it known, not by anyone, especially not this gentleman, that I am talking to you. I dont get much time away, but I can slip away from the house on Sunday while they are all off at church. If you want me to look at the hat you have and see if it is the one I am thinking of, then if you meet me at the old Drayton cottage during Sunday service, I will try to help you.
Yrs respectfully, Molly
The note looked genuine. The words were carefully inked; it was easy to imagine a seamstress laboring over its composition.
Lucifer waited for his panic to recede. It didn't. Some primitive part of him was on full alert, prodding like some diabolical demon with a fiery prong for him to move-fast. His body was tensed, tight with the need to fly into action.
He swore and juggled the notes.
Was it intuition that urged that she wasn't safe, that she was, in fact, walking into danger? Or was it instinct, elemental, primal, that insisted she was not truly safe except when in his care?
Or was it simply panic, the black fear that, at any time she was out of his sight, she might be taken from him?
He thrust the questions aside and tried to make sense of Phyllida's directions. The old Drayton cottage stood some way north of the fields bordering the lane to Dottswood and Highgate. He'd heard it described as abandoned. While his logical mind reiterated that all would be well, that the murderer could not know that Phyllida was out walking alone that way, even his logical mind had to admit the Drayton cottage sounded an odd rendezvous for some woman walking from Ballyclose to suggest.
Who knew what went on in the minds of women?
His own words uttered earlier in relation to Phyllida. He thrust the notes into his pocket. "I'll follow Miss Tallent."
Dodswell nodded. "Aye. I'll wait here and keep an eye out."