As the day wore on, the heat became oppressive. Phyllida introduced Flick to the local ladies; moving about the field, they chatted easily. Again and again, by a look, a veiled reference, the thoughts behind a pleased smile, it was borne in on Phyllida that the change Lucifer had wrought was complete.
She might not have answered any question or spoken any vow, yet she was, by her actions and her thoughts-her very desires-already his wife. The little changes in her station, the adjustments in the ways the other ladies related to her, were already made. The consensus seemed to be that her recent brush with death, combined with the lingering presence of her would-be murderer, more than excused a period of waiting before any banns were read. None doubted the wedding would come shortly.
Yet what had changed most was herself. She felt it inside her as she smiled and listened to the continuation of stories she'd heard developing all her life. She'd drawn back from them, not shutting them out, but they were no longer the central focus of her life; they'd moved to the periphery, where they rightly belonged. Her life was no longer an accumulation of theirs-their joys and sorrows, their problems, their needs. She'd started making a new life, one for herself and Lucifer at the Manor.
For the first time in her twenty-four years, she felt truly at one with the role that was hers to play-no regrets, no unfulfilled wishes, no nebulous yearnings.
After lunching on delicate sandwiches washed down, courtesy of Ballyclose Manor, with glasses of champagne, she and Flick helped Mr. Filing with the children's races, then, nothing loath, they supervised some games.
"I'm melting." Flick tipped her hat back from her face. "Even though I know why they wanted us to wear these hats, I'm quite glad we did."
"Easier to manage than a parasol." Phyllida saw Jonas cruising past with one of the local misses hanging on his arm. She caught his eye and raised a brow-he returned her look with his usual benign expression.
"What's the word?" Flick asked, looking the other way.
"Jonas knows nothing." Phyllida turned to look in the same direction and sighed. Heavily. Through clenched teeth. "If nothing happens today, I swear I'll scream. At the very least, I'll have hysterics."
Flick chuckled. "You'll shock everyone to their toes if you do."
Phyllida humphed. She saw Mary Anne and Robert through the crowd. They'd stopped and spoken with her earlier. Although they'd inquired about the letters, they'd accepted her lack of progress without panic. It was almost as if they'd finally realized that the letters were only a minor matter-nothing to get hysterical about.
Nothing to compare with a possibly multiple murderer.
The day wore on.
Then Appleby stopped beside the Ballyclose butler, said a few words, then strode off, openly making for Ballyclose Manor. Lucifer and Demon watched him go.
"To circle around, perhaps?" Demon suggested.
Lucifer nodded. "Most likely."
They parted and moved through the crowd. They visually checked their respective ladies but didn't approach. They worked steadily back through the throng, heading to where, standing by the church's side and concealed in its shadow, they could look down on the Manor.
That was their aim, but before they gained the graveyard, Oscar pushed through the crowd and caught Lucifer's sleeve. "Some'at you need to know."
Lucifer collected Demon with a glance and stepped back, a little away from all the others. "What is it?"
"Well-" Oscar stopped as Demon joined them.
"My cousin," Lucifer said. "You can speak freely."
Having taken stock of Demon, Oscar nodded. "Right. Well, I've just received this message, and it's left me in a quandary, like. I don't know as whether Miss Phyllida has explained about the gang that works out of Beer?"
"She said they were all but legendary in the annals of local smuggling."
"Aye, well, they're the real thing, no doubt whatsoever. Hardnosed lot, but we've always rubbed along well enough, and now they've sent me a message. Says a person contacted 'em about a passage 'cross the Channel-'parently it has to be tonight. Beer hasn't got a cargo lined up for tonight, but they knew we generally would, so they told this cargo where to meet up with us on the cliffs. All straight enough, but as you know, the vessel we'll be meeting is a legitimate trader, not a smuggler's boat. The Cap'n won't want no truck with any suspicious passenger."
Oscar glanced to where Phyllida and Flick stood talking to three young girls. "Didn't rightly want to bother Miss Phyllida with such a matter, and I don't know as how Mr. Filing would be much help, neither."
Lucifer frowned. "Quite. Are you running a cargo tonight?"
"We should've been." Oscar looked at the ever-darkening horizon. "But I'm doubting we will. That bugger's going to sweep right over us. Ain't none of us going to be putting out in the teeth of that."
"In that case, let's see what happens-" Lucifer broke off as Thompson pushed through and joined them.
Winded, Thompson struggled for breath. Excitement rippled through him. "Got 'im! M'boy just told me a horse was brought in with a loose rear left shoe this morning. The lad forgot, what with the fair. I just ducked back to check-it's the same horse. I'll take my oath on it."
"Who owns it?"
"Ballyclose Manor. Not one of Sir Cedric's-one of the general hacks. I collared the groom who brought it in. He says no one's been riding this one much that he knew of. Just Mr. Appleby now and then."
Demon glanced at Lucifer. "Is that enough?"
Lucifer's smile was all teeth. "I think so. Let's find Sir Jasper-"
"Cynster! Where the devil are you, man?"
Both Lucifer and Demon turned. Cedric came barreling through the crowd. He saw them, waved, and plowed toward them. Jocasta Smollet hurried after him. Others, anticipating some sensation, quickly gathered.
"It's Appleby, man-Appleby!" Cedric halted, puffing, before them. "Just got the word from Burton, m'butler. Appleby told him he's off home-touch of the sun. Silly blighter came with no hat. That's when I remembered. The hat! The hat Phyllida said was the murderer's hat. It's Appleby's. Seen it in his hands times without number, but I rarely saw it on his head. Just put it together. He hasn't been wearing a hat since Horatio was killed."
"That's correct, sir," Burton, the Ballyclose butler, stated. "While I cannot vouch for the particular hat in question, Mr. Appleby has not worn a hat for some time."
"I'm fairly certain Cedric's right," Jocasta put in. "I didn't get a good look at the hat that day, but I do know Appleby was forever doffing his-quite the gentleman in his way. He hasn't worn a hat for the past several weeks."
"We're going after him." Cedric straightened and looked around. "Hue and cry-that's what we need! We'll round him up and haul him back here to Sir Jasper."
"Excellent idea!" Basil surprised everyone with his vehement agreement. "We've plenty of men here-he won't escape this time."
Cedric blinked, but nodded. "Right, then! Finn, Mullens-come along, lads."
Basil was already collecting his workers. Grisby, too, was gathering his forces to join the swelling throng. The crowd was awash with exclamations and gabbling.
Sir Jasper strode through. "Cedric! What's this? There's to be no summary justice, you hear?"
"I know, I know-we'll truss him up and bring him back to you, and then we can hang him."
A rousing cheer rose. Before anything more could be said, the assembled congregation was off, streaming like a tide after Cedric, Basil, and Grisby, cresting the lip of the field, then pouring over, heading for Ballyclose Manor.
"He won't be there," Demon muttered.
"Assuredly not." Lucifer turned as Phyllida and Flick, having been deserted by the children, came up. Other than their small group and the older ladies and village women, the fete field was bare.