The main gate into the churchyard from the town lay on the other side, and led directly to the south-facing porch, but from Church Street there was a small gap in the wall. Beside the gap there waited a gleaming scarlet curricle, the two chestnut horses in the care of a small boy who had been paid for his services. Megan did not give the vehicle a second glance as she entered the churchyard. A path led around the surprisingly quaint old church to the porch. Over the centuries medieval St. Nicholas's had acquired several additions of differing heights, and the uneven roof had dormer windows and even a tall chimney. The golden weathercock atop the church tower shone brightly against the vivid blue of the sky, and seagulls wheeled overhead, their cries echoing across the hillside.
She walked slowly, glancing at the many gravestones, almost expecting to see the name Rollo Witherspoon upon one of them, but there was nothing. Then, as she turned the corner to approach the porch, a young lady and gentleman emerged arm in arm and came toward her.
The lady was vivacious and beautiful, in a matching cornflower-blue pelisse and gown braided with gold. She had short blonde hair, and the golden tassels of her white fur shako-styled hat bounced as she walked. There was an elegant shawl over her shoulders, with one end trailing along the ground behind her, as was the latest mode, and she was laughing at something the gentleman said. But it was the gentleman himself who so arrested Megan's horrified attention that she came to a standstill-for it was her abhorred cousin, Oliver March.
She may only have been sixteen when last she saw him, but she remembered him very clearly. He was tall and narrow-shouldered, with wiry ginger hair, a thin face and long pointed nose, and, unusually, his pale complexion was free of freckles. While not handsome, his looks were certainly attractive to many woman, and by the smile of the lady on his arm, she numbered among them.
His attire was elegant. There were large brass buttons on his donkey-colored coat, his fawn breeches were faultlessly tailored, and his boots were the work of a very exclusive boot maker in London's St. James's. He carried a brown beaver top hat under his right arm, and a diamond pin flashed in the very center of his neck cloth. Everything about him smacked of the sort of wealth and privilege that had no need to throw a destitute kinswoman out of her modest home, especially when he only intended to leave Berengers standing forlorn and empty anyway. All that mattered in Oliver March's world was Oliver March-and possibly the beauty he had on his arm. Presumably it must be Chloe Holcroft, for she was the young woman who had looked out of the window across the Steine the evening before.
Megan was so transfixed that she could not move. Thus, he could not help but see her. For a moment he looked at her with a perplexed "Don't I know you?" quizzicality on his face. His steps slowed as he pondered whether or not it might be disadvantageous to acknowledge such a modestly clad person, and Chloe looked up at him in surprise. "Is something wrong, Oliver?" she asked. "Are you acquainted with this lady?"
"Er, I have a feeling I may be," he admitted, and doffed his top hat to Megan. "Pray forgive my poor memory, madam, but have we met before?"
Relief flooded through Megan. He didn't recognize her! Long may it stay that way. "Not that I can recall, sir," she replied, deciding to postpone the truth while she could.
Chloe smiled at her. "Have you been in Brighton long, Miss er…?"
"I only arrived yesterday." Megan affected not to have noticed that her name was sought. She knew that the chances of Oliver remaining in ignorance for long were rather slender, for he was sure to hear Evangeline's new companion referred to by name at the ball. When that happened, Megan did not doubt that his memory would be jogged rather sharply.
Chloe smiled again. "Yesterday?" Ah, that explains why I have never seen you before. Are you here for Christmas?"
"No, I have taken a new position here."
"A new position?"
"I am companion to Lady Evangeline Radcliffe." That admission at least had to be made.
Chloe's eyes cleared. "I saw you looking out of the window of Radcliffe House last night!"
"Yes."
"I confess I was all nosiness, because as far as I was aware Radcliffe House was closed until New Year's Eve. I also confess I was puzzled when I saw an unknown hooded lady peeping out of the dining room window. I had no idea Lady Evangeline was taking a companion." Chloe's expression became a little self-conscious. "Oh, what a rattlebrain you must think me, for I haven't introduced myself. I am Miss Holcroft, daughter of Lady Evangeline's old friend, Admiral Sir Jocelyn Holcroft. This is Mr. March."
Megan managed a smile. "I am honored to meet you, Miss Holcroft. Mr. March."
"I vow you are most fortunate in your mistress," Chloe went on, "for Lady Evangeline is without a doubt the most delightful lady of my acquaintance."
"I am fortunate indeed," Megan replied, warming to the other by the moment. No wonder Evangeline was so fond of her-and so regretful that Rupert had apparently bungled his chances. Chloe Holcroft did not seem to have an unpleasant side. There had been no change in her attitude on discovering she was addressing a companion; she remained warm and friendly. Oliver's manner, on the other hand, had changed perceptibly.
Chloe spoke to Megan again. "I believe you and I will see each other again later today, for Lady Evangeline sent a footman over last night inviting Father and me to Radcliffe House this evening to discuss the Christmas play."
Oliver took out his fob watch. "We should be leaving now, Chloe," he said pointedly.
"Oh, yes, of course. Decorating the church did take longer than expected, didn't it?" Chloe slipped a hand over his arm again, but then paused to address Megan again. "I understand from Lady Evangeline's message that Rupert and Greville-I-I mean Lord Rupert and Sir Greville-have come to Brighton for Christmas after all?"
"Yes, they have."
"Please convey my best wishes, and to Lady Evangeline as well, of course."
"I will be sure to pass on your message, Miss Holcroft."
Chloe smiled again, and Oliver showed grudging politeness to a nobody of a companion by touching the brim of his hat, then they walked past Megan, and around the church toward Church Street.
Megan couldn't help slipping to the corner to watch. She saw Oliver hand Chloe into the waiting curricle, but then suddenly he whipped around to look back, and by the expression on his pale face, Megan knew he had realized to whom he had just been speaking. Her heart sank like a stone, for even at a distance she could see the veil descend over his eyes, and the way his lips set into a thin line of unease and displeasure as he perceived what a very unwanted pigeon had come to roost in Brighton. For a moment he stood stock-still, then he climbed swiftly up beside Chloe, the whip cracked, and the curricle sprang away down the hill.
Megan felt so uneasy she had to dig her fingernails sternly into her palms to try to keep calm. She knew of old that Oliver March was a very unpleasant foe, and that as far as he was concerned, water was thicker than blood. But what could he do to her now? After a moment or so the almost panicky feeling subsided, and she took a long breath. She was about to walk on to the porch, when she noticed some wooden steps leading up to a door on the side of the church, beneath a dormer window. Curiosity got the better of her, and she went up to open the door. Inside, she found galleries that had been installed to accommodate the much larger congregations now that Brighton was so fashionable.
It was cold and quiet, with that odd musty smell of ancient stone, and the sunlight slanting through the windows lay brightly across the altar and aisle. The sound of women's quiet voices made her lean over to look down, and she saw two ladies putting the finishing touches to a garland of holly, ivy, and myrtle they were fixing to one of the pews at the edge of the aisle. No mistletoe, Megan noticed, for it was considered unsuitable for a church. The women finished what they were doing, then left, and silence descended. Megan remained where she was, just savoring the peaceful atmosphere, when suddenly the door of the porch was flung open, and loud masculine steps entered the church.