The others had the hardest task. Dodswell, Demon's groom Gillies, Covey, and Hemmings rotated the watch on the house, two of them watching at all times, one at the back, one at the front. They lay concealed in the shrubbery and the wood, but they had to change the guard frequently so that each appeared often among the crowds at the fete.
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."