Midsummer Night

Charlotte King was a name I had not thought to hear again. A jewel thief of graceful, golden beauty and some renown, she had been brought to justice by Brisbane the previous winter, although not without incident. I had nearly cost him the apprehension with my impulsive actions, and I did not look upon the incident with any fondness.

Brisbane went on. “And I have had a letter from Miss Allenby. She has begun teaching her first term and finds she is entirely happy in her new life. She sends her regards and congratulations on our marriage.”

This was news I could appreciate with no regrets. Miss Allenby had become something of an ally during our last investigation, and I was pleased she had settled so swiftly into a new life, putting murder and mayhem behind her.

“We shall have to send her a piece of the wedding cake,” I told him. “She can sleep with it under her pillow and dream of the man she will wed.”

“Speaking of prospective husbands,” Brisbane murmured, “this one can think of something better to do than talk about old cases.”

“Show me,” I commanded.

He did, and in the middle of a highly instructive interlude, he broke off, lifting his head with a smothered oath.

“What?” I demanded. “What on earth could drag your attention away from caressing my—” I broke off.

“As diverting as this is,” Brisbane said, pressing a kiss to my palm, “I believe that is the vicar.” He nodded over my shoulder and I turned to find Uncle Fly wheezing towards us, his colour high and his long white hair dancing madly in the breeze.

“Here now! We’ll have none of that,” he called, wagging a finger in mock severity as he panted up.

“Uncle Fly, are you quite well? You look ready for an apoplexy,” I said, flapping a handkerchief in front of his face.

He pressed one hand to his side and waved me off with the other. “Nothing wrong with me except too heavy a midday meal. Cook never will learn that pork is too rich for luncheon.” He took my handkerchief and mopped his brow. “That’s better, that is. Now, let’s have no more fornicating in the hedgerows, shall we? Sets a bad example.”

“Considering the fact that only you and one rather bored cow witnessed the exchange, I hardly think we are in danger of corrupting the morals of the Blessingstoke peasantry,” I returned tartly.

But although Uncle Fly’s expression was stern, his eyes were twinkling. “What about corrupting me? I am entirely too old to suffer many more such shocks.” He turned to Brisbane. “Come along, lad. My housekeeper has made up your room and you will see Julia soon enough.”“Of course, vicar,” Brisbane replied blandly, following Uncle Fly without so much as a backward glance at me, much less a kiss goodbye. I stalked off, annoyed with the pair of them. Brisbane was forty, and I was a decade younger, and yet Uncle Fly had treated us as if we were no better than children. And Brisbane had complied so easily!

I stamped down the road, taking my irritation out on a handful of wildflowers I plucked from the wayside. There were foxgloves and poppies and mignonettes in flower, a riot of colour in my hands. I picked the petals from the ox-eye daisies, scattering them behind me like so much confetti as I climbed over a stile. I crossed the river meadow until I came to the edge of the stream itself and removed my slippers. I pulled off my stockings and dabbled my toes in the water, disturbing a damselfly in a flutter of iridescent wings. The rush of cool green river was glorious against my heated skin, and I paddled my feet back and forth, scattering the rest of the petals to the wind.

“If you’re looking to tell if a man loves you, you’ve made a pig’s breakfast of it,” said a voice at my elbow.

I jumped, scattering the stems from my lap as I half turned. A Gypsy woman stood there, arms folded under her breasts as she regarded me coolly. She wore the usual layers of ruffled skirts in spite of the heat, and a scarf of flowered scarlet had been tied around her head. She followed the Gypsy custom of wearing one’s wealth, for her neck and arms were heavy with coins dangling from chains and bangles, and I wondered how I had not heard her approach.

“A Romany woman is as quiet as she wants to be,” she told me before I asked. She nodded sharply to the torn flowers in my hands. “You want your fortune told? I can do better than flowers.”

I thought of my previous experiences with tasseomancy and Tarot cards and suppressed a shudder. “Thank you, no. I’m afraid I have no silver with which to cross your palm.”

She shrugged. “No matter. I will tell yours for free.” Before I could speak, she knelt and took my hand in hers. Her palms were warm and her flesh exuded an earthy smell like newly tilled soil or coming rain.

She stroked my palm gently, following the lines from fingers to wrist, muttering under her breath. She shook her head, her expression mournful, and her voice took on a keening quality.

“Oh, lady, I see unhappiness here! Such woe and trouble comes to you. Shadows lie in wait for you, the shadows of things that will come to pass if you do not change your course.”

“How frightful!” I murmured.

She gave me a sharp look. “You do not believe.”

I bared my teeth in a smile. “I’ve heard these things before.”

The Gypsy woman dropped my hand as if she had been scalded. “And yet you mock me, lady? You are arrogant. But you will learn to mend your ways.”

“How?” I asked.

She blinked. “How?”

“Yes, how? You speak of darkness and woe and—shadows, was it? Now, how am I supposed to avoid them? With a hefty payment, I suppose? I’ve already told you I have no silver for you.”

She rose, wrapping her shawl about her in spite of the warmth of the day. She lifted a finger and pointed it at my heart. “And I told you I did not want your money. If you wish to avoid tragedy, you must give him up.”

A cold chill struck me then, and I no longer felt flippant.

“Him?”

She gave me a sly look then, cutting her eyes sideways at me as she turned to go. “Him. The one who sits in your heart. He walks with death, lady. And if you choose him, death will touch you, too.”

She was gone, melting away with the same silence with which she had come. The sun still beat down; the breeze still danced in the reeds, bending the wildflowers and teasing the scent of honeysuckle from the throat of the blossoms. But there was a shadow over the afternoon that had not been there before. I rose and dried my feet on my skirts and put on my stockings and slippers and walked slowly back to the Abbey.

1 Silent on the Moor

2 Silent in the Sanctuary

Chapter Two

Time goes on crutches till Love have all his rites.

—Much Ado about Nothing, II.i.352

The encounter with the Gypsy at the river affected me more than I liked to think. I was still preoccupied when I entered the Abbey and made my way upstairs. No sooner had I turned into the bedchamber gallery than I collided heavily with a maid—at least I presumed it was a maid. The girl had ended up squarely on her backside with an armful of clean linen tossed into the air. I could see nothing of her but an enormous mob cap and a pair of wide eyes peeping through the sheets.

“Beggar me, I am sorry, my lady.”

“Do not apologise. I wasn’t looking where I was going. The fault was entirely mine.”

I put out a hand to help her up, but she shrieked and dove under the linen. I smiled.

“No, I suppose that is inappropriate. You must be new here. Marches do not do things the same as other folk,” I told her. The bundle of linen shuddered, and I realised the girl must be well and truly confused to be carrying clean linen to the bedchambers at that time of day. Beds were made in the morning, and the linen cupboard was on another floor entirely. But Hoots had been growing more and more feeble in the head, and there was no telling what instructions he had given to the girl. I made a note to suggest to Aunt Hermia that a housekeeper might prove a useful addition if Hoots were terrorising the maids. The last one had quit in rebellion against his tyrannies, and it was proving harder and harder to keep good staff so long as he was in command.

I gave the girl a friendly smile to put her at her ease. “You must be one of the new girls taken on for the wedding, is that right?”

The bundle nodded.