gone up to change after walking down to the water's edge, and the laughter announcing their arrival drifted up the stairs to him.
On his way down to join them, he heard Hamish's voice in his ear. ' 'Ware!'
A young woman with dark red hair and freckles was standing in the doorway at the foot of the stairs, listening to the ominous rumble of thunder in the distance. She turned and said, 'Hallo, I'm Mary,' as she offered her hand.
Assuming she was the newly arrived matron of honor, Rutledge introduced himself and added that he'd been looking forward to meeting her.
She gestured toward the clouds. 'I don't relish the drive back to Dunster if it storms. Edgar may have to put us up. I've never cared for lightning.'
The unmade road from Dunster to Maitland's house ended in a pair of nasty turns, and driving them in the dark and heavy rain would be tempting fate.
Rutledge said, 'I'm sure there's more than enough room here.'
Mary resolutely turned her back to the storm, and Rutledge kept her busy with questions about her journey until a little of her anxiety had faded. Then they joined the rest of the guests in the dining room, where the wedding party had gathered.
Watching them, Rutledge thought that Edgar and Elise made a striking pair. And she was carrying out her duties as hostess with smiling grace. Edgar's eyes followed her, and his happiness was reflected in his own smile.
Rutledge had already met Elise's parents, and he was standing with them at the edge of the crush of people when someone, he thought it was Mary, said, 'And Ian, I believe you know Mrs. Channing?'
He spun on his heel, trying to keep the shock out of his face.
Meredith Channing smiled up at him and gave him her hand. 'Yes, we've met before. Hallo, Ian, how are you?'
She was giving him time to recover.
Managing it somehow, he said, 'I'm well. And you?'
'I'm well, thank you. It appears we've just made it before the storm.'
'Yes-you were fortunate.'
And then Elise's cousin was greeting him, and Meredith Channing moved on, her voice drifting back to him as she said something to Edgar about the setting of his house.
When he had a moment to himself, Rutledge turned to watch her crossing the room and helping herself to the refreshments on the drinks table.
He had met her first on New Year's Eve, at Maryanne Browning's house, where Meredith had come to conduct a seance for the amusement of Maryanne's guests. Something about her had struck him then, a certainty that she knew more about his war years than he was willing to tell anyone-he'd even been absurdly afraid that she would find Hamish in his mind. A fear that had been reinforced when he learned that she'd served as a nurse at a forward aid station and remembered seeing him there.
They had been thrown together a number of times since that night, and he'd come to an uneasy truce with her. Meredith Channing had never spoken of his past or her own, keeping their friendship, such as it was, firmly anchored in the present. And yet, an undercurrent was always there, her warm charm and that quiet poise so unusual in a woman only a few years his junior, a snare that drew him and repelled him at the same time.
She came across the room later and stood before him, looking out the windows as the rain pelted down and the thunder echoed wildly across the moor.
Before she could say anything, Mary, the red-haired bridesmaid he'd met earlier, came up to claim his attention. He'd been standing a little apart from the others in the room, his claustrophobia getting the better of him. His back was to the windows that looked out on the terrace, and he suddenly felt cornered.
Glancing uneasily at the swirling rain as a sheet of lightning lit up the sky, Mary said, 'Doesn't it bother you?' She shivered, her hands cupping her elbows, as if to hold warmth in.
'Shall I find a wrap for you?' he asked, dodging the question.
Mary shook her head. 'It's the thunder. It reminds me of the guns in France. We could hear them in Kent, where I lived then. And sometimes even see the flashes.'
Her words were suddenly loud in a brief lull in the conversation, and people stood still, as if not knowing how to break the spell they cast. Then Elise's father said, 'Thank God that's behind us,' and changed the subject.
Mary turned away from the dark glass. 'I think I'll make some tea, if Elise hasn't. Sorry.'
'Don't apologize. I understand.'
She gave him a grateful smile and left him there.
Meredith Channing said, for Rutledge's ears alone, 'You needn't worry. The storm will pass soon, and then we'll be gone.'
He said, 'I'm not sure it will be safe, even then. The road is tricky.'
'There's a moon. When it breaks through the clouds, there will be enough light to see our way.' Against his will, her calm assurance enveloped him.
He said, 'Everyone seems quite content to stay until then.'
'Most of us have known one another for some time. It's like a family gathering, everyone catching up on news. The war years were hard, and we've all paid a high price for this peace.'
He wanted to ask her what her price had been but couldn't bring himself to introduce such a personal note.
Yet he found himself comparing Meredith Channing to Elise. They were only a few years apart in age, but Elise had been sent to live in the comparative comfort and isolation of Dunster, with no troop trains arriving in the night with the wounded, no outbound trains filled with cheering soldiers marching away to war, shielding her from the cauldron of anguish and suffering Mrs. Channing had seen at the Front. And so age was not a measure of the differences between them. Only experience could be.
That thought reminded him of an earlier one, that perhaps Edgar had deliberately chosen someone like Elise. As perhaps he himself had held to the memory of his former fiancee, Jean, long after any hope of reconciliation. Were they both so desperate to wipe away the bitterness and fear and nightmares they'd brought home with them?
Mrs. Channing smiled, as if she'd read his mind, and he swore to himself as she said, 'I believe they'll be happy, those two. Elise is steadier than she appears. Right now, she's giddy with happiness, and has a right to be. Edgar wouldn't propose until he was sure he was well enough. He didn't want to be a burden, I imagine, but Elise was afraid he'd never work up the courage. He needs her brightness. In a few months he'll forget he's lost a limb and agree to one of those artificial ones that are available now.'
Edgar had said nothing to him about replacing his leg with an artificial one.
And again, Meredith said, apropos of that, 'He was afraid he'd make a fool of himself tomorrow, falling. He feels safer just now with his crutches.'
'Did Elise tell you that?' he said. Or had you read it in Edgar's tea leaves?
A twinkle appeared in Meredith's dark eyes. 'Ian. I've seen Edgar any number of times when he has come up to London. If he brings Elise, she stays with me. For propriety's sake. And we've talked a time or two.'
He felt himself flush with embarrassment. Managing a laugh, he said, 'Sorry. I met you first as a necromancer, remember.'
'Yes. I remember. It was not the best of footings for friendship, was it? I can sometimes guess what someone is thinking-anyone can, if he knows human nature. A policeman employs the same skills, surely. It isn't so strange a gift.'
'A policeman,' he responded dryly, 'doesn't care to have those skills used against him.'
She laughed. It was low and husky and somehow intimate. 'Touche.'
As the storm descended on them in earnest, the party moved down to the kitchen and made a spur-of-the- moment tea out of what they found there, carrying it triumphantly to the room overlooking the terrace and sitting on the rugs or in the chairs, conversation flowing smoothly. Rutledge found he was enjoying himself.
Meredith Channing was talking with Neal Hammond, and Rut- ledge could hear her voice but not what she was saying, though it was clear from the expression on Hammond's face that he found her attractive. From the way he touched her arm at one point, it was also clear that they had known each other for some time.
