That something happened after the set had ended.
When all the dancers moved off the floor, Hugh Garnett did not. And in the lull that succeeded the music and the pounding of the dancers' feet on the floor, he raised his voice and spoke across the room.
'Sir Rees Newton,' he said, and waited a moment while everyone's attention swung his way and conversations subsided into a surprised silence, 'I wonder if you realize, sir, that this ballroom tonight harbors a murderer and a usurper?'
Freyja, looking sharply across the ballroom to where Joshua stood beside Mr. and Mrs. Allwright, instantly recognized in him the man who had burst into her inn room on the road to Bath and the man who had stood in the Pump Room the morning after the Sydney Gardens incident, waiting for her to finish stalking toward him. He looked alert, ready for danger, very much alive-and enjoying himself.
'I beg your pardon,' Sir Rees said, all amazement. 'Are you addressing me, Garnett?'
'I am amazed he had the temerity to return to Cornwall,' Garnett said. 'Joshua Moore murdered his cousin five years ago by rowing him out to sea in a small fishing boat and pushing him overboard and holding him under with his oar. He murdered for profit and has reaped all the rewards. You see him tonight as Marquess of Hallmere and in possession of all that has come with it. I am here to denounce him, sir. I was a witness to the killing.'
No one, it seemed to Freyja, had moved a muscle except for Chastity, who had sunk onto a chair beside Morgan, and the marchioness, who was half tottering out onto the floor, one hand clutched to her throat.
Sir Rees sounded more irritated than outraged when he spoke.
'This is a serious allegation indeed, Garnett,' he said. 'But it is hardly the time or the place-'
Another voice interrupted him.
'I was with Hugh Garnett at the time,' a squat, rough-looking man said, stepping out of the crowd, 'and can corroborate his evidence.'
'So was I and so can I,' said another thin, bald man, stepping forward from the crowd close to the orchestra dais.
'And me, sir.'
'And me, sir.'
'Me too.'
Five of them. And Hugh Garnett himself. Freyja's knees felt weak. She felt suddenly nauseous.
'Mr. Garnett.' The marchioness clutched his arm with one hand, her other hand still to her throat. 'When you came to me once before with these charges, I told you I would never believe them. Not of my dear Joshua, who was like a son to me, even though the victim was my own son. Not unless you could offer me proof that even I could not ignore. But I still cannot believe it of Joshua. Tell me there is some mistake. Tell me I am dreaming. Tell me this is some joke.'
Freyja's hands closed into fists at her sides.
Sir Rees had also stepped forward. He looked deeply troubled, as well he might. This was not what he had expected of an evening of celebration. But before he could speak again, Isaac Perrie spoke up.
'Don't trouble yourself, my lady,' he said affably. 'They are lying rogues, all of them. I was standing in the doorway of my taproom that night, I was, because it was getting stormy and I knew the lads had taken a boat out. I watched it coming back. Young Josh-him that is now marquess-was rowing and your son was swimming beside him. They was close to shore, and I saw your son get to his feet while young Josh rowed off again. I was vexed with him for going back out when the sea was rough, but he was always a sure lad with the oars. I did not worry.'
'I saw it too,' another voice said. 'I came to stand beside you, Isaac, if you recall. Young Josh's cousin was wading in, safe and sound and dripping wet.'
'I saw them from the front road,' another voice said. 'It happened just like Isaac said.'
'I was down by our boat with my dad,' Ben Turner said. 'I saw them too.'
'I saw them from the house window,' Mrs. Turner said.
Freyja unfurled her fan and fanned her face slowly with it. Her eyes met Morgan's across the room, and they exchanged half-smiles. It was obvious what was happening. At least a dozen other people had witnessed the event from the village exactly as Joshua had told it at the time. And as if that were not sufficient, a few of the servants at Penhallow had been strolling on the private beach the other side of the river and had seen it too, and a couple of the farm laborers had been walking on the cliff top above Penhallow and had seen.
For a stormy night, the area had been literally crawling with people, all with remarkably good vision, assuming there had been no moonlight during the storm.
Freyja met Joshua's eyes, and he depressed one eyelid slowly.
The marchioness and Mr. Hugh Garnett had not, it seemed, taken into account the fact that Penhallow and its environs were filled with Joshua's friends, people who knew him and loved and trusted him and were willing to perjure themselves on his behalf.
'They are lying, Newton, all of them,' Hugh Garnett said, still holding his ground, though his face had turned somewhat more purple in hue. The marchioness was swaying on her feet, but no one was rushing toward her. 'They are willing to defend a murderer because he has put a fancy ball on for them tonight. He is not the rightful marquess here. He should have hanged long ago. The Reverend Calvin Moore is the rightful marquess.'
'You!' Isaac Perrie pointed a large, blunt finger in the direction of the squat, ruffianly individual. 'I thought you were told six years ago to take yourself off from here with these fellow rogues of yours. You were told we did not need your bullying, smuggling ways around here. You were warned that if you showed your miserable hides here ever again you would be dragged off to the magistrate and left to your fate-a hanging or transportation most like. Yet you sneaked back one year after that to sail out on the sea with Hugh Garnett here, your former boss, did you, to witness a murder and not lift a finger to help the dying man or to apprehend his dastardly killer? A likely story indeed.'
