The food was makeshift, the women were in black rather than the usual array of summer dresses bought or made for the occasion, with matching hats to protect one's complexion. And except for the rector, the men were in uniform.
Little Sefton was small enough for everyone to know everyone, and I was one of the handful of outsiders in their midst. Alicia and I walked across the green lawn to the booths set out on the grass, their poles decorated with loops of flowers and bows of ribbons and bright fabrics. People nodded to us as we passed, and children ran about playing, chased by excited dogs.
Alicia was saying, 'Let me present you to Rector Stevens. He's a lovely man. Do you play chess, by any chance? He quite fancies himself as the best player in Hampshire.'
Not wanting to spend my afternoon in a chess match, I hemmed and hummed a bit, and Alicia said, 'Well, never mind. One of the wounded is sure to oblige him.'
I had seen far too many of those, walking with canes, arms in slings, or even being wheeled in invalid chairs.
She began to point out people to me. 'That woman in puce. She was housemaid to Marjorie's mother. She puts up the best pickle relish in the county. Over there, the one with red hair-she was a friend of Marjorie's mother-' The list went on, and then Alicia stopped.
'What is it?' I asked.
'Victoria is here. I'd never have guessed it. I owe the rector's wife a dozen brown eggs.'
'You had a wager on whether or not she was coming?'
'Oh, yes. I was nearly certain that with everyone discussing poor Marjorie's death, she wouldn't wish to be here.'
I looked at Marjorie's sister. She was about my height, with fair hair and hazel eyes. But her mouth, unlike Marjorie's more generous one, was thin lipped, and I found myself thinking that I shouldn't like to cross her.
A family resemblance was there all the same, especially around the eyes, but I wouldn't have picked Victoria out on my own as Marjorie's sister.
Victoria turned away as we came nearer, and the rector was engaged with an older man who was speaking earnestly to him.
Alicia said, 'That's Mr. Hart. A gentleman farmer. He owns the largest farm in Little Sefton. He's kind enough to send his workmen around to help with things like repairing chimneys or patching roofs or heavy lifting. It's a blessing, with Gareth in France.' She turned away, to allow the two men a little privacy. 'And that handsome devil sitting in the white elephant booth-the one with his arm in bandages-has been breaking hearts since he arrived a few weeks ago. He's staying with the Harts. Their nephew.'
I could see the man she spoke of. An officer in the Wiltshire regiment, tall, very fair, a deep voice and a laugh that began in his chest and a smile that was devastatingly sweet. But with a roving eye as well. I watched him try his charm on a girl of perhaps fourteen, who blushed to the roots of her hair, then he switched his attention to her mother, but she must have been used to it. I heard her say, 'Oh, behave yourself, Michael. One would think you were the Prince of Wales, the way you carry on.'
He laughed and leaned across the booth's counter to kiss her cheek. 'Dear Mrs. Lucas, if I ever marry anyone, it will be you.'
She nodded. 'Yes, and what shall I tell Henry when we elope?'
Henry must have been her husband, because Michael dropped his voice to a conspiratorial level and asked, 'Must we tell him?' He looked around. 'Come to think of it, I haven't seen him today. His back, again?'
'Sadly, yes. He's gone to see a doctor in Salisbury.'
She moved on and he turned our way. 'Ah, a new blossom in our garden,' he exclaimed, seeing me. 'And who is this, pray?' he asked Alicia.
Alicia took me across to the booth, presenting me. 'Bess Crawford, this is Michael Hart. He's not to be trusted.'
He bowed over my hand and welcomed me to the fete.
Close to, I could see the lines of strain around his mouth and the shadows in those wonderfully blue eyes.
'How is your shoulder?' I asked.
'Never better.' But it was a lie. 'I'll be returning to the Front by September, they tell me.'
'How many surgeries have you had?'
'Enough for a lifetime,' he replied tersely, and then laughed to cover his lapse.
Alicia left me there while she spoke to an elderly woman leaning heavily on a cane.
Michael Hart said, 'Do you need a white elephant?' He was pointing to one-literally-made of porcelain. It was quite charming, and so I bought it, and he wrapped it carefully before handing it to me. I paid him and was about to turn away when he caught my hand in his good one, and said in a low voice, 'No, don't go.'
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Victoria bearing down on us, and I stayed for the opportunity to meet her. But when she realized that I had no intention of leaving, even after my purchase was completed, she veered away.
'Do you know her?' I asked, interested to hear what he had to say.
'I knew her sister,' he said in that same terse manner.
Marjorie.
He was beckoning to a woman just coming up the grassy avenue. 'Mrs. Hampton, would you mind the booth for a bit?'
She came over to him and said at once, 'Do go and sit down, Michael. You must be in terrible pain. I thought someone was to assist you?'
'No one came,' he told her. 'I'll be back in half an hour.'
'Take as long as you like.' She noticed the little box stuffed with coins and said, 'I see you've done quite well. I told the rector's wife you were the perfect one to sell our little treasures.'
Once more I began to turn away, but Michael took my arm and said, 'Stay with me.'
CHAPTER EIGHT
I did as he asked. The debonair officer had vanished, and there was perspiration on Lieutenant Hart's face, a tightness to his mouth. I'd seen this happen with wounded men. Off parade, so to speak, they let down their guard and admitted that they were in pain.
We walked together along a short path that led to the side door of the rectory. He reached for it out of habit, but I was there first and held it for him. Inside it was cool and dim, and I realized we were in a small plant room, where secateurs and trowels, baskets and pots lined the shelves on either side. Below were vases of all kinds. A dry sink where plants could be repotted or divided held a vase of wilting blossoms. Here flower arrangements were made up or cuttings were prepared for setting out.
My escort led the way through the second door and into a wider passage, then up a short flight of steps to a book-lined room that was clearly the rector's study.
'No one will think to look for us here.' He sank into a leather armchair to one side of the desk, and closed his eyes.
I took the one opposite him. After a moment, he opened his eyes and said, 'You're a good sport, Sister Crawford. Thank you.'
I smiled. 'Not at all. Is there anything I can bring you? Water? A pillow?'
'I'm all right.'
Which I translated as, Don't fuss.
After a time, as the pain eased, he said, 'I didn't know Victoria would be here today. I shouldn't be telling you this, but I owe you some explanation. Victoria's sister was killed some weeks ago. Victoria appears to think I know something about that. She hounds me every time she sees me. I couldn't deal with it today.'
'And do you know something?'
He'd closed his eyes again. 'I don't make a habit of killing women.'
