by Andrea Kane
"Mr. Lyndley's logic is sound, my lady," Chaunce concurred, laying a soothing palm on Hermione's shoulder. "Miss Gaby's life is in danger. Keeping her safe comes before all else."
"Of course it does," Hermione agreed, her dismay eclipsed by loving concern.
"Sweetheart," Bryce continued, touching Gaby's cheek, "now that we've broached the subject, I'd like to pursue it-for just a few minutes. I realize you're exhausted and still suffering some degree of pain and shock. But can you tell us what you remember about this afternoon?"
Gaby nodded again, staunchly gathered her thoughts. "I never actually saw the man who tried to kill me." For the first time she said the words aloud, and she began to tremble with reaction. "He was wearing a mask. I was some fifty yards from Crumpet's warren when I heard rustling in the brush. I turned, thinking it was Crumpet. It wasn't. I caught a glimpse of a masked figure in black, clutching a rock. He raised his arms, brought the rock down on my head. That's all I remember until I awakened amid the fire. That and a musky smell-the sickening smell of death."
"Burning grass and wood," Hermione murmured. Bryce nodded. "Do you remember anything else about him?"
"No," Gaby said after a moment. "I only saw him for a fleeting instant."
Hermione swallowed hard. "I think the more im
portant question is why. Why did he do this to Gaby?"
"You can guess the answer to that-evidence or not," Bryce returned quietly. "We all can."
"Yes." Gaby shivered. "He was alarmed by my recent, more distinct memories of the fire. Whoever he is, he was afraid I'd remember something he didn't want anyone to know about. Something that would implicate him." A tormented pause. "Bryce, that leads me to only one conclusion: what I overheard the night of the fire-the men's voices-wasn't just two people trapped in an accidental death; it was murder."
"And I'm willing to bet that whoever committed the murder also started the fire," Bryce agreed. "Probably to cover up his crime. I'm sure he never intended for the fire to blaze so completely out of control, to claim so many lives. But it did. After which, it became even more imperative for him to avoid discovery, which he managed to do effortlessly, given that everyone believed the fire to be a chance occurrence. In fact, he wasn't even at risk-until you remembered the voices in the coal room. That showed things in an entirely new light, which unnerved him enough to try to silence you."
"So one of the voices I overheard was his, and the other, his victim's." Gaby met Bryce's gaze. "Clearly you believe that whoever this killer is, he lives at Whitshire."
"It certainly makes sense. After all, you were attacked the very day after Thane reassembled his staff and told them about your reawakened memories. That's too striking a coincidence. Also, as we men
tioned a few minutes ago, Delmore's murder now
looks doubly suspicious, given its location and timing.
All these incidents are connected somehow-I just
don't yet know how. But Delmore's partner, Freder
ick Banks, is in the process of assembling all the
documents relating to the late duke's yacht. He's
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agreed to send for me the moment he's through. I suspect those papers will fill in some of the missing pieces. So ... do I think the murderer is living at Whitshire? Definitely. And I'll wager that whoever he is killed Dowell that night."
"But who? And why?" Again Gaby rubbed her head. "Dowell-every time I hear his name, my head begins to ache. That must be a sign we're getting close. I just wish I could remember more." She winced as her fingers brushed her bandaged wound.
"You will-but not tonight." Bryce reached over to the nightstand and poured a cup of tea, then added a few drops of laudanum to it. "We've done enough conjecturing for now. You've been through an ordeal. You need your rest in order to recover. We'll all be here, as will the mystery, when you awaken." He supported her shoulders and held the cup to her lips. "This is a fresh pot of tea. Chaunce brought it up while you were asleep. It's still warm. I want you to drink the entire cup, then lie down and close your eyes."
He waited while she complied, then eased her back down, tucking the bedcovers about her and watching the laudanum take effect.
"All right." Gaby's eyelids were already drooping. "I suppose I am a little tired." A yawn. "Bryce?" she said abruptly, her lashes fluttering.
"Hmm?"
"You did say three days?"
Bryce leaned down, brushed a chaste kiss on her mouth. "Yes, Wonderland. Three days and we'll be married."
"Chaunce ..." Clearly, she was fighting the effects of the drug.
"Miss Gaby, you really should rest," Chaunce chided her gently.
"I will." She gave him a faint smile, her blue eyesthough glazed and battling to remain open-soft with tenderness. "But first I need to ask you my important
question. Will you walk me down the aisle, give me to Bryce ... not away but to a new life that will also encompass all the beauty of my old one?"
A muscle worked at Chaunce's throat. "I'd be honored, Miss Gaby."
"Thank you. And Aunt Hermione..."
"I'll be your aunt and your bridal attendant all in one," Hermione vowed.
"No. My best friend and my mother," Gaby's words were slurred, but not too slurred to have an impact.
Joyous tears slid down Hermione's cheeks.
"And the whole family ... will be ... there ..." Gaby sighed, a wisp of sound that was as awed as it was faint. "Mrs. Bryce Lyndley." A faraway smile. "Much better than Wonderland."
With that, she slept.
Lily knocked on Marion's door, then dashed inside the instant she heard the mumbled "Come in."
"Lily, why are you awake at this hour?" Marion asked, worry lacing her tone as she sat up in bed. "Is it Miss Gaby? Is she worse?"
"Oh, no." Lily scrambled onto the bedcovers, kneeling beside Marion with a wide grin. "She's much better. She was awake for a long time, Marion. And I heard her and Mr. Lyndley talking to Lady Nevon and Chaunce." An impatient tug at the sleeve of Marion's nightgown. "Guess what they said?"
"What?"
"They're getting married. In three days."
"Three days?" Now Marion was wide awake. "Are you sure?"
"Uh-huh. I heard them say so. Mr. Lyndley, especially. He didn't want to wait."
"Let's go." Marion sprang out of bed, yanked on
her wrapper in a few clumsy tugs, and snatched Lily's
hand. "We've got to awaken Mrs. Gordon, make sure
the gown is finished and find out what else is left to
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do. Everything's got to be perfect." She tripped over the belt of her wrapper, shoving it aside impatiently, only to trip on it again.
Pausing, she jammed the belt into her pocket and leaned down to give Lily a hard hug. "Lily, you're the best eavesdropper in the whole world!"
Like thieves in the night, they darted through the hallway, racing purposefully toward Mrs. Gordon's chamber.
Chapter Sixteen
GABY's WEDDING DAY DAWNED WITH ALL THE RADIANT splendor that filled her heart: dazzling sunshine, twittering birds, and one exuberantly screeching woodpecker.
"Vicar Kent will be here in an hour," Hermione reported to Gaby, flitting about the sitting room as the grandfather clock inched its way toward 9:00 A.M. "He was charmed by your desire to be married right here at Nevon Manor and, therefore, delighted to perform the ceremony in our chapel."
"He's a wonderful man," Gaby proclaimed. "Today the whole world is wonderful!" She whirled across the room to hug her aunt.
Chaunce strolled in, arched a brow at the two frolicking ladies. "I came to see what the commotion was about, thinking perhaps you required my help. Instead, you require my advice." He glanced first at Hermione. "My lady, you'll tire yourself out before the ceremony if you continue in this manner. And, Miss Gaby"-he turned to the bride-"need I remind you that just three days ago you were nearly
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killed? Dr. Briers cautioned you to stay in bed for a day; you were out the next morning. He instructed you to limit your activities, to move about a bit at a time; you were frolicking in the woods by yesterday. And he insisted you spend the morning of your wedding abed-a reasonable enough suggestion, since the ceremony is to take place at ten o'clock, but you've been up since dawn, fluttering about like your crazed woodpecker. If I hadn't bolted the door, you'd be running outside with the children." Chaunce rolled his eyes. "What am I to do with you?" A pointed glare at Hermione. "With both of you?"
"Why not join us?" Hermione suggested with a twinkle. "I feel stronger than I have in weeks, like a young girl myself. And Gaby. ..." She inclined her head at her niece, who was now waltzing about the room, alternately humming and greeting the sunshine that spilled through the windows. "Does she look peaked to you? I think not. Besides, I'm quite sure she'll agree to retire early this evening, won't you, my dear?"
Gaby tossed her aunt a conspiratorial grin. "You have my word, Aunt Hermione."
"There," Hermione proclaimed with a flourish. "That should ease your unfounded worry. In addition, today is a joyous celebration, the culmination of years of praying, months of planning-"
Chaunce's warning cough was interrupted by a question from Gaby: "What months of planning?"
Hermione recovered herself gracefully. "Very well, then-days. Humor me, darling. I'm trying to pretend I actually had the month or two I yearned for to plan a romantic, dream-come-true wedding for you. I wanted your day to be perfect."
"It is perfect," Gaby assured her. "My family is here, and I'm marrying Bryce. Not only that, but Bryce has asked Thane to stand up for him as his groomsman. Now, what could be more perfect than all that?"
"A well-taken point," Chaunce conceded. "However, unless you plan to be married in your worn-out day dress, with a bit of this morning's custard on your cheek, I'd suggest you improve upon perfection by going upstairs to change."
"Goodness! You're right." Gaby stared down at herself in dismay.
"There's still plenty of time," Chaunce assured her. "Marion said to tell you she's drawn you a bath and laid out the dress you requested." He frowned. "I had hoped Lily and Jane would be here to help Marion weave a few flowers through your hair, but they and Ruth are nowhere to be found. Dora offered to take their place; I think between her and Marion, they'll do a splendid job of arranging your tresses, flowers or not. Oh, and Mrs. Gordon has ordered everyone away from the dining room and yellow salon; apparently, she's scrubbing them both free of some scuff marks that were allegedly left on the floors and on the windows overlooking the garden. She's none too pleased about the situation, either; she nearly bit my head off. Of course there was no one else about for her to chastise and warn away. Nonetheless, given her rather piqued frame of mind, I'm more than happy to stay out of her way."
Hermione's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Now that you've called it to my attention, the entire manor has been unusually quiet since breakfast. Even the boys are nowhere to be found, although Peter is probably in Bryce's chamber reading his legal texts while Bryce prepares for the wedding. Thane is also up there-in his case, to assist the bridegroom. But there's been not a thud or a shout or even a peal of laughter in hours. Where is everyone?"
"Perhaps they're all getting dressed, just as I should be," Gaby proposed, brushing a stray lock of hair off her face with more than a touch of self-censure. "And with the vicar arriving in less than an hour, I'd better do so-and swiftly." She seized Hermione's hands.
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"Will you come up with me? I know you need time to dress, but-"
"I'll sit with you while you prepare for your bath," Hermione offered at once. "We'll have a lovely prenuptial chat. Then I'll go to my chambers and dress. After which Dora and Marion can arrange our hair in my sitting room. How would that be?"
"Ideal." Gaby hesitated, a flicker of worry dimming her exuberance. "Aunt Hermione, are you sure Thane's staff wasn't upset about not being invited to the wedding? Mrs. Darcey, Mrs. Fife-so many of them are very dear to me, and I hate the fact that we were forced to exclude them. I understand we had no choice, that the decision was made for my protection, but I just can't envision any one of those wonderful people trying to harm me."
"But one of them might have," Hermione said firmly. "The way Thane handled the situation was the only way to ensure your safety, Gaby. He was extremely diplomatic, explaining that you were still weak and shaken by your ordeal and that, as a result, we were limiting the guest list to those at Nevon Manor so as not to overtax your strength. He added that you were still in shock and somewhat dazed, and he ended with a pointed mention of the fact that your concussion had left your memories of the accidenthe stressed that word-muddled and indistinct. Thane's explanation was intended to accomplish two objectives: to eliminate the potential for hurt feelings, and to lull your assailant into a false sense of security in the belief that you, like everyone else, believe the fire to have been accidental." Hermione wrapped an arm about Gaby's shoulders. "So put your worry over the Whitshire staff from your mind. Today is your wedding day, darling. It's going to be the most wondrous day of your life. I want nothing to taint it. Now, let's go up and get ready, all right?"
The glow reappeared on Gaby's face. "All right."
Twenty minutes later Gaby stepped out of her bath and sailed into her room.
"I guess you're ready to get dressed?" Marion asked with a twinkle.
"Yes." Gaby studied the pale yellow frock on her bed with a frown. "Marion, do you think I made the right choice? I wanted to select a color as close to white as possible. My beige gowns are drab; this is the only one that has full skirts and a bit of trim about the sleeves. Do you think it will do?"
"I don't know." Marion helped Gaby into her underclothes, studying the yellow gown with apparent concentration. "Actually, now that you mention it, the gown is all wrong for the occasion. It looks more like a party frock than a wedding gown. It's bright and cheerful, but not very devout-looking. After all, you are getting married, even if it is in a plain old chapel."
Gaby felt as if she'd been punched. "Then what shall I do?" she asked. "I have nothing more suitable."
"I'll send for your aunt," Marion suggested. "Maybe she'll have an idea."
She disappeared, only to reappear minutes later with Hermione, who was clad in a dressing robe.
"Gaby? What is it, darling?" Hermione went straight to her niece. "Marion says you're upset with your dress. Why?"
"I'm being silly," Gaby replied, straightening her shoulders. "Bryce won't care what I'm wearing. It's just that . . ."
"The dress is all wrong for today," Marion sup
plied. "It's too ... well, yellow; too ordinary. I don't
blame Miss Gaby for her feelings."
Hermione whirled about, giving Marion an utterly
astounded look. "It's not like you to be cruel, Marion.
You know we didn't have enough time to create-"
"No, you didn't, but we did."
A puzzled expression. "You did ... what?"
"Have enough time." With that, Marion smiled,
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walking over and opening the bedchamber door. "I hope you like it, Miss Gaby," she said fervently. Then: "Come in."
Like a general leading her troops to battle, Mrs. Gordon marched in, followed by Ruth, Lily, and Jane, each of whom clutched a different part of the most exquisite shimmering white creation Gaby had ever seen-trimmed with lace, strewn with pearls, its billowing skirts a rich, vibrant satin.
It was every bride's dream come true.
On command they halted, waiting, anticipation swelling as they watched Gaby's face.
"Oh, my," she breathed, unable to absorb the enormity of what was happening.
"Do you like it?" Marion demanded.
Gaby couldn't speak.
"It's a wedding dress, Miss Gaby," Lily supplied helpfully.
"We made it. For you. Don't worry about it being the wrong size. We borrowed one of your dresses so we could measure. We did it really fast, so we could return your dress before you noticed it was gone. We were afraid we wouldn't be able to finish it in time, but Mrs. Gordon sewed the last stitch at half after four this morning-just before you woke up." Lily's small brow furrowed as she studied Gaby's overwhelmed expression, the tears gliding down her cheeks. "Don't you like it?" she asked anxiously.
Slowly Gaby turned toward Hermione, who shook her head, her own eyes damp. "I knew nothing about this," she managed.
"We didn't want you to," Mrs. Gordon reported crisply. "Not you or Chaunce. The two of you had enough on your mind. Besides, this is a gift from us to Miss Gaby." She glared at Gaby, but an iota of uncertainty flickered through her caustic veneer. "You do like it, of course."
"It's the most breathtaking gown I've ever seen in my life," Gaby whispered, somehow finding her voice. "It's . . ." She walked forward, gingerly touch
ing the satin bodice. "I never imagined ... How did you ... When did you . . ." She sucked in her breath. "Thank you all." She hugged each of them, alternately laughing and crying as the full impact of what they'd done sank in. "You must have spent days stitching, sewing, trimming ... My God, you must have gone without sleep." Reverently Gaby stroked the lace, ran her fingertips over each translucent pearl. "I don't know what I did to deserve this, but I'm more grateful than you'll ever know. It's the most beautiful, loving, meaningful gift I've ever received in my life, with the exception of your love."
"That goes with it-and so does this," Ruth announced, stepping forward to hand Gaby a frothy lace veil, its coronet of orange blossoms crowning the sweeping, diaphanous cascade of white that draped gracefully to the floor.
"Oh . . ." Gaby cradled the veil in her arms, gazed at it in wonder. "It's as if a vivid fragment of my dreams just came to life."
"That's what a wedding day is all about," Marion replied, her round face beaming with joy.
