Tessa shook her head, feeling dizzy, and followed her arguing mother and sister out of the church and into the gloomy Sunday morning.
An arm slipped through hers. “There you are,” Daphne whispered. “I’ve been trying to get you alone, and I must make use of your mother’s focus on Miss Verity to give you this.” She slipped a folded square of paper into Tessa’s pocket. “Do not look at it now. It’s an advertisement for the Folly, announcing a special event tonight.”
“How… how do you have it?”
“Remmy left for London when you left Crossvale. You should have seen him. He was fully clothed! And he’d taken out his earring! Mama and Papa were terribly worried. Kit says he needs time to grieve. But Frederick went after him. He returned yesterday with that paper in your pocket, saying Remmy was determined to be good if good was what Tessa King needed.”
The clouds over the sun seemed to thicken, threatening rain.
“Can you tell me what’s in it?” Tessa asked, slipping her hand into her pocket, feeling the thick paper.
“He’s planning a special show of some sort. Frederick says it may put the Folly at risk.”
“No! But how?”
“He’s going to say it’s not him.”
A fat drop of rain hit Tessa’s cheek.
Daphne’s too. “We must go. Aria!”
Aria popped out of the crowd where she’d been standing behind Tessa’s mother. Likely eavesdropping. “Coming!” She waved at Verity who wiggled her fingers.
Tessa’s mother spun around and spotted Aria. “Verity!”
Tessa squeezed Daphne’s hand. “Thank you. Thank you. You have no loyalty to me. I hurt your brother. I am sure you do not even wish to think of me.”
“Nonsense. We love you, don’t we, Aria?”
The young girl nodded.
“Just as we love Remmy. And sometimes the ones we love make decisions we do not agree with, but”—Daphne shrugged—“still we go on loving. Oh dear, your mother’s spotted me. Do let me know if you need me. For anything!” She squeezed Tessa’s hand then bolted into the crowd.
Her friend had to run, hide, to avoid Tessa’s mother, the same woman who approached now, saying, “Tell your sister, Tessa. Tell her your father and I only want what is best for you both.”
Verity looked up at Tessa, eyes bright and, concerningly, a little violent. Behind that, though, a raw softness Tessa felt in her bones.
“I… Yes, Mother, you do want what is best for us.”
Verity blinked and her mother gave a stout nod.
“But,” Tessa said before her mother could launch into another lecture, “I am not sure you and Father actually understand what best is. At times.”
“Tessa!” Her mother looked about, glancing into the faces of every passerby who might have heard. “It’s time we go home. Mr. Tilbury is coming for dinner tonight.”
“Why didn’t he have to go to church?” Verity grumbled. “He’s a vicar.”
“Verity!”
Before her mother could catch her, Verity ran down the road, clutching her bonnet to her head, ribbons flapping in the wind behind her as a spattering of rain darkened her shoulders.
When Tessa caught up to her mother, the chatter of the churchyard had dissipated, and her own shoulders were damp all the way through her spencer. Deeper, too, somehow.
“She’s young,” Tessa said.
“She’s like you!” Her’ mother’s face was mottled pink, and strands of red hair were pasted against her cheek like open wounds.
It wasn’t far to the rectory, and though it rained lightly most of the way, the sun shot through the clouds when they entered the front gate. Water sizzled in the heat, and a light mist rose offthe grass.
