Page 31 of Fair as a Star

“It’s only for an hour.” Beryl scratched Ernest’s head. “And I do think he’ll prefer it to being left at the Grange. At least here, he’ll be able to see where I’ve gone.”

The footman opened the carriage door and lowered the step. He handed Aunt Hortensia and Mama down first, before assisting Winnifred.

Beryl climbed out last. While her family was occupied in greeting some of the villagers at the church gate, she carried Ernest to a section of the churchyard away from the main path. Sinking down onto the ground, she secured his lead to the fencepost in a loose knot.

“Good boy,” she said, giving him one final pat before rejoining the others.

Ernest watched her go. He didn’t whine or howl in protest. For the moment, he seemed content to lie down upon the grass.

Ahead, Mark stood at the door of the church. He was in his clerical collar, cassock, and surplice, his mouth tilted in a smile as he addressed one of the families entering the vestibule. Mr. Venable was at his side, waxen and frail.

Beryl studied him with concern. He looked terribly ill.

“Mrs. Burnham. Mrs. Sheldrake.” Mark inclined his head to Mama and Aunt Hortensia.

“Good morning, Mr. Rivenhall,” Mama said. “And to you, Mr. Venable. I trust you’re feeling a little better?”

As Mama and Aunt Hortensia spoke with the vicar, Winnifred pressed forward to address Mark. “Has your brother arrived?”

“He’s already inside.”

“Splendid.” Winnifred plunged through the crowd to enter the church.

Mark met Beryl’s eyes. His smile seemed to falter. “Miss Burnham.”

Beryl was suddenly conscious of the people around them. There was no privacy, no more than when she’d last encountered Mark at the church. “Mr. Rivenhall.”

“You’re well?”

“Quite well.” She wanted to say something more. To tell him that he’d been right about Ernest, just as he’d been right about the journal. To say that she missed sitting with him. Talking with him.

But there was no opportunity.

Mama and Aunt Hortensia moved into the vestibule, and Beryl had no choice but to accompany them.

Mama took Beryl’s arm as they advanced up the aisle. “Mr. Venable is giving the sermon this morning, poor fellow. One wonders why he would bestir himself. Unless…do you suppose he’s announcing his retirement?”

Beryl hadn’t the faintest idea. “Do you think he might?”

“It’s past time he did,” Mama said. “I’ll have a word with Sir Henry about it next time he comes for dinner.”

Henry was seated in the Rivenhall family pew at the front of the church. Winnifred was at his side, speaking to him in an animated fashion. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes peculiarly bright.

If Beryl didn’t know better, she might think the pair of them were engaged in a heated argument. But Henry showed no sign of ill humor. He was calm and controlled as ever, listening to Winnifred in complete silence.

At the sight of Beryl and her mother approaching, he stood to greet them. “Miss Burnham. Mrs. Burnham.”

“Sir Henry.” Mama gave Winnifred a questioning glance.

“Is something the matter?” Beryl asked.

“Nothing that can be solved here,” Winnifred said tightly.

“Henry?” Beryl looked to him for an answer.

“Your sister’s right,” he said. “Not here.”

Mama set a hand on Winnifred’s shoulder. “Come, my dear. We must return to our seat before the service starts.”