‘Molly! Molly!’
She held her breath, balanced in her leafy eyrie and peeping down at the path below her. Edwin would never think to look up into a tree. Her brother did not think girls could climb trees. He was four years older and at school now and he did not think girls could do anything. True, her skirts had been a hindrance in scrambling up into the branches and Mama would be sure to scold her when she saw the tear, and Papa might beat her for it, too, and make her learn another tract from the Scriptures, but it would be worth it. She would wait until her brother had passed beneath her, then jump down behind him. That would give him a scare.
‘Molly, where are you?’
‘Where the devil are you?’
The voice had changed. It was no longer Edwin and suddenly she was no longer six years old and hiding in a tree. She was in a dark place, bruised and bleeding, and waiting for the next blow.
‘Molly. Molly!’
It was a dream. Only a dream. She shook off the fear and panic, clinging to the fact that it was her brother’s voice dragging her from sleep. She opened her eyes, but remained still for a moment to gather her thoughts. She was safe here. It was the vicarage garden and she was lying on a rug beneath the shady branches of the beech tree.
‘So there you are, sleepyhead.’
She sat up, rubbing her eyes. ‘I beg your pardon, Edwin. I came out here to do some sketching and I must have fallen asleep.’
‘Well, if you will go off at the crack of dawn to help out at Prospect House.’ He threw himself down beside her on the rug, grinning at her and looking far more like the errant elder brother she had grown up with than the sober Reverend Edwin Frayne, vicar of the parish. ‘There is no need for you to visit more than once a week, you know. Nancy and Fleur are very capable of running the place.’
‘But I like to help when I can and today is market day when they sell the surplus from the dairy and the kitchen garden. There is always so much for them to do to pack up the dog cart, deciding on a price for the eggs and butter, and—’
He threw up a hand, laughing. ‘Enough, enough, Molly. You do not need to convince me. You are a grown woman and may do as you please.’
‘I know they could cope without me,’ she conceded, smiling. ‘However, today will be the last of those early mornings. With the days growing shorter I shall go to the house on a Tuesday. We will prepare all we can in advance so that Fleur and the others have only to pack up the cart in the morning.’
‘If you must.’
She reached for his hand. ‘I like to do it, Edwin. I like to help. It makes me feel necessary.’
‘You are very necessary, my dear. You are necessary to my comfort, keeping house for me here.’
She took his hand and squeezed it, wanting to say how grateful she was that he had taken her in when she was so suddenly widowed, but the memories that stirred up brought an unwelcome lump to her throat and she did not wish to embarrass either of them with her tears, so she pinned on a bright smile and asked him where he had been.
‘I called upon our new neighbours at Newlands.’
‘Oh.’
Edwin spread his hands, ‘I could not ignore them, Molly, you must see that. And I admit I was pleasantly surprised. Sir Gerald is really most gentleman-like. He was most accommodating.’
‘One would expect him to be, to a man of the cloth.’ Molly bit her lip. ‘I beg your pardon, Edwin, I know one should never listen to gossip, but from everything I have heard, Sir Gerald Kilburn and his friends are everything I most despise...’
She tailed off and Edwin looked at her with some amusement.
‘You must learn not to attach too much importance to the gossip our sister writes to you. She has inherited our father’s abhorrence of anything frivolous. Sir Gerald and his guests all seemed very pleasant. He introduced me to his sister, too. Miss Kilburn is to keep house for him here. She has with her an elderly lady who is her companion. Their presence and that of other ladies suggests this is not a party of rakish bucks intent upon setting the neighbourhood by the ears.’
‘Not all of them, perhaps,’ said Molly darkly. ‘But Louisa wrote to warn me that one of the party is sure to be Sir Gerald’s oldest and closest friend, Charles Russington. Even you will have heard of his reputation, Edwin. Louisa says the gossip about the man is no exaggeration. He is the most attractive man imaginable and no lady in town is safe.’
‘If the fellow is so attractive, perhaps it is he who is not safe from the ladies.’
‘Edwin!’
‘I beg your pardon, I did not mean to be flippant, but I think you are making too much of this. Yes, I have certainly heard of Beau Russington, but I did not see him today.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘If the fellow is as rakish as they say, then perhaps he is coming into the country for a rest! No, no, do not rip up at me for that, my dear. Forgive me, but I think you are too quick to judge. It is our Christian duty to give these people the benefit of the doubt, at least until we are a little better acquainted with them. And we shall soon know what our neighbours think of the newcomers. Sir Gerald told me they plan to attend Friday’s assembly at the King’s Head. His party comprises five ladies, excluding the elderly companion, and six gentlemen, so just think how that will liven things up!’
Molly was still digesting this news when Edwin coughed.
‘I thought we might go this time. Just so that you might meet the Newlands party, you understand. Miss Agnes Kilburn is a quiet, well-mannered young lady, about your age, and your situations are quite similar. I think you might get on very well.’
Molly said nothing, but her doubts must have been plain in her face, for Edwin said earnestly, ‘I really should like you to meet her, my dear.’
She narrowed her eyes, a sudden smile tugging at her mouth. ‘Why, Edwin, I do believe you are blushing. Have you taken a liking to Miss Kilburn?’
‘No, no, of course not, we have only met the once.’ His ears had turned quite red, which only increased Molly’s suspicions. He said, ‘I am merely concerned that we do not appear unfriendly. And I thought you would prefer that to my inviting them here.’
‘There is that,’ she agreed. ‘Very well, we shall go. I admit my interest has been piqued. In meeting Miss Kilburn, at least.’
‘Molly.’ Edwin tried to look stern but failed miserably. ‘I will not have you making Miss Kilburn feel awkward.’
‘No, of course not,’ said Molly, her grey eyes twinkling. ‘I shall be the very soul of discretion!’
* * *
Molly decided that if she was going to attend the assembly then she would need some new gloves, since she had noticed at their last outing that her old ones were looking decidedly shabby. Thus, on the morning of the assembly, she sallied forth to the high street to make her purchases. Hebden’s was by far the most popular shop for the ladies of Compton Parva. The business had begun as a haberdasher, selling everything one might require for sewing such as ribbons, thread and needles, but as the number of families in the area increased, the business had expanded to include such necessary items as ladies’ bonnets, scarves, reticules, stockings and gloves. The shop was now run by Miss Hebden, who had inherited the business from her parents, and when she saw Molly, she came immediately to serve her.
‘Ah, Mrs Morgan, good day to you,’ she