Page 77 of Watch For Me By Candlelight

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‘I wish Millie was here today.’ Her brother was subdued. His face was all fuzzy and she realised she was looking at him through a veil. ‘She wouldn’t have missed this for the world. But you, dearest Cat, do look beautiful.’

Her dress was cream satin, and was more ornate than anything she had ever had before. The skirt and the train were ridiculously heavy and she carried a posy of flowers in her hands. Charles was linking her arm. They were in the entrance porch of the Hall church and she was, to all intents and purposes, getting ready to head down the aisle.

Kate could remember laying the posy on the grave — she could remember hurrying into the church; but it seemed once she had stepped over that threshold and her feet had connected with the ancient flagstones she had, quite simply, slipped into Cat’s life again; as easy as that. With no warning.

Her stomach lurched. The beautiful dress was all well and good. The solid companionship of her brother was exactly what she needed. But who the hell was she marrying? She couldn’t very well ask Charles. It would be as big a surprise to her when that inner door opened, as it would be to her future husband when he saw her looking like a cupcake in all this flouncy confectionery. It was bloody warm dressed up like that as well. And she assumed, as Charles was giving her away, their parents hadn’t bothered to turn up either. Nothing much changes. I bet they wouldn’t turn up nowadays either if one of us was getting married.

But she couldn’t think about them now. The pain of loss was horribly evident on her brother’s face and she owed him this much at least — she knew that he should have been the one getting married this springtime, not her. She thought again of her Tom that morning and that weirdly cryptic little conversation they’d had. Perhaps she understood some of it now, but she didn’t want to think about it too deeply — not here.

‘Millie is here in spirit, Charles.’ It sounded stupidly trite but it was true. She could feel her, so very close to her that she half-expected her to twitch at the back of her train and straighten it out.

‘I’d like a pale blue bridesmaid’s dress,’ she’d told her. They were still pretending it wasn’t going to happen, even as she lay propped up in bed, so frail and weak that they both knew she’d never make it beyond the winter, never mind into springtime—

Charles’s voice broke into the memory — Cat’s memory. ‘It’s why she wanted to be buried close to the path,’ he said, with a faint smile. ‘She told me she didn’t want to miss anything.’

‘I’ll give her my bouquet. She’ll like that.’

‘She will. Anyway; she would want us to be happy and celebrate today. I think we’ve both had enough heartbreak to last a lifetime, don’t you? So let us rejoice over the fact you’re getting a second chance!’

Kate moved into him in an awkward hug, and he laid his cheek briefly against her hair. ‘Damn hairpin just stuck in me, Cat,’ he murmured.

It wasn’t much of a joke, but it made them both giggle.

It was odd to think that she was about to experience walking down this aisle over one hundred years before Elodie — who’d done it twice, let’s face it — yet Kate didn’t have a clue who was waiting for her.

She looked over her shoulder towards Millie’s grave. The marble was freshly carved and the letters gilded perfectly. An angel stood watch over her and the grass had begun to grow over the sad little mound. An abundance of crocuses had shown their faces over the last few days and the area around the grave was a riot of purple and lilac. She would have loved it.

At the moment, the grave was also decorated with Dog; Hector lay amongst the blooms, a blue ribbon around his neck, his tongue hanging out. He was part of today too but Kate knew he wouldn’t come inside the church. He would stay here with Millie, just to keep her company.

A shadow flitted behind the yew trees, and Kate caught the movement out of the corner of her eye. Had she been a fanciful person, she might have thought it was a ghost, but practicality told her that nobody had ever seen one in this churchyard. In the Hall itself, yes — what with the nurseries and even perhaps that beautiful, ethereal shade she’d come across on the Faerie Bridge. Her heart twisted once more at the loss of Millie.

And, of course, there was the legend of the ubiquitous highwayman in the woods, riding through it on his way somewhere. He didn’t interact with anyone; he just hurtled past and disappeared.

So she turned back to the door, dismissing the shadow as a villager come for a little peek at the wedding, and took a deep breath. ‘I’m ready, Charles.’ This was certainly going to be interesting.

* * *

The cart rocked and bounced over every rut in the road. Will hung on, wishing the horse would go faster, wishing he could outpace it by running.

He’d managed to get a train to Ipswich, and had started to walk back to Hartsford, hitching lifts where he could from passing farm workers and carts. He had been so lucky, he thought it was Fate — he had managed to pick up a ride from the cooper, who worked in the next village to Hartsford — yes, he could certainly take Will there, it was a lovely day for it, wasn’t it? He’d heard tell there was to be a wedding today, and if he was lucky, Will might be able to join in the celebrations.

Will’s stomach twisted with a sense of foreboding. ‘Who’s getting wed?’ he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

The cooper waved his hand in the vague direction of the Hall. ‘Someone at the big house. One of the girls. Well,’ he took his cap off briefly, ‘the girl that’s left, that would be.’

‘The girl that’s left?’ Will clutched the side of the cart. ‘Has one of them moved away? Already been wed?’

‘No, lad.’ The cooper smiled at him sadly. ‘Not so many months since the family lost their girl.’

‘Good God. Which one?’ Will dreaded the answer.

‘Lady Amelia, God rest her soul. Consumption.’

Will felt sick. That was bad enough; that was horrendous. But it also meant—

‘So the wedding — it’s Miss Catriona?’