Page 3

Elfreda nearly tripped. “Georgina isn’t going with you?”

“Oh no, Georgie’s here forever. Unless Major Redmayne changes his mind.”

Henry Redmayne was a major now? Shouldn’t he have been content to purchase himself a captaincy? The Redmaynes were awful, ostentatious people.

“But—” Elfreda bunched up her skirt, wadding so hard water dripped from the fabric. “What about her husband?”

“Lord Phillip?” Anne gave a little hop. “Georgie didn’t marry him!

You didn’t hear? About the broken engagement?

And the duel? And the curricle crash? It was a terrible scandal.

” She laughed at Elfreda’s blank expression.

“What do people talk about in this neighborhood? Livestock? The sheep are remarkably fluffy. I’ve never understood counting them to lull oneself to sleep, but now I can imagine napping on one, in an orchard, perhaps.

All that warm, clean, fluffy fleece, and leafy shade, and the smell of apples. ”

“I gave up the search.” Georgina overtook them at a lope, slightly breathless, hair in raffish disarray. “It’s difficult when you don’t know what you’re searching for.”

The path wasn’t wide enough for three to walk abreast. Georgina insinuated herself right in the middle. Elfreda didn’t budge an inch, which meant Anne was bumped to the side and had to stumble over roots and through brambles.

“Ow,” said the girl, good-naturedly.

“I found a flask.” Georgina held it up, a slim vessel of heavily tarnished silver, streaked with mud.

“But it’s not yours. Unless one of your interesting activities is drunken swimming by the moonlight , but I think that’s too similar to one of mine.

Also, there’s a monogram. H. J. R. I wonder if Harry has missed it.

” She gave the flask a shake. “Full. But of whiskey or pond water is the question. Shall we investigate?”

Elfreda couldn’t walk any faster. Her feet were sliding in her slimy boots. But the woodland had thinned, and just ahead, she could see Holywell Rock. She swerved from the path and plodded over to it, pressing her hands to its rough surface.

“Not another step,” she warned, twisting around as Georgina and Anne came up to her. “You’re on my land now.”

“This boulder marks the boundary of your estates?” Anne leaned forward to touch the rock with a gloved fingertip. “How deliciously medieval.”

“It is medieval,” said Elfreda. “Holywell Rock is named in the Domesday Book.”

“How do you do?” Anne curtseyed to the rock. “I’ve never met such a distinguished boulder.” She smiled at Elfreda without a trace of sarcasm. “Is your family in the Domesday Book?”

“No,” said Elfreda shortly. “My family bought the estate in the sixteenth century.”

“And they sold my family the majority of it in the final quarter of the eighteenth century.” Georgina unscrewed the lid of the flask, sniffed the contents, and made a face. “And have hated us ever since.”

“Why’s that?” Anne looked between them.

“They didn’t know us before.” Georgina tipped the flask and a pale brown liquid streamed out.

“Be serious,” said Anne. “I’m fascinated by feuds.”

“Feud overstates the case,” said Elfreda. “Our families have had little to do with each other.”

“They think we’re upstarts,” said Georgina.

“Really, we don’t,” said Elfreda. “We don’t think of you.”

“You see?” Georgina looked at Anne. “The overconscious display of superiority? They find it lowering to share a property line. Because my grandfather tied parcels to earn the money he used to pay her grandfather the money he needed after he squandered his fortune.”

“Never mind what I said.” Elfreda pushed off Holywell Rock. “There is a feud. It starts today.” She tried to make her eyes into daggers as she stared at Georgina. “You are my enemy.”

Georgina’s eyebrows shot up.

Elfreda addressed herself to Anne. “Goodbye. I hope you enjoy your holiday.”

She gave herself a shake and considered too late—as droplets flew—her resemblance to a wet dog.

She started on her way, embarrassment pinching her shoulder blades together.

Georgina’s voice carried on the breeze, a low murmur, not meant for her ears.

“She’s an eccentric, but she comes by it honestly. That grandfather of hers thought he was a druid.”

“You are ignorant.” Elfreda whirled. “Knowledge looks like eccentricity to fools.” She stepped toward Georgina. “Do you really want to know what I dropped in the pond?”

Georgina was studying her with an expression that mingled mirth and surprise.

“An amulet,” Elfreda said, and that strange thing happened again to her heart. She pushed her fringe from her forehead and scratched at the dirt, at the sign on her skin. She was an archaeologist. “An amulet that verified the presence of the Great Heathen Army on the bluff above the river.”

“Oh my.” Anne gazed eagerly in the direction of the bluff. “And everyone has been talking all these years about the threat from France.”

Elfreda gritted her teeth. “The presence of the Great Heathen Army in the ninth century.”

Anne deflated. “That’s much less exciting.”

“It’s incredibly exciting!” Elfreda threw her arms in the air. “It’s incredibly significant . I’ve dreamed about such a discovery for years .”

Georgina’s eyes had narrowed. She seemed about to speak.

Elfreda heard a rumble, more a faint vibration of earth than a sound. It took her a moment to understand.

When she did, her stomach made a sickly plunge.

“That’s a carriage.” She spoke her fear aloud. “That’s a carriage on the lane. He’s leaving. Mr. Clutterbuck is leaving. I’m too late.”

She hadn’t covered ten yards when her left foot slid from her ruined boot. She wobbled and fell to her knees. From her knees, she watched Georgina sprint past, long legs devouring the ground.

Three more heartbeats, and she’d vaulted the low stone wall and vanished into the hedges.