Free Cynthia Bailey Pratt by Gentlemans Folly

and smoothly coiffed, Helena wore neither bonnet nor hat, living as she did directly behind the church and busy throughout the service playing the organ. The sun struck golden highlights from her chestnut hair and revealed the clarity of her skin. Her lavender dress with raised spots brought out the blue of her eyes so that they shone in their setting of thick dark lashes.
    Helena Fain was Jocelyn’s closest friend. Her half-brother had held the living at Libermore for nearly two years. She had arrived only six months before from a school for young ladies near Brighton. Born in France, she had been left destitute in neutral Switzerland at the death of her mother. Mr. Fain paid for her passage to England and her education. At eighteen, almost two years younger than Jocelyn, she possessed so much more knowledge of the world that she sometimes made Jocelyn feel like the younger girl. Mr. Fain was forty-three.
    Helena pulled, Jocelyn farther away from the people coming down the church steps. “Speaking of your bonnet,” she said rather loudly, “is that the new style of tying ribbons? You’ll have to teach me.”
    In a whisper she said, “I must talk with you.” Helena looked over Jocelyn’s shoulder. The vicar, his hair shining like plate in the sunlight, still stood beside Mrs. Swann, surrounded by an admiring circle.
    Jocelyn followed the direction of her friend’s glance only to see Grim Cocker staring at the pair of them. He leaned against one of the gravestones by the church steps. Pointedly, she turned with Helena so that he could not see their faces.
    “What is wrong?” Jocelyn asked. “You’re all a-tremble.”
    Before Helena could speak again, Miriam Swann approached, beautifully and fashionably dressed in a pale yellow silk gown, elaborate frills emerging at her breast and wrists. She’d curled her hair into all-over ringlets, which were peeking out beneath the tied-down brim of her hat of smooth straw lined with light green. “Don’t forget we’re coming to tea, Jocelyn,” she said in her high laughing voice.
    Jocelyn smiled warmly. “I’ve not forgotten. Your mother-in-law is accompanying you, I hope.”
    Miriam looked disgustedly at the church’s squat Norman tower at the mention of her husband’s mother, but her voice held a pleasure that seemed sincere. “Oh, yes. She is so anxious to see you again. We’ll be along after a quick prayer at the late Mr. Swann’s graveside.”
    Miriam put up her parasol against the sun. “Are you coming too, Miss Fain?” Before she could answer, Miriam’s mother-in-law called her. With a droll look and a wriggle of her shoulders, she walked away.
    “Jocelyn,” Helena said hurriedly, lowering her voice. “Do you have everything you need for your tea? I have some biscuits that are very fresh. ...”
    “Thank you,” Jocelyn said, puzzled by her friend’s secretive manner. She knew that Helena and her half-brother did not get on, though Helena felt grateful for his goodness to her. Yet, she had never behaved so strangely before, not even when she and Mr. Fain argued over the silly things people who are not used to each other quarrel over.
    In hope of enlivening Helena’s spirits, Jocelyn said, “I’d be even more grateful if you could come as well as the biscuits.” She leaned closer to her friend’s ear and whispered, “To condemn myself, I must confess I’d forgotten I invited them.”
    Helena giggled and then said, “Let me ask my brother if he needs me, then I shall follow you in a few minutes.” Her lovely face sobered. “I need to talk to you privately, later. I ... I don’t know what’s going on. I need to tell you . . . Matt Hodges was here Thursday and ...” She looked up with a start when a shadow fell between them.
    Mr. Fletcher, for once without a book in his hand, though one bulged in his pocket, said, “Pardon me. Miss Fain. Miss Burnwell, we’d best leave before Arnold gets into trouble.” He pointed to where Arnold was