15

 

Berdie admired the dressed back garden of St. Aidan of the Woods Church where she stood. And, she could feel Ivy Butz’s curious stare from ten feet away.

“Mrs. Elliott, the tables in the marquee are ready. Neat as a pin.” When Ivy stood at her side, the woman took in Berdie’s hat then turned her focus to the ground while she touched the brim of her own satin-banded sun-hat.

“It’s OK, Ivy.” Berdie leaned close. “It’s not something I’d normally wear to a garden wedding, or anywhere else, really.”

Ivy’s jolly smile blossomed. “It was a gift, then.”

Berdie nodded.

Ivy tipped her head and stared at the chapeau. “Would you call it a semi-circle shape?”

“A semi-circle shape that is fitted to the head and tilted slightly down toward the forehead, yes.”

“I must say I’ve not often seen brown sequins.” Ivy sent her index finger into little twirls. “And used in such decorative swirls.”

Berdie tried not to chuckle. “Nor, I dare say, have you seen three stick straight black feathers standing at attention on the back end.”

Ivy pressed her lips tightly together and swallowed.

“It’s just that my husband surprised me with it, specifically for the wedding, a sweet act to express his appreciation.”

Ivy squeezed Berdie’s hand. “Bless them. They do try, don’t they?”

Berdie let a discreet chuckle slip through and Ivy joined her.

“And on another note, Mrs. Elliott,” Ivy joyously went on, “our little Duncan has been so pleased since Hero cat has become a part of our family.”

“You approved the adoption, then?”

“Oh, my, yes. The tattered creature saved a poor kiddy from perishing in fire. How could I not? Despite his previous owner now being locked away in disgrace, our little Hero is quite a celebrity.”

“I’m glad it’s all worked out so well.”

“Mrs. Butz, you’re wanted in the marquee,” Bridget McDermott called.

Ivy gave Berdie’s hand another squeeze and was off.

And much to Berdie’s chagrin, Mrs. McDermott wasn’t.

She approached, somber as a judge. “I say, bad form that.”

Berdie pulled her shoulders back. Bridget McDermott and hospitality weren’t often used in the same sentence at the best of times, but today it was absolute misery. The woman glanced at Berdie’s hat, winced, and then nattered on. “The cheek of it. Canceling a wedding three days before it’s due to take place.”

“Water under the bridge. You must let the current take your disappointment downstream.”

Mrs. McDermott nudged her decorative straw hat forward to keep the afternoon sunshine at bay.

“In fact,” Berdie proceeded, “I would think you should be well pleased that another couple have stepped in. Very accommodating and delighted with all that’s been put in place and no out-of-pocket for the church.”

“Fancy getting married at someone else’s wedding.”

Berdie realized her reasoning with Bridget McDermott was wasted breath. “Well, I’m happy for them. Though I had reservations to start, I truly believe they’ll enjoy their life together.”

Bridget lifted her chin. “Well, of course you would, you’re the vicar’s wife and a friend.”

Maggie Fairchild joined Berdie and her adversary, her smile as warm as the afternoon. “Isn’t it wonderful?” She waved her hand across the garden. “The white arched trellis is alive with trailing wisteria, made even grander with the water feature for background. The large pots of variegated flowers on either side are perfect.” She took a deep breath. “The white marquee is lovely inside, near ready I would say, for the lunch after. And the House of Helensfield cake, what more could one want?”

Mrs. McDermott stared at Maggie.

“Lovely, indeed.” Berdie looked on as a black clad trio took their seats and tuned their stringed instruments.

Maggie patted her gloved hands in glee. “I must get to the front garden, so I can direct the guests in the right direction.”

“Thank you, Maggie.” Berdie watched the woman toddle off in her new dress and dyed-to-match hat.

“Only a handful coming, really.” Bridget sighed. “All they need do is walk around back.”

Berdie knew it was best to leave this conversation when, “Take it up with the wedding planner,” sprang from her tongue.

Berdie caught sight of Lillie off to the side of the garden and found it the perfect escape. “Excuse me, Bridget, I must speak with Lillie.” Birdie left the frowning woman and walked toward her friend. “How are you feeling?” Berdie asked once she reached Lillie’s side.

“Rather nervous, actually.” She opened and closed her fingers. “No, Berdie. Terribly nervous.”

Berdie put her hand on Lillie’s shoulder. “Are you sure you’re ready? It’s only been a month, Lillie. That’s a short time for recovery from the trauma you faced.”

“Sooner’s better than later.” Lillie was beautiful in a stone-colored linen dress that hugged her slender body. “We’ve had just the one rehearsal.” She spread her fingers widely.

“Lillie, simply let the joy of the moment take you. Don’t worry, it will all go wonderfully.”

“A bit more wonderfully than your hat, I should hope.” Lillie’s lip held the corner of a smile.

“There it is, ducky. Enjoy the moment.”

Lillie let go an easy laugh.

Linden Davies appeared with Madeline and Phillip, who made their way to the guest chairs. Linden, at ease and smiling, gave Lillie a quick nod.

Lillie returned the smile.

Elise Davies came around and made way to her family. After speaking to Linden, she gave Madeline’s yellow dress ribbon a gentle fix and smoothed Phillip’s hair. “Fifteen minutes.” she called to Berdie and Lillie as she departed.

And within fifteen minutes the seats were filled and all were ready to be witness to the ceremony.

Berdie sat in the far back so she could readily monitor the marquee, should it be necessary. From the corner of her eye she recognized a uniformed presence.

“Which one of you lot has a blue Fiesta?” Goodnight bellowed and lifted a small pad from which he read, “2A2Y3N.” He glared at the gathering. “You’re blocking Mrs. Hall’s drive, so get off your bum and go move it.”

“Three cheers for Goodnight,” someone called. Several broke into applause while others appeared unaffected as an embarrassed guest sneaked from the chairs and headed to the front garden.

Since Lillie’s rescue, Albert Goodnight wore his recognition from the villagers for a job well done like a second uniform. It garnered him a week’s free tea at the Copper Kettle, half price pints at the Upland Arms, even a free side of beef from Cathcart Carlyle’s Mobile Meat Mart. Although the feather in his hat was momentarily a well-lit ostrich plume, Albert’s general ineptitude was already dimming the afterglow of his achievement. Berdie expected it to go out altogether any time, now, but at least it kept him quiet about the clandestine meeting between the two of them.

Chest out, Albert lifted his chin, nodded, and offered a pompous grin. “Get on with your do,” he piped and left as quickly as he arrived. And none too soon.

Hugh in his vestments, and the groom looking smart in his summer suit, made way from the south terrace to take their seats in the front chairs. Berdie had to admit, Gareth Holmes looked quite handsome. No longer wearing a sling, he carried himself in quite a distinguished manner.

Lillie stood near the musicians, who began their opening notes.

Music sprang from the trio’s instruments, and Lillie joined with her voice. “Praise, my soul, the King of heaven; To His feet thy tribute bring. Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven, Who like me His praise should sing?”

Berdie wondered that the singing of it at the Queen’s own wedding, those many years ago, couldn’t have been any more moving than Lillie’s performance. The beauty of it all filled the back garden.

Hugh and Mr. Holmes stood and made way to the trellis.

Everyone was on their feet as Olivia Mikalos came forward on the song’s last verse. Her composed sea-green eyes were complemented by her suit and hat, both the color of oyster shells. In her hands, she held a small mixed bouquet, but it was the radiance of her face that was the most notable feature.

Hugh began the ceremony, and all were seated.

Bridget and Maggie sat next to Berdie, Bridget closest.

Berdie sighed. Was there no escaping?

“Shameful,” Bridget murmured. “A murderer marrying in our church garden.”

“Gareth Holmes is not a murderer, Bridget,” Berdie corrected.

“That was the other chap,” Maggie whispered. “This fellow just took women’s money.”

“Yes, well.” Bridget crossed her arms. “Our own Constable Goodnight, to his credit, certainly found them out.”

Berdie bit her tongue. “Let me remind you, again, that Mr. Holmes has been fully cooperative with the law which, in turn, has garnered him a bit of legal favor.”

“A suspended sentence with a five year probation,” Maggie exacted.

“Can a leopard change his spots? He’s nothing more than a snake in the grass,” Mrs. McDermott said too loudly.

“Shh,” Maggie counteracted.

“As I have learned, even snakes can shed their skins, Mrs. McDermott.” Berdie couldn’t believe she was repeating what Bridget had been told not a few times the past three days. “Mr. Holmes has repented of his criminal activity and is taking instruction with Hugh. He’s seeking a whole new direction for his life.”

“Convenient.” Mrs. McDermott squeezed her crossed arms even more tightly.

“Was it convenient to be targeted in a hit and run, to suffer a bullet wound for the sake of his beloved?”

Much to Berdie’s delight, Mr. Whipple emerged from the marquee and seamlessly placed a chair on Berdie’s clear side. “Table posies all in place,” he whispered and sat down.

“I should think we need to keep an eye on them lest they be stolen by the groom,” Mrs. McDermott nearly growled.

“She’s on about Mr. Holmes again, then?” Mr. Whipple whispered.

Berdie nodded.

“Funny thing, dandelions,” Mr. Whipple said loudly enough for Bridget and Maggie to turn their heads.

“What are you saying?” Maggie leaned forward.

The fellow did likewise. “Most people see dandelions as invasive weeds, but their leaves are potent with nutrition and tasty when prepared correctly.”

Bridget frowned and stared at the fellow.

He nodded toward the groom. “It’s all perspective, isn’t it?”

Berdie smiled, though she knew Mrs. McDermott didn’t.

“Did you know Mr. Holmes is a gardener?” Mr. Whipple leaned his body across Berdie to speak to the women.

Bridget humphed.

“Spoke at length with him about it yesterday. His White Pearl semi-double rose won a place at a county garden show last year.”

“That’s wonderful,” Maggie cheered.

Bridget’s demeanor took a softer turn. Eying the groom, she lifted her chin. “Semi-double. Won a place? I say.” She uncrossed her arms.

Mr. Whipple nodded and leaned back in his chair.

Berdie hid her smile. This wise old gentleman had done in one minute’s conversation with the arduous Mrs. McDermott what Berdie was unable to do in three days. And to her delight, not another word of disapproval or otherwise, was spoken throughout the rest of the ceremony by her three companions.

The observance was brief but meaningful. At the end, Gareth and Olivia Holmes processed arm in arm to the outer edge of guest seating, the lively music of Vivaldi’s Spring accompanying their first steps as man and wife. They made their way to the marquee and entered, waiting to greet their guests just inside.

Berdie was the first to duck in and greet them. “Congratulations, I wish you God’s best,” she offered.

Olivia took Berdie’s hand and squeezed it. “We can never thank you enough for all you’ve done for us.”

“Neither of us would be here apart from your skills and perseverance,” Gareth agreed.

“Your bravery, Mr. Holmes, and your resolve as well, Olivia, played no small part. And of course, don’t forget to thank the Great Protector of us all.”

“Oh, we do.” Olivia took a deep breath. “I expect everyone’s rather anxious to hear how you pulled this particular rabbit out of the hat.”

“Well that may be, but today is about celebrating your new life together.”

The queue of thirty-three guests began to form behind Berdie. “We’ll speak later,” she promised and moved on only to have Billie Finch cut her off short.

“Mrs. Elliott, isn’t this all a lovely surprise?” Billie fingered her blue handbag that matched the color of the feather fascinator that sat slightly left of atop her blonde hair. “What a charming hat you’re wearing.”

“How kind of you to say.” Berdie felt the woman actually meant it. “And yes, all this is a lovely surprise. I’m so glad you came, Mrs. Finch.”

“Mr. Finch had to attend to his work in London, of course, but I just couldn’t miss.” Billie’s glossy pink lips went into a smile. “Mrs. Mikalos is a lovely bride, so self-assured and all. Well, Miss Foxworth as well, very strong with bags of confidence. Both, really.”

“Yes.” Berdie had the sense that Mrs. Finch was on a fishing expedition.

“You know,” Billie whispered, “both are very capable. So, how did they? How did that one fellow…?”

Berdie was aware of what the woman wanted and considered telling her momentarily. Why not discuss it with her? She had been an important help in the whole ordeal. Deep down, the shy woman had a genuine concern for her neighbor.

Berdie stepped to the side of the tables and took Mrs. Finch with her. “What you’re asking is how did Clifford Morgan manage to abduct Olivia and Lillie?”

Billie grimaced. “Such an ugly word.”

“He used an inhaled anesthetic on Lillie. It subdued her, acting like a depressant, it almost made her appear drunk. Easy enough to explain to the pilot whose services he chartered.”

“Why did he do it?”

“Lillie was getting too close to the truth about Mr. Morgan and his attempted murder-by-drowning of his newest wife in the waters off Madeira. In fact, the woman in question and her cousin, Harriett Norman, are guests today at the wedding.” Berdie nodded their direction.

Billie’s eyes enlarged as she looked. “I say.”

“Morgan had an established waterfront chum there, more than one, I suspect, and word got back to him that Lillie was on his trail and getting close.”

“And Olivia? How did he,” she mouthed the word, “abduct her?”

“Actually, he had an unassuming older couple who were of a,” Berdie paused, “certain life station as accomplices. They introduced a drug into Olivia’s lemonade at the Ascension fete during the course of conversation.”

Billie frowned. “Wouldn’t she taste it?”

“Not in the case of overly tart lemonade which, as it turned out, worked in the culprit’s favor.”

“An older couple was privy to this matter?”

“Privy? Up to their necks, more like. The Stanfords, who owned legitimate cat rescue schemes, also operated a confidential dating agency of ill intentions whereby women of means were set up with charming men who simply conned them, through various methods, of their money and goods. Then, the couple and offending men split the profits and moved on to new locations.”

“I wouldn’t have thought that people of such a station could be that crooked.”

Berdie smiled. “Oh, Mrs. Finch, don’t let the color of a tie fool you. We all are capable of less-than-kind purposes.”

Billie sighed. “Well, yes, I suppose. This fellow took her from a gathering of hundreds of people. Didn’t someone notice?”

“He removed her from the crowd whilst we all were transfixed by the balloon release. Still, there was one who saw Morgan guardedly walk Olivia away. But some, sadly, question the witness’s credibility.”

“What kind of drug would render someone powerless yet able to walk?”

“The medical name is flunitrazepam. It’s sometimes exploited by men of low character who want to have their way with a woman. It makes the females compliant, you see.” Berdie lowered her chin.

Billie flushed and put her hand to her mouth.

“Mr. Morgan used it, not for those purposes, but to get acquiescent behavior for another reason: fraud, in this case.”

“Fraud?”

“You see, Mr. Holmes was Olivia’s original suitor from the agency. His methods, although not as heinous, were certainly still not moral. But, as we now know, he fell in love with Olivia. He couldn’t follow through on the ill intentions. But when he pulled out, the Stanfords were furious. Thus, Mr. Morgan was called to intervene and complete what was started. He wooed her, but Mrs. Mikalos wasn’t having it.”

“She had fallen in love with Mr. Holmes?”

“Yes. Gareth Holmes used the excuse of being married and left the relationship to keep Olivia safe, but it all went a bit pear shaped.”

“I should say.” Billie shifted her bag to her other hand. “Still, it all came round in the end.”

“Mr. Holmes began to work out what Morgan’s scam would be. He moved to Swallow Gate in an attempt to lay low. He knew that his intervention endangered Olivia’s life.” Berdie lifted her brows. “Eventually, as he began to piece things together, Gareth developed a covert plan to save her, which by God’s good grace, worked.”

“If this Morgan fellow has”--Billie ran a finger across the bodice of her dress”--gotten rid of women, why did he spare…?”

“Why did he spare Olivia? Oh, he had to. Clifford Morgan needed her alive until his purposes were served. You see, much of the money from Mr. Mikalos’s estate, which Morgan wanted, was being held in trust for Myles and Elise. Morgan got the documents needed to make him the trustee, so he could get his hands on the money, but he then needed Mrs. Mikalos’s signature to make it legal. It came down to kidnapping her in order for that to happen. In her amazing fortitude, she wasn’t as easy a target as he thought. She knew the minute she signed that document, she would have signed her own death warrant, and she refused, despite her incapacities. Olivia’s health issues became a consideration, even though Mr. Holmes got medication to the Stanfords who passed it on to Morgan. It became a game of cat and mouse, difficult for Morgan to keep things under his control.” Berdie took a deep breath. “In Lillie’s case, thank heaven, he was aware she had money, and it bought her some time. Morgan’s greed trumped her potential liability, and it probably saved her life.”

“All for money.” Billie’s words were just audible.

“The love of money. In this case, the older couple wanted money to support what was a good cause at heart, but they funded through dastardly means. Their moral compass was back to front. They had more empathy for Olivia’s cat than the woman herself. They were aware of the lion’s share of Mr. Morgan’s dealings. However, as long as the money poured in, they didn’t ask too many questions about methods and means used to get it. I shouldn’t think they were ever actually privy to any murders, though.”

“Murders.” Billie’s rosy face went a bit pale.

“What are you two nattering on about?” Hugh put his hand on Berdie’s back.

“Oh, love, a fine ceremony. Well done,” Berdie cheered.

Hugh smiled.

“And Mrs. Finch thinks my hat is charming.”

“Does she? I couldn’t agree more.” Hugh beamed. “Hello, Mrs. Finch. I’m Hugh Elliott, Berdie’s husband.”

Billie bobbed her head, still catching her breath, it would seem, from the previous conversation.

“They’re serving the food soon,” Hugh informed. “A wonderful tomato tapenade is on the menu I’m told.”

Billie put her hand on her stomach and blinked. “I think I’ll just give best wishes to the bride and groom. Excuse me.”

Hugh nodded to the departing woman then turned his intense blue eyes to Berdie.

“What?”

“Are you frightening off guests?”

What Berdie wanted to say was that she didn’t have to frighten them because her hat did it for her. However, she brought her thoughts into obedience: love above fashion. “Have you seen Lillie and Loren about?”

“As a matter of fact, they’re seated at a table waiting for us to join them.”

“Has Loren spoken to you any more about when he plans to propose to Lillie?” Berdie felt a zip of excitement. “I’ve not even hinted to Lillie.”

“I should hope not, it’s entirely their business.”

“Yes, yes. So has he said?”

“Well, there’s a bit of a problem.”

“Hugh?”

“It seems he’s misplaced the ring.”

“What?” Berdie rolled her eyes heavenward. “How does one misplace a ring that costs three thousand pounds?” She let go a large huff. “Will those two ever find their way to each other?” She shook her head.

Hugh smiled. “Did you know when you move your head like that those lovely feathers on your hat dance?”

Berdie became stoic. “Let’s find the table.”

They crossed the throng to join their waiting friends.

“How are things at the lab?” Hugh asked Loren once he and Berdie were seated at the table.

“Busy as ever.”

Berdie glanced at Lillie, to whom she had told the entire story of Loren’s dramatic work exit to go rescue the woman he loved. “All’s forgiven and forgotten?”

Lillie wore a coy little smile.

Loren leaned back in his chair. “Oh, yes. They would have never really sacked me. No one’s sacked when the place is short staffed. Everyone knows that.”

Berdie caught her breath as she watched Lillie frown. How could one man so sabotage his most weighty romantic gesture?

As if in divine timing, the flitting-about Elise Davies alighted at their table.

“Elise,” Berdie greeted, “everything is really lovely.”

“Thank you,” she said through a gracious smile. “We’ve had a slight tussle in catering, but overall it has gone very well.”

“My wife knows her onions,” Hugh declared. “She said you were just the right person to be the wedding planner for our parish offerings.”

Elise stood straight in her black skirt and top, clipboard in hand. “I’m enjoying it. And I appreciate the opportunity.”

“Even though it’s just part-time?” Berdie asked.

“It actually works perfectly. Cara, Rosalie, and I have found we operate quite well together. They’ve asked me to work any spare hours at the White Window Box doing displays, advertising, deliveries, event coordination, that kind of thing. No more House of Helensfield.”

“Splendid,” Berdie raved.

“We look forward to seeing you about the place.” Hugh was light.

Lillie still looked like a wet weekend.

“By the way, Lillie,” Elise spoke kindly, “your solo was stunning.”

“Here, here.” Loren lifted his glass.

A slight pink came to Lillie’s cheeks, and the soft corners of her lips curled upward. “Thank you. When your mother first asked me to sing for the wedding, I was a bit hesitant. I hadn’t soloed for donkey’s years. But, of course, I had to do it.”

“You and Mum weathered a difficult storm together.” Elise’s words held gratitude. “I know it meant a great deal to her that you agreed to sing, and especially that song, her favorite.”

Lillie nodded.

Berdie thought she spotted wet gathering in Lillie’s eye.

Loren put his arm around his love’s shoulder.

“Next in the queue for Albert Hall, our Lillie.” Hugh’s words held kindness that wrapped around Lillie.

“I shouldn’t hold my breath,” followed Lillie’s graceful chuckle. “But, thanks, all the same.”

“Yes. Well, I must see to the happy couple.” Elise bent close to Berdie. “Mum and I had a long conversation. Things aren’t perfect between us, but much improved. Thanks in part to you.”

“It’s your courage in stepping up that’s done it, Elise.”

“Gareth insists Myles and I are the sole beneficiaries of Mum’s estate, for obvious reasons.”

“I wouldn’t expect it to be any other way.”

Elise stood erect. “The groom, whom I’m told is a jolly good gardener, has asked to have a go at the Davies’s home front garden which is currently in shambles. So he’s already won the hearts of our family.”

All gave a gentle laugh, but Berdie knew whereof Elise spoke.

“Anyway, the food’s to be served momentarily. Would you offer up grace for it, please, Reverend Elliott?”

“Consider it done.” As Elise dashed off, Hugh stood and rattled his spoon against his glass quieting all present. “Let’s bless the food soon to arrive.” He lifted his hand. “The Lord be thanked for the provision of the food we are to about to share and may we partake with glad hearts. Amen.”

“Amen,” sprang forth from the tables all across the marquee.

In not more than a minute Berdie feasted upon the plate that arrived before her: spiced king prawns, artichoke salad with rocket and butter beans, and the anticipated tomato tapenade.

Hugh drove his fork into the dressed tomato chunks. “Please don’t repeat this, but I’m sure this meal didn’t come from the Upland Arms.”

Berdie tucked into one of the prawns. The zip of chili mixed with the sweet butter was an unexpected delight.

Food servers whisked around the tables, serving, pouring, and offering friendly assistance.

“These prawns have the flavor of an open flame, grilled perhaps?” Hugh munched, melted butter on his lip.

Lillie swallowed her bite of salad. “Flame. Berdie, I’ve been meaning to ask you.” She wiped her lips with a napkin. “The evening it was discovered Olivia had gone missing, and we went to her home with Linden, who called the fire brigade? We didn’t, nor Linden, nor Billie Finch.”

“Oh, Mr. Holmes did. Actually, he kept watch over the house, although he didn’t catch Sir Percival in his mischief.” Berdie scooped salad with her fork. “Do you remember when we checked Olivia’s garage and saw her car? It was a silver sedan.”

“Yes.”

“And do you remember that Mr. Holmes, whom we knew as Broadhouse, had his car parked in the drive of Swallow Gate? We commented on it at the time. Do you recall what it was?”

“A silver,” Lillie lifted her brows, “a silver sedan.”

“Both had the same year and model, although I didn’t pay attention to that fact at the time.” Berdie raised the forkful of food. “I saw Gareth’s vehicle at the Stanford house in the wee hours that morning…”

“Stanfords? What are you talking about?” Hugh’s brow knit. “What morning?”

Berdie realized the accidental leak about her early morning exploration of the dating agency had slipped from her lips. She hadn’t found the right moment to tell Hugh about it, and she certainly wouldn’t do it now. “Really. Here I am going on. You don’t want to listen to me ramble when we’ve got celebrating to do.”

“Celebrating,” Hugh said. “In lieu of a best man I’m to give the toast.”

Lillie, who knew from Berdie every detail about the whole agency-Goodnight adventure, mouthed “Well saved,” across the table and grinned.

Hugh took up his spoon to tap his glass again when a waiter stopped momentarily behind Berdie’s chair to adjust his tray raised high on one hand.

A waitress following, who paid more attention to the guests than where she was going, barged into him.

“Watch it,” the youthful fellow yelled at the young lady behind as he steadied his burden.

The girl spun, sprang her elbow in Berdie’s direction and caught the edge of Berdie’s hat, flinging it straightway to the floor.

“Oh my.” Berdie put her hands to her suddenly hatless head.

“I am so sorry, madam,” the distressed waitress wailed.

At the sound of her voice, the waiter spun on his heel. “Nancy, come along, girl.”

Berdie watched half in horror, half in delight as the fellow with his cumbersome tray stepped back and trod upon the hat, spun round, stepped back again to steady his burden, and trod upon it a second time.

Hugh’s gaze was upon the forlorn piece lying in disrepair on the ground. His face went pink. “Steady on lad, that’s my wife’s new hat.”

Loren was on his feet.

“So sorry Vicar, it was an accident,” the waiter offered. “But we must get on.”

“Sorry Vicar,” the young woman echoed. “So terribly sorry.”

“Yes, go.” Hugh waved his hand.

The two scurried off.

Loren rescued the crushed object from the ground and handed it to Berdie, creating a waterfall of brown sequins as he did. “It’s a bit done in, I’d say.”

Berdie stared at the once erect feathers that were now flat and shredded. She took the dead soldier from Loren’s hand and placed it in her lap. “Thank you, Loren.” Berdie wondered that the entire marquee didn’t go into thunderous applause for the brave young people who put an end to her fashion faux pas.

Hugh sighed.

Berdie put her hand on Hugh’s knee. “It’s just a hat, love.” She gave a small squeeze. “You gave it to me to show your appreciation, and that’s what meant the most to me. And I’ve still got that intact.”

Hugh nodded. He looked into Berdie’s eyes and perked. “I’ll get you another one.”

Lillie tried desperately not to laugh.

Not willing to linger on the thought of another one, Berdie gave Hugh a reminder. “You were about to make a toast.”

“Indeed.” Hugh tapped his spoon against his glass and a hush followed. He stood and lifted his flute. “Will you all be upstanding?”

The guests rose, glasses in hand.

He directed his words toward Gareth and Olivia. “May God give you enough love to bind you forever together, wellsprings of forgiveness to pour upon one another, and a constant glowing ember to keep the cold at bay. We wish you the best. To Gareth and Olivia.”

“To Gareth and Olivia,” rose from the crowd and clinks of crystal resounded like wedding bells all round.

Being once again seated, Hugh lifted his glass in a private toast to the table. “To jeopardy resolved and the justice system that has the Stanfords and Morgan locked away.”

Loren raised his glass. “Here, here. And to returned treasure.” His warm brown eyes drank in Lillie’s face.

Lillie responded with her own glass. “To contentment in small things.”

Berdie wasn’t about to be left out. She hoisted her glass. “To God’s goodness, both now and in future opportunities.”

Hugh led, and the four touched their glasses together in unison.

While Hugh and Loren chatted, Lillie leaned toward Berdie. “And here’s to future opportunities together, wherever your nose may lead,” she said at the bottom of her voice.

Berdie smiled. “Really, Lillie? Do you think? After all you’ve been through?”

Lillie lowered her chin. “I should think you jolly well need a chaperone. I mean a vicar’s wife who breaks and enters,” she teased.

“Shh.” Berdie chuckled. “All in aid of my dearest friend.”

“To future opportunities.” Lillie touched her glass to Berdie’s.

“To future opportunities, Lillie.”

 

Author’s Note

 

 

Hymn for Ascension Day is cheerfully sung in Into the Clouds by the processing crowd from Saint Aidan of the Wood Church to the village green. This hymn was one of an estimated 6,000 that Charles Wesley (1707-88) wrote after being converted to what he called ‘vital religion.’ He was born in Epworth, Lincolnshire, England, the eighteenth child in the family which included brother, John, who’s regarded as the father of Methodism. Though this hymn has been significantly rewritten since the 1800’s, its use is still popular in English churches. The original runs to ten verses, but I’ve included here only five.

 

Hail the day that sees Him rise,

Ravished from our wishful eyes!

Christ, awhile to mortals given,

Reascends His native heaven.

 

There the pompous triumph waits:

‘Lift your heads, eternal gates;

Wide unfold the radiant scene;

Take the King of glory in!’

 

Circled round with angel-powers,

Their triumphant Lord, and ours,

Conqueror over death and sin:

‘Take the King of glory in!’

 

Grant, though parted from our sight,

High above yon azure height,

Grant our hearts may thither rise,

Following Thee beyond the skies.

 

There we shall with Thee remain,

Partners of Thy endless reign,

There Thy face unclouded see,

Find our heaven of heavens in Thee.