She’d lived through the event many times, but the area they’d used at the Park had been more open. Although under the open sky, the forecourt was bounded by the castle’s tall inner bailey walls on the east, north and northwest, the castle itself on the south, and beyond the lawns, the ramparts to the southwest, overlooking the sea. The area was more protected from the wind and the weather, all to the good. However, the prevalence of stone walls hemming most of it in meant the noise level was significantly greater. She could barely hear herself think.
“Tomorrow will be better,” she assured Mrs. Entwhistle when she came upon that harassed lady in the shifting throng and she commented on the cacophony. “Today everyone is shouting instructions, not talking.”
“Indeed!” Mrs. Entwhistle shouted back. “One has to positively scream to be heard.”
They parted. Madeline moved through the crowd, keeping her eyes peeled for potential problems; she’d always had this role, even before the festival had moved to the Park. She knew the locals better than anyone else, and they listened to her, even the men. And it was mostly the men and youths who were there that day, the sound of hammers and saws and oaths filling the air as they labored, all good-naturedly giving their time so their families could enjoy the festival tomorrow.
A few women had come bearing cloths and bunting to decorate some of the stalls; reaching the ramparts, Madeline looked out over the sea, then up and around at the sky, and decided the women’s efforts would be safe enough. The weather looked set to remain fine.
Turning, she surveyed the seething mass of people, each and every one absorbed and intent on some task, and inwardly smiled. She was about to plunge into the crowd again when she glimpsed Harry, then located Edmond and the shorter Ben in the same knot of youths all helping with one stall.
The boys had ridden over with her that morning; there was no way they’d miss the day. Curious as to who they’d elected to spend it with, she circled closer.
Her half brothers were helping erect one of the larger tents used by the tavern owners from Helston to sell their ale. Lips thinning, Madeline saw which tavern it was, and immediately understood the attraction for her brothers. “Noah Griggs.” She inwardly sighed, remembering Gervase saying that the man’s older brother, Abel, was the leader of the Helston smuggling gang. “I suppose I might have known.”
She’d spoken under her breath, so was surprised to hear, “Indeed you might,” whispered in her ear.
She managed not to jump; it was harder not to shiver. Turning her head, she met Gervase’s eyes. “I suppose it was naïve of me to think they might have forgotten their interest in the smugglers.”
“In such a situation?” He met her eyes and smiled. “Undoubtedly naïve.”
Drawing her arm though his, he stood close, his large frame protecting her from the buffeting of the crowd. “Just think-today they can with impunity, indeed, in complete, albeit feigned, innocence, spend time under Abel’s eye, listening to the stories he’s no doubt entertaining the lads with, and perhaps do enough to have Abel and his brother-he’s the tavern owner, did I mention?-look upon them kindly.”
She humphed. “Abel might look upon them kindly, but I won’t.”
“Ah, but you can’t really say anything, can you?”
She sighed. “I suppose not.” Turning, drawing her arm from his, she looked around.
“I’m on my way to check the booths along the east wall.” He caught her eye. “Why don’t you come with me?”
She was tempted, but…remembering yesterday and the circumstances that had placed them in misleading propinquity, she shook her head. “I should check on the spinners and weavers, and see if the cloth merchants have arrived. They’re over by the northwest gate.”
He looked into her eyes, then smiled, lifted her hand to his lips and lightly kissed. “Join me when you break for lunch. By then I’ll need my sanity restored.”
She laughed, nodded and they parted.
Tacking through the crowd, she found the spinners and weavers setting up their wheels and looms, and facing them, cloth merchants, milliners and haberdashers from Helston and even as far as Falmouth. A lacemaker from Truro had made the trip; she found her being helped to set up her traveling booth by Gervase’s sisters.
Smiling, she stopped by the trio and welcomed the lacemaker. She’d bought lace from the woman before and knew she produced excellent work. “I’ll be sure to drop by tomorrow to see what you have.”
The lacemaker blushed and bobbed a curtsy. “Of course, Miss Gascoigne, but”-she glanced at the three girls-“I’m thinking you might need to be early.”
“Ah!” Laughing, Madeline met Belinda’s eyes. “Buying trim for your come-out gowns?”
“Well,” Belinda said, “she gave us a glimpse and it seemed very fine.”
“Oh, it is.” With a smiling nod to the lacemaker, Madeline turned to move on.
With quick nods to the woman, the three girls went with her.
“Is it nearly lunchtime?” Jane stretched up on her toes, bobbing to look past the milling heads to the clock set in the wall above the stable arch.
Madeline checked. “No, not just yet, but if we head that way, by the time we reach the steps it should be time to go in.”
The girls happily ranged around her, Belinda on one side, Jane on the other, with Annabel beyond.
Belinda drew breath, rather portentously. As Madeline glanced her way, she said, “About our come-outs…”
When she went no further, Madeline prompted, “What about them?”
“Well, you see”-Belinda frowned, twisting her fingers-“given what happened to Melissa and Katherine, we wondered…well”-she glanced at Madeline-“is it usual for a just-married lady to send her husband’s sisters off that way? Just not want to have them around?” Belinda’s hazel eyes searched Madeline’s face. “We thought you might know.”
Madeline studied those hazel eyes, very like Gervase’s, then glanced at Annabel, met her blue eyes, then dropped her gaze to Jane’s eyes, recalling what Gervase had earlier told her. In that instant, she more fully appreciated what had been behind the girls’ disruptive actions.
Looking up, she drew in a slow breath, then glanced at Belinda. “I honestly don’t think you have anything to worry about. Your brother would never send you away-and if you imagine any lady he married might see you as rivals for his affection…quite aside from that being unlikely in any lady he would choose to wed, any lady who attempted to get between him and you three would quickly find she’d misjudged.”
They continued to tack slowly through the crowd. When Belinda frowned, clearly unconvinced, Madeline smiled wryly and added, “Your brother is a very strong man, not just in a physical sense but in all ways. No lady I’ve ever met would be strong enough to bend him to her purpose if that purpose was one he was set against.”
“No lady?” Jane queried. When Madeline looked down at her, she opened her eyes wide. “Not even you?”
Madeline laughed and laid a hand on Jane’s shoulder. “Not even me.” Looking across the heads to the steps, she added absentmindedly, “Not that I’d wish to do anything so silly as send you three away.”
Glancing back at Belinda, she saw a small swift smile cross her face.
“No.” Belinda looked down as they neared the steps. “But that’s you-we were worried about someone else. You know us, so you’re different. Other ladies might not react to us in the same way.”
Smiling fondly, Madeline lifted her other hand to Belinda’s shoulder and squeezed lightly, reassuringly. “Any lady your brother chooses will think the same. Now hush, for there he is.”
Gervase was standing at the top of the steps. He’d seen them approaching. He scanned his sisters’ features, then his eyes narrowed and fixed on Belinda’s face.
He looked rather grim as they reached him, but to Madeline’s surprise all three girls beamed delightedly at him as they went past, lured by the promise of sandwiches.