Bertie offered Juliette his arm when it was their turn, and they made their way up the stone-flagged aisle. Near the back, taking up several rows, sat stalwart, rough-hewn men in common clothes, some with bandages and splints. Mill employees, casualties of the explosion. On the opposite side, Agatha’s staff members clustered together, some stoic, some with damp eyes.

It seemed almost a crime that the sun was so bright and the temperatures warm. They stepped out onto the columned porch as the coffin was loaded into the back of the hearse for the trip to the cemetery. A small group of men would accompany the body to the burial on the south side of the river, but women were not expected to attend.

Only a handful of people had been invited to the luncheon back at the Montgomery house, and Juliette was surprised that Daniel Swann was among the guests. Was he here as Agatha’s friend or in his capacity as a detective? Juliette had not been able to give him Agatha’s answers to his questions posed after yesterday’s reception at the Montgomery residence. Perhaps they would have a few moments alone to confer. If not, she had the answers on a slip of paper in her reticule.

She didn’t miss the scowl on Lord Darby’s face at sight of the detective. Why must those two always rub each other the wrong way? It couldn’t be jealousy, for Agatha had no interest in Daniel. It must be snobbery. Darby considered Daniel beneath him, and he liked to draw attention to the fact.

In her own home, Agatha relaxed her grip on emotions, occasionally dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief as she accepted condolences.

The Widow Fairchild was another case altogether. She threw off societal strictures and mourned in every direction. “I do not know what I shall do now. My poor Garfield. I’m absolutely prostrate with grief.” She said this each time she encountered a new person and again when they were seated around the luncheon table. “We were to be married, you know.”

Juliette was sorry Agatha had extended an invitation, though she could hardly escape it considering the pressure Mrs. Fairchild had put upon her.

Mr. Earnshaw, still sporting his white bandages and bruises, sat across and a few chairs down from Juliette. “He was a good man of business, very knowledgeable and forthright. I never knew him to hesitate to make a decision he thought was right. And he took good care of his workers. Every Christmas he gave out gifts. Never missed a one.”

Duke Heinrich, at Juliette’s right hand, leaned over and whispered, “Have you noticed that a dead man never did anything but kindness in life? He might have been the biggest villain the world has ever seen, but once he is dead, we must not speak ill.”