Joan of Arc put an arm around Milly’s shoulders, and passed her a crumpled hanky.

The sad commotion did not give me time to glance at Sykes’s note. I was standing between Gertrude and Mrs. Dell. “Who is the girl?” Mrs. Dell whispered. She watched my lips.

“Milly. Stephen Walmsley’s sweetheart.”

I recognised the bandmaster from Sunday. He nudged the man beside him, who produced a trumpet and began to play an air so melancholy that on the last note, the heavens opened and the rains came.

Raynor stood behind us. He unfurled an umbrella over me and Mrs. Dell, who clung to my arm.

Eliot held a huge umbrella over himself, Gertrude and Benjie.

Gertrude gave the vicar a meaningful nod, which he may or may not have noticed.

He wiped his glasses with the edge of his stole before saying a final prayer, and then addressed the mourners.

“Mr. and Mrs. Brockman extend an invitation to mourners to come back to Thorpefield Manor for a funeral repast. All are welcome.” He cleared his throat. “With agreement from the churchwardens, I have arranged a charabanc to take those without transport to Thorpefield Manor.”

Gertrude’s mouth opened. Perhaps she had not intended to extend the invitation to the whole congregation.

Rain sped departure from the cemetery onto the cobbled lane. Mrs. Dell still held my arm. I noticed that it was Benjie who took Gertrude’s arm, and not the other way round. He seemed to hesitate, and I suddenly realised what had passed me by. Benjie was losing his sight. That is why Raynor helped him with his stamp collection. That is why there was a magnifying glass at his place on the breakfast table.

Joan, walking beside Milly, saw me with Mrs. Dell. I had given the girls a lift. Now she signalled that she and Joan would go back in the charabanc.

Mrs. Dell still clung to my arm. “Mrs. Shackleton, I know Eliot will want to go back to the Manor. Would you be so good as to take me home?”

Before I had time to hesitate—for I was wondering whether to follow Sykes—her grip on my arm tightened. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “There is something I must tell you, before it is too late.”

“Yes, then of course I’ll drive you, if you’ll give me directions.” This would not take long, I hoped.

In the crush of mourners, we had become separated from Raynor and his umbrella, but he once more appeared, seeming determined to keep me in his sights.

My car was parked on the roadside. “Raynor, would you tell Mrs. Brockman that I am taking Mrs. Dell home?”

“Of course, madam.” He opened the passenger door and helped Mrs. Dell.

As soon as I got into the car, I read Sykes’s note.