“The back terrace,” Annabelle replied.

They went to the rear of the house and exited through a row of French doors that opened onto a broad flagstoned terrace. Stretching the entire length of the house, the terrace overlooked the extensive gardens below. It looked like a scene from a painting, with orchards and beautifully kept walks and beds of rare flowers leading to the forest, while the Itchen River flowed below a nearby bluff that was defined by an ironstone wall.

Lillian turned toward Evie and hugged her. “Evie,” she exclaimed, “I’ve missed you so! If you only knew of all the ill-conceived rescue plans we thought of to steal you away from your family. Why won’t they let any of us come to visit you?”

“Th-they despise me,” Evie said in a muffled voice. “I never realized h-how much until recently. It started when I tried to see my father. After they caught me, they locked me in my room for days, with h-hardly any food or water. They said I was ungrateful, and disobedient, and that my bad blood had finally risen to the fore. To them I’m n-nothing but a dreadful mistake that my mother made. Aunt Florence says it is my fault that she’s dead.”

Shocked, Lillian drew back to look at her. “She told you that? In those words?”

Evie nodded.

Without thinking, Lillian let out a few curse words that caused Evie to blanch. One of Lillian’s more questionable accomplishments was the ability to swear as fluently as a sailor, acquired from much time spent with her grandmother, who had worked as a washwoman at the harbor docks.

“I know that it’s not tr-true,” Evie murmured. “I mean, m-my mother did die in labor, but I know that it wasn’t my fault.”

Keeping one arm around Evie’s shoulders, Lillian walked with her to a nearby table on the terrace, while Annabelle and Daisy followed. “Evie, what can be done to get you away from those people?”

The girl shrugged helplessly. “My father is s-so ill. I’ve asked him if I could come to live with him, but he refuses. And he is too weak to keep my mother’s family fr-from coming to take me back with them.”

All four girls were silent for a moment. The unpleasant reality was that even though Evie was of an age to leave her family’s custody voluntarily, an unmarried woman was in a precarious position. Evie would not inherit her fortune until her father’s death, and in the meantime, she had no means to support herself.

“You can come live with me and Mr. Hunt at the Rutledge,” Annabelle said suddenly, her voice filled with quiet determination. “My husband won’t let anyone take you away if you don’t wish it. He’s a powerful man, and—”

“No.” Evie was shaking her head before Annabelle had finished the sentence. “I would n-never do that to you…the imposition would be so…oh, never. And surely you must know how odd it w-would appear…the things that would be said…” She shook her head helplessly. “I’ve been considering something …my aunt Florence had an idea that I sh-should marry her son. Cousin Eustace. He’s not a bad man…and it would allow me to live away from my other relatives…”

Annabelle’s nose wrinkled. “Hmm. I know that’s still done nowadays, first cousins marrying, but it does seem a bit incestuous, doesn’t it? Any blood relation at all just seems so…ugh.”

“Wait a minute,” Daisy said suspiciously, coming to Lillian’s side. “We’ve met Evie’s cousin Eustace before. Lillian, do you remember the ball at Winterbourne House?” Her eyes narrowed accusingly. “He was the one who broke the chair, wasn’t he, Evie?”

Evie confirmed Daisy’s question with an inarticulate murmur.

“Good God!” Lillian exclaimed, “you are not considering marrying him, Evie!”

Annabelle wore a puzzled expression. “How did he break the chair? Does he have a foul temper? Did he throw it?”

“He broke it by sitting on it,” Lillian said with a scowl.

“Cousin Eustace is rather l-large boned,” Evie admitted.

“Cousin Eustace has more chins than I’ve got fingers,” Lillian said impatiently. “And he was so busy filling his face during the ball that he couldn’t be bothered to make conversation.”

“When I went to shake his hand,” Daisy added, “I came away with a half-eaten wing of roast chicken.”

“He forgot that he was holding it,” Evie said apologetically. “He did say he was sorry for ruining your glove, as I recall.”

Daisy frowned. “That didn’t bother me nearly as much as the question of where he was hiding the rest of the chicken.”

Receiving a desperately imploring glance from Evie, Annabelle sought to calm the sisters’ rising ferment. “We don’t have much time,” she counseled. “Let’s discuss cousin Eustace when there is more leisure to do so. Meanwhile, Lillian, dear, wasn’t there something you were going to tell us?”

It was an effective diversionary tactic. Relenting at the sight of Evie’s distressed expression, Lillian temporarily abandoned the subject of Eustace and motioned for all of them to sit at the table. “It began with a visit to a perfume shop in London…” Accompanied by Daisy’s occasional interjections, Lillian described the visit to Mr. Nettle’s perfumery, and the concoction she had purchased, and its purported magical properties.

“Interesting,” Annabelle commented with a skeptical smile. “Are you wearing it now? Let me smell it.”