Was it any wonder that I did not sleep well that night? Even knowing that Sir Harrow's staff was keeping watch through the night did nothing to help me relax. I found myself waking with a start every hour, tossing and turning in my bed until dawn began to break through the window.

With a head that pounded from lack of sleep, I decided to take a walk in the garden. It took a matter of minutes to dress without Davison, and then I headed down the stairs. I could already hear the sounds of the household waking up: the rustle of brushes against the floor, and the distant clank of pots hitting each other.

As I strolled through the garden, the early morning mist clung to the flowers. The dew glistened on the petals, making the colors of the blooms appear even more vibrant in the soft light of dawn. Birds chirped overhead, welcoming the new day with their cheerful songs.

The crunch of gravel underfoot soothed me as I made my way through the garden. Fenton had worked hard since he arrived to control the chaos of the neglected flower beds. I knew nothing of what plants were best in the area, nor what would serve to make the space better. It was a good thing Fenton knew what he was doing.

I cast my eye about, searching for just the right place to hide a clue for the picnic. Thankfully, the roses still had some blooms on them. I compared them all and knelt to examine the healthiest of them. Excellent. There was plenty of room for me to leave the clue underneath them.

It had occurred to me in the night that I needed to connect each place so that they would then find the final hiding place. There would be a word written on a slip of paper in each location. It would be on the seeker to then put the words in the right order in order to find the final hiding place.

Seek the hidden treasure with your host.

Depending on how the seekers found the words, it might be easy or difficult to make the correct sentence.

While I felt as though Sir Harrow was the host because of how much effort he was putting into the event, the rest of my guests would believe I held that role.

As I stood up, brushing the dirt off my knees, I heard footsteps approaching from behind. Spinning around, it took me a moment to recognize the man coming towards me. "Timmons," I said, relieved to see him. "How are things this morning?"

"No trouble, sir," he responded with a nod.

That was something. I thanked him and headed for the stable. Billy was awake and going about his morning routine, although with sleepy eyes. He snapped to attention as soon as he saw me.

"Good morning, Billy," I greeted. And just to be thorough, I asked, "Any trouble last night?"

He shook his head. "No, sir. I didn't hear anything at all."

"Good. Saddle Phaeton for me."

My hope was that I would be able to relax if I went for a morning ride. And, once I was in the saddle, it seemed likely that it would happen. However, as often happened of late, things did not go as planned.

I hadn't gone far when I saw another rider in the south pasture. Who was he? Why was he on my land this early? Too many things had happened in the last two weeks for me to think it was merely a neighbor out for an early morning ride.

He was too far away for me to see any distinguishing features or to have any hope of identifying who it was. I turned Phaeton to get closer.

As soon as I did, the other rider wheeled his horse around and set off at a gallop. Immediately, I kicked Phaeton into motion and set off after the person. The only reason I could think that someone would run away like that was if they were up to no good. My heart pounded as I urged Phaeton to go faster, determination fueling my pursuit. The cool morning air whipped against my face as we tore through the pasture.

As we closed in on the rider, I could make out more details. He wore a brown greatcoat, and a rather fashionable hat. He glanced over his shoulder and I thought I could see sideburns.

"Halt!" I called out. "I simply wish to talk to you."

However, he urged his mount even faster and then sailed over a gate. Years of riding with my mother kept me from following him. I didn't know what might be on the other side, and I knew all too well the folly of attempting a jump without knowing what lay beyond.

Cursing under my breath, I brought Phaeton to a halt. I stared after the fleeing rider until he vanished from sight in a group of trees. What secret had him running from me? Why step foot on my property if he wished to avoid me?

Questions! Questions! Questions! Everywhere I turned, there were more questions and few answers. "One more day," I told myself, turning back towards Pearsend. "And then there will be answers."

At least, I could only hope this picnic brought something more than trouble.

~*~

The day passed quickly. I kept busy at the desk, making several copies of the clues. If it had been possible, I would have napped, however there were too many people coming and going in all the other rooms for that to happen.

Philippa, strangely enough, seemed to have thrown herself into the work of preparing for the picnic. She flitted about, checking this and that, declaring something unsuitable, and praising the servants for something they had done well. It was impossible to keep up with her.

Naturally, though, she was still put out with me. Our evening meal passed in silence, and we did not sit together afterwards. I supposed she meant to punish me, but I did not object to the reprieve. At least it gave me some peace.

Another restless night brought me to the day of the picnic. As soon as I rose, there was an air of anticipation in the air. Even Davison appeared to be eager for the picnic to begin. He presented me with items from my wardrobe that I'd forgotten I even owned.

"No."

Firmly, Davison nodded. "You must look your best," he insisted, holding up the green waistcoat. "This is your opportunity to make a good impression on your neighbors."

"I will look out of place," I argued. "It is a picnic, a casual gathering. There is no need for me to look like a peacock."

"Nonsense, sir," Davison replied with a shake of his head. "There is nothing 'peacock' about looking the part of a host."

With a resigned sigh, I allowed Davison to help me into the green waistcoat, followed by a well tailored tan coat. At least, he hadn't insisted on the more formal tailcoat! I tied my cravat in an oriental knot. When I saw my appearance in the mirror, I had to admit that I looked rather well.

I could only hope that Philippa would approve, despite our strained relationship as of late.

Thankfully, the weather was fine. It would have been nothing short of a disaster if it had been raining. Several of my clues would have been useless to create my final sentence.

Sir Harrow arrived promptly at two o'clock. He was accompanied by his wife. Once introductions were made, Philippa invited Lady Harrow to see the gardens.

"I trust there has been no other trouble?" the magistrate asked in a low voice.

I took the opportunity to tell him of the the rider I had seen that morning. He shook his head. "I hope it was nothing but a curious passerby," he said. He turned and gestured to the driver of his carriage. "I have our prize for the day."

The driver jumped down and retrieved a small box from inside the carriage. On first glance, it looked eerily similar to the pistol box that had been hidden in the ruined barn and had been destroyed. The carried it to Sir Harrow, giving me a closer look at it. Only then could I see that it was much simpler, with no design on the lid.

"Thank you, Greaves," Sir Harrow said, taking the box into his hands. He opened the lid and showed me the small brooch nestled on the velvet. "What do you think? Will this be a good treasure?"

"Only if a lady wins."

"As if a gentleman wouldn't hand his prize to the lady he fancies!" Sir Harrow said with a laugh. He closed the box. "We shall put this where everyone will be able to see it."

As another carriage rolled towards Pearsend, I quickly explained to Sir Harrow the clues I'd devised and the final sentence to win the prize. He nodded in approval and then set off to join his wife in the garden. I was left alone to face the guests I did not know.

The middle-aged gentleman who stepped out first greeted me with a broad smile. "Finally!" he exclaimed. "Since making the acquaintance of your sister, we have been eager to meet you as well, Mr. Bywood."

This, then, must be Captain James Campbell. He assisted his wife and daughter out before shaking my hand. Introductions were had all around, with Miss Campbell fluttering her eyelashes at me as she exclaimed about how lovely it was to meet me.

With relief, I passed them into Davison's care, to show them to the gardens. Before he walked on, Captain Campbell said, "My son, Geoffrey, is coming as well. He insisted on riding over."

A son? I hadn't heard there was a Campbell son. Was it possible he was the mischief maker I was looking for?

Two carriages turned onto the drive, and I had to give up my contemplations. The first contained an older couple, Mr. and Mrs. Welgrove. They were accompanied by a niece, Miss Jane Welgrove. The second carriage was a young couple, Mr. and Mrs. Chapman, who couldn't have been much older than myself.

Each newcomer brought with them the possibility of more trouble, more secrets lurking just beneath the surface. I forced a smile and exchanged pleasantries with each new arrival, all the while keeping a watchful eye for any sign of trouble. It was nearly a half hour after his parents arrived that Mr. Geoffrey Campbell made his appearance. His chestnut mount did not look familiar as he rode up the gravel drive. He swung down in front of me and tossed the reins to Billy.

"Well, the mysterious Mr. Bywood," he greeted with a lopsided grin that looked similar to his father's. "I thought you would be older."

"Mr. Campbell," I said with a nod. "Welcome to Pearsend. I hope you're ready for an afternoon of enjoyment."

He scoffed. "I'd much rather be in London," he declared. After a moment's pause, he seemed to realize his show of misbehavior. "Not that I'm not ready for your festivities. It's been rather a dull summer."

"Have you a profession, Mr. Campbell?" I asked.

"Lud, no!" he exclaimed in open horror. "My mother would see me be Japanned but I have no interest in preaching sermons or that sort of thing. Can you imagine?"

Blandly, I agreed that I could not and directed him towards the garden. Then, I left Davison and one of Sir Harrow's footmen to greet any guests that would arrive. Bracing myself for polite conversation, I walked to the garden.

The sun was shining brightly, and the air was filled with chatter. I went to the table that had been pulled out of the house and held a bowl of lemonade. Sipping the liquid, I gave myself a moment to glance around.

Philippa moved gracefully among the guests, her smile bright and welcoming as she engaged in conversation with each person. Despite our recent tensions, I couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at how well she carried herself.

The real test would be when Mr. Talbot arrived.

I saw my friend and Bartholomew Talbot enter the garden. I set down my glass and hurried to meet them. "Welcome to Pearsend," I said, extending my hand.

"It looks like you've drawn a crowd," Ward remarked, shaking my hand.

"It seems so," I replied with a wry smile. "No one can resist treasure, I suppose. I don't think I would be able to rein in my curiosity if I were in their place. Thank you both for coming. I hope I can rely on you if anything...untoward happens?"

Talbot tilted his head, his expression puzzled. "Why would there be anything untoward?"

"With Lucas Bywood, there is always the chance of something untoward happening," Ward said before I could respond. "And he will be entirely blameless for it."

"Since I have instigated the picnic, I don't think I will be entirely blameless this time," I argued good-naturedly.

Davison escorted another group of guests into the garden, and I excused myself from my friend to greet them. This time it was a widow and her two daughters. Alarmingly, all three of them batted their eyes at me.

As politely as I could, I directed them towards the punch table. Sooner or later, I would need to introduce my sister to them. Or could I simply hide behind the excuse that a picnic was not a formal setting where all the rules needed to be followed?

Philippa would have my head if I tried!

Had Sir Harrow invited every unmarried lady in the county? I suppose he needed to do so in order that the gentlemen he suspected of owning the pistol did not look so incongruous.

Still, I was not sure there was any mischief-maker in the group of guests gathered in my garden. I could only trust that Sir Harrow knew what he was doing.