'You move like a damned cat,' I accused him peevishly, my nerves raw from lack of sleep. He turned his head to look at me, raising an inscrutable eyebrow.

'I'm sorry,' he said evenly. 'D'ye want me to whistle, or something, to let you know I'm coming?'

'It'd be a thought.' Vivien laughed, her blue eyes dancing. I had the distinct impression that she liked Iain Sumner very much. 'You want your usual poison?'

'Aye,' he nodded, watching as she poured him a foaming dark pint of bitter. He drew a crumpled packet of cigarettes from the pocket of his shirt, shook one loose, and looked inquiringly at me. 'D'ye mind?'

'If you smoke, you mean?' I shook my head. 'Not at all'

'Thanks.' He lit the cigarette, cupping the match in his soil-stained fingers and ignoring Vivien's disapproving look.

'I thought you gave that up,' she said.

'Aye. So does my mother.' He met her eyes innocently. 'I'm on an errand, as it happens, from the Hall. Geoff says he's found all the papers you were asking about, the ones he used to research the manor's history, and would you like to invite him over for coffee this evening, so he can show the stuff to you and Julia, here.'

'Would I like to invite him over? Of all the cheek!' Vivien smiled broadly. 'What, are peasants not allowed up to the Hall on Sundays?'

Iain raised his pint and shrugged. 'More likely the cleaner's not been in lately. You know Geoff. And he made quite a mess hunting about for those papers.'

'All right,' Vivien capitulated, 'tell him to consider himself invited. That is, if Julia's free this evening. Are you?'

I nodded.

'Good. Shall we say seven o'clock? Iain?'

His eyebrows rose again. 'Am I invited as well?'

'You're always invited,' she told him.

'You'd best be feeding me, then.'

'I'll make sandwiches,' Vivien promised solemnly. 'By the way, does the name Mariana mean anything to you?'

'Shakespeare,' was his instant, and unexpected, response. 'Shakespeare?' I echoed, and he nodded.

'Angelo's sneaky fiancée in Measure for Measure'

'Oh.'

'Should it have meant something else?'

'It's nothing, really,' I said, I just came across the name in a ... letter, when I was cleaning up, and wondered if anyone knew who she was.' No one noticed my little stumble over the lie.

'Well, I'm probably not the best person to ask about things like that,' Iain conceded, with a slight smile. "Your Aunt Freda might know,' he told Vivien. 'Or one of the lads.' He nodded toward the empty table in the corner.

'It's really not important,' I said again. I was almost sorry that I'd asked Vivien about it in the first place. After all, my strange experience in Blackfriars Lane last night might simply have been the product of too much drink, or too much stress ... or some latent thread of insanity that was woven into the fabric of my ancestry. Either way, the chances were slim that the young woman Mariana and her fussing Aunt Mary had ever existed. At least, I preferred to think so. Because if there really had been a Mariana, then that would mean that I---

'Right.' Iain set his empty glass down on the bar with a satisfied thump, interrupting my thoughts. 'I'm off.'

'You won't forget to deliver my message to Geoff?' Vivien asked, and Iain turned at the door.

'No, I won't forget to deliver your message to Geoff. You know,' he said dourly, 'one or the other of you might learn to use the telephone, and save my aching legs.'

'The walk'll do you good,' she shot back.

'No doubt. I'll see you both tonight, then.'

'He's really a wonderful guy,' Vivien said, as the door banged shut behind him.

'And he reads Shakespeare.'

'That surprised you, did it? Iain read English at Cambridge, believe it or not. That's how he and Geoff met each other.'

'Really? And now he keeps sheep?'

'Mmm. He's a farmer at heart, is Iain. He could have done a lot of things with his life—I mean, he's fairly well set financially, and he's bloody brilliant, when he wants to be. But I think he's happiest mucking around in the dirt.'

'And what did Geoffrey de Mornay study at Cambridge?' I asked her, with what I hoped was the right degree of nonchalance.

"Politics, I think. Not that he needed to. There never was much question where Geoff's future was concerned.' She smiled. 'His grandfather started Morland Electronics.'

'I sec.' It was a bit of a jolt. The blood-red Morland logo was nearly as recognizable as the silhouette of Stonehenge, and almost as awe inspiring. From a small wartime company producing radio equipment, Morland had grown into one of the largest of Britain's multinational firms. Its annual earnings, I guessed, must amount to billions of pounds.

'You haven't met him yet, have you?' Vivien asked.

'Yes, I have, as a matter of fact. Last Thursday evening. We sort of bumped into each other in the lane behind the church.'

'Did you, now? Funny he didn't mention it.' She eyed me curiously. 'Damn good-looking, isn't he? I often think it isn't fair, one person having all that money and a face like that.'

'I imagine he's got every girl in the village chasing after him,' I said. It was a shameless fishing expedition, and Vivien smiled again.