The window closed, cutting off the sound of the village gossip. I turned to my guests. Elias look concerned, but Everett, as usual, appeared completely unaware of how anyone else might be feeling.

"Did you want to check out possible venues for the flower festival?" Elias asked, trying to change the focus of the conversation. "Maybe we should get a feel for the place before it's all buzzing."

Everett, smoothing the napkin on his lap, nodded. "Yes, indeed. A judge must know the lie of the land."

"Evie, would you like to join us, get away from the gossip?"

I considered his invitation. I wasn't sure I would be away from the gossip, but at least I'd be around people I'd grown fond of. As we got moving, I was glad to be out of the house and doing something productive, rather than dwelling on my thoughts. Elias strode off, leading the way. Everett followed, tapping his cane on the road, creating an air of a cartoon villain.

"The community centre has had a facelift," Elias said, indicating the village square. "It could be a good place to exhibit."

"Let's hope it's an improvement on last year's fiasco at the parish hall. You remember, Elias, the begonias?" Everett said.

Elias laughed. "How could I forget? You were as red as your roses."

Everett bristled, but smiled. "A judge has to be sure."

I watched them bicker as we walked through the village. Elias was good at taking the sting out of Everett's barbs.

We went into the community centre. It was big and airy. There was plenty of room for the flowers.

Everett paced around, looking at everything. "This won't do," he said. "We need somewhere that's fitting for the competition. This is too tawdry, too commonplace."

Elias nodded. "Have you thought about the grounds of the Manor House?" he asked Everett.

"Darling, that would be amazing. Do you think you could talk the old battle axe around?"

"Not if you speak about her like that," Elias chuckled. "You really are your own worst enemy sometimes, Everett."

The community hall was due to be holding some kind of art class this morning and it was just starting to fill. I could tell the village gossip chain was clearly working well, as I could sense more villagers pointed at me and whispered to each other. The stress of their suspicion was making my head hurt.

I noticed Gideon's tall frame in the doorway. He scowled at me, although I was coming to realise that wasn't an expression that indicated he was angry, but the look on his face when he was concerned.

"Evie, you look awful," he said, frowning. "Are you okay? I heard what some of the busybodies are saying?"

I leaned against the wall. "Thanks, it's just a headache," I said. "I just need some fresh air. You don't need to worry about me."

Gideon wasn't having it. He stepped closer, and I could see the uncertainty in his hazel eyes. I wondered how much he was reeling from the revelations last night. I can't imagine what it must feel like to not be sure of who you are.

"Agnes will know what to do," he said. "She's good at fixing things that are broken."

He reached out as if to steady me, but stopped himself. It was strange to see him so unsure when he'd been my rock in the chaos of arriving in Llyncroft.

"I don't want to put you out," I said. My head throbbed, but I would not admit it.

"It's no trouble," said Gideon, finally resting his hand on my shoulder. "Let me take you to her."

"Given that they all think I hurt her, do you think she is the right person to see, especially now they think I'm hurting the land?"

"I think it's the right thing to do. Agnes helping you reminds them you are part of this community and Agnes holds nothing against you."

His concern was reassuring. I felt good to have someone looking out for me amid all this suspicion.

"I have to ask you. They say you knew Thomas before you found his body and that you're keeping that quiet because you killed him?"

I wasn't sure how to take Gideon's question, but I was glad that he treated me like a friend and asked me directly, rather than just gossiping behind my back. "I didn't hurt him. I didn't know him well enough to care about him, so had no reason to hurt him. If I did, why would I leave his body to be found in Willow Grove?"

"That's true. You'd be stupid to leave his body there. I don't think you have it in you to harm anyone deliberately, anyway."

We walked in silence. The morning air was chilly on my skin. I felt the weight of the villagers' stares on my back as we passed, but Gideon was like a shield.

Agnes' cottage came into view. It was the picture of peace with its thatched roof and climbing roses. I could see her through the window, bent over her worktable with her mortar and pestle.

Gideon rapped on the door, and Agnes appeared, wiping her hands on her apron. Her smile was warm, but concern clouded her eyes as she took in my appearance.

"Come in, come in," she said. "Let's have a look at you."

I stepped into her world of dried herbs and bubbling concoctions. The smell of lavender and chamomile was a stark contrast to the unease I felt. Agnes led me to a chair by the fire while Gideon hovered in the background, never taking his eyes off me as she started her examination.

As Agnes made a brew, she looked at me. "There's talk in the village," she said in a low voice. "It's starting to get loud."

I nodded. "I know what they're saying," I said.

She put a cup of tea in front of me and sat down opposite. "They say there's no smoke without fire and Maeve seems to have lit a bonfire." She looked into my eyes, searching for something.

"How can you prove you're not what they say you are?" I asked, picking up the cup. "I only have my word, and I know I'm innocent."

Agnes leaned forward. "Words mean something. You've done things with the land no one else can do, but I can't help but feel there's something you're not telling me about the murder."

Gideon moved from the door. His gaze landed on me.

The warmth from Agnes's hearth wrapped around me like a comforting embrace. I held the steaming cup between my hands, searching for the right words.

"I know how it looks," I started, my voice steadier than I felt. "There's something I haven't told you. I met Thomas once before I found him. I didn't realise it until Gethin confronted me."

Agnes's eyes didn't waver. They held mine with concern.

"Davies came to Mrs. Whitman's when I was tending to her garden," I said. "He wanted to buy a piece of her land, but she wouldn't sell. He lost his temper." I paused. "He hit me."

Agnes took a sharp breath and Gideon shifted uncomfortably at my admission.

"It was the first time I'd ever met him and I hadn't seen him since then," I said. "And then I found his body." I remembered the day I found a lifeless form in the bed at Willow Grove.

"I didn't recognise the body as I'd only seen him once before," I said. "I couldn't have known it was the same person."

Agnes reached out and took my hand. Gideon remained quiet, but his eyes softened.

Agnes looked at me. "Evie, this village is looking for someone to blame, and right now, you're an easy target. We need to figure out who's behind all this."

There was a sharp rap at the open front door. Agnes and I looked at each other. Gideon's hand reached for the small hammer hanging from his belt. It was a reflex action from a blacksmith to protect.

Alun Davies, His large figure, filled the doorway. His eyes, usually a steely grey, were now dark. Alun said. "So it's true, you knew my brother."

I felt a lump form in my throat.

He strode in, looking straight at me. I braced myself, unsure of what to expect from the man who had lost his brother and now towered over the woman the village had decided was responsible for his death.

"Yes," I said. "I met Thomas once before that day at the inn."

Alun's expression was unreadable as he pulled up a chair and sat down without invitation.