Chapter One: June

"Oh, darling, it's beautiful on you," Gwendoline stood back and watched as Freddy turned in a slow pirouette, the antique wedding gown brushing the floor around her. In exquisitely embroidered ivory satin with seed pearls and Belgian lace, it was something of a family heirloom, originally worn by a great-great-something-grandmother, though nobody seemed sure which one. Gwendoline only knew it came from her maternal line; nearly all the women on the distaff side were petite and the dress fitted her daughter as if it had been made for her.

Staring at her reflection in the long cheval mirror in Greg's master suite, Freddy took a slow deep breath. It was a splendid dress indeed, with yard upon yard of fragile, handmade lace, the entire ensemble marked in fact, by the sheer exuberance of the stuff. It was the dress her grandmother had worn, her mother had worn and her younger sister had worn as well. It was a long-standing tradition to wear The Dress. Every new bride in the family in living memory had worn the damn dress. And she hated it.

"It's just not me, Mummy," Freddy lifted the edge of the lacy veil carefully away from her side. "It's all terribly pretty, but I'm simply not ..." she shook her head. "I've never been the frilly type, have I?"

Mentally holding the glorious picture before her for just a moment longer, Gwendoline sighed. "No, my darling child, you never have." She shrugged. "So the dress is not for you, oh well." A fatalistic expression on her face, the older woman began the task of removing the acres of lace. "You never know. Perhaps your daughter might wear it one day."

Struggling to undo the tiny pearl buttons down the back of the fitted silk bodice, Freddy laughed. "I rather think that ship may have sailed," she said, starting on the row of buttons down a long lacy cuff.

"Nonsense, my dear," Gwendoline folded the lace veil into a careful pile, wrapping it into black tissue. "You're only thirty-seven. I didn't have Margot until I was forty-five, there's time for you yet."

Finally freeing herself from the clinging gown, Freddy laughed. "Well, don't tell Greg that," she smiled at the idea. "I think he's being terribly brave agreeing to another wedding after his previous experience; he might feel he's a bit too old for a young family on top of that."

"Your own father was older than your fiancé is now when both your sisters were conceived," Gwendoline stopped what she was doing and leaned in a little closer. "And Gregory doesn't seem to be lacking in any physical sense," she whispered, a wickedly knowing smile on her face. "You're a very fortunate girl."

"Mother," Freddy swivelled and glared. "Let's not discuss Greg's bits, if you don't mind. It's not ... polite."

"I really don't know where you get this puritanism from," Gwendoline sighed matter-of-factly as she finished folding and laying the ivory gown out in the long cardboard box, wrapping the black tissue paper until it covered everything. "Your father and I enjoyed a very active love-life right up until he died. He was a most romantic and imaginative sexual partner."

"God, Mummy!" Freddy covered her eyes, trying to avoid certain mental images. "Change the subject, please."

"Well then, if you don't want to wear the family wedding gown, what do you plan on wearing?" the older woman folded down the long flaps of the box, sealing away the satin and lace for another generation. "It may be a small church wedding, but you can anticipate a number of people there from both our side and Gregory's side who will expect us to put on a good showing," she said tight-lipped, watching as her eldest child shimmied into a pair of old jeans. "And I may be old and out of touch, but I'm not so old that I've forgotten what stylish looks like. Are you even going to wear white?"

"Don't be such a silly old thing," Freddy gave her mother a hug. "I still plan on wearing a nice dress, just something that's a bit more modern and a lot less fussy," she said. "There are some lovely dress shops in town and of course I shall want your opinion."

Fractionally mollified, Gwendoline Kerr made a silent promise that her eldest daughter was not going to let the side down when it came to the family reputation. One way or another, Freddy would walk down St. Mary's aisle wearing something of great distinction.

###

"So that's the way of it," Greg shrugged as he sipped his coffee. "Freddy's mum is going to be giving her away, which means any traditional formality goes out the window. This being the case, I'd really like you to be my Best Man. Friend. Best Person."

"You're mad, you know that?" Sally Donovan smiled as she shook her head, toying with her hazelnut biscotti. "There's half a dozen guys who'd happily stand up with you at your wedding."

"Maybe so," Greg stole her untouched second pastry and crunched it victoriously. "But you're my best mate at the Yard and as far as I'm concerned, it's either going to be you or I thought, maybe John Watson and I wanted it to be you."

"Oh god," Sally slumped back into her seat. "Does that mean you're going to invite Sherlock as well as John?"

"He may not come," Greg looked thoughtful. "Sherlock's been pretty quiet since that thing with his sister, especially now since John's moved back in to Baker Street with his little girl."

"But you are going to invite them?" Sally prodded.

"Yes, of course I am," Greg frowned. "Whatever else they might be, they're my friends," he paused, narrowing his eyes. "Kind of."

"So you want me to be your Best Person," Donovan grinned. "Does this mean I've got to organise your stag do and then shepherd you home when you're legless?"

"I'm not really interested in a stag party, truth be told. Much rather we all got together and had dinner or something. Somewhere nice."

"Showing your age, boss," Sally swigged back the last of her coffee. "Damaging the Yard's reputation. You know some of the blokes are going to want to see you plastered, naked and handcuffed to a street light by midnight."

"And they can keep on bloody wanting, as far as I'm concerned," Greg wrinkled his nose. "My big drinking days are behind me and I've got no intention of ending up with a blinding hangover a matter of hours before my own wedding," he shook his head. "Far more civilised to have a dinner ... let's call it a 'pre-nuptial dinner," he laughed. "I want everyone to meet Freddy and her mother and more importantly, I want Freddy to meet you lot, mad bastards that you all are. My future wife needs to know what she's getting into and I'd far rather she met everyone before the wedding than after, just in case."

"In case we frighten her off?" Sally scoffed.

Greg raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

"You can't be serious?"

"Freddy's family come from some fairly rarefied stock," Greg fiddled with his teaspoon. "Cathy never got on with anyone at the Yard ... I just want to be sure that Freddy doesn't have the same kind of experience," he shrugged. "The lads can be a bit overwhelming, you know."

"I hope you're not expecting everyone to be on their best behaviour at your stag bash," Donovan leaned back in her seat. "Cos' you know that idea's going to go down like a lead balloon."

"It's just that," Greg folded his arms and looked uncomfortable. "I still wonder if it was my job that drove Cathy away, at least in part," he looked down at the spoon. "I don't want that to happen this time, is all."

"Your ex-wife is a class-A ratbag who was determined not to get on with anyone just to spite you," Sally paused thoughtfully. "From the little I know of Freddy and her mother, they're cut from entirely different cloth. I think you might be surprised, I really do. Don't underestimate either of them. Seriously."

"Does this mean you'll be my offsider at the church?" Greg looked up, a hopeful light in his eyes.

"Yeah, it does," Sally Donovan grinned. "And god help you."

###

"'Offers ample space to maximise your lifestyle requirements'. I had no idea the English language could be contorted into such obsfuscative expressions." Greg poured Gwendoline a cup of tea as they sat at the kitchen table on the ground floor of the Pimlico house. The kitchen that would soon be her own. "This brochure from the estate agent is little short of gobbledygook."

"It's how they sell houses these days," Freddy smiled up at Greg as he handed her a cup. "People read between the lines."

"But houses in Harrow-on-the-Hill tend to be bought by locals," Gwendoline still sounded uncomfortable. "What if they think I'm trying to inflate the value through all this nonsense?" She waved the offending paper in the air. "I'd be mortified."

"Gwennie, don't worry about it," Greg patted the back of her hand. "Just let the estate agent do his job and think about how you want to invest the profit from the sale once it's all settled."

"Only after your garden is complete, my dear," Gwendoline smiled fondly. "You've both been more than generous to invite me to live here, rent-free for as long as I want and I won't rest until I know you have the garden you've always dreamed of having."

"But Mummy, I really don't want you spending all your money on this." It was Freddy's turn to sound uncomfortable. "If you want to chip in for a few feature trees, that would be lovely and very much appreciated, but neither of us want you to spend your money like that. Keep it; you're going to be around for a long time yet and you'll want your own funds to covers expenses for holidays and the like."

"Now, Frederica," her mother raised both eyebrows and stared at her over the rim of her teacup. "You know paying for the garden was my one condition before agreeing to come and live in this lovely house with you. And besides," Gwendoline nodded at the agent's sales brochure in the middle of the table between them. "If the Harrow house realises the sum the agent has advised me it might, then I'll have ample financial wherewithal even after I've covered the cost of my wedding present to you both."

Realising the two women could keep this conversation going for days; Greg lifted the brochure for a closer look. The old Kerr house had been photographed from a number of advantageous external angles and there were a number of interesting internal shots too. There was a URL for the agency website which offered more images as well as a video walk-through of the house. It might be worth having a look. There was no actual price listed on the brochure, only the words 'Price upon application'. That usually meant the asking price was going to be pretty steep and the agent didn't want to put people off before they'd had a chance to see the place. He shrugged. He knew the vagaries of house-buying all too well and thanked his stars once again that he'd followed Mike Stamford's suggestion of meeting up with Freddy to discuss refurbishing the Pimlico property. It was turning into a wonderfully appointed period building, improving with every little thing they did to it. On top of that, he and Freddy were now in a defacto relationship, with the wedding mere weeks away. On top of that, he was madly in love with a woman who came from a different world but who gave every appearance of being madly in love with him as well. Even thinking about it made his heart beat a little faster.

The only thing that was still missing from this wonderful picture, other than a resident in the top floor apartment, was Freddy's garden. It was something Greg had been determined to resolve somehow, but then Gwendoline came to the party with her offer to pay for the lot. Not that he had any intention of allowing Freddy's mum to do any such thing, but there would be time to set things straight after she'd sold the ancient dump of a place out at Harrow and was living with them in relative peace and comfort. Plenty of time then to squabble over the details and he was confident of his powers of persuasion.

He sighed inwardly. There seemed to be so much to do. Getting the upper floor of the house finished and ready for sale; helping Gwen with the sale of her house in Harrow and her subsequent removal down to Pimlico. Then there was Freddy's big garden to work on, after which they'd put the top floor apartment on the market. His new job was pressing him in different ways too; there was a lot more management of people and resources at the DCI level, and it wasn't just Met insiders who had calls on his time these days. On top of everything else, there was the wedding in a matter of weeks and the honeymoon. They'd still not been able to agree to actually have a honeymoon, let alone been able to decide on where to have it should one eventuate.

When he and Cath had married, way back in the dark ages, they'd spent a fortnight down in Cornwall, though she'd really wanted to go to Greece. If he'd had the money to pay for it, Greg would have been thrilled to accommodate her, but as he'd not long been at the Met and she was only working part-time in a local dress shop while studying for her teaching qualification. Greece, no matter how desirable, had been way beyond their combined fortunes, especially as they had decided to save every penny for a deposit on their first small house. Though the situation was entirely different this time with Freddy, Greg still remembered the arguments he'd had with Cath and so was reluctant to push anything lest history repeat itself. Truth be told, he'd be excited to simply stay in Pimlico to enjoy a few days relaxing in their newly refurbished home and maybe doing some touristy things together.

"Don't you agree, Gregory?" Gwendoline was looking at him with a questioning expression.

"Sorry, what?" Greg waved the brochure in his hand. "Got carried away with my own thoughts," he smiled. "What was the question?"

"I was suggesting to my daughter that if my house sells for the amount projected by the estate agency, then I can easily put aside one hundred-thousand which should be sufficient to get the garden project underway."

Christ. A hundred grand for a garden. Greg inhaled softly. It was a hellish amount of money for plants. It also begged the question ... "Can I be rude and ask how much they think they can sell your place for?"

"The very pleasant Mr Markham from the Harrow and London Property Sales office, suggested that a sum in the region of one-point-two million would be appropriate for the house and associated land included in the sale. I confess, I was somewhat startled at the amount, but was assured that this is now the going rate for properties with large gardens in the area." Gwendoline sounded as if the amount under discussion was of little interest, which, Greg suddenly realised, was probably the truth. Neither Freddy nor her mother were impressed by money, it was simply something that made other things possible. If they had to live without it, they would and had. Having a bundle of cash was, in itself, of little importance. He smiled again; what a family. Sally was probably right, he'd no need of worrying how Freddy would handle the Yarders; she'd take everyone right in her stride.

"You're smiling at me," Freddy smiled back, his fatuous expression automatically triggering her pleased response. "Are you feeling especially happy about something?"

"Only about you, my love," Greg lifted the nearer of Freddy's hands and planted a big kiss on the back of it. Gwendoline sipped her tea and said nothing, but the corner of her mouth curved upwards.

"And what about me?" Freddy squeezed his fingers. "There was something else going through your head, I could see it. What was it?"

Squinting one eye closed, Greg rubbed the ball of his thumb over the place where he'd laid the kiss. "I was thinking about where we might go for our honeymoon," he grinned. "Though we've got so many things on the go, maybe we should postpone it for a year."

"That's a simply appalling notion, Gregory," Gwendoline put her cup down with a clink. "You absolutely must take a few days at least to get used to the idea of everything being formal and legal between the two of you. Carrying on as if nothing important has just happened is a terrible waste of an opportunity to cement your relationship. Of course you need to think about going away together, even if it's only briefly."

"Thank you for your opinion, Mummy," Freddy threw her mother an exasperated look. "But Greg and I are perfectly capable of organising our lives at this point."

"Yeah, but maybe your mum's right," Greg raised Freddy's hand to his mouth again so he could nibble her finger. "It sort of marks a milestone for us, don't you think?"

"But there's so much to do ..." Freddy looked pained.

"And it will still be there when we come back," Greg smiled down at her. "Don't you want to get away somewhere and be all romantic with me?"

"That's not the issue, and you know it," Freddy gave him a mild glare. "I was actually thinking about all the things you're having to cope with in the new job," she added. "And neither of us can afford to be out of the country for long because of all the other things going on." Rolling her eyes towards her mother, Greg realised exactly what was being said. They would both have to be onsite once the Harrow house was sold and Gwen's things needed to be moved to Pimlico.

"At the risk of both of you biting my head off, how would a few days in Scotland suit?" Gwendoline rested her linked fingers on the table. "We have cousins in Kelso, near the River Tweed," she paused, raising her eyebrows at the pair of them. "There are all manner of summer cottages for rent up there. I'm sure they could arrange something for you if you felt so inclined."

"It would be nice, don't you think?" Greg was grinning. "A few romantic days and nights in Scotland; long walks by the river, that sort of thing? What do you think?"

Freddy smiled back, unable to resist the happiness of the man at her side. "Yes, actually, a few days in Scotland does sound rather pleasant. I could do some fly-fishing."

"You fish?" Greg was surprised, though he had no idea why. It just seemed so unlike her.

"I have done, yes," Freddy brushed a hair from her face. "The Tweed has some superb salmon runs. It would be enjoyable to get the waders on for a few days."

"Then you can teach me," Greg kissed the palm of her hand this time. "I've always wanted to try fly-fishing but never had the chance." He smiled widely across the table. "That's settled then," he said, smiling broadly at both women. "Scotland it is."

###

Gwendoline's letter from Stevens & Co. arrived without warning or fanfare. Founded in 1906 by William Stevens, Magistrate, it was now a large law firm with offices in Central London, close to Chancery Lane and the Royal Courts of Justice. Stevens & Co. also happened to be the erstwhile employer of one Alex Harper. Apparently, Harper's highly precipitous and unforeseen departure from the firm had left the remaining partners holding quite a number of accounts without any real idea of what was going on with the clients. To this end, Stevens & Co. were taking steps to contact everyone on Harper's current client list to assure one and all that one rotten apple did not, in this particular instance, taint the barrel. In hindsight therefore, the arrival of Gwendoline's letter was not remotely surprising.

However, the arrival of Freddy's letter was.

"What on earth are they writing to me for?" she asked her mother as she ripped open the envelope's seal. "I've never conducted any business with them and the only connection I had was an indirect one, through Alex."

"What does the letter say, dear?" Gwendoline was still immersed in her own, frowning down over her reading glasses at the closely typed page. When there was no forthcoming response, she glanced at her daughter's face. "Goodness, Freddy," Gwendoline laid the page down. "What on earth is the matter?"

"It's ..." Freddy had paled. "It's ... Apparently, there's a box of documents in Alex's office all about me and about the Apley legacy," she blinked again. "They want to know when I can come and discuss the situation with them," Freddy paused, wrinkling her forehead. "What situation?"

"I recall your father having some legal dealings regarding the Apley title and inheritance a long time ago," Gwendoline frowned as she tried to remember. "Though it certainly wasn't with Alex at Stevens ... your father would have told me."

"It wouldn't have been with a firm called Hunters, would it?" Freddy sounded hesitant. It was the name of the legal firm whose letters her father had kept hidden.

"Now that you mention it, you know I think you might be right," her mother smiled slightly. "Though it was a great many years ago," she paused thoughtfully. "Nothing came of it, as I recall."

Freddy's memory jolted her back to the day when Alex Harper had shot her, a day when she'd accidentally discovered her father's old legal papers in an ancient tin trunk in the attic, papers that Alex had been after for years. Papers outlining her father's legally arguable right to claim the title of the Earl of Apley. Papers that Alex Harper, her unknown cousin, had been desperate to get his hands on. A cold shiver rippled down her back and she took a deep breath at unwanted memories.

"Then I suppose I'd better go and talk to them, see why they want to speak with me about this particular matter." Freddy would far rather have dropped the entire affair and had so far managed to put the issue entirely out of her mind up to now. But the letter meant she no longer had the luxury of such self-indulgence. She'd have to go and face the situation, whatever it might be. Greg would probably find the whole thing too uncomfortable to endure; his memories of that terrible day were, in some ways, worse than her own. "Don't say anything to Greg about this just yet, will you, Mummy?" Freddy folded the letter back into the envelope. "You know how he worries about me being upset."

"Are you quite sure you wouldn't be better asking him to go along with you?" Gwendoline sounded concerned. "Better to have everything out in the open, surely?"

"Of course, but if there's nothing for me to do except collect a box of old papers, I'd hate to waste Greg's time by asking him to accompany me," Freddy sighed. "He works so hard sometimes."

"Yes, that he does," her mother nodded understandingly. "I'm sure you'll tell him everything when you have all the details, won't you darling? It's not a good idea to begin a marriage with secrets."

"Greg is a detective, Mummy," Freddy smiled happily at a passing memory. "A Chief Inspector, no less. I'd be hard pressed to keep any major secrets from him, don't you think?"

"Yes my love, but whatever else he might be, your Gregory is still only a man, and a man in love, to boot," Gwendoline arched her eyebrows sagely. "There's none so blind as those who will not see."

Tucking the envelope in her back pocket, Freddy grinned. "How would you like to come and look at some wedding dresses with me this afternoon?" she asked cheerfully. "There's two nice little shops not five minutes from here."

"A splendid idea. I shall just go and powder my nose." Gwendoline tucked her reading glasses back into their case and headed for the bathroom, Freddy's letter all but forgotten.

###

Greg had taken a long lunch for a specific reason. There was a jewellery shop, not far from the Charles Dicken's museum, where he had an appointment. He'd been there twice before, once to see if they could do what he wanted and a second time with his own sketches to show them what he'd got in mind. A complete set of professional designs had been emailed to him the following week for his approval. Today was the day he was to collect the finished article; Freddy's wedding present.

He'd known for a long time what he'd wanted to get her for a present and had spent more time than he could realistically afford browsing jeweller's shops around inner London. When it became clear that nobody was selling what he had in mind, he determined to find a place that could make it for him. Hopefully, he'd been able to explain his idea clearly enough. He'd soon see. There was a nervous flutter in his stomach as he walked into the understated shop in Northington Street.

"Ah. Inspector Lestrade, right on time," a tall, fine-boned woman of middle years smiled at him from behind a glass counter where she was busy polishing a platinum bangle. Putting the bracelet away, she raised a finger. "Just one moment." Disappearing through an open doorway at the rear of the shop, Greg had time to look around at the muted soft grey carpets and modern Swedish furniture that characterised the place. He'd not been sure this had even been the right place until he'd met Jessica and seen her drawings.

"I believe this is what you had in mind for your fiancée," Jessica returned carrying a small oval case which she placed on top of the shining glass countertop. "It's was immense fun to make something this creative for once," the woman smiled; genuinely pleased at the opportunity to display her skills beyond the standard rings and necklaces that people seemed to want. This commission had been a real pleasure to undertake. Taking out the handmade bracelet, she laid it out carefully on a pale grey velvet mat for her client to see.

Greg felt his heart leap inside his chest as he saw the finished result of a great deal of thinking. He'd wanted something that Freddy wouldn't already have, in jewellery terms. A different kind of wedding gift than the usual diamond earrings. He also wanted something that she could wear during the day rather than just at night, as well as something that reflected both his feelings towards her and her own inclinations. The bracelet glinting on the velvet in front of him was the end result. And it took his breath away. Fashioned in the form of interlocking leaves of ivy, the delicate, three-dimensional enamelled cloisonné was cleverly embellished with slivers of dark green emerald and what looked like pearls.

"As agreed," Jessica the jeweller pointed with a fingertip. "Some of the leaves are enamelled copper, some are enamel on white gold and a couple of the smaller ones are enamelled yellow gold," she said, pointing them out as she spoke. "I used very small greeny-yellow pearls for the ivy flowers, and the underlying framework, links, closure and safety chain are all yellow gold," she added, looking up at Greg's raptured face and smiling again. "As you can see," she continued, lifting the bracelet deftly into the air." Each linked ivy leaf hangs independently of those on either side, which means the bracelet won't break or snap with any sharp movement, but will follow the wearer's actions with a very natural flow." The woman turned her creation over in her fingers. "The different metal used in the various leaves are obvious from this side," she said. "However, the gold will never tarnish, and I've added a thin, clear enamel glaze to all the copper-based leaves to ensure the wearer's skin remains unmarked. The bracelet can be worn with either side facing outwards, depending on the wearer's mood and outfit." Jessica demonstrated this as she laid the exquisite piece of the jeweller's art across Greg's palm. "I believe this is what you wanted, yes?"

His heart still beating hard in his chest, Greg drew in a long deep breath as he dangled the dainty thing in his fingers and nodded. "It's gorgeous," he agreed. "Freddy will love it."

"If at any time any of the links weaken or break, or if any of the leaves are damaged, just bring the bracelet back to me and I'll repair it at no further cost," Jessica nodded, clearly pleased by Greg's reaction. "This is a unique piece and your wife will not see anything like this elsewhere, I promise."

"It's absolutely perfect," Greg couldn't take his eyes of the bracelet. "It's exactly how I wanted it to be."

Pulling out his wallet and VISA card, Greg watched as the jeweller fastened the bracelet back into the oval velvet case. He'd never been in a position to commission a piece of jewellery before and he'd worried at his choice. Now, however, he knew his instinct had been spot on. He only wondered how long it would be before he was back, asking for the earrings to match. He smiled a private smile.