‘I do. Surely I do. Jem is more than my friend, Edmund, he is my mentor. He taught me everything an elder brother would teach – the decencies of life in practical affairs. To my governess, my school and my university I owe my intellectual education, but it was from him I had my moral one. And yet he is now my servant, dependent on me for his food and clothes. I often think that he should be the clergyman, I the groom.’
‘Your generosity—’
‘My honesty!’
‘—does you credit, Tobias. But – as I believe my friend Mrs Beckles pointed out to you – you did not even realise that there was a tendresse between Jem and poor Lizzie. How well does any man know another, when the passions are involved?’
‘As soon say that I killed her!’ I declared.
‘Very well. Did you? You had motive and possibly opportunity.’
‘Motive? I?’
‘You loved a woman promised to another. You could not have her – perhaps you pressed your suit and she rejected you – and so you decided that no one else should have her.’
I buried my head in my hands. I had not felt such fury, but that did not mean that another – perhaps someone I knew – had not. ‘I tell you truly, that I would have conducted her marriage ceremony and baptised her children with so much spiritual love that no one would have suspected me of carnality.’
He came to lay his hands on my shoulders. ‘I believe you, my young friend. Or,’ he added, straightening, ‘we would not be having this conversation.’ He returned to his desk. ‘Now, you do not wish Jem to be a suspect, though I think we must at least question him, and I believe that you are innocent. What about the third young man, Matthew?’
I stared into the fire. Matthew certainly felt animosity towards me, holding me responsible for depriving him of Lizzie’s affections. He missed her when she went away with Lady Elham. But he had now found another love. Did that have a bearing on the case?
‘Does your silence imply that you think him guilty?’
I shook my head. ‘I came across him…in the most compromising of circumstances. I think you might say he has found solace with another.’
‘Yes, young Annie Barton. I wondered if you had heard.’
‘Oh, I heard! And I fear I also saw. I did not know that that was the young lady in the case, however.’
‘You decently averted your gaze.’
‘Let us say that I did not recognise her footwear. Lady! She is—’
He shook his head, lest I damn her without ever having met her. ‘She is a young woman with strong appetites. I am glad she is not my daughter, and I would not employ her as a servant, but I would not judge her any more than I would judge a young animal.’
I swallowed hard. ‘She does not come to church, and I have never had a conversation with her.’
‘Certainly not a criminal conversation!’ he laughed. ‘Though in fact it would be fornication, I suppose, not adultery. Very well, I think we must question Matthew. It may be he had turned to Annie Barton without apprising Lizzie of the matter. Let us say, for sake of argument, that she found out and remonstrated with him. He, irritated, lost his temper and strangled her to silence her. How do you like that theory?’
‘You omit one fact,’ I said. ‘Poor Lizzie had her throat slit. And whoever did that hated her enough to tear out her womb. Matthew abhors physical cruelty – many a time I have heard him rail against the new Lord Elham’s proclivities.’ I fell silent, trying to suppress a fearsome accusation.
Edmund looked me straight in the eye. ‘I wonder if his lordship’s proclivities extend to torturing innocent serving maids.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘We must question him!’ I said, ready to seize my hat and dash off instanter.
‘We must indeed. But we must also question the other young men. Unless there is very good cause to suspect Elham, even I would hesitate thus to enrage the family. And we have to think of a reason why he should want her dead.’
I pointed an accusing finger in the direction of the Priory. ‘He saw her as a plaything! He and his friends!’ I recounted the story of my first evening in the village.
‘You want to preserve a plaything for future use,’ he said.
‘His own mother’s abigail! Surely Lady Elham would not permit – no, she took Lizzie under her wing that she might the better protect her. In any case,’ I said, trying to be rational, ‘if it were he, why wait for her to make her way back to the Priory before killing her? It would be much easier to dispose of your unwanted inamorata in London, in those hideous anonymous stews of poverty. God knows how many bodies end up in the Thames.’
‘But in London they have the Bow Street Runners to detect such crimes. Here in Moreton St Jude we have not so much as a village constable to turn to – which is a matter I propose to raise at the inquest.’
‘But what can we do? We cannot let such a vicious death go uninvestigated and unpunished. So let us speak to Jem and to Matthew now. Then we may make similar demands of Elham,’ I added, challenging him to argue.
‘Of course. Though I would suggest we wait till tomorrow. There is in any case an impediment. Only the murderer knows that Lizzie has died. We need to break the news.’
I quailed at the thought. ‘Would it…would it be possible…for us to do the task together? Matthew… Jem…’
‘I never thought of anything else, my dear friend. As parson the lot must inevitably fall to you, but I will be at hand not merely to support you but also to observe. I trust we will see nothing but grief, but if there is guilt to be detected, I will be there to record it.’
‘And if – as I hope and pray – we find nothing to raise our suspicions?’
‘Then we have to speak to Lord Elham. In any case, we should admit Mrs Beckles to our counsels. As housekeeper, she has a pretty good idea of her underlings’ welfare. In any case, can you imagine, once we have spoken to the young men, that the news will not be all round the village?’
‘All the news?’ I demanded.
‘As much as we care to reveal of it. If anyone knows anything it will be round the parish the instant I reveal what has happened. Possibly all we have to do is sit here and wait for the information to come to us.’
I struck one fist in the palm of the other in my frustration.
‘It may be quicker in the end,’ he cautioned me. ‘There is nothing like a home question to silence gossipers. Now, although I usually rely on old Mrs Smith’s help with lyings in and layings out, I will prepare Lizzie for burial myself, with that terrible throat injury as an excuse. I cannot imagine that even her own mother will wish to do more than kiss a square inch of her forehead in farewell.’
I shuddered at the thought of those empty eye sockets. ‘If that.’ I swallowed hard, forcing back bile. ‘Why, when I last spoke, Mrs Woodman was ready to disown her for her folly in leaving Lady Templemead’s protection. I expected anger, indeed, resentment, for I am sure that Lizzie sent home as much as she could afford, but not such bitterness.’
‘And that is the first call we have to make tomorrow,’ he reflected. ‘In my care for the young men, I had forgotten the other sister and even the mother.’ He looked at the clock. ‘Will you be riding home tonight or would you care to accept my hospitality?’
I gave a rueful smile. ‘If I did what I wished, and accepted, I should have to send your groom out into the cold with a message for my household, lest Jem or Mrs Trent worry that I am fallen into some mantrap. Ten to one Jem would speed to the Priory and disturb everyone there by demanding a search party.’
‘You underrate Jem. Assuredly he would look for you here. But you are right. And at least under cover of darkness you may make your way home with no one questioning your borrowed finery!’
We agreed that I would join him at first light the following morning to call upon Mrs Woodman. He and I often set off on such errands together, and this one would excite no comment.
‘You are to play a parson grieving for a parishioner he found in quite norm
al circumstances,’ Dr Hansard declared. ‘As if the poor child was caught on her journey by inclement weather and simply collapsed with exhaustion seeking the shelter of a hedgerow.’
‘A stout countrywoman? Never!’ In any case, all feelings would be offended by such an untruth, especially when the facts became generally known.
‘In my experience, a criminal can best be unmasked if he believes that he has not been found out. Trust me, Tobias. We both have our parts to play.’
Mrs Woodman was plucking a chicken when we arrived. No doubt the sight of our grim, unsmiling faces hinted at what we had to tell her, but even her anxiety did not stop her polishing with her apron the seats she offered. The cottage was somewhat larger than the average, although it had never had to house more than Mr and Mrs Woodman and their two daughters. Mr Woodman had died soon after Susan was born – at least the child presumed so, not having a single memory of him. The little family had been left a tiny amount by a very distant relative, according to Farmer Bulmer, which kept them out of the workhouse. Perhaps it had been enough to buy a better quality of furniture than I was accustomed to see in cottages; some would not have been out of place in a yeoman farmer’s house.
‘I am so very sorry, Mrs Woodman,’ I began, ‘but I come with the very worst of news. Lizzie is dead.’
‘She was dead to me, as soon as I heard what she had done,’ the woman said obdurately.
‘I think she was coming back here to see you,’ I pursued, that being the theory Dr Hansard and I had agreed to propound.
‘And now she is dead? How should that be?’
Dr Hansard gave a vague and evidently unsatisfactory response.
Mrs Woodman fixed him with a cold stare. ‘What should she expect, leaving her post and traipsing round the countryside like a hoyden?’
Dr Hansard stood up. ‘Madam, I think you fail to understand. Your daughter is dead.’
And then she repeated what she had once said to me. ‘She is no daughter of mine.’
Before either of us could remonstrate, there was a frantic banging at the door.
I stepped forward to answer it.
A child stood before me, white to the lips. ‘They said in the village that you and Dr Hansard were here. Parson, my father’s had a fall!’
‘Tom, is it not? Tom Broom? Wait, I will summon the doctor.’
He got to his feet at once, begging Mrs Woodman’s pardon, and promising to call later. ‘Let the dead bury the dead,’ he growled, as we set off after an already speeding Tom. ‘And though Mrs Woodman herself is alive, her feelings seem long dead.’
When it transpired that Thomas Broom senior had broken a leg, and had no immediate need of my services, I set off for home.
* * *
I found Matthew waiting for me, taller and broader than ever, in the bright spring sunshine.
‘They say in the village that you’ve found her, Rector.’
I had expected the news to travel fast. This had positively flown. What did his demeanour suggest? Guilt? Or simple pain?
‘Might I be permitted to say one last goodbye?’ he asked.
Without speaking, and desperately wishing I could postpone what I suspected would be a very unpleasant conversation until Dr Hansard might be present, I led him round to the back garden, out of Jem’s line of vision, to my favourite bench. Although he withdrew his tobacco pouch, he made no effort to fill a pipe.
‘Why do you want to bid her farewell, Matthew?’
His face worked, but at last he straightened and spoke like a man. ‘Because I am walking out with another young maid, Mr Campion. And I want to do the decent thing by everyone.’
What better philosophy could that be? I was torn between two desires – either to show him the poor corpse and revolt him into a confession, or to let him think of the girl as she once was, so that he might take his new sweetheart without care. Patting him gently on the shoulder, I left him there while I repaired for a moment’s silent prayer.
I returned with my smaller Bible in my hand.
‘I want you to swear on this, with as much solemnity as if you were in a court of law, that you had nothing to do with her death.’
Without hesitation he laid his rough hand on the Book. ‘I take God as my witness that I loved sweet Lizzie Woodman and harmed not a hair on her head. Nor did her any other harm neither,’ he added, as if wishing to cover all points. ‘And I swear that had I had her by my side now, my thoughts would never have strayed to any other maiden, be she never so beautiful.’ His voice shook.
It seemed to me a good oath. Would it satisfy Doctor Hansard?
‘I believe you, Matthew. But as for saying your farewells to Lizzie, let me think on it a little longer.’
He reflected for a few moments, swallowing hard from time to time. ‘Why do you hesitate, Parson? Is she…how long…she is…?’
‘I do no know how long she lay there, Matthew. Her face is…damaged.’ I thought of the decomposing rabbit I had watched him bury, the day I myself was assaulted.
So perhaps did he. ‘It’s a crying shame! Why can’t God take us to Him as we are?’
‘I think, my friend, He does exactly that,’ I said, laying a hand on his shoulder. ‘He takes our lovely souls and dresses them in brighter raiment that we can imagine.’
‘If anyone deserves to be in heaven, it is my Lizzie,’ he agreed, breaking from me and running from the garden.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It was inevitable that those in the house should hear some of the commotion of Matthew’s departure, and I braced myself for the swift arrival of either Susan or Jem. In the event, it was Mrs Trent who emerged, raising an eyebrow and mouthing, ‘Lizzie?’
Deducing from my solemn inclination of the head that this must be the case, she disappeared, returning in an instant with Susan, whose eyes were round with terror.
I walked to meet her, and returned to the bench Matthew had vacated, my arm about her shoulders.
‘My poor child,’ I said, with all the tenderness at my command, as I seated her beside me, ‘I have to tell you that your sweet sister is no more. I found her yesterday afternoon, in the Priory woods. At present her body lies at Dr Hansard’s.’
Susan nodded, having regained her composure commendably quickly. She took me aback with her next question. ‘Has she been dead long?’
‘Why do you ask?’ And why had I never put that question myself to Dr Hansard?
‘I don’t like to think of her falling and getting covered by snow. And it’s been such a very hard winter.’
‘I think she died very quickly,’ I temporised, not judging her ready for all the facts yet. The rate that the rumour was speeding about the village, however, I was not optimistic.
‘Does my mother know yet?’
‘Dr Hansard and I broke the news to her this morning, before we told anyone else.’
‘And Matthew knows. And Jem?’
‘Not yet. Nor Mrs Beckles. And I would rather you spoke of it to no one,’ I added. ‘I am sure you will wish to spend a few days with your mother so that you may comfort each other.’
‘Must I go?’ she asked, with strong reluctance.
‘Your mother has lost her elder daughter. It is your duty – as you love your mother – to support her at this difficult time,’ I had said firmly, unprepared for the reply that so shocked me.
‘It is your duty to love your family,’ Susan said carefully, ‘but I do not see how you have to like them. Mother never liked Lizzie.’ She lifted her chin with what seemed defiance.
Nonplussed, I said, ‘I’m sure she loved her, as a mother should. And I’m sure you loved her as a sister.’
She nodded. ‘But Mama never did like Lizzie, you see, Mr Campion. At least, that was how it seemed to me.’
‘Not like a daughter who was beautiful and kind and good!’
‘I think she’d have liked her better if she’d been squat and brown like me,’ Susan said, with a tone of voice I could not identify.
‘Why should you think such a thing?’
‘I don’t know. It was the way she looked at her. Everyone made such a fuss of Lizzie, you see. Strangers would toss her a penny just to see her smile.’
‘But would not that make your mother love her more?’
She shook her head.
‘Did you love her, but not like her?’
She shrugged. ‘At least I always had her hand-me-downs,’ she said, implicitly accepting the accusation. ‘Until she went into service, at least. Sometimes she used to smuggle me an apple or some cake in church.’
‘So she was kind?’
‘Someone would always see her doing it and smile. And then they would look from her to me, as if they could not believe their eyes. Do you have a big brother, Mr Campion?’
I was disconcerted by the question, but answered directly, ‘I do. And two sisters older than me, and one younger.’
‘Is your big brother very handsome?’
His portrait by Lawrence certainly suggested so. ‘Yes.’
‘And very rich?’
‘Richer than me.’
‘And did you never want to be your big brother?’
And inherit three titles, more acres that this child could imagine – and more money than even I could comprehend, especially after my sojourn here at Moreton St Jude? Smiling, I shook my head. ‘Did you want to be your big sister?’
‘I would have liked to be as beautiful. But if I had been her, I would be dead now, would I not?’
A hand clenched about my heart. It had nothing to do with Lizzie’s death, but her living sister’s pain, only some of which, I was sure, was caused by her loss. ‘Susan, you are not grown yet. You will become as lovely to look at as Lizzie. And meantime you are just as kind and good.’ Turning her face to me, I smoothed her hair where it struggled from its little cap.
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