‘I’m curious, Flora. Do explain about this Westminster Service you mentioned.’ Ignoring Caroline’s entreaty to return to his seat beside her, he took a chair and dragged it next to the sofa Flora and Bunny occupied.
‘I was being irreverent actually,’ Flora murmured. ‘But since you ask. My father’s family were Covenanters.’
‘What’s a Covenanter?’ Jocasta asked, eliciting a sigh from Caroline.
‘I suppose they were the early Puritans, though I could be wrong about that.’ Flora became aware she was the centre of attention. ‘It began in the 1630s with the Kirk declaring God was the head of the Kirk and not the King, which was the cause of all sorts of conflict during the Civil Wars. The guide says there should be no kneeling, prayers or eulogies in either church or graveside at funerals.’
‘Actually, that sounds just like Riordan,’ William said. ‘He hated anything that smacked of false flattery.’
‘You’re right, he did indeed.’ Flora met his warm smile and returned it. ‘He hated all that public opining of the departed and tearful displays of affection. I might even suggest to Reverend Cripps we dispense with all that.’
‘Not even a rousing, “Guide me O Thy Great Redeemer”?’ Caroline’s mock-astonished smile and burst of harsh laughter jarred, made worse by the fact no one joined in. ‘Sounds positively dismal. And surely we aren’t going to discuss funerals over the sherry?’ She held out her glass to William for a refill.
‘I think we just did.’ William rose again to comply with Caroline’s request. ‘And wasn’t it you who raised the subject in the first place? Mrs Mountjoy?’ He raised the glass to Flora before handing it back to an openly sulky Caroline.
To Flora’s relief, the conversation quickly changed from funerals to horse racing which they hoped might return to the town.
‘There used to be races practically on our doorstep in the early eighteen hundreds, but it died out with local protests on gambling.’ Lady Venetia relaxed, as if she was more comfortable on familiar ground. ‘Now that Baring Bingham has bought Prestbury Park, we may have organized racing again. We had two days of steeplechasing this last April which was very successful. A regular hunt and jump racing will bring an altogether different society back to the town.’
‘Jocasta,’ Lady Venetia gave an exasperated sigh as the round notes of the dinner gong intruded, ‘go and see where your father and Eddy have got to.’ She gestured to everyone to leave the room. ‘Do go in, I’m sure George will be along in a moment.’
‘Are you really going to organize a Covenanter funeral?’ Bunny whispered as they strolled arm in arm along the hall to the dining room.
‘Elements of it would be nice, though I wouldn’t have thought of it without Caroline’s high-handedness.’ Flora sighed.
Bunny pulled her gently aside as Caroline swept by on William’s arm, her eyes narrowed at Flora as she passed.
‘And another thing, that woman doesn’t like me,’ Flora said when she had moved out of earshot.
‘Now you are imagining things.’ Bunny took her hand and sniffed the air appreciatively. ‘I wonder what’s for dinner. Whatever it is smells delicious and I’m starving.’
‘You’re always starving,’ she sighed as he slipped his arm round her waist and guided her along the hallway.
16
After breakfast the next morning, Flora and Bunny walked the mile into South Cleeve to the small parish church. With the Abbey behind them, they paused on the hill to admire the view which stretched across gentle fields all the way to the purple outline of the Malvern Hills in the distance.
‘Lord Vaughn seemed preoccupied at dinner last evening,’ Flora observed as Bunny helped her negotiate an uneven pathway that ran beside the road.
‘He spent all day in Gloucester at a livestock sale with Eddy. They were both very tired when they got home, had a late supper and went straight to bed.’
‘I hope he isn’t going to make poor Eddy work every day of his summer holiday,’ Flora said. ‘The boy should be out and about having some fun. He won’t be refreshed and ready for the new term at this rate, no wonder he’s looking quite peaky.’
‘Lady Venetia did mention calling in Dr Fairbrother to take a look at him.’ He guided her onto the grass verge to allow a horse and cart to pass by. ‘Lord Vaughn declared it unnecessary fussing and vetoed it. Eddy saw him a week or so ago apparently when his fatigue was put down to growing pains.’
‘I suppose Dr Fairbrother couldn’t get that wrong,’ Flora conceded as they negotiated the slight incline down to the church.
‘I’ve always liked this quaint little building,’ Flora said, pausing as Bunny bent slightly to open the lychgate set in the low drystone wall. The cross shaped building with its oolitic limestone walls appeared to have grown out of the ground, or maybe it had simply sunk into its plot over the years.
‘An unpretentious church, my mother would call it, unlike the gothic Victorian piles intended to intimidate everyone with the temerity to walk through the doors.’
‘Father told me once that this churchyard was so crowded with graves during the last century, they pushed the earth almost up to the windows.’
Bunny grimaced. ‘I thought your father wasn’t a member of this congregation?’
‘He wasn’t, but he was interested in architecture.’ Flora led the way along a meandering path to the arched front door of the vicarage at the rear of the church. ‘I would have liked to bury him somewhere like Saint Mark’s on Cleeve Hill, which has more Baptist and Wesleyan influences.’
‘What made you agree to this one?’
‘Apart from Lady Venetia’s interference, you mean?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Well, partly because St Marks is only ten years old and has no churchyard.’
‘I thought all village churches did?’
‘Not those built after eighteen fifty-three. There’s been a church on this spot in some form or another since the late seven hundreds.’
‘What a mine of fascinating information you are, my Flora.’
‘I pick the most interesting bits out of history books to spout at dinner parties.’ She twirled her parasol over her shoulder. ‘Makes me look cleverer than I really am.’ She nodded to where a row of ancient lopsided grey headstones dotted the space around the building like broken teeth. ‘Most of the old graves here have been relocated and a new graveyard established in the field next door.’
She stepped beneath the low wooden porch, one hand raised to the door knocker until she realized she was alone. She lowered her hand and turned back to where Bunny halted on the path behind her, his head tilted to one side while a smile tugged at his mouth.
‘Aren’t you coming with me?’
He nodded. ‘I was just reminiscing about the last time we were here.’
‘Our wedding?’ She swung the parasol onto her other shoulder and strolled back to join him.
‘It was on a day exactly like this too.’
Flora nodded. The sun shone down on the little church exactly as it had then, the only sounds a whisper of insects in the grass and occasional birdsong. As if everything had stilled in anticipation. She had felt like a princess when she had stepped down from the Vaughns’ carriage on her father’s arm.
‘What do you remember the most?’ Bunny tilted her chin with a finger, turned her face back towards him and tucked a stray curl behind her ear.
‘I think it was the moment when I paused in the porch so my bridesmaid could arrange the train of my dress. Someone must have said I was there and you turned a casual shoulder in my direction. Then you just froze and stared at me. And kept staring as I walked towards you.’
‘A shaft of sunlight came through the door behind you as you bent slightly towards your friend as if you were giving a blessing. You looked all ethereal and made of light. Like an angel.’
‘How long did it take you to realize I wasn’t one?’
He chuckled. ‘When Eddy’s pet frog escaped during the reception and made Lady Jocasta scre
am.’
‘Oh yes, I went into full governess mode, didn’t I?’ Heat flooded her face at the memory. ‘I even tried to send him to his room until Lady Vaughn stepped in.’
‘Eddy never did find that frog though. I like to think the poor thing made its escape and is busy spawning hundreds of other little frogs now.’
‘Never mind that. We were talking about the service. What did you think when you saw me?’
‘That I couldn’t believe I didn’t imagine you. I half expected you to disappear in a puff of smoke before you reached me. Then my groomsman nudged me in the ribs to remind me I should move to the altar, and I realized you were not only real, but on your way to marry me. You smiled at me just once, then lifted your chin toward the vicar as if giving him permission to begin.’
‘I didn’t know what it really meant to live with those vows. I had heard them before of course, and always wondered if I would get them word-perfect when the time came, but beyond that— I was so naïve in thinking it was straightforward.’
‘The ceremony, or marriage?’
‘Marriage of course.’
‘Are you disappointed?’
‘Never.’ She adjusted his tie, which didn’t need adjusting but gave her an excuse to touch him. ‘Marriage is more complicated than I believed, but more wonderful too. Living with you has made me more resilient.’
‘Are you talking about my mother?’
‘Of course not.’ She turned a look of mute surprise on him, but when his lips twitched, hers did too. ‘Well, sometimes. But if she’s the worst test our marriage is put to, I’m confident we’ll survive.’
‘Good, I was getting worried after the fire fiasco. I doubt Sarah Bernhardt could have made more of a drama out of it than Mother.’
‘Without you,’ Flora went on, determined not to be side-tracked by jokes about Beatrice, ‘Father’s death would have been insurmountable. I expect there will be more grief, more testing of our bond, but I’m not afraid because I have you. I’m not alone.’ She turned her head to where the slightly crooked church door sat beneath its stone archway, feeling more complete and at ease since hearing of her father’s death.
‘I promise to be your best friend, the holder of your dreams, your keeper of secrets and the first voice you hear when you wake, and the last before you sleep.’ He bent and brushed his lips across her forehead.
‘You know,’ she stepped closer, pressing the length of her body against his and stared up into his eyes, ‘I think I like those vows better than the original ones.’
‘I do too. Perhaps we could come back to this spot once a year and repeat them?’ He cupped her cheek with one hand. ‘Just so we never forget.’
‘That’s a nice idea.’ She turned her lips into his palm as a stab of pain bunched beneath her ribs. ‘Although the next time we come here, it will be to bury my father.’
He nodded slowly, ran a finger along her jaw and tapped the end of her nose. ‘And I will be right here by your side. Are you ready?’
The middle-aged housekeeper who answered Bunny’s knock showed them into a low-ceilinged sitting room that looked like something out of Charles Dickens with its abundance of burgundy red and forest green fabrics. Every surface sported a fine layer of dust, with books, open and closed, piled in precarious towers on every surface, including a blackened stone fireplace.
‘By the look of things, I doubt the housekeeper is allowed in here.’ The finger Flora ran along the surface of the desk came away dirty.
Bunny ducked his head close to her ear and whispered, ‘Remember – no bagpipes at the graveside.’
Flora bit her bottom lip to prevent a smile. ‘Why not, he loved them if played properly.’
‘Too mournful,’ Bunny said, just as the clack of the door latch announced the arrival of a spare man in a navy blue suit and clerical collar. He stumbled over the rug as he approached them, his right hand held out in welcome, promptly knocking over a pile of books.
Flora bent to help retrieve them but the man rushed forward and took them out of her hands. ‘Don’t worry about those, my dear.’ He placed them on top of another pile and, having dusted a chair with a handkerchief dragged from a pocket, motioned Flora into it.
Reverend Cripps was not an attractive man – in his mid-fifties with a long face, permanently moist myopic eyes, and thinning hair that showed a pink scalp. The elbows of his flannel jacket bore badly sewn-on leather patches, and his trousers, when he turned to sit, were shiny at the rear. If he wasn’t such a cliché, Flora might have felt sorry for him, as he fit perfectly into the life he had chosen for himself.
‘Allow me to offer my sincerest condolences, Mrs Harrington.’ He gave Bunny’s hand a brief shake before he motioned for him to sit, then turned back to Flora. ‘Your dear father will be greatly missed. He took such an interest in the community, especially in the days before his death.’
‘Thank you.’ Flora shifted in her chair and stared at her hands, aware Riordan Maguire had had little time for the social-climbing reverend and only ever set foot in his church for Christmas Eve Mass.
‘Do excuse the mess.’ He belatedly realized the chair he had offered Bunny held a pile of magazines and rushed forward to remove them. ‘My housekeeper is growing old and doesn’t appear to see the dust anymore.’ He flapped the handkerchief at an upright chair, stirring dust motes into a shaft of sunlight. ‘I wouldn’t dream of discharging her, she’s been with me for years.’
Over a pot of weak tea and a plate of iced fancies, most of which were consumed by the reverend, Flora chose a list of prayers and hymns including ‘Abide With Me’ and ‘Amazing Grace’, neither of which were likely to offend Riordan Maguire’s Covenanter heart.
‘I was sorry not to include your father in my congregation, Mrs Harrington,’ Rev Cripps viewed her over his glasses.
‘Er, no.’ Flora felt five years old again. ‘His work often required him to remain at the Abbey. However he always attended Christmas and Easter Services. Perhaps he’ll arrive at the Heavenly gates with a silver cloth in his hand?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I think what my wife means,’ Bunny interrupted. ‘Is that shepherds traditionally carry a hank of yarn with them to Heaven to explain why they were unable to attend services. Perhaps Riordan Maguire will offer a similar explanation.’
‘Oh, I see.’ His otherwise humourless face split into a wide smile. ‘Therefore I’m certain the Lord will make allowances.’
‘Such confidence,’ Flora muttered. ‘Well, I think that’s about everything.’ She gathered her gloves and parasol in a prelude to leaving.
‘Before we go,’ Bunny said, gesturing Flora back into her chair, ‘I wonder, Reverend if you would expand on something you said when we arrived?’
Flora turned to look at him, but he held up a finger to indicate she would understand in due course.
‘Do refresh my memory. What did I say?’ He blinked, bemused.
‘About Mr Maguire’s efforts on behalf of the community prior to his death.’
‘I meant the incident at the fête, of course.’ He turned a well-worn spectacle case over in his hands.
‘Which incident was this?’ Flora forgot about leaving, and waited for him to continue.
‘That young girl who went missing. Maguire was one of the last persons to talk to her at the fête.’ At Flora’s start he rushed on. ‘I don’t mean to imply there was anything untoward about that. No, he was comforting her after her altercation with Mr McCallum.’
‘I’m sorry, Reverend, but you are confusing us,’ Bunny halted him. ‘What altercation?’
He hesitated. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned it, especially now all the fuss has died down.’
‘We’ll treat whatever you say in confidence,’ Flora said, wishing he would just get on with it.
‘The situation between Betsy and Mr McCallum.’ He looked at each of them as if broaching a well-known, but taboo subject. ‘I believe your father tried to counsel the gi
rl, but she did have a somewhat spirited nature and refused to listen.’
‘Did have?’ Flora’s eyes widened.
‘Has, she has a spirited nature, of course. I didn’t mean anything by that.’ His cheeks turned blotchy red. ‘Mrs Mountjoy asked Mr Maguire to speak to the girl. She felt Mr McCallum’s generous nature had been misunderstood. As Betsy worked at the Abbey, Mrs Mountjoy thought your father was best placed to persuade her to stop pestering him.’
‘Did she indeed?’ Flora murmured, bemused by the idea of Mrs Mountjoy on a quest to protect Mr McCallum’s reputation.
‘And you say Mr Maguire acceded to this request?’ Bunny asked.
‘I cannot say for sure, although the day of the fête was when everything seemed to come to a head. Mr Maguire and myself were near one of the tents when we heard what sounded like an argument which got quite heated. Then Betsy came running out, quite distressed.’
‘Betsy and Mr McCallum were in this tent? Alone?’ This from Bunny.
‘Why yes, didn’t I say that?’ He spectacle case clicked as he opened and closed it.
‘No, you didn’t. Where did she go once she ran out of the tent?’
He shrugged. ‘Across the fields, away from the Abbey.’
‘Did Mr McCallum go after her?’ Flora asked.
‘Not that I saw. I believe he remained at the fête.’ He turned to Flora. ‘Your father said he would handle it and went after her.’ He broke off and tapped the knuckle of his index finger against his top lip as if regretting what he had said.
‘What happened then?’ Flora prompted him.
‘I was called away at that moment to judge the cake baking competition. But I saw Mr Maguire a while later with Mr McCallum. I assumed Mr Maguire took him to task about upsetting Betsy as they both appeared quite agitated.’
‘I don’t suppose you happened to hear what they were saying?’ Bunny asked, the implication that Rev Cripps had an unhealthy interest in everyone’s actions was obvious to Flora, but hopefully not to the vicar.
He shook his head. ‘I was too far away, but it was evident by their hand gestures they were both quite angry. Then Mr McCallum stalked away and your father went to supervise the teas being organized by the Abbey staff.’
Betrayal at Cleeve Abbey Page 18