Cheating the Hangman

by Judith Cutler

  They remained as stubbornly silent as Robert, without his excuse.

  ‘What about the young gentleman who hangs about the village?’ I asked. ‘I have seen him with my own eyes.’

  They listened with more interest to my description of Will Snowdon and his distinctive mount.

  At last, Boddice spoke. ‘Quality sniffing round here? There’s only one reason, saving your presence, gentlemen, for a man behaving smoky-like. Some hoyden in the case.’

  The squire sucked his teeth. ‘Nay. Could be some loose fish thinking some respectable woman is no more than a bit of muslin.’

  Mr Snowdon did not strike me as a loose fish, but I kept my counsel.

  ‘Squire’s right. Mayhap he was young Molly’s wicked seducer,’ Lawton conjectured.

  Nodding sagely, Toone set down his empty glass, and got to his feet. ‘Thank you, gentlemen, for your assistance. Now, I look to you, as senior representatives of the church in your rector’s absence, to ensure that the children in the parish are better fed. I have seen too much hunger here, with inevitable consequences to growth and general health. If you want Wychbold to invest in his land, you must invest in the village’s future too. Without healthy children, you will not get healthy adults.’

  The wardens scrabbled to their feet, standing almost to attention. ‘Yes, My Lord,’ Lawton said.

  Toone nodded as if he were indeed his father’s heir, not a younger son. ‘Excellent. I shall expect to hear better reports from Dr Campion.’

  They stared. Boddice spoke first. ‘Be you a medical man and all, Rector?’

  I shook my head. ‘I am called doctor because I passed certain examinations in theology. Dr Toone and Dr Hansard are both doctors of medicine. I am happy for you to address me as Mr Campion if you prefer to avoid confusion.’

  On that note we were bowed out of the house, waiting barely a moment before our horses appeared. So impressed had the wardens been by Toone’s superb manner that Lawton rebuked the stable boy firmly for bringing Titus to me; clearly a man of quality deserved a mount of equal pedigree. What effect would we have made if we had travelled in Toone’s curricle? I verily believe they would have cast down their coats for us to walk on.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘In the absence of any precise information,’ Mrs Hansard mused over tea that evening, ‘do you not think it time to make further enquiries about this Mr Snowdon of yours? A man cannot appear so promptly, so pat, from nowhere and disappear equally quickly. Surely he must have said something to help you place him? Surely he gave some indication of how he knew he was needed?’ she added with some asperity – and some courage, given Toone’s previous reaction.

  ‘We were too grateful and then too preoccupied,’ I admitted. ‘And I was too much of a coward to force the issue. To all intents and purposes he was a gentleman freely giving his services. I could think of no way to ask him.’

  ‘There was no occasion for any niceties,’ Hansard said. ‘I will confess it now, and hang my head as I do it, Maria, but none of us could face the picnic you sent us. Even tough-stomached Toone here simply wanted to do what he had to and see the poor man laid in his coffin.’

  ‘Of course. But if Snowdon received no message from Hasbury or Wychbold, how could he have known?’ she repeated, as if daring Toone to be as insolent as he was when she first posed the question.

  I suspect it was more her reaction on that occasion than any fear of Hansard that kept him silent.

  ‘Servants,’ she answered her own question with an irritated snap of the fingers. ‘Servants’ gossip.’

  ‘That takes days. Hours at least,’ I objected, adding with less assurance, ‘does it not?’

  By now, however, she had rung for Burns. With the same cool raised eyebrow that had silenced Toone, she reduced him from a proud, poised young man to a schoolboy accused of cheating in class. ‘Burns, do you recall anything about Monday morning – the day Mr Snowdon called?’

  ‘Mr Snowdon? I showed him directly into the library, madam. Then I summoned Dr Hansard and Dr Campion. Dr Toone was still at breakfast with you, if you recall.’

  ‘Excellent. Now, earlier that morning you had been given two messages. Did you open either before you found servants to despatch them?’

  He looked truly appalled. ‘Madam, had they both been open sheets, not sealed, can you believe that I would have broken the gentlemen’s confidence? As it happens,’ he added slowly, ‘the seal on one was less secure than on the other. I recall pressing it lightly with my thumb in the hopes of securing it. Then I sent young Henry to Lord Wychbold with one, and William to Lord Hasbury. As far as I am aware, neither can read or write yet, though Mr Jem is teaching them their letters – he spends an hour with them every time he dines with you.’

  ‘You will ask them, if you please, to whom they handed their missives, and report back to me. Thank you, Burns. Pray, before you leave the room, may I remind you that you and any other of the cricketers amongst your colleagues have our express permission to play any match, provided you tell us beforehand, and make arrangements, if necessary, for others to do their tasks? You, I fear, will never find a substitute here,’ she added with the sweetest of smiles, ‘but that does not mean you should not play. The honour of the team is at stake!’

  ‘And by all means have the east meadow mown early, so that you may practise there whenever you are at liberty,’ Edmund added with a broad wink. ‘There are several of last season’s games that call for revenge.’

  Toone waited until Burns had quitted the room. ‘Fascinating as it may be to discover the whereabouts of our artist friend, albeit one connected with the village of two dead children, I cannot but feel we are searching for a gnat when we should be concentrating on finding a killer. That man was killed horribly, whether or not the contents of his mouth were placed there before or after death. And we should make greater push to discover the identity of both victim and perpetrators. So far we have been genteelly delicate in our enquiries. Now I believe we must make greater exertions, lest, believing themselves safe from the law, the miscreants make an attempt on another victim.’

  ‘I have spoken to every patient in my practice,’ Hansard declared, ‘both those who have summoned me and those who frankly had no need of a visit. And none of them admits to having any knowledge of a plump middle-aged man, living or dead. Maria, you have that expression on your face that tells me you have an idea of which I may not approve.’

  She laughed. ‘Indeed, husband, even I may not approve of this idea. Do you recall how on one occasion, with Dr Toone’s advice, I was able to sketch what the victim might have looked like in life?’

  ‘Maria, you realise that this man is already interred? You are not asking at this stage for permission to exhume him?’

  She looked appalled. ‘Indeed no! But after all this talk of Mr Snowdon’s identity, we forget that he has left his excellent sketches with us. Might I not work from them?’ She looked from one of us to another. ‘Do I deduce that there are some you consider inappropriate for my eyes?’ There was a decided note of challenge in her voice.

  Toone spoke first. ‘It is easy enough to select the most appropriate for your task, Mrs Hansard. But I tell you truly that had I known him in life, I would have found it hard to recognise him after the death he endured. But I would willingly, gladly, spend an hour with you in an attempt, even if it would ultimately prove in vain.’

  Maria glanced at her husband, who responded with a tiny nod and smile. ‘I shall be at your disposal immediately after breakfast tomorrow.’ Perhaps a little embarrassed, she turned to us. ‘And you, Edmund? And Tobias?’

  Hansard spoke first. ‘I have to attend Lord Hasbury’s patient. By now he will surely need a good deal more coloured water. Do we have enough beetroot for me to add my artistic touch? Excellent.’

  ‘And tomorrow, well before breakfast, I have to be in St Jude’s, for matins. I would be the first to admit that I will probably be the only human in the church, but I will read the servic
e, nonetheless. And I will pray most earnestly for guidance for us all.’

  St Jude’s was indeed deserted when I entered, but it was clear that someone had watered the glorious arrangements of flowers and set up the altar for worship. Our good verger, no doubt. I must make a point of thanking him.

  I had just knelt in private prayer before beginning the service itself when a figure slipped into the church, hastening to a back corner behind a pillar, as if anxious to avoid attention. For a moment I hesitated: should I simply ignore him, as seemed to be his desire? And indeed at that moment another had a greater call on my attention. I would speak to the stranger through the words of the liturgy.

  Would he seek to slip quietly away at the end? No. As I concluded the service he stepped forward. I almost dropped my prayer book: it was none other than Archdeacon Cornforth.

  He responded with alacrity to my suggestion that he adjourn with me to the rectory, where Mrs Trent, forewarned of my return, would be preparing breakfast: she always overwhelmed me with the quantity, if not the quality, of her food, so I had no doubt of the archdeacon being fed to repletion. None could fault her home-brewed ale, though it transpired that we both preferred coffee. There was a profusion of fresh eggs and some excellent ham; the bread was as good as the new stove could bake. I would make sure that the archdeacon thanked her in person.

  Encouraging me to address him less formally as Archdeacon Giles, my guest made inroads into all set before him. It was only as he wiped the last crumb from his lips that he broached the problem before him. ‘These people from Clavercote, Campion: their latest demand is that none but you should minister to them. They spurn the thought of a curate, no matter how usual that situation is. Having seen, if you will forgive the analogy, the Lord Mayor’s Procession, they have no desire to watch the man sweeping up after it.’

  ‘I am very flattered. But for once I feel unable to oblige them. As you are no doubt aware, there has been a vile murder in their parish.’ Receiving a shocked negative, I was obliged to recount what had happened and my part in the proceedings.

  He looked truly appalled. ‘But you are no mere parish constable, my dear Campion – you are a man of God!’

  ‘And perhaps, as on previous occasions, an instrument of justice,’ I retorted.

  He bit his lip. ‘Perhaps this little country backwater is not sufficient for a man of your abilities. Perhaps your abilities would be better suited to something less out of the public eye.’

  ‘I am more than happy here. And there is God’s work to be done whether one is seen doing it or not.’

  ‘Of course, of course. So long as this playing-at-being-constable game of yours is subservient to your other work.’

  ‘Archdeacon, all over the country I see men of the cloth delegating all their responsibilities to curates to whom they pay such niggardly stipends that they have to lodge with farmers because they cannot afford their own home. It is with them you should be remonstrating, not I! My apologies,’ I added hastily. ‘I spoke too warmly.’

  ‘You spoke with a good deal of feeling and a regrettable amount of accuracy. Which is why I am all the more disappointed that you will not take up the care of Clavercote’s souls. Sadly disappointed, Campion. A man cannot serve two masters, you know.’

  As if my father were pressing my shoulder, I remained silent, merely raising one cool eyebrow, much in the manner of dear Maria.

  At last he said, ‘Perhaps a compromise might be reached. Curates may take the services, but you will undertake to continue with your pastoral work there. I hear great things of you from Boddice and Lawton. Dear me, they sound like a particularly unreliable firm of tailors, do they not?’

  I laughed, and it seemed that our previous good relations were restored.

  Over fresh coffee he questioned me further on the murder, gasping in horror as I relayed the least savoury details, one in particular drawing all the colour from his face. ‘Can men behave like that?’ he breathed. ‘You are in the right: such a crime must not go unpunished, whoever is responsible.’ He jumped visibly as the clock struck, and made to depart.

  Summoning not Susan but Mrs Trent, I indicated that she was the source of all this morning’s good food. Her curtsy was modest, but I wagered she would not be in the kitchen two seconds before she checked the coin that he had passed her. However, she would have to wait a moment longer: the archdeacon should know of her personal kindness in the matter of Joseph, the box, and the clothes for Sarey.

  As she bobbed her acknowledgement of his renewed thanks, to my joy she added that Susan and Robert had also played a part. They were included in the sonorous blessing he bestowed upon her. Both might have preferred a less spiritual and more material reward, I fear.

  As I accompanied him to his curricle, once again guarded by his little tiger, I admitted my contact with Sarey and Joseph was instrumental in my agreeing to maintain contact with Clavercote, and told him of Joseph’s father’s despairing departure.

  ‘So the child is to be brought up by strangers?’

  ‘Sarey no longer considers him a stranger: indeed, his arrival in her arms may have saved her reason, since she had but hours before lost her own infant.’

  He produced his purse once again. ‘His new family – can they afford an additional mouth? Pray, Tobias, do not give them all this at once, lest others begrudge what they may see as good fortune. You will know when to provide, when to withhold, whether to give in kind, whether to give in cash.’

  Like Mrs Trent, I refrained from looking at the gold. ‘I will keep a detailed account for you,’ I promised.

  His horses were more than ready to depart.

  ‘I will see to the curates for all the services; and – Tobias – the bishop will hear of your service to the ailing families. But I will spare him the news of your inexplicable impersonation of a parish constable.’ He left with his hand raised in blessing.

  The sum that Archdeacon Cornforth had entrusted to me would, if husbanded well, keep Sarey and her family in some prosperity. I found a box to keep it in, just big enough to hold a notebook for the accounts I had promised to keep. Both Mrs Hansard and Mrs Trent should advise me, the latter because she had already given as much as she could afford and probably more – the archdeacon’s half-guinea apart, of course.

  ‘Clothes for Sarey,’ she declared as I went to the kitchen to consult her. ‘And shoes and pattens. Soap for the baby. Bedlinen – though I was about to give her your old sheets now I’ve turned them.’ She laughed at my puzzled expression. ‘Sheets wear out in the middle first – stands to reason – so you cut them in half and sew the two original edges together. Then you hem the new edges.’

  ‘But the ridge down the middle …’ I felt like the princess complaining about the pea.

  ‘Easier to bear than the cost of new sheets, and that I will declare. New sheets slung on the bushes on washday would cause talk in the village, you mark my words. I tell you straight, Dr Campion, Sarey won’t want that. She’d see our old ones as a kindness, but new ones as an embarrassment. And if you don’t believe me, you ask Mrs Hansard.’ Was there a tinge of resentment in her voice? How must she feel about my constant attendance at Langley Park? I must give the matter thought and prayer.

  ‘I am happy to take your advice. And what about the matter of clothes? Would it not look particular if I, a bachelor, showed a knowledge of women’s wear?’

  She laughed. ‘Truly you need a wife, Rector, to make yourself respectable – and to do all this sort of work for you.’

  ‘Until I have one, Mrs Trent, perhaps you would lend me countenance by accompanying me next time I go to Clavercote. In fact, I see that the sun is breaking through at last. I fear my equipage is not as grand as the archdeacon’s, and Robert is not so top-lofty as his tiger, but we would make a fine couple, so long as we conceal the bundle of sheets.’

  To be sure, we were but a pale imitation of either Toone or the archdeacon, but the journey undoubtedly gave Mrs Trent pleasure, as she sat beside me
, fine as fivepence in her new spring dress, pelisse and bonnet. Since she was to discuss intimate matters with Sarey, I did no more than make the introductions before returning to Robert, who was plying the horses with apples and affection. I joined him, exchanging an occasional smile. At last the breeze stirred the well-brushed manes and created a little miracle.

  ‘Seems the wind is getting cold, Master. Best if I walk them a while?’

  ‘I’m sure you should.’ Then from the corner of my eye I saw movement. I laid a hand on his shoulder, and drew him close to my side. His heart was racing. ‘But perhaps not yet.’

  Although it was the busiest time of day, when you would expect the hamlet to be deserted and all its able-bodied inhabitants in the field, a crowd of men was gathering, with the same air of menace as before. None spoke to me directly, though one, painfully thin with wild eyes, was clearly the most agitated. Eventually, pushed forward by some of his colleagues, he stepped forward, his arm jerkily emphasising each point.

  ‘Haven’t you learnt nothing? We don’t want your sort round here. You and your gentleman’s ways, thinking that just because you’re full of juice you can have anything you fancy. There’s Molly dead because of your like, and her mother, of a broken heart. And now it’s my Sarey you’re a-visiting. Food and fine clothes. We know what you’re after. And I’m telling you, you lay so much as a finger on my wife and I’ll—’

  ‘You’ll what, Jim Tump?’ Mrs Trent emerged from the cottage, arms akimbo. ‘The good rector brought food I cooked and clothes I made. Aye, and a toy that lad whittled too,’ she said. ‘How else did you expect them to get here? And don’t say you didn’t need them, because if ever a wench needs some nourishment and some half-decent clothes ’tis your Sarey. Yes, and you shut your mouth too, John Broadwell. Could your good wife afford to give her sheets? Mended sheets, ’tis true, but sheets and shoes. Kindly step inside, Jim, and tell her how fine she looks with her hair combed and a clean shift. Or are you afraid to look her in the eye, with all your crude suspicionings?’ She gestured to the doorway.