“Do you think it was done recently?”
The doctor bent once again and peered closer. “Actually, it looks like an old break. Perhaps a few weeks.”
“That’s very odd, isn’t it? Especially since he hasn’t come in to see you about it. I’d think the poor boy wouldn’t be able to walk.”
“Putting pressure on it would certainly make it difficult.” Cope nodded. He glanced back up at Nic. “Have you been out to visit his family lately?”
Just as Nic was ready to ask the doctor why he’d visit the family, he stopped himself when remembering he played a clergyman. It was the man of God’s duty to visit with the families. “If you had asked me this about three weeks ago, I would have given you an answer. I’ve been under the weather for three weeks, and I’ve only ventured out of my house these past few days.”
“That’s right.” Doctor Cope nodded. “I had forgotten. Well, I suppose I shall leave the investigation to the constable. I pray they find this boy’s murderer very soon.”
“As do I.”
He moved away from the physician and stopped at the window, peering outside. A good crowd had gathered and Nic was certain gossip was spreading like wildfire.
Way back in the crowd, he spotted a familiar bonnet, and under it was a delicate shaped face. His breathing quickened and he tried not to smile. Because of these grieving circumstances, smiling was not called for. Yet thinking about Tabitha made him grin more than he should. Especially since their luncheon.
Tabitha stood by Sally as they chatted with Mrs. Stiles and two other ladies. Concern etched in Tabitha’s expression tugged at his heart. He knew what she was thinking—the same thing he’d been thinking after finding David’s body. Nic was tired of being involved one way or another with dead people, just as he was sure Tabitha felt the same way. Thankfully, she wasn’t involved since she and Sally had just arrived in North Devon. Neither of them would have any reason to kill a boy in his nineteenth year, and they certainly wouldn’t have the strength between the two of them to bury the poor soul.
As much as he wanted to go outside to comfort her and reassure her they’d find the person who murdered David, he didn’t want to do it with everyone watching. He couldn’t allow the town to think he was interested in Tabitha for anything more than friendship.
One by one, the people gathered out front swung their head in one direction. The constable and two of his men shouldered their way toward the doctor’s office. The constable carried a bulky, cloth bag. They’d found something! Hopefully, their discovery would help point the finger in the direction of the killer.
Nic hurried to the front door and opened it just as the three other men arrived. As soon as they were inside the house, Nic shut the door.
“Did you find something?” he asked.
The constable was a short, squatty man with a bald head. He nodded and opened the cloth bag.
“Indeed, we did, Mr. Woodland.” Sydney Burris pulled out two gold candlesticks as he aimed an accusing glare at Nic. “Do you recognize these?”
“Of course not. Why would I—” Nic closed his mouth as his recollection returned. He did recognize them. They’d been in the church for many weeks after Lord Hawthorne had arrived in North Devon. Frederick took special care of these candlesticks as they were a gift from the former clergyman. These were some of the items that had been stolen!
Nic hitched a breath as panic grew inside him. He must choose his words wisely, for Frederick’s sake.
He narrowed his eyes and moved closer. “Actually, I do recognize these.” He took a candlestick away from the other man. “These were in the church since before I took over. Not too long ago, they were stolen.” His mind clicked things together and he released a gasp, swinging his gaze to David before quickly switching it to Sydney Burris. “Do you suppose young David was the thief?”
“Actually, that’s exactly what I’m thinking.” The constable arched a bushy eyebrow. “However, I’m quite sure he wasn’t acting alone.”
“Of course he wasn’t.” Nic gestured toward the dead body. “The person the boy was working with strangled him to keep quiet.”
“Yes, that did cross my mind, but—” Sydney took the candlestick away from Nic— “that doesn’t explain why these were buried near David’s body. Why hadn’t the killer taken these?”
Nic shrugged. “That’s something to consider. I wish I knew the answers.”
“Unless,” Sydney tapped the candlestick on the palm of his hand, moving closer to Nic, “the killer wanted to make it look like the church’s thief was dead.” He threw an accusing glare at Nic.
Inwardly, he boiled. Was the constable really trying to make it look as if the clergyman had committed the murder? Frederick had suggested that all the robberies were making the town suspect that the clergyman had something to do with it. Apparently, Sydney also thought the same thing.
Panic expanded inside Nic’s body, threatening to suffocate him. He was the acting clergyman, not Frederick. If the constable arrested the clergyman, Nic would be the one going to jail.
He swallowed the fear rising inside of him. Going to jail was out of the question. Nic was innocent—and so was Frederick. But evidence sure didn’t make it look that way.
He hadn’t prayed much in his life, but he was doing so now!
Chapter Eleven
Nic could not be hearing this correctly. Was the constable really accusing him of murder—to make it appear as if the thief was dead just so Sydney could stop the investigation? Impossible! Nic shook his head. He must not have heard right. Either that or Sydney must be addled. That could be the only explanation.
“Forgive me, Mr. Burris,” Nic snapped, “but you cannot be serious. Are you actually thinking that I had something to do with this?” Taking a deep breath, he silently prayed he could hold his temper for a few minutes longer before using his fist to strike the man senseless. “Please enlighten me to why a humble clergyman such as myself would steal from my own church only to turn around and kill someone to take the focus off me? Has it escaped your attention that you were the first person I had contacted after the robbery? Even you had mentioned—after looking around the church—that it indeed appeared as if someone had broken in the back door.”
Exhaling a frustrated breath, Nic fisted his hands by his sides. “And let’s not forget one of the items stolen was a statue…which by the way, would be too heavy for one person to carry.”
Sydney’s gaze traveled up and down Nic’s frame before the constable arched an eyebrow. “Pardon me for saying this, Mr. Woodland, but lately you appear as if you are strong enough to carry a statue.”
If truth be known, Nic could lift one of those statues, but that wasn’t the point. He huffed and folded his arms. “Mr. Burris, you have gone too far this time! I haven’t had to do this for many years, but I fear it has come down to this…” He straightened his shoulders and challenged the other man with his glare. “I’m calling you out, Sir. It’s either that or fisticuffs.” He lifted his fisted hands in front of him, ready to take on the other man right here and now.
“No more of this!” The doctor stood between Nic and Sydney. “This has gotten out of hand.” He glanced at Sydney. “You know very well that the clergyman could not have killed anyone. And you,” he swung his attention to Nic, “do not need to call anyone out or use your fists.”
The scowl on Sydney’s expression slowly diminished and he nodded. “Forgive me, Mr. Woodland. I’m frustrated about what’s going on in our town, and I fear I’m accusing people that shouldn’t be blamed without proper proof.”
“Yes, well...” Nic folded his arms, “I think we should be working together to discover the killer’s identity instead of arguing.”
“I agree.” The constable looked back at David’s body on the doctor’s table. “I’m just not handling my grief very well. I’ve known this boy since he first learned to walk. It was difficult to inform his family about what had happened.” He took a deep breath. “From now on, I’ll act more
civilized and think before voicing my thoughts.”
The doctor placed a hand on Nic’s shoulder and motioned his head toward the front door. “And I think you need to go outside and give the crowd some uplifting words. They need to find comfort somehow, and they will be turning to you for strength during these hard times.”
Silently, Nic groaned. Of all times to switch places with his cousin! Frederick was the one who could give uplifting words…not Nic. If only he could sneak home and have Frederick step back into his clergyman role, that would make things better. Unfortunately, there would be some people who’d notice the difference between the clergyman they saw a few hours ago, and know that Frederick as vastly different. Still, Nic didn’t know what to say at all. He didn’t study the Bible like his cousin had.
“Uh, yes, you are right.” He nodded to the doctor. “Let me pray for a few minutes in silence before I go confront these people.”
“If you would like to use my spare room, you are welcome to it.” The doctor pointed at the door to the far right.
Slowly, Nic walked into the room and shut the door behind him. He searched his thoughts for anything that might help him, but after a few moments, he came up with nothing. He moved to the far wall and banged his head against it, squeezing his eyes closed. There had to be something in his memory of going to church and hearing the sermons. Even these past few months while he was learning to act like his cousin, Frederick must have said something in regards to those who have passed. Yet, Nic’s mind drew a blank.
Groaning, he pulled away from the wall and went to the window. Immediately, he saw a familiar face that brought a sense of peace to his troubled heart and mind. Tabitha. She knew of his ruse. If he could get her attention and talk privately with her, surely she would be able to help him.
Trying not to draw attention, he slowly opened the window. Tabitha stood with Mrs. Stiles but they were closer to the house than before. More people were gathered toward the front of the house, and thankfully, only a few people stood this far back. But he only wanted Tabitha, and nobody else.
He waited, hoping she would turn and look toward him, but after a few minutes without her noticing him, he grumbled and stepped away from the window. Searching the room, he looked for something that he could throw at her that wouldn’t hurt her. When he couldn’t find anything, he found a blank paper and wadded it up tightly, and then returned to the window.
Keeping his aim sure, he threw the wad of paper. It missed her shoulder, and landed on the ground beside her. The two other ladies she stood by didn’t notice, but Tabitha had, and that’s when her head slowly turned to those around her as if searching for the person who threw the wad.
When her gaze was almost to the window, he waved his hands back and forth. The movement had done the trick and she looked his way. Quickly, he lifted a finger to his lips, silently telling her to not speak. Confusion creased her forehead, so he gestured with his hands for her to come to the window.
She whispered something to Mrs. Stiles before coming his way. He motioned his hands again to remind her to keep quiet. She rolled her eyes, but did as he requested. When she made it to the window, she knelt toward the weeds by the house and acted as if her very reason for being there was to pick them.
“What do you want?” she whispered without looking up at him.
“I need your help.” He tried to keep out of everyone’s vision. “You are the only one I can trust to assist me.”
Suddenly, the crowd quieted and shifted more toward the front of the house. He couldn’t see anything, but Tabitha had because her head swung that way.
“What’s going on?”
“The constable is talking to the crowd.”
“Good. That will keep everyone busy while I speak with you.”
She looked back at him. “What kind of help do you need?”
“Since I’m portraying the clergyman, the constable and doctor want me to say a few words to the crowd and give them comfort.” He took a deep breath to continue, but stopped when he noticed her laughing. He scowled. “This is not humorous, Tabitha.”
She grinned, and the sparkle in her eyes turned them a deeper blue. Now he realized why he’d once referred to them as amazing eyes.
“Forgive me, my lord, but I happen to think this is very humorous.” She bit her bottom lip for a moment before saying, “Unless you have forgotten, you are still a rogue no matter how hard you try to act like a clergyman. Tell me, do you not find this situation funny at all? What did you expect when switching roles with your cousin?”
“Tabitha, please,” he sighed heavily, “I’m very much aware of how it looks, but I need help. I need your help.”
“Why me?”
“Because you are the only person who knows my true identity, so you are the only one to ask.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“Well, to start with,” he scratched his head, “you could tell me what to say to the crowd.”
Slowly, her smile stretched as a laugh bubbled up from her throat. He really enjoyed seeing her like this. Her soft expression brought an unfamiliar flip to his heart.
“You really don’t know what to say to these grieving people?” she asked.
“As hard as it is for you to believe, I really have no idea.”
Her lips curled as if she wanted to laugh again. “Let the crowd know how they can turn toward the Lord for comfort, and how He will always be there for them. All we need to do is come before Him in prayer. Let these people know that you will prepare a special sermon on Sunday that will calm their souls.” She stood and reached through the window to touch his hand. “By Sunday, I’m sure your cousin will have put together a very touching sermon that will help everyone.”
He grasped her fingers, and even after a few moments she didn’t pull away. His heartbeat quickened. “You have helped me tremendously. I thank you.”
“Well, I understand why you’re doing this, and if I didn’t help you, who else would? We don’t need your true identity to be revealed so soon, now do we?”
“No, we don’t.” He stroked his thumb across her knuckles. “I’m more confident to face the crowd now.”
“Don’t forget to take the Bible with you. Seeing the Good Book in your hands will always give people more comfort.”
He smiled. “Indeed, it will.”
Inhaling slowly, she withdrew her hand from his touch and stepped back. “I better go before someone notices.”
“Yes, I agree. I thank you again.” He closed the window as he watched her walk to the women she’d been standing by. She looked so lovely in that blue dress she wore. But it was more than her appearance that made his heart soften. It was seeing her face all lit up and smiling…and the way her eyes sparkled.
Just before she reached the other ladies, she peeked at him over her shoulder. His heart leapt and his grin widened. Knowing she cared about him—whether or not she realized she cared—gave him the courage he needed to go outside and face the worried crowd.
Nic glanced around the room, hoping to find a Bible. Thankfully, the doc had one on the small table by the bed. Before leaving, Nic picked up the book and headed toward the front doors. With his head held high, confidence grew inside him.
Tabitha was one very special lady. She really did have a giving heart. She didn’t have to think before telling him what to say, as if that particular subject had been utmost in her mind. She’d definitely make a clergyman a fine wife. In fact, Nic should suggest such a match to his cousin. Frederick would make her happy…
Something in Nic’s gut twisted and a wave of sickness overcame him. Bitterness coated his tongue, and he couldn’t figure out why this had come upon him all at once. He hadn’t eaten anything for a few hours. Hopefully, he wasn’t getting sick. He placed his palm on his forehead. He didn’t have a fever. So then why had he felt this ill all of a sudden? He’d been just fine until imagining Frederick and Tabitha married…
His stomach lurched again. Now he realized what h
ad caused this. Chuckling, he shook his head. No, this couldn’t be right. He didn’t have those feelings for Tabitha. For heaven’s sake, she and Frederick would be the perfect match.
Yet, the more he pondered the idea, the more he didn’t want to see her on the arm of his cousin, presenting herself as Mrs. Woodland. Instead, he could picture her on his arm, as he introduced her as the Marchioness of Hawthorne.
He snorted a laugh. Impossible!
* * * *
Tabitha didn’t know who David was, but her heart still wrenched for these people who knew him as one of their own. She found her friends closer to the front of the house this time, off more to the side of the porch. Mrs. Stiles sniffed as tears streamed from her eyes. Sally stood next to the older woman, patting her arm.
All around her, the townsfolk were reacting the same way as her aunt’s companion. Indeed, it was a shock that someone could murder a young man and bury him in the sand. The only two men Tabitha knew who had been murdered had not been good men at all, and in her mind, they’d deserved what fate had brought them. She highly doubted David’s death was the same. She could tell this young man was well-liked.
“Oh, such a tragedy,” Mrs. Stiles muttered brokenly into her handkerchief.
Just as Mr. Burris finished his speech about how he would continue to look for the person responsible, the front door opened and out walked Nic. She really should not want to laugh right now, but seeing him in his clergyman clothing and holding a Bible, just made her want to chuckle to her heart’s content. If these people only knew…
Taking a deep breath, she tried to reign in her humor. If she even cracked a smile, the townspeople would think she didn’t have a heart.
Nic stood against the outer wall until Mr. Burris was finished, and then Nic stepped up. Although his shoulders were straight and his chin was lifted slightly, she could see there was something amiss about him. Almost as if the color of his face had a green tint to it. She blinked, thinking that the sun must be playing with her vision.
“My dear friends,” Nic began solemnly, “please know that God is with you…with all of us during this terrible time. He knows what is in our hearts, and he wishes to comfort us, as eh…um, like a…” He paused, his expression clouding with panic.
The Sweetest Secret Page 11