Page 30 of Murder at Hambledon Hall
“A poacher settling his account when he could have just left without leaving a trace? It doesn’t fit, Harry.”
“Perhaps he’s not a poacher. His quick departure is suspicious, you have to admit.”
I did admit it. I also doubted he was a poacher. The question was,whyhad he come to Morcombe? And was he the man I saw arguing with Shepherd in the woods? There was only one thing I knew for certain after speaking to the publican and Mr. Faine.
“Sergeant Honeyman is placing the blame on a man he has no intention of finding,” I said. “And it’s more than likely that Lord Kershaw is encouraging him.”
My uncle’s wish that I would exonerate his lordship once and for all looked more and more unlikely to come to fruition. If it didn’t, I had a difficult decision to make.
Chapter7
We didn’t need to ask directions to the church. Its bell tower rose higher than all the buildings in the village. It looked interesting, with its arches and buttresses, and I thought Harry might start talking about Medieval architecture, but he simply suggested we search for Reverend Pritchard in the vicarage first. The housekeeper there told us he wasn’t at home, however, and to look for him in the church.
“He’ll be praying, most like,” she said with a heavy dose of pride in her voice. “Always praying, is our Reverend Pritchard. Very devout, he is.”
I rather thought that was the point of vicars. “I’ve heard the same thing from a number of sources. It’s why we’ve come to speak to him. We’d like his blessing for…” I cleared my throat, in an attempt to give myself time in which to think of something. Somethingelse, that is. But I couldn’t, so I continued with the only explanation that had come to mind. “…for our marriage.”
“Oh, how wonderful! Congratulations to you both.” She pressed a hand to her bosom and gave us a wistful look. “What a lovely couple you make, and if I may say so, Miss, you’ll be a lovely bride.”
“She will indeed,” Harry said smoothly. “I feel very blessed already, but divine approval can’t hurt. My fiancée remembers Reverend Pritchard from when she lived in Cornwall, and we decided to seek him out. It was a surprise to find him here in Berkshire, wasn’t it, my love?”
I wasn’t sure whether it was him calling me his love, or the softening of his gaze as he looked at me, or both, but I suddenly flushed. I touched my cheek with the back of my hand. “Goodness, the sun is warm today.”
The housekeeper chuckled. “Would you like to come in for refreshments?”
Harry and I declined.
“It’ll be cooler in the church,” she went on. “I’m sure Reverend Pritchard will be happy to bless you on the spot, particularly as you knew him from his last position. Where did you say that was again?”
“Cornwall,” I said.
“Yes, but whereexactlyin Cornwall?” Her interest in the precise location renewed my own interest. I could understand the vicar not wanting to tell me, a stranger he met over a dead body, but I’d expected him to mention where he’d come from to his housekeeper.
“It’s a small village,” I said, repeating what Reverend Pritchard had said. “A mere speck on the map. Thank you for your?—”
“It’s just that you don’t have a Cornish accent.” The housekeeper leaned closer, turning her ear to me as if that would help her hear the nuances of my speech pattern.
“I was there only briefly.”
“Yes, of course, of course. Reverend Pritchard mustn’t have been there very long either, as he also doesn’t have a Cornish accent. Is he originally from London, do you know?”
“I’m not sure.” I’d not really detected any specific accent when the vicar spoke. That in itself was intriguing. But I’d not talked to him for long. The housekeeper, however, would have had many conversations with him. “What doyouthink?” I asked.
She twisted her mouth to the side as she thought. “Sometimes, I think I detect a London one. We get a lot of city folk coming here, so I’ve heard a variety of accents, and I’m quite sure I’ve heard a hint or two in his, but when I asked him, he said he has never lived there. Well. Never mind. He doesn’t have to tell the likes of us where he’s from, does he? That’s between him and God, as is the reason for him leaving his former parish.” She leaned forward a little, unable to hide her interest in my reaction.
“You don’t knowwhyhe left?” I asked, innocently.
“No. Do you?”
“No.”
“I’m sure there isn’t a particular reason.” Her cheerful smile returned. “God sent him to Morcombe knowing we needed him after our last vicar passed away suddenly.”
That was one answer for the vicar’s expedited transfer. A less spiritual one was that he’d been quickly moved out of his former parish because of something he’d done. We needed to know where he moved from so we could learn the answer and decide whether it was related to the murder.
The housekeeper hadn’t exaggerated when she said the vicar was a devout man. We found him alone in the church, prostrated on the cold stone floor in front of the altar. We couldn’t hear his whispers, but he must have been in deep prayer to have not heard our footsteps.
I was reluctant to disturb him, but Harry cleared his throat. “Excuse us, Reverend.”
