Page 21 of A Matter of Murder
“We’ll be fine,” Charlotte said firmly, taking Lizzie’s arm, then Jane’s. “Now, off you go. We’ll reconvene in an hour and compare notes.”
“Do be careful and try not to scandalize the villagers,” Bingley said.
He meant it as a joke, but Jane merely winced. “No promises,” Lizzie said as she was pulled in the direction of the haberdashery.
Darcy and Bingley continued on through the village. The church was at the end of the high street, on the edge of the village. It was a demure stone building with a single bell tower, a small rectory, and a carefully kept churchyard that wrapped around one side of the building and the back. The churchyard was full of modest stones arranged in tidy rows. Darcy wondered if the man from the flue had family buried there, a clan he belonged to and who would be glad of a resting place for their loved one.
Darcy followed Bingley to the door to the rectory, but before either of them could knock, it was opened by a gentleman far younger than Darcy had expected.
“Ah, Mr. Bingley,” the man said. “I wondered whether I would see you today.”
“Word has spread, I see,” Bingley said grimly.
“Indeed it has. Well, come in.”
Darcy sized him up while Bingley made the introductions. In Darcy’s experience, vicars tended to be either elderly or boorish, but this vicar was neither. His name was Mr. Thomas, and he appeared to be in his mid- to late twenties, and he had curly brown hair and brown eyes that crinkled around the corners when he smiled. He greeted Darcy cordially, not appearing to be intimidated at all by the presence of a gentleman and a solicitor in his small study. If Darcy had to guess, he would have said that Mr. Thomas was likely the second or third son of a proper family short on assets.
“It’s frightful business,” Mr. Thomas said as he gestured forthem to take a seat. “I heard an earful from Mrs. Jones—that’s the undertaker’s wife—but I’m not altogether clear on the details. She said that one of you pulled the body from the chimney?”
Bingley and Darcy exchanged glances before Darcy asked, “Does everyone in Meryton know what transpired last night?”
“Everyone in Meryton, and all the neighboring farms and estates, I’d wager,” Mr. Thomas said with a pleasant smile. “It’s the most exciting news we’ve had since Mr. Boynton’s prize heifer had twin calves two springs ago.”
Bingley laughed. “Surely you can’t be serious!”
“Well, when your aunt passed and we heard that you intended to take up residence in Netherfield Park, that was probably a close second.”
“It is nice to know where one ranks,” Darcy remarked.
“Indeed,” the vicar agreed. “Which is why you have to forgive my questions, and everyone else’s curiosity. Mrs. Jones said it was impossible to tell who the body belonged to—was there any way of identifying him?”
“No,” Darcy said, not willing to give away their only clue, the silver Spanish coin found in the man’s jacket pocket. “The deterioration is... severe. It may be difficult, but it’s imperative that we identify the man as soon as possible.”
“How long do you believe he’s been dead?”
“It’s difficult to say,” Darcy said with a quick glance at Bingley. “More than a handful of years, but beyond that I couldn’t tell. However, given the circumstance, it’s likely...”
“No, certain that he’s been there since my aunt’s time,”Bingley confirmed with a sigh. “Although whether she was aware of his presence, we can’t say.”
Silence filled the small study for a long moment, and Darcy studied Mr. Thomas closely. He doubted that in all his liturgical training, the vicar had ever been instructed on how to respond to the news of a likely decades-old murder victim discovered in the house of one of his parishioners. He almost felt sorry for the man.
But Mr. Thomas seemed to take this news in stride. “I presume you’ll want to arrange for a burial?”
“Yes, please,” Bingley said. “A proper one, if we can. We may not know the fellow, but he doesn’t deserve a pauper’s grave. I want to see that he’s laid to rest with a full service, even if only my wife and I are in attendance.”
“I doubt you will be the only ones,” Mr. Thomas said, but Darcy sensed approval in his tone. “I’ve already fielded a number of inquiries.”
“Really?” Darcy asked. “By whom? People who might have known who the man was?”
Mr. Thomas shook his head. “Now, that I cannot say. No, the interest from the village is more... mundane, unfortunately.”
“You mean there’s been plenty of gossip,” Darcy said bluntly.
The vicar winced. “It’s difficult to overstate just how little excitement we get in Meryton.”
Darcy couldn’t help the sigh that escaped him. “I don’t suppose you might have any idea who our dead man might be?”
“I’m afraid not. But if he’s been dead a number of years, I’m not certain how much help I’d be anyway. I’ve only had the living here in Meryton for four years. Before me, Dr. Fellowes was here for, oh, I don’t know, twenty-seven years? But he’s passed on, unfortunately.”