Page 49 of A Matter of Murder
Lizzie spotted a flash of white-blond hair as it disappeared around the corner of the church. Wordlessly, Lizzie and Darcy took off for the church, briskly but not so quickly as to draw attention. Guy kept up beside them, his small pink tongue hanging out as he panted lightly. The poor dog would deserve a bowl of water and a nap after this.
As they approached, the front of the church faced them, with the entrance to the vicarage on the right. To the left was a gate to the stone fence that enclosed the churchyard, Sally’s apparent destination. Darcy pulled Lizzie to the right, giving the vicarage entrance a wide berth to avoid being spotted by Mr. Thomas, and they slunk along the tree line toward the churchyard, where a good number of headstones in varying sizes and conditions stood. They ducked low, making certain to keep out of sight behind the stone wall.
Sally stood near a modest stone, looking down silently. Lizzie and Darcy didn’t dare get closer. As the seconds passed into minutes, Lizzie’s racing pulse slowed, and she began to feel a bit ridiculous. They had trailed Sally on nothing more than a hunch and followed her to a churchyard, where she appeared to be paying her respects. Perhaps to her mother, Amy? It felt intrusive, watching what was surely a private moment. She bit her lip and glanced at Darcy, who also looked chagrined.
“Perhaps we should go,” Lizzie whispered.
Darcy nodded, and Lizzie began to slowly make her wayback in the direction from which they’d come when Darcy’s hand shot out and stopped her. He nodded toward Sally.
Her back turned, and now she was looking toward the front of the churchyard, where someone new was approaching. Lizzie ducked back out of sight and was surprised to find that the newcomer was someone she recognized.
Clara Jeffries.
The two young women greeted each other and exchanged words. Lizzie could make out the sound of their voices but not what they were saying.
“Do you think this is a planned meeting?” Darcy whispered.
“I can’t tell.”
Sally’s back was to them, and she held herself almost rigidly. Even from a distance, Lizzie could make out Clara’s expression, which wasn’t exactly warm. No, it looked... worried. She gestured with her hands, and Sally stepped closer and seemed to shush her. Clara’s face went still as she listened to whatever Sally had to say, and then she nodded once, quickly. Sally withdrew something from the pocket of her dress and Lizzie squinted. It appeared to be a small purse or pouch of some kind. She handed it over to Clara, quickly and unobtrusively, and Clara tucked the pouch into her basket without looking at it. They exchanged a few more words, and then Clara abruptly turned and left.
Lizzie looked at Darcy and found his eyes widened with surprise. What had they just witnessed?
Sally waited a little while longer, turning back to look downat the headstone she stood before. Lizzie and Darcy went still so as not to draw attention. Luckily for them, Guy was happy to lie in the tall grass behind a rather large bush, tongue lolling, and didn’t seem at all perturbed by his humans’ strange antics. After nearly two minutes had passed, Sally straightened her shoulders and turned her back on them and the headstone once more and made her way out of the churchyard.
“What do you suppose that was about?” Darcy whispered.
Lizzie shook her head. “I’m amending my earlier opinion—that had to have been planned. But a churchyard is a strange meeting place, wouldn’t you agree?”
“For most people, yes... but you have to admit, it’s a clever place to go if you don’t want to be disturbed.”
“Only the dead as witness,” Lizzie murmured, and then had to suppress a shiver despite the heat of the morning. She was allowing herself to jump to dramatic conclusions. Certainly there could be a reasonable explanation for what had just occurred...
“Do we think that Miss Jeffries has anything to do with our mystery at Netherfield?” Lizzie asked.
“They’re both hardly older than we are,” Darcy said. “Assuming that it would take more than several years at least for a body to reach that advanced stage of decomposition, they would have been, what? Fourteen, fifteen when the man was killed? Younger?”
“Maybe they weren’t involved, but they know who he was.”
“Maybe,” Darcy allowed. “Or maybe this is just a verystrange meeting place for some perfectly acceptable business. We can’t say without knowing more.”
But how? Lizzie didn’t think Sally was the type to take kindly to questioning about her whereabouts, and Miss Jeffries... well, she hadn’t seemed inclined to trust them the day before, but she had told them all about the curse’s origin. Perhaps she would be the weaker link.
Lizzie, Darcy, and Guy waited until Sally slipped out of sight around the side of the church, and then made their own way back around the vicarage toward the lane. The more she thought about it, the odder it appeared. If Sally was engaged on some legitimate business with Miss Jeffries, why not go to her shop? And that handover—it had looked like Sally was paying Miss Jeffries. But why? Was Miss Jeffries... blackmailing Sally?
As they skirted the vicarage yard and came closer to the front of the church, Darcy held out his hand and Lizzie halted, ears pricking up. Someone was speaking.
“—think I don’t know that you’re hiding something!”
“I can assure you, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re referring to.”
“Don’t get wise with me,” the deeper voice growled. “I know you understand what I’m talking about.”
Lizzie tightened her hold on Guy’s leash and nodded at Darcy. Together, they crept forward and peeked around the corner of the church. Sally stood near the entrance of the churchyard, where she appeared to have been waylaid by none other than theconstable, Mr. Oliver. He stood blocking her way on the small path that led back to the lane, arms crossed.
“I’m afraid you must be mistaken,” she said, and took a step forward. When Mr. Oliver didn’t budge, she sidestepped him, but Mr. Oliver grabbed her arm and dragged her back, jerking her none too gently. Lizzie gasped, and Darcy’s hand tightened around her elbow.
“Quit playing innocent, because I know you’re not. You and I both know what’s hidden in that great big house, and I want a cut.”