Page 83 of A Matter of Murder

“I see,” said the justice of the peace. “And then what did they do with the body?”

“They hid him,” Sally said. “In the fireplace. Mrs. Bingley said my mother was distraught. She wanted to tell her parents the truth. But Mrs. Bingley thought the more people who knew, the more likely it was that my mother would get in trouble, on account of George being the constable. She was also worried that the vicar at the time thought her mad—he’d been poking about the place, and she knew if the crime was discovered, it would be bad for everyone. If Honoria was tried for murder, she couldn’t employ my family, and Mum might have been accused as well. They decided to hide the body because they could hardly dig a hole anywhere in the park without my grandfather noticing—he was the groundskeeper, after all. So they wrapped George Oliver in one of the sheets covering the furniture, and they found a way to push him up into the chimney.”

“But what about the smell?” Mr. Layne asked.

“There was a smell, all right,” Mr. Burton cut in. “The winter before Sally came. Amy said she’d seen rats, and she put out poison for them. Whenever we’d smell anything unpleasant, Amy would say it was the poison doing its job, and she’d go find the corpses and dispose of them.”

“And did Mrs. Bingley ever express remorse for what she’d done?” Mr. Layne asked Sally, and Darcy held in ascoff. After everything Sally had just revealed,thatwas what he chose to ask?

“Honestly, no,” Sally said. “She only told me because I asked; otherwise I think she would have taken it to her grave. She also told me where to find the coins she’d hidden after that night. She said she’d taken back what Mr. Oliver had stolen, but I suppose she must have missed one in his pocket—and I suspect she never had any idea that my grandparents had attempted to bribe George to go away.”

She said this last sentence with a glance to Mr. Oliver.Her brother, Darcy thought. Tom Oliver stared back at her in shock.

“And Mr. Oliver,” Lizzie said. “How is it that this coin came into your possession?”

Mr. Oliver stared at it, as if he didn’t fully understand the question. Mr. Layne cleared his throat. “Answer the question, Mr. Oliver.”

“My... my father gave it to me. He said we’d be rich. He just needed... time.” Mr. Oliver swallowed hard. “He gave me one of the coins and said he had to fetch the rest. Only, he never came back. And I spent years—two decades!—thinking he’d left me! All because your mother—”

“That’s enough, Mr. Oliver,” Mr. Layne said.

Lizzie spoke up next. “Sir, in light of what has been revealed here today, I must ask that you release the Burtons. It is clear now that Mr. and Mrs. Burton had no idea what occurred in the house all those years ago, and the two people responsiblefor Mr. George Oliver’s death and concealing his body are dead themselves.”

“I don’t believe them,” Mr. Oliver said. “They say it was rats, but if they knew my father had left—”

Emotion caught in Mr. Oliver’s throat, and Darcy felt a wave of pity for the man, who must not have been more than thirteen years old on the night that his father had gone out into the dark to claim a fortune, only to never return.

Do we ever stop yearning for our fathers’ approval?he wondered.Even when they aren’t much of a father to begin with?One thing was clear to him: even if George Oliver hadn’t been much of a father, Honoria Bingley wasn’t the only one who’d been robbed that night.

“Sir, we cannot hold the Burtons liable for a crime they were not reasonably aware of,” Darcy said. “The burden of providing proof that they had knowledge of their daughter’s crime and covered it up would fall upon the accuser, and Mr. Oliver has yet to produce a single shred of evidence—”

“Yes, yes,” Mr. Layne said with a heavy sigh. “I am aware of the duties of my office, Mr. Darcy, despite not being a London solicitor.”

Darcy didn’t envy the decision before the justice of the peace. Lizzie had made a convincing argument for releasing the Burtons, but Mr. Layne was charged with dispatching justice in this parish, and failure to hold someone accountable for a crime could have unforeseen consequences. He looked at Lizzie. Shewas staring at Mr. Layne, shoulders thrown back and head held high. He knew she was likely mentally composing a counterargument to a counterargument, preparing for the worst.

Finally, Mr. Layne spoke. “I’m inclined to agree with Miss Bennet.”

Mr. Oliver growled with anger and tried to push against the men holding him in place. The gathered villagers broke into applause, and Darcy noticed that Mr. Layne appeared relieved at the approval of the audience.

“They’re liars!” Mr. Oliver shouted. That sobered the crowd, and Mr. Oliver continued. “How will you rest at night, knowing they live among us? Don’t come crying to me when they’ve wronged you—you’ve been warned!”

Sally’s magnificent scowl did little to soften the harshness of Mr. Oliver’s accusation. “I’ve done more for this village than you andyourfather ever have,” she said, the emphasis of her words leaving Darcy with no doubt as to what she thought of George Oliver. “And these people—they won’t forget that.”

With that, Sally ushered her grandparents out of the assembly rooms, followed closely by Lizzie and a stream of villagers. Darcy lingered, for he had an unanswered question of his own. He approached Mr. Oliver, who was glaring at him with pure hatred in his eyes. Darcy knew that he and Lizzie had made another enemy today. Before Mr. Layne could order Mr. Oliver unbound, Darcy leaned down and looked into the older man’s eyes. “Have you made unlawful entry into Netherfield Park recently?”

Mr. Oliver spat at his feet. “Why don’t you and that scheming shrew of yours go to hell?”

Darcy felt his fist curl, but he showed no other reaction. “Answer me honestly, or I’ll bring my own complaint before Mr. Layne right now—have you trespassed onto Netherfield Park?”

“I’m not telling you a goddamn—”

Darcy straightened. “Mr. Layne?”

“No. I only went that night, when... when he was discovered...”

Darcy stared at him, considering. “All right,” he said finally. He withdrew a pocketknife from his jacket pocket and saw Mr. Oliver’s eyes widen. But he didn’t struggle when Darcy grabbed his bound hands and cut through with the knife. Mr. Oliver made to walk away, but Darcy snagged his sleeve. “Wait,” he said.

He withdrew his card from Pemberley & Associates, and held it out to the other man. “Take it.”