Page 39 of Miss Morton and the Missing Heir (A Miss Morton Mystery #4)

T he journey to Epping was accomplished with little trouble, and, after a change of horses in Woodford, where they also took time to eat, they arrived at their destination at midday.

The church of St. John the Baptist stood on a corner marking the start of the high street.

It looked like a relatively new structure, but the graveyard behind it was far older.

After getting down from the carriage, Mrs. Frogerton directed the coachman to the nearest inn and stood back admiring the church.

There was a large door at the front and behind it a central tower with a belfry at the top. The sides of the building appeared to be crenellated like a castle, and the walls were built of stone. It was a fine, if rather stark, building that hadn’t quite settled into its environment.

“Shall we try the church or the vicarage first, Caroline?” Mrs. Frogerton asked. “As a non-conformist, I’m unsure of the etiquette in these places.”

“Let’s try the church,” Caroline suggested.

There was a small door on the side that opened with a resounding creak that echoed throughout the church.

A young man dressed in a long black habit and white stock appeared in the side aisle and approached them with a friendly smile. “Good afternoon, ladies, may I be of assistance?”

Mrs. Frogerton had already agreed that Caroline should be the first to speak.

“Good afternoon, sir. Are you the vicar?”

“Yes, I’m Mr. Bowen. How may I be of assistance?”

Caroline gave him her most charming smile.

“I’m Lady Caroline Morton, and this is Mrs. Frogerton.

A friend of ours in Theydon Bois reminded me that a branch of my family resided in your parish.

As I am attempting to compose a detailed family tree, I wondered if I might be allowed to examine your parish records? ”

“Yes, of course, my lady.” He bowed so low his nose almost hit his knee. “How … delightful! You must come to the vicarage and meet Mrs. Bowen and take some tea while I bring the relevant information to you.”

“That would be extremely kind of you, Mr. Bowen,” Caroline said. “Have you been in this parish long?”

“Not at all. I only recently took over from Dr. Kendrick, who retired due to ill health.” Mr. Bowen held the church door open for them to exit and then hurried ahead of them on a worn path that led to the side of the church.

He unlatched a gate and led them through into a small garden.

“Here we are. Anna! Come quickly!” He directed them through a set of open French windows and into a charming sitting room.

“Please make yourselves comfortable. I’ll just find my wife. ”

“Well done,” Mrs. Frogerton whispered to Caroline as he disappeared out of the door. “You charmed him.”

“As you always tell me, ma’am, a speck of politeness goes a long way, as does the judicious use of a title.” Caroline walked around the room, admiring the paintings on the wall and the beautiful flower arrangement on the mantelpiece. “This is a very pleasant room.”

“Indeed,” Mrs. Frogerton agreed.

The door opened with something of a bang, and a fair-haired woman rushed in, her cheeks flushed. She wore a dress of crisp blue cotton under an apron that was streaked with soot. She was younger than the vicar and even more flustered.

“I do apologize for not being here when you arrived, my lady.” She looked down at herself and gasped as she stripped off the apron. “I was upstairs in the nursery attempting to black the fireplace.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Mrs. Bowen,” Caroline said. “We are remiss for not making an appointment to see you.”

Mrs. Bowen bundled the apron up in her hands and then looked as if she didn’t know quite what to do with it. “I’ve ordered some tea, my lady. Dulcie will bring it as soon as it’s ready.”

“That is very good of you, ma’am.” Mrs. Frogerton smiled at her. “We will be glad of some refreshment, having come all the way from London this morning.”

“London?” Mrs. Bowen sat down and gestured for them to join her. “That is a long way.”

To Caroline’s amusement, Mrs. Bowen stuffed the apron behind a cushion as she spoke.

“We are planning on visiting a friend in Theydon Bois,” Mrs. Frogerton said. “It was no trouble to come a little farther.”

“Theydon Bois?” Mrs. Bowen looked interested. “I have many friends there. Who were you visiting?”

Mrs. Frogerton looked helplessly at Caroline.

Caroline smiled and said, “A relative of the Bois family whom I knew through my parents.”

Mrs. Bowen nodded. “That must be Lady Hilda, she is rather frail these days and quite forgetful.”

“Yes, indeed, she never even remembers that we visit her,” Mrs. Frogerton said with a somewhat high-pitched laugh. “But we persevere.”

Before Mrs. Bowen could inquire further, the door opened, and a maid came in with a tray.

“Thank you, Dulcie.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dulcie was openly staring at Caroline. “I’ve never seen a real lady before. I must say I thought she’d look a bit more fancy-like.”

“Dulcie,” Mrs. Bowen said.

“What?” Dulcie didn’t look away from Caroline.

“Would you fetch the cake?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dulcie backed out of the room, her gaze fixed firmly on the guests.

Mrs. Bowen sighed as the door closed. “I can only apologize again for my household. What you must think of me …”

“Perhaps you should pour the tea,” Mrs. Frogerton suggested. “Before Dulcie comes back and demands to see Caroline’s tiara.”

Mrs. Bowen started to laugh, and Mrs. Frogerton and Caroline joined her.

“Now,” said Mrs. Frogerton. “We can be comfortable with each other. How long have you been married, Mrs. Bowen?”

“Almost two years. Alistair was my father’s curate. When he was ordained and offered his own parish, he asked me to marry him.”

“How delightful,” Mrs. Frogerton said. “And are you happy in Epping?”

“Yes, it is an excellent parish with a godly number of parishioners,” Mrs. Bowen said. “My husband also tends to the flock in High Beech.”

Dulcie returned with the cake and managed not to linger. The vicar arrived with several leather-bound books under his arm and placed them on the writing desk beneath the window.

“There’s no need to hurry yourselves,” he said with a fond smile for his wife. “Anna and I are always delighted to welcome new guests to our home.”

“Mrs. Bowen entertained us with great kindness,” Caroline said. “And is an exemplary hostess.”

Caroline hadn’t missed the worried glance Mrs. Bowen had given her husband when he sat down right next to the discarded apron behind the cushion.

“Lady Caroline is acquainted with the Bois family,” Mrs. Bowen said in reverential tones.

Mr. Bowen bowed. “How did you find Lady Hilda?”

“Oh, we haven’t got to her yet today,” Mrs. Frogerton explained in something of a hurry. “We intend to call on her after this.”

“Yes, she is in better form in the afternoons,” Mr. Bowen agreed as he helped himself to a piece of cake. “This is very good, dearest. Is it my mother’s recipe?”

“Indeed, it is.” Mrs. Bowen smiled adoringly at him.

Mrs. Frogerton set down her cup and glanced at Caroline. “Perhaps we should peruse the records, my lady.”

“Yes, of course.” Caroline stood up and went over to the desk. “Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Bowen.”

He fussed around as she took her seat.

“There is ink in the well, freshly cut paper in the drawer, and I will cut you a new nib for your pen.”

“Thank you, sir.” Caroline took the proffered pen and glanced behind her. There was no sign that Mr. and Mrs. Bowen intended to leave her side. “Please do not let me keep you from your work.”

“Oh!” Mrs. Bowen jumped. “I should talk to Cook about dinner.”

“Perhaps you could show me around your church, Mr. Bowen?” Mrs. Frogerton suggested. “It looks as though it has recently been rebuilt?”

“I’d be delighted to oblige, ma’am.” Mr. Bowen offered Mrs. Frogerton his arm. “There has been a chapel on this site since the fourteenth century, and the bell in the belfry was given to the church by William, Lord Grey, in 1650 …” His voice trailed away as they exited through the French windows.

Mrs. Bowen retrieved her apron from behind the cushion. “I’d better get on.” She smiled at Caroline. “Please don’t hesitate to call out if you need anything, my lady.”

Caroline opened the parish register and tried to remember roughly how old Mr. Scutton was. She estimated he was in his late thirties, which would make his birth date around 1808. After some searching and backtracking, she found him.

“Baptized on June the sixth, 1811,” she murmured and wrote it down on her notes. “I assumed he was far older than thirty.”

She turned her attention to the records of marriages. “If Mr. Scutton was born in June of 1811, his parents must have been married by 1810.”

She flipped back through the closely written pages that recorded all the joys and sorrows of human life and tried to find the marriage entry.

After a few minutes of unsuccessful searching, she sat back.

Had the Scuttons married in another church?

She was fairly certain she remembered Mrs. Scutton saying she’d been married in the same church as Mary.

Mr. Bowen returned with Mrs. Frogerton, and Caroline drew his attention to the records. “I cannot find a record of a particular marriage, Mr. Bowen. Perhaps you could help me?”

“Of course, my lady.” He set a chair next to hers and sat down. “What is the issue at hand?”

“I found a record of a Mr. Thomas Scutton’s birth, but no marriage details for his parents,” Caroline explained.

“Hmm. … that is odd. I know of the Scutton family. They are definitely connected to the Morton line. Let’s see if we can trace the father first.”

“Mr. William Morton Scutton,” Caroline said helpfully as the vicar turned the pages.

“Yes, here he is.” Mr. Bowen showed Caroline the baptism record. To her surprise, he was about twenty years older than his wife.