Page 50 of The Peculiar Incident at Thistlewick House

Edward banged on the door to the Sailmaker’s with his fist but there was no response. After a few minutes, the Reverend Fallow scurried past. His eyes flashed to Edward’s other hand, still gripping tightly on to Mallory’s, and he jolted his head back in surprise.

‘I appreciate that neither of you profess to have any faith, but I must ask you refrain from displaying such inappropriate behaviour in public.’

‘Mall… Maude and I are good friends…’ Edward began, and then questioned why he was trying to appease the vicar’s sensibilities when he cared nothing for the religion the man practised. ‘More than friends,’ he corrected.

‘Really!’ The vicar almost snorted the word in his shock. ‘May I remind you, Mr Blackmore, that Mrs Grimmer is a married woman and, as such, should not be engaging in such intimate behaviour with another man.’

If he was shocked by hand-holding, he’d be absolutely scandalised by the other things they’d been up to.

Besides, Edward decided that if there was a God, He would know that Mallory was a spinster, so they were breaking no commandment regarding adultery, even if He tutted at their sexual activities outside of wedlock.

‘You can’t have it both ways, Reverend. If you accept we do not follow your religion, then you cannot judge us by the tenets it upholds.

I love Mrs Grimmer, with every part of my being, and if God exists, He can judge me for that when I pass to the other side.

In the meantime, I have no intention of hiding the one thing that truly brings me joy. ’

The vicar’s face was now practically puce, but Mallory’s, conversely, had drained of colour. Edward hadn’t told her in words quite how powerful his feelings for her were, and should have done so before declaring himself to the Reverend Fallow.

‘We will not condone this. We do not want immorality in this village. Leviticus would have you both put to death.’

‘And who is “we”, exactly?’ Edward asked, wondering how strictly the man obeyed the Ten Commandments, and whether he’d ever mixed up a deadly hair tonic or if he owned a gun.

‘All of the faithful and upstanding members of our community,’ he blustered. ‘And I shall certainly be speaking to the Benevolent Committee about your immoral behaviour later today.’

‘But, as the good book says, Reverend, if we do not forgive those who trespass against us, our own trespasses will not be forgiven. Have you sins that need addressing? Because I know that I have many to forgive.’

‘Indeed you do.’ The vicar was almost shaking by this point.

‘And telling scandalous falsehoods is amongst them. Claiming to be able to contact those who have passed on, only for Lady Temple to reveal that you have no such ability. I strongly suggest that when you inherit Thistlewick House, you might consider selling it and returning to London, where your heathen ways are more acceptable. This village does not want you, Mr Blackmore. You are not welcome here.’

‘And yet there are many people who have told falsehoods in Thistlewick Tye over the years. Do you intend to persecute them all in such a manner? Ask them all to move out? Because you’ll find the population of Thistlewick Tye sorely depleted, if you do.

Jacob Palmer is a prime example, because I strongly suspect he’s not been honest about his knowledge of the circus troupe that disappeared in this village forty years ago. ’

Edward was done with maintaining the thin veneer of politeness and took a step closer to the vicar, using his height to intimidate the man, as he spat the words out.

‘In fact, he was involved in the murder of over a dozen people – yes, you heard me correctly – and has some of their possessions tucked away in his back barn. And then look more closely at Charlie Tutter and ask why his mother might have cried rape back then, when he so startlingly resembles the landlord of this particular establishment. I’ve been told that the gap between his front teeth is quite distinctive.

Because I intend to quiz Mr Palmer about all of this when he finally answers the door. ’

He threw a look up to the tiny Tudor first-floor windows, hoping to see Jacob’s round face peering down, but all was silent within. The vicar was subdued for a few moments, after the flurry of accusations, but finally spoke, perhaps thinking they would find out what he was about to say soon enough.

‘Jacob started a fire in his back barn last night, just as the fog was clearing. The baker, who’s always up and about in the early hours, saw him light it – but when the constable went to question Mr Palmer, he’d disappeared. Emptied the till and run.’

‘Then I would say he was guilty of something – wouldn’t you, Reverend?

And perhaps your perfect little village isn’t quite as perfect as you thought, because I’m convinced that the bones falling into the sea by the common are from Samson’s Circus of Astonishing Spectacles.

And these unjustly persecuted dead travellers are now possessing people in the village and taking their revenge. ’

‘Absolutely preposterous! Spirit possessions are a heathen fabrication.’

‘Really? Because we both believe, for different reasons, that death is not the end, so what is it you are struggling with, exactly? That spirits exist? Or that someone in your perfect village might be a killer?’

‘And yet you’ve been publicly exposed as a fraud, so you’ve certainly not communicated with these alleged murdered souls. These wild claims have no basis in fact.’ But the vicar looked less sure of himself now.

Edward locked eyes with the man, and kept his voice low and serious.

‘I have recently spoken directly to a member of the troupe who wasn’t at the camp that night and didn’t ingest the poison. Someone who was not amongst the dead but who witnessed the crime, and who everyone forgot about. Forty years is really not so long ago…’

He didn’t elaborate, feeling he’d said enough. Technically, two of the troupe were missing that night – Mallory and Katerina – but let him read into his words what he would.

The vicar started to look uncomfortable and tugged at his collar.

‘I cannot listen to your nonsense any longer. I’m a busy man and have places to be. Do excuse me.’ He gave a curt nod of the head, and strode off in the direction of Felthorpe Hall, but Edward knew that the man was rattled.

* * *

With no Jacob to question, Edward insisted Mallory came back with him to Thistlewick House, stressing he wouldn’t countenance her being out of his sight. If his life was in danger, so was hers. She gripped his hand even tighter, perhaps for courage, and agreed.

They strode along Copperpenny Lane together, as the damp smell from the rotting leaves circled them in the breeze.

Life was fleeting, he realised, and he intended to live every day as though it were his last. The conversation with the reverend had only strengthened his resolve.

He would be with Mallory, whatever upset it caused.

‘It was Jacob and Silas then,’ she said, struggling to keep up with his long strides. ‘Two angry young men who decided to wreak revenge on a group of people who’d disrupted the lives of all at Thistlewick. We did steal a pig, after all.’

But her conclusion didn’t sit right with Edward.

‘That doesn’t make sense. The crimes the circus was accused of either didn’t affect them personally, or were manufactured after your friends were killed.

They both worked for the previous Lord Felthorpe.

Perhaps he asked them to deal with the troublesome travellers?

They were in his employ and would have done what he asked. ’

‘But he wasn’t even in Thistlewick when we pitched up. Besides, he’s long dead, so he can’t be the one trying to kill you now.’

‘How about his son, Christian, the current Lord Felthorpe?’

‘He certainly gave us trouble when we arrived, eager for us to be gone and letting his stupid dog wander around our camp, but he fell in love with Zella,’ Mallory said.

‘I saw them together, Edward, and the pull between them was absolutely incredible. I find it impossible to believe he could’ve killed her, or have had any part in her death.

They’d only known each other a matter of days before he proposed – that’s a huge commitment, considering how different their worlds were.

And when his father returned from London, he planned to speak to him about letting us stay on the common.

We all witnessed him go from antagonistic to fully supportive within those few days, and I understand the poor man was so heartbroken that he never married anyone else after she disappeared. ’

So, who else did that leave?

‘Dr Appleby senior was rambling when I met him at Mrs Shaw’s funeral.

His son was quick to dismiss what his father was saying and blame his senility, but perhaps he was admitting to the crime?

He told me he’d done bad things. Yet, he was too frail to have murdered Mrs Shaw or been out in the woods with a rifle.

Mrs Drayton, however, could easily have removed the morphia from the doctor’s bag when Emma was ill, and had ample opportunity to administer it, but I see no obvious motive.

And you told me how the vicar back then was badly humiliated by Harry – a motive perhaps – but he’s also long dead so certainly isn’t around to take potshots at me in the fog.

It seems to me that we’ve got people who had motive or opportunity…

but no one who had both.’ Edward sighed.

‘We know multiple people are involved, but I can’t see either Silas or Jacob orchestrating everything, either forty years ago or now, so who the devil’s behind it all? ’

They arrived at Thistlewick House and Barnabas dashed out into the hall, raising his eyebrows when he realised Edward was not alone.

‘Barnabas. I’m sure you are acquainted with Mrs Grimmer?’

His cousin nodded briefly at Mallory but addressed Edward with a flurry of anxious words.