Page 36 of Word of the Wicked (Murder in Moonlight #5)

T he Reverend Luke Raeburn was quite pleased with his sermon.

Several of his flock looked suitably chastened, which had to be good for many reasons.

Abigail, his wife, wore an expression of approval.

On top of which, Mrs. Silver and Mr. Grey, who’d had the discourtesy to arrive late and now stood at the back of the church with the tail end of the laborers in their Sunday best, were watching the congregation as well as listening.

Their attention was diverted, for now, but it was time to end this before they got to the truth and turned the whole community upside down.

Having blessed his flock, he made his stately way down the aisle, aware of the respectful gaze of everyone he passed.

He was not being arrogant to believe he had done good work in Sutton May.

As he reached the door, which the verger opened for him, he glimpsed Mrs. Silver again, still watching him with an expression that drowned his self-satisfaction in unease.

It was as if she could not look away and yet she was thinking of something else entirely—stricken, yet busy in her mind.

Had he misjudged? Sometimes, he got carried away by his own oratory and said more than he had planned to. To him, such moments came from God, and he delighted in them. But had God made him speak words that defeated his main objective?

In the cold, fresh air of the porch, he recalled his own words while he prepared to greet his departing parishioners.

He could find nothing that betrayed the truth.

No, there had been no letters for more than a week, and now there would be no more at all.

Dr. Chadwick’s investigators would have to give up and go home, and Luke and everyone else could move forward.

Bother Chadwick! He had told the doctor not to drag strangers into this…

Miss Mortimer and Miss Jenson made their slow way out of the church, escorted by young Peregrine.

Smiling, Luke shook hands with them all and exchanged a word with each before they moved on either to churchyard gossip or to their carriage, according to their various moods.

Luke greeted the rest of his congregation by name, exchanging a word with each.

He knew them all so well now, it was almost mechanical, yet his interest was always genuine as he asked after various ailments and family members, troubles and joys in their lives.

They were his flock and he would always look after them.

As well as his family.

Abigail and the children had stopped just inside the door, where Mrs. Silver and Mr. Grey were lingering as though determined to be the last to leave, as they had been to arrive.

Abigail, bless her, ushered the strangers out before her.

She had never been immune to a handsome man, and she had certainly noticed Grey, who was certainly different from anyone else she knew.

As a young man, her “noticing” of other males had made Luke unbecomingly jealous. Older and wiser now, he accepted it as part of her . After all, she only ever looked.

He took Mrs. Silver’s hand. “How lovely to see you this morning. I’m only sorry you could not find a place to sit.”

“Oh, we were happy to stand, and we learned much from your service. I wonder if we might speak in private?”

His heart jolted. He reminded himself that they were curious people, were employed to be so, and that he should not be surprised. It did not mean his sermon hadn’t worked. It just meant they would finish investigating every avenue before they left. Hopefully tomorrow or the day after.

“Of course,” he replied, smiling. “Abigail will take you to the vicarage while I finish here and join you in a few minutes. If that suits?”

“Indeed it does.”

In fact, there was little for him to do in the church, and the cold had scattered his flock back to the warmth of their own homes. Or the Blue Goose taproom. But he needed the moments alone to rearrange his thoughts.

Or, at least, he imagined he did. In fact, by the time he closed the church door and strode up to the vicarage, he realized he had already thought everything out to perfection. All that was required was for him to repeat his previous assertions, with added reassurance.

Abigail had done exactly the right thing, showing their guests into the study, where she stayed drinking hot chocolate with them until he arrived. She then poured him some chocolate of his own and whisked herself out of the room.

It was a cozy, friendly scene of the kind Luke liked best.

Cradling his cup in both hands, he smiled faintly. “I take it you wish to discuss your inquiries?”

“We do,” Mrs. Silver confirmed.

Luke did not quite like the way she thrust herself forward into the lead, as it were, while her betrothed was present to speak for them. But if he noticed, Grey seemed content to let her.

Mrs. Silver set down her cup and saucer. “I almost accused an innocent woman of sending those letters, a woman who had already been accused of much that was not, in my opinion, her fault. Can you imagine how bad we would have made her feel by my mistake?”

“I suppose it is a risk of your—er…profession,” Luke replied, hiding his triumph. He was right. He had retaken control of the situation.

“It is. And we hate making such mistakes, but in this case, we did not have all the facts, did we?”

“I suppose you can’t have,” Luke said calmly.

“Sir, did you receive one of those letters?”

That was not what he had expected. He played for time by sipping his hot chocolate—which was, in fact, lukewarm.

“I have already told you I did not.” He transferred his gaze to Grey, who surely had the superior understanding.

“Look, I believe the matter has been dealt with. You heard my sermon. There will be no more letters. Together with the alarm engendered by your inquiries, we have put the fear of God into the sender, who will repent and sin no more.”

“I think you are right about all of that,” Mrs. Silver said. “Except the sermon bit. That was as much to mislead us as to persuade the sinner to repent, was it not? Please, vicar, show us your letter.”

His stomach tightened. Holding Grey’s steady gaze became increasingly difficult.

“We know who sent them,” Mrs. Silver said. “We just need to be sure.”

And so he had snatched defeat from the jaws of victory… Or was the woman lying? Grey clearly believed her. Luke would have to throw himself on their mercy and hope they had some.

He placed his cup deliberately in the saucer on his desk. “I destroyed my letter. To be honest, I was somewhat ashamed to receive it.”

“Why?” Grey asked, speaking for the first time since Luke had come in. “Were you ashamed because its accusation was true?”

Luke swallowed and nodded. “They were all true in their way.”

“Did it accuse you of frightening the children with your fiery sermons?” Mrs. Silver asked.

Luke nodded slowly. “I get carried away. I believe my enthusiasm comes from God, but that is no excuse for delivering his words the way I did. The sad thing is, I did not even notice the effect on the children, until it was pointed out to me. I did take more care, but the damage will take some time to work out. Especially as I had to be a little more dramatic today. Poor Archie Smith had to be taken out again, even though I said nothing about the tortures of hell.”

“Children have imagination,” Mrs. Silver said, though it didn’t seem to be an accusation. “But it was that frightened child leaving that suddenly let me see the truth. All those letters were to do with the children.”

Uh-oh…

Grey began to speak, looking not at Luke now but at Mrs. Silver.

“Mrs. Chadwick kept back a message carried by Richard Gimlet about his sister’s sickness.

The boy was so angry, no doubt, because he felt he was the cause of her death.

He hadn’t been clear enough or forceful enough with his message.

When, in fact, Mrs. Chadwick had merely been looking after her exhausted husband, and the poor child would have died anyway.

“Nolan endangered and frightened children by the way he chased them from his shop. We noticed one child scurrying to the other side of an older sibling as they approached the smithy. Nell Dickie had her youngest with her when Mrs. Keaton threatened to have her thrown in prison. Miss Mortimer… If she puts the rent up, all the tenants will suffer. Some might have to leave and put laborers out of work too. The children of all those families would be included in that suffering.”

Mrs. Silver looked oddly relieved. “Exactly. And who knows the children best? Who hears their problems through chatter and stories in the classroom? Who defends them?”

Luke sighed. He had tried and failed. She had struck the truth and all three of them knew it. “I wish it had been me.”

“But,” Grey said, “it is Mr. Ogden.”

*

Sometimes, Mavis could not bear the emptiness of her little cottage. She decided to avoid it for a little after church, by taking a walk away from the village, with the vicar’s sermon still ringing in her ears.

As she walked past families going home to enjoy their Sunday meals together, she tried not to feel oppressed with loneliness.

Her own family had disowned her when she was pregnant with Alice.

Unable to endure the shame, they had moved across the county and vanished from her life.

Then there had been Alice, of course, her one earthly joy and comfort.

Although she tried not to, she missed Alice, and she missed her old dream of family and husband and a place in the village…

among people she had imagined were her friends.

It was, of course, the price of sin, and she did find comfort in God and prayer.

And Mr. Raeburn was kinder than the previous vicar had been.