The Dead Curate: Another shocking murder to solve for our literary detective... (Jane Austen Investigations Book 5) by Laura Martin

Author:Laura Martin [Martin, Laura]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sapere Books
Published: 2024-09-20T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Too late Jane spotted the smart carriage and four horses standing outside the rectory. Already they were too close to even consider turning and fleeing. Their father’s study was situated at the side of the house, with windows to both the front and the back. Anyone standing by the window would have already spotted them.

“That’s a nice carriage,” Mr Harrington said, looking over the horses admiringly.

“It belongs to Bishop Latimer,” Jane said. Her voice must have conveyed her dismay, for Mr Harrington slowed and looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

“He cannot be that bad. He is a man of the church, after all.”

“Our father is subject to his whims and wants. If we upset the bishop he may not be able to oust my father from his post, but he can make his life extremely unpleasant.”

“Best behaviour?” Mr Harrington murmured.

“Best behaviour.”

As they entered the house Jane contemplated making a dash for the stairs. There was no mirror in the hallway, but she knew how bedraggled she must look. Her dress was caked with mud from when she had knelt next to Mr Harrington, and her hair was flattened by the rain despite her bonnet. She would have liked to change into dry clothes, to brush her hair and then re-pin it, before anyone saw her, but before she could even look at the stairs the door to her father’s study opened.

The bishop was an imposing man. Well over six feet tall, he was thin enough to look gaunt, with a shock of white hair on top of his head. He had piercing blue eyes that seemed to bore right through you, and when she was younger Jane had thought he could see right into her mind.

“Good,” the bishop said, although he sounded anything but pleased. “You have returned.”

Jane dropped into a curtsey and felt Cassandra do the same a little behind her. She had met the bishop on a handful of occasions, often enough to know he liked proper etiquette to be followed at all times.

“This is Mr Harrington, son of Lord Hinchbrooke,” Mr Austen said from behind the bishop. His voice sounded weaker than normal and he stifled a cough as he finished speaking.

“A pleasure to meet you, Bishop Latimer,” Mr Harrington said, inclining his head.

“I have heard much about you, Mr Harrington. I know your father, of course.”

“Of course.”

Jane felt a sudden pang of jealousy. She wondered what it was like to glide through life with such confidence, such ease. It was instilled in men like Mr Harrington from a young age, then developed over a lifetime of knowing you were the richest or most powerful man in the room. Mr Harrington could be rude or dismissive to Bishop Latimer, safe in the knowledge that there would be no real consequences for him. His father might be a viscount rather than an earl or a duke, but a viscount outranked a bishop in the societal hierarchy.

“Have you been rolling around in the dirt, Miss Austen?” The bishop grimaced as if affronted by her appearance.

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