more space in the crypt,’ Laura said, discouraged.
‘There is no crypt at Hempbourne Marish because – ’ Will stopped abruptly as Pitkin flung open the door.
‘Someone is coming. A rider I do not recognise.’
‘The doctor, I expect,’ Theo said. ‘Laura, you had best remove yourself.’
She got up and peeped cautiously around the curtain. ‘No, that isn’t Doctor Sinclair. Oh! Oh, thank goodness!’
She reached the front steps as the rider swung out of the saddle at the front steps and a light travelling chariot turned into the driveway between the distant gateposts.
‘Perry! Where have you been, you infuriating man?’ she cried and threw herself into his embrace.
‘Laura? Watch out, wench, you’ll have my hat off.’ He gave her a resounding kiss on the cheek as he hugged her tight. ‘What are you doing here? Don’t tell me your aunt and uncle have finally relented and decided I’m safe to associate with?’
‘No, I’ve run away. It was ghastly, they want to force me to marry Charles. I’m your new housekeeper, Mrs Albright, but no-one outside the household knows who I really am. And someone tried to murder Mr Thwaite the curate and Theo – ’
‘Theo?’ Perry released her, jammed his hat back level on his head, tossed his reins to the groom who jumped down from the back of the travelling coach and slung one arm around her shoulders. ‘Here?’
‘Yes. There he is – Oh.’ Theo, who had come out onto the steps behind her, had vanished again. ‘That’s odd. Anyway, he wanted to get away from London but had a dreadful hangover and got the dates of your house party wrong, even though his valet tried to tell him. He arrived thinking he was a few days early and found me here. Then he was invited to the Manor for dinner and saw some of my embroidery and they said I was in Bath but then when he got back here I was sewing and he guessed who I was – ’
‘Slow down!’ Perry released her as they came to the front door. ‘Murdered curates, wicked uncles, hungover friends and false housekeepers – my head is spinning.’
‘He isn’t murdered, only almost.’ Theo emerged from the shadows of the hall. ‘Good to see you, Perry.’ He held out a hand and Perry pulled him into the shoulder-bumping almost-embrace that always seemed to Laura to be the nearest thing to an outpouring of affection amongst male friends. ‘Damn it, but you’re an elusive fellow – even your staff didn’t know where you’d gone.’
‘Ireland,’ Perry said, releasing him with a slap on the back as the footmen hurried past to unload the carriage.
‘Ireland?’ Theo and Laura chorused.
‘I bought a horse. Best hunter I’ve ever owned. Friend of mine – you recall Tristan Marsh, Theo? – put me onto this stud near Dublin. Took the boat over, spent a few days – damn it, but they grow good horses. Ah, there you are, Mrs Bishop. Yes, I’m home and I could eat an ox right this minute, send something up, would you?’ He turned back to Theo, took him by the arm and steered him into the study, ignoring the cook rolling her eyes at Laura.
‘Anyway, bought one, been regretting not making it six ever since I got on the boat to come back. We’ll have to go over together, Theo. Buy a string, bring ’em back. We’d turn a tidy profit.’
‘That’s a thought.’ Theo was nodding agreement. ‘My best hunter, Juno, is getting a bit long in the tooth and my second string isn’t as sound as I’d like. We could – ’
‘You could stop talking horseflesh, the pair of you, and start worrying about murderous attacks, vanishing rectors and mysterious tombs,’ Laura snapped, marching into the study behind them.
‘Don’t nag, Laura my darling. I haven’t seen this rogue since he inherited his title and now that he’s swimming in money he can afford to buy – What did you say about rectors? Don’t tell me that stuffed shirt Finch has vanished on top of all the rest of it? I’m sorry to hear about Thwaite, good chap that.’
‘The rector before last,’ Laura said crisply. ‘Sir Walter’s uncle. He vanished years ago, you must have heard about it. And Will Thwaite was attacked, but not killed, thank goodness, and he’s in the downstairs bedchamber where we can keep an eye on him because we don’t know who wants to murder him. Someone broke in last night and tried again and it might be anyone at the dinner party behind it all.’
‘What dinner party?’
A footman came in with a tray of food and, with Perry’s mouth occupied, Laura managed to get him to attend to a coherent explanation of her escape from her uncle’s schemes and of Theo’s adventures.
‘Nothing for it, we will have to open the tomb,’ Perry announced, waving a cutlet bone by way of emphasis. ‘If there’s something in it that’s worth murdering for, we need to know.’
‘Don’t we need all kinds of permissions from the bishop to go digging up graves?’ Laura objected.
‘We’re not digging anything. We’ll just take it to pieces – all above ground, as it were. Anyway, those livings are in my gift and I’m a magistrate.’
‘I’m not sure either entitle you to go grave robbing,’ Theo said, snagging the last cutlet from the dish. ‘Why did you appoint Finch in any case if you don’t like him? I didn’t take to him at all.’
‘Sheer idleness,’ Perry confessed, moving the claret bottle out of Theo’s reach. ‘Gilpin died, Swinburn puffed off his brother-in-law as the ideal man, I said yes to get some peace. We need a plan of campaign.’
‘We should involve Will Thwaite,’ Theo said, getting to his feet. ‘Good man that – I intend offering him a living once this is all over. Finch is exploiting him.’
They trooped into the sickroom, Perry clutching the wine bottle and pouring a glass for Mr Thwaite despite Laura’s warnings about provoking fevers.