Condemned, R.C. Bridgestock [most romantic novels TXT] 📗

‘That sounds mighty suspicious,’ stated Annie.

‘One might think so, yes. Apparently he was kicked in the head by a horse he was shoeing, on farmland owned by the church. However, his demise, for obvious reasons, didn’t sit comfortably with some of the village folk who said he was far too experienced for that to have happened. That said, so embarrassed by his wife’s behaviour, but unwilling to disown her, Agnes’s husband, Walter Pritchard became increasingly tormented by his religious beliefs and some said, by his possible role in Atherton’s untimely demise. It appears that the church and its ways became a sort of prison for Walter. He was found collapsed at the altar in St Anne’s Church, soon after Atherton’s accident, stone-cold dead. Heart failure some said, a broken heart said others.’

At the chiming of the clock, Josie stirred and looked at her watch. ‘Now, you must have better things to do than listen to the ramblings of an old woman.’

Charley shook her head. ‘No, not at all, I for one could listen to you all day. Tell me about the priest who helped Lucinda and Catherine, Father Michael O’Doherty.’

‘Michael was a wonderful man, but I suspect he spent most of his latter years praying for guidance, owing to the other colourful characters around him.’

Winnie looked puzzled. ‘Well, yes, I guess he must ’ave either been naive or stupid not to know what was happening around him.’

Josie’s mouth rose at one corner. ‘Quite the Miss Marple, Win! It is said that Connor O’Doherty, his nephew, was thick as thieves with Seth Alderman. The church, along with the Alderman’s wealth and support, dictated what the villagers could do. Rumour has it that after Father Michael O’Doherty’s death, it seemed a natural thing for next in line Connor O’Doherty to be ordained as the head of St Anne’s Church, which was then said to be more alive by night than day.’ Josie frowned. ‘Have you spoken to Lily Pritchard?’

Charley’s eyebrows rose. ‘Only briefly, but there was nothing mentioned about Father Connor…’

Josie leaned forward, as if to share a secret. ‘Ask her about the candle she held for him, back then.’

‘You were friends with Lily back then?’ asked Charley.

‘We were the best of friends, back then… But, that was a long, long time ago. Another lifetime it seems.’

‘You wouldn’t know where we could get hold of any photographs of the people we are talking about? It always helps to have visuals.’

Josie’s drawn, thoughtful face told Charley that she was beginning to tire. ‘I recall Lily showing me her treasure trove once. It was an old tin box, and, let me tell you, to a seven-year-old, it was veritable treasure. She said it belonged to Father Connor. She allowed me a peek inside. There were heaps of pictures, old black-and-white photographs – not very interesting to someone expecting precious metals, and jewels.’ Josie smiled, then her face suddenly clouded over. ‘Although on the dark side, I understand now that Connor had a taste for voyeurism, and he encouraged Agnes, Lily’s mother, to take lovers and then spied on her exploits. I heard Agnes slept with at least two dozen men, but it was all to please the priest, with his unusual tastes in – or rather, looking into – the bedroom. However, with an adult’s understanding, Lily may have destroyed the indecent images of course. Who would want to taint the memory of their mother and the local priest?’

The light was fading, but no one appeared to notice other than Winnie, who rose, without invitation to switch on the lamps, and returned in a zigzag path, back and forth to the window, where, with a familiarity, she pulled the curtains together and shut the night out.

‘I presume that both the priests are buried in the graveyard at St Anne’s Church?’ said Charley.

‘Yes,’ nodded Josie. ‘The O’Doherty’s graves are side by side; they have large headstones and Lily always kept them tidy. You shouldn’t have any trouble locating them.’

Charley took out the evidence bag that contained the small ring they had discovered with the skeletal remains, and showed it to Josie.

Josie strained her eyes, in the dimmed light. ‘Put on the big light will you, Win?’ she said.

Annie chuckled. ‘Big light! I love that Yorkshire expression.’

‘Well that’s what it is, the biggest light in the room, isn’t it?’ said Winnie. ‘Don’t make things more complicated than we need to, us Yorkshire folk.’

‘It’s a wedding ring.’

‘A wedding ring? Why would a pagan wear a wedding ring? I thought they were non-believers?’ said Annie.

‘The ancient pagan Romans were more likely responsible for beginning the common use of engagement and wedding rings,’ said Josie.

Annie’s eyes were wide. ‘Really?’

‘They wore the ring on the fourth finger of the left hand because they believed that a vein from this finger, the vena amoris, runs directly to the heart,’ said Josie.

With a serious face, Charley looked Josie in the eye. ‘Do you think that it is possible that Seth banished Catherine to Australia because he was jealous of hers and Lucinda’s relationship?’ Then in a low voice she continued. ‘Or do you think Catherine, or Lucinda, could be our corpse in the cellar?’ Charley frowned, ‘But if it is Lucinda, whatever happened to the child?’

The look on the old lady’s face told Charley that nothing should be ruled out. ‘Who knows… Seth was a very complex character. The depths of his emotions and feelings knew no bounds, or so we are led to believe. Who else would dig a tunnel with his bare hands? Then when he felt he was a danger to his wife, order the door to be bricked up so that he could do her no harm?’

‘It doesn’t sound like the actions of a man who is sound of mind, does it?’ said Annie. ‘It sounds more like the actions of a schizophrenic.’

‘How’d you know about the tunnel?’ said Charley