“But,” Grey said, “it is Mr. Ogden.”
*
Sometimes, Mavis couldnot 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.
She took the quiet path toward the manor woods and walked more briskly in an effort to shake off her mood of self-pity. She appreciated the beauty of the countryside and the wonder of God’s creation. A clump of bright-yellow daffodils made her smile, as did the chirping of the birds and the feel of the wind against her cheek…
She had almost reached the wood before she became aware of the steps behind her. She thought at first it was children—theyfollowed her up the street, sometimes, making fun of her behind her back because to them she was just a funny old woman whom their parents and grandparents didn’t speak to. Even Alice didn’t know how much the scorn of the children hurt her.
She turned to face them. That usually sent them scampering off, because they were not bad children, but her jaw dropped in shock. No children. Just the very large figure of Matt Nolan.
They had not spoken in nearly thirty years. It had been strangely easy in the community this size to ignore each other, even at church. She was not used to looking at him, to taking in his ageing face, his beard, his scowl. Poor Matt, he was still not at peace.
She dropped her eyes and stood aside, waiting for him to pass her.
Instead, he halted. “Mavis.”
Her gaze flew back to his. “Matt,” she whispered.
He swallowed, and it came to her with astonishment that he was nervous. More than that, had he followed her out of the village just to speak to her?
“Have I done something wrong?” she asked.
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “No. I doubt you ever did. A proud and hurt young man is too free with his judgments.”
She felt her eyes widen. He had been listening to the vicar. Words choked in her throat.I was too timid when I should have been strong. I should have died rather than hurt you, hurt us…“It was all a long time ago,” she managed.
“Too long.” He swallowed again. “May I walk with you, Mavis?”
Mavis blinked. There was no one around. No one was making fun of her. Matt was not.
She couldn’t speak, but she nodded once, and they moved on together.
*
Solomon had knownthe moment Constance solved the case. In church, her hand had gripped his to the point of pain, and she had gazed unseeingly ahead while she tested it in her mind. He had watched the excitement and the sadness grow and knew she had found the all-important truth.
Not Mavis or Alice.
Well, their motive had never seemed quiteenough, although their guilt was certainly possible. It just wasn’t true.
Maddeningly, there had been no opportunity to learn Constance’s thoughts because they were surrounded by people. Even at the vicarage, Mrs. Raeburn hadn’t left them alone for a moment, and Constance herself had turned uncharacteristically quiet. So Solomon felt his way to the truth through her questions and the vicar’s answers.
Ogden.
Solomon’s stomach twisted in protest, for he rather liked the eccentric teacher and had instinctively trusted him. He thought himself a good judge of character, and yet he knew Constance was right. He too could see it all now.
“You guessed the sender,” Constance said to Raeburn. “But you like him, admire him, even. You helped to choose him and probably feel responsible for him in some way. Moreover, you know that on the whole he is good for the village, especially the children. So you kept your own letter away from us—perhaps it gave more away than the others—and you sent us deliberately on the wrong track with tales of a previous and no-doubt-mythical case involving a powerless spinster with grudges.”
“Actually, that was all true,” Raeburn said with dignity. “I knew none ofourspinsters were guilty, so you would never find anything that could lead to an accusation.”
Solomon said, “Did you forget that Alice came to fetch you from the manor house on the day Miss Mortimer received her letter?”
“Alice?” Raeburn blanched. “Dear God… In fact, I did not know about Miss Mortimer’s letter until you mentioned it today. She never confided in me. Well, there’s a lesson in humility. I am very glad you refrained from accusing poor Alice. Or her mother.”
