A Death, A Duke, And Miss Mifford - Claudia Stone Page 0,26

made its way into one of my pens. I don't believe in coincidences, Your Grace, and I know a bad 'un when I see him. That Mr Parsims was as bad as could be."

"Did you kill him?" Henry asked baldly.

"No," Mr Browne shook his head, "I heard he was struck on the back of the head; if I'd have killed him, I'd have wanted him to know it was me. I would have wanted to watch him suffer, as I have suffered, and know that it was I who caused his pain."

Gracious, was everyone in Plumpton secretly homicidal, or was it only when it came to Mr Parsims? Henry did not have a chance to ponder this thought, for Mr Browne spoke again.

"Besides," he added sheepishly, "I was nowhere near the village last night, and there are plenty of folk who can confirm it. Mr Hayes, two-mile over, had a dinner to celebrate the birth of his first grandchild, and there were several of us there until the small hours. I could not see straight to walk home, let alone murder a man."

It was Henry's turn now to hide a smile; he had thought Mr Browne's pale, sweaty mien a sign of guilt, but it could equally have been attributed to the after-effects of alcohol. Home brewed mead packed quite the punch.

"Very well," Henry nodded, "I shall ask about and confirm your story; you are off the hook for now."

"He really was a bad 'un," Mr Browne continued, his eyes thoughtful, "If I didn't know any better, I'd swear he was only pretending to be a rector. Not one bone in that man's body was Christian, I can guarantee you that. Not, of course, that I am questioning your appointment of him, Your Grace."

These last words were added hastily, as Mr Browne realised that he might have spoken out of turn. Henry brushed away his concern with a careless wave of his hand.

"No need to mollycoddle me," Henry smiled ruefully, "I am man enough to admit when I have made a mistake, and I'm afraid--from the other complaints that I have heard about him--that I made a rather large one in appointing Mr Parsims to St Mary's."

Conversation then turned to matters agricultural. Mr Browne was eager to show Henry how well he kept his land, and Henry indulged him for a half-hour, before taking his leave.

"I shall discuss with Mr Silks how we might find a solution for your rent arrears," Henry said before he departed. From what he had seen, Mr Browne had not lied when he had said how much care he took of his flock, and Henry was beginning to feel that he had some culpability in the man's misfortune, for it was he who had appointed Parsims to Plumpton.

Henry remounted his horse, his stomach rumbling with hunger, and set off for the village. As he rode, he cast his mind back over what he knew of Mr Parsims, which was not very much.

His initial meeting with the rector had been rather serendipitous. Henry's father had been dead two years when news that the old rector of St Mary's, Mr Goodwill, had succumbed to old age. Henry had spent two years avoiding visiting his ducal seat, due to guilt at having neglected his father before his unexpected death in favour of gadding about town, and he had not relished the thought of returning to the Cotswolds to find a replacement for Goodwill.

The evening that he had learned of Goodwill's death, he had visited White's, before ending up--as many men of means did--in a gaming hell in Pickering Place. There, at a hazard table, Henry had bumped into Parsims, who had sought to introduce himself. Or re-introduce himself, for Parsims had claimed a prior acquaintance.

"William Parsims," he had said, his fleshy face smiling, "From Oxford. I wrote several essays for you during our time there."

Tuft-hunters--Oxford theology students of little means in search of a living--spent almost as much time trying to curry favour with the landed gentry as they did on their studies, in the hope that one of these lords might appoint them a living. Henry had been plagued by tuft-hunters for the entirety of his studies, so when he could not place Parsims, he had not thought it odd.

Having drunk more than he usually would of a night, in order to assuage the gnawing guilt he had felt at the reminder of his duties to Plumpton and the estate, Henry had decided that Mr Parsims' re-entrance