A Death, A Duke, And Miss Mifford - Claudia Stone Page 0,36

offensive.

"Would you care to elaborate?" Northcott questioned, resting himself in the Queen Anne chair which faced the Hargreaves.

Mary, though the situation was serious, took a moment to appreciate how Northcott's muscular frame completely dwarfed the chair. It was strange to see such a masculine specimen in a parlour room that was usually filled with female forms.

"I am afraid that I would rather not say in front of young ladies," Mr Hargreaves replied, with a nod to the four sisters squashed together on the couch.

Mary resisted the urge to protest childishly in front of the duke; however, her other three sisters did not have the same reserve.

"It's not fair," Eudora pouted, as Emily chimed in with agreement.

"Perhaps," Northcott held up a hand to silence the room, "Miss Mifford might stay. She is, after all, the eldest, and has a stake in the conversation."

His suggestions silenced Emily and Eudora, who left the room without further fuss, safe in the knowledge that Mary would inform them of what had transpired in their absence. Only Jane lingered, wearing a wistful look upon her face, which Mary sought to remedy with a knowing wink.

Alas, her risqu茅 gesture reached not only Jane but Northcott too, whose ears turned red as his eye caught Mary's. Mary blushed, the duke flushed, and neither was able to pay much attention to Mr Hargreaves as he began his tale.

"Parsims left Abingdon three years ago," Mr Hargreaves said, as Mary struggled to focus her attention on him, "He had been in the parish for five years before that and was not much liked."

"I'd well believe," Mrs Mifford murmured before her husband shushed her.

"People grumbled that he was a penny-pincher," Mr Hargreaves continued, "And very demanding of his dues, but then no one relishes paying their tithes."

Mr Hargreaves offered Mr Mifford an apologetic glance at this last bit, but Mr Mifford smiled to show he had taken no offence.

"I find if you share a bottle of brandy when they are delivered that it dulls the blow somewhat," he grinned. Mary hid a smile behind her hand; her father might not be the most pious of men, but he did know how to endear himself to his flock.

"My preferred form of spiritual worship," Hargreaves gave a bellow of laughter, only ceasing when his wife elbowed him sharply in the ribs. "Ah, where was I? Yes, people grumbled about Parsims, but when you reach my age, you realise that people will grumble about anything--especially if it involves money. He was sharp-tongued as well, could cut a man in two with words if he felt like it."

Mary nodded silently in agreement with this statement, having been on the receiving end of Parsims' wrathful words herself.

"But being cantankerous is not a reason to dismiss a man from his living," Hargreaves sighed, "More's the pity. The town suffered on through his sermons for years, until one winter matters came to a head."

Mr Hargreaves paused for dramatic effect, and Mary leaned forward, willing him to continue.

"A young woman was found standing on the ledge of Burford Bridge, greatly upset and about to jump in," Mr Hargreaves continued, as beside him, his wife blessed herself, "The lady who found her managed to talk her down and when she inquired into the reason for her upset, it was revealed that Mr Parsims was the cause."

Mary grimaced, her mind instantly jumping to the conclusion that there had been some kind of love affair between the pair, but Mr Hargreaves soon put paid to that notion.

"This young woman had confided in Mr Parsims about a problem she was having..." Mr Hargreaves said delicately, casting a furtive look at Mary, "...with her employer."

"Ah," Mrs Mifford nodded knowingly, though Mary felt rather in the dark.

"Having confided in him, the young woman had hoped that Mr Parsims would assist her in extracting herself from her predicament, but it wasn't assistance he offered," Mr Hargreaves scowled, "The mangy cur--"

"--Harold," his wife admonished the epithet.

"Well, he was," Mr Hargreaves muttered with a petulant lip, "As I was saying, the no-good so-and-so did not offer the lass help; instead, he used her secret for his own gain. He began extorting money from her--just a few groats, but a lot to a young woman in service--threatening to reveal all if she refused to pay."

"Bribery," Northcott breathed, his eye-catching Mary's.

Was that what the list of names was--a list of people whom Mr Parsims was bribing? Mary was shocked, though her mind quickly began to wonder what on earth it was