Page 35 of The Magpie Lord
“Your land, and your laws, is it?”
“I choose whether to prosecute a crime against myself,” said Crane. “You’ve heard my wishes, Mr. Day. If this lady will drop the matter, so will I, and so will you. Madam?”
She opened her mouth, closed it, and glanced over at Stephen, whose face was stony.
“You’re saying you’re not like Hector Vaudrey,” she said slowly. “But you’re asking me to take a Vaudrey’s word for it.”
“Not really. And I suspect you know that. Talk to Mrs. Mitching up at Piper. Talk to Graham, if you like. Thank you, Merrick,” he added, at the snort from the door. “I am far from spotless, but even Graham won’t be able to tell you that I behave like my brother.”
She walked over to Crane and looked up at him. “Give me your hand.”
Crane extended it, gazing at her levelly. She looked down at it, then took it, turning it over and back. He had almost expected a prickle of sensation, as with Stephen, but her fingers felt entirely normal.
“I’ll accept what you say,” she said at last. “For now. But you needn’t expect any mercy if it turns out I shouldn’t.”
“No,” said Stephen. “You will not act on this man in any way, under any circumstances, ever.”
“Mr. Day—”
“No,” said Stephen again, this time to Crane, with startling force. “I’ll respect your wishes, but there is a caveat and it is this: You have lost the benefit of the doubt, Miss Bell. If you believe action is needed against Lord Crane, you may call on me, but you will not take it yourself or cause it to be taken by others. If you move against this man by any means, direct or indirect, practice or material, you will be judged, and not kindly. Understood?”
She gave a stiff, resentful nod.
“I am going to draw a line under this business, at Lord Crane’s request. But you are charged to spread the word that my attention is on the matter. Ifanyoneharms Lord Crane, I will be back, and I will be unhappy, and I will spread that unhappiness far and wide and deep before I’ve done. Make that known round Lychdale. Are we clear, Miss Bell?”
Miss Bell’s face was tight and mask-like. “Yes,” she rapped.
“Good. Lord Crane, is there anything else?”
“Does Ruthie have a gravestone?” asked Crane.
The words fell into blank silence.
“Why?” asked Stephen cautiously.
“Suicide.”
“No,” said Miss Bell. “She don’t. An unmarked grave outside the church wall is what Vicar gave her.”
“Which church, the one here?”
“Saint Sulpice, in Fulford. He wouldn’t let her lie here.”
“Which vicar?”
“Mr. Haining.”
“Does it matter to Mrs. Trent?”
“Yes,” said Miss Bell. “It does.”
Crane nodded. “I’ll speak to him.”
She snorted. “We spoke to him. New churchwarden tried and tried. Went and begged Vicar, for Gammer’s sake. Back and forth, he went. Vicar wouldn’t hear it. Self-murdered is outside the Church, he said, and that’s all there is.”
“Well, we shall see,” Crane said. “Thank you. Good day, madam. Let’s go.”
Chapter Eleven
