Seduction Never Lies(31)

'So you're the Vicar's daughter,' she commented briskly as Tavy sat down. 'I recognise the hair.'

Tavy, faintly bewildered, was just going to ask, 'Have we met?' when  the Archdeacon rapped on the table in front of him on the stage, called  for silence and announced that proceedings would commence with a prayer.

As his sonorous tones invited the Almighty's guidance, Tavy heard a  stir at the back of the hall and felt the excitement rippling through  the crowded hall. She did not have to look. Not when awareness was  shivering through her entire body. Besides, he'd said he would be there.

She stared straight ahead of her with eyes that saw nothing, listening  as the Archdeacon spoke with well-modulated regret about the closure of  Holy Trinity.                       
       
           



       

'A decision not taken lightly, but forced on us due to the dangerous  dilapidation of the building, and the extortionate cost of putting it  right.'

However, he added, arrangements would be made to hold regular acts of  worship here in the village hall, including a monthly communion      service.

Ted Jackson got to his feet. 'And who'll be doing that?' he asked. 'Will we be getting a new Vicar in place of Mr Denison?'

The Archdeacon paused. 'The needs of the parish will be met by members of our local team.'

The Vicar said gently, 'But presumably you would find a replacement for me if the church could be privately repaired.'

The Archdeacon's sigh sounded almost regretful. 'In times like these, there is little hope of that, I fear.'

'On the contrary,' said Mr Denison blandly. 'I have received an offer  to cover the entire cost of renovation, on condition that the parish  continues to function as in the past.' He took an envelope from an  inside pocket of his coat and placed it on the table. 'Perhaps you would  pass on the details to the Bishop.'

Shock wiped the fixed smile from the Archdeacon's face. 'An offer,' he  repeated ominously. 'What possible offer is this and why have you waited  until now to tell me?'

'By the time it was confirmed, you were already on your way.'

'And who has made this-offer?' The Archdeacon flicked the envelope almost disdainfully.

'I have.' And Jago walked to the front of the hall, ignoring the inevitable buzz that accompanied him.

From head to foot, he was in black again. He was even wearing the belt  with the silver buckle that Tavy remembered from their first meeting.

He said, 'My name is Jago Marsh, and I'm making my home here in this  village. Holy Trinity church is at the heart of this community, and I  want that to continue. If money is all that's needed, I can provide it.'

The Archdeacon's tone was icy. 'I have heard of you, Mr Marsh. Your  exploits in the world of rock music have made you notorious. I presume  this is some quixotic attempt to re-establish yourself in normal  society-even as Lord of the Manor perhaps.'

Jago shrugged. 'The original church was built by the family at Ladysmere. I am simply upholding their tradition.'

'I suppose you realise several hundred thousand pounds is required. Do you wish to bankrupt yourself?'

'I've no intention of doing so,' Jago returned. 'I've had an  independent survey carried out, which indicates that, for some reason,  the original estimates were far too high.'

As the murmur in the hall built, Mrs Wilding was on her feet. 'Even so,  the offer cannot be considered, Archdeacon. The parochial church  council will never agree.' She sent Jago a venomous look. 'This is  tainted money from a man not fit to live near decent people.'

There was a concerted gasp and a voice from the back called, 'Steady on. No need for that.'

But Mrs Wilding swept on. 'And the Vicar, as I have told you, has been  on familiar terms with him, and even allowed his own daughter to be  corrupted by this-sexual predator.'

Horrified, Tavy tried to get to her feet in instinctive protest, but her neighbour's hand on her arm restrained her.

'Sit still, child. Let them have their say,' came a fierce whisper.

Mr Denison sat grimly silent, but the Archdeacon was looking totally  aghast. 'Mrs Wilding-dear lady-I recognise that you have concerns, but  there are laws against slander...'

Norton Culham got up. 'Not when there's truth to be told. And it's an  open scandal what's been going on. The girl's a college dropout who  can't hold down a proper job. She chased after Mrs Wilding's boy, but he  wasn't interested, so she was probably flattered when a fellow with  plenty of money started showing her a good time.

'And then she's up at the Manor, supposedly working.' He laughed  unpleasantly. 'Working on her back, more likely. One room in the house  fit to be used, and that's a bedroom all tarted up. My Fiona suspected  what was going on and took a photograph of it. Then, she found a drawing  he'd done of the girl, parading round in the altogether,' he added with  relish. 'I have them here for anyone to see.'

'I would like to look at them.' It was Tavy's neighbour, holding out an  imperious hand. Norton Culham passed them forward, and she took a quick  glance and snorted.

'As I thought, my bedroom,' she said. 'And what right has your daughter  or anyone else to invade my privacy taking snapshots? It is blatant  intrusion. And the nude girl in the drawing looks to me like that vulgar  statue down by the lake.'                       
       
           



       

She turned and scrutinised Tavy, stricken and blushing to the roots of  her hair as she looked down at the sketch. 'But if it is this young  woman, then Jago had better abandon any idea of a career in art, because  I see no likeness at all. What do you say, Vicar?' She rose briskly and  handed the drawing up to him.

'I agree with you, madam,' Mr Denison said quietly, taking a folded  sheet of paper from his inside pocket, and opening it out. Tavy  recognised it instantly as the sketch from the church, and her heart  turned over. 'Now this is unmistakably Octavia, wouldn't you say,  Archdeacon?'

The Archdeacon, looking as if he wished to be a thousand miles away, murmured something acquiescent.

'Just a minute,' Norton Culham said aggressively. 'Who's this woman, anyway?'

She turned slowly, giving him a piercing look. 'My name is Margaret  Barber, and I was at one time Mr Marsh's nanny. I am now housekeeper at  Ladysmere.' She added, 'And if you had ever been in my nursery, my good  man, I would have taught you to be more civil,' then resumed her seat.

Barber? Tavy thought numbly. Could it be possible...?

She said in an undertone, 'Are you, by any chance-Barbie?'

'Yes-although it is a familiarity I do not generally permit on such  brief acquaintance.' She gave Tavy a nudge. 'Now I think we should be  quiet and listen.'

'Then if it's all so innocent, why was his Jeep outside the Vicarage  all night last Friday when the Vicar was away?' Mr Culham was demanding.  'And him there still, half-dressed, on Saturday morning. You saw him,  didn't you, Patrick?'

Patrick, his head buried in his hands, said nothing.

'I reckon that's enough.' It was Ted Jackson again. 'You've had a lot  to say, Mr Culham, and none of it pleasant to hear, especially about a  young lady we've all known and thought well of since she was in her  pram.

'You have a daughter yourself,' he went on. 'And there's plenty some of  us could say about her, if truth be known. But if anything were to  happen to Mrs Culham, would your Fiona come home and take care of you  like Miss Tavy did with her father?'

He shook his head. 'Let's hope you don't have to find out.'

'As for Mr Jago.' He looked round the hall, grinning broadly. 'It's as  plain as the nose on your face what's been going on there, and a sorry  thing if a young man can't court the pretty girl who's taken his fancy  without people thinking the worst.

'And if things went a bit far the other evening, I dare say the Vicar,  knowing human nature as he does, won't be too hard on the pair of them.'

'No,' Tavy moaned silently, burning all over, and wishing only for the  floor to open up and swallow her. 'Oh, please, don't let this be  happening.'

Her father said gently, 'There'll be no strain on my tolerance, Mr  Jackson. My daughter discovered on Friday that someone who shares Mr  Culham's poor opinion of her had painted obscenities on our front door  and broken a pane of glass. She was naturally distressed and Mr Marsh  remained downstairs in the house overnight in case the vandal paid a  return visit. That's all that happened.'

Norton Culham gave another jeering laugh. 'You expect me to believe that?'

'No, Mr Culham,' Lloyd Denison said with faint weariness. 'I have  learned over the years that you are unlikely to believe anything I have  to say either about this world or the next.' He shook his head. 'But I  see no reason why you should doubt Mr Marsh.'

'I can tell you that, Vicar,' said Ted Jackson. 'He's taken against him  because Mr Jago wouldn't sell him a field he wanted, having promised  Jimmy Langtree he could graze his sheep there again, like he did when  Sir George was alive. That's the top and bottom of it.'