Margaret C Sullivan - There Must Be Murder

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by Margaret C. Sullivan

Illustrations by Cassandra Chouinard

Copyright 2010 Margaret C. Sullivan andCassandra Chouinard

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No part of thispublication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, ortransmitted in any form or by any meanselectronic, mechanical,photocopy, recording, or any other, except for brief quotations inprinted reviewswithout prior permission of the publisher.

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This book is a workof fiction. Names, characters, business organizations, places,events and incidents either are the product of the authorsimagination or are used fictiously. The authors use of names ofactual persons (living or dead), places, and characters isincidental to the purposes of the plot, and is not intended tochange the fictional character of the work or to disparage anycompany or its products or services. The book has not beenprepared, approved, or licensed by any persons or characters namedin the text, their successors, or related corporate entitities.

Cover illustrationby Cassandra Chouinard

Dedicated to the members of Team
(Henry and Catherine) Tilney everywhere.

"Government," said Henry, endeavouring not tosmile, "neither desires nor dares to interfere in such matters.There must be murder; and government cares not how much."

Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen,Volume I, Chapter XIV

The Reverend Henry Tilney, the rector ofWoodston parish in Gloucestershire, looked up from his book andaddressed his wife. Catherine, do you know what day this is?

Catherine Tilney smiled at her husband. It isSaturday, beloved.

Yes, it is, but this is no ordinary Saturday.This is Saturday, the ninth day of February.

Though they had been married but a short time,Catherine knew that Henry was not in the habit of stating theobvious without a particular reason; thus, she looked at himexpectantly, her needle suspended above the fabric.

My sweet, I am surprised at you. Do not youremember? We met exactly one year ago tonight, in the Lower Roomsat Bath.

Did we? Catherine was delighted with thisintelligence.

We did. I presumed that you were already awareof this anniversary, as you have recourse to your journal to remindyou of it. I dare say you were certain to record such an importantevent as meeting your future husband.

Henry, you know perfectly well that I keep nojournal. Besides, I did not know then that you were my futurehusband.

Some husbands would be injured at such anadmission, but not I; after all, I did not know that you were myfuture wife. I remember that I was wandering about the rooms like alost soul, having no acquaintance there. The master of ceremonies,Mr. King, took pity upon me and asked if I would like anintroduction to a clergymans daughter who was in need of apartner. In Christian charity, I could not decline; though from mypast experience of ladies described as clergymens daughters, Iexpected to be presented to an elderly spinster with a squint. Youmay imagine my relief when Miss Morland turned out to be rather apretty girl, and I considered myself fortunate that no othergentleman had already claimed the honor of dancing with her.

Catherines eyes were shining. You thought mepretty?

Indeed. Henry reached for her hand and kissedit. Emily and Valancourt await us, my sweet. Shall we retire?

I am ready. Catherine neatly folded hersewing.

I beg your pardon, MacGuffin, Henry addressedthe Newfoundland curled up at the foot of his chair. It is timefor bed, lad. I cannot rise while you are sleeping on my feet.

MacGuffin raised his shaggy head and gazed up athis master adoringly, his tail thumping the floor. A string ofsaliva glistened at the corner of the dogs mouth, trailing down tothe old blanket placed on the floor expressly to absorb the excess.Henry gently lifted his foot in an encouraging nudge, and the doguttered a weary moan and heaved his massive bulk to a standingposition.

Shall you let the dogs out? Catherine askedher husband. The house terriers, lying in a tangled heap by thefire, looked round at her utterance of that favored word,out.

Matthew will attend to that.

As they passed out of the drawing room, followedby the clicking of canine claws on the wooden floor, a figureloomed from the shadows of the passage. Catherine started and gavea strangled cry.

Beg pardon, Mrs. Tilney, said Matthew. Matthewwas the rectors groom, clerk, and factotum; an accomplishedhuntsman, he glided about the parsonage as silently as he movedthrough the woods, frequently (and quite inadvertently) startlinghis mistress. However, Catherine liked Matthew, and it was not inher nature to bear a grudge, so she smiled her forgiveness.

Matthew snapped his fingers at the dogs, andthey followed him down the passage toward the rear of the house asthe Tilneys climbed the stairs to their bedchamber.

***

Henry had a genius for piling the pillows sothat he could sit up in bed and read comfortably, even with one armround Catherines waist and her head resting upon his shoulder. Thefire burned brightly, and the Tilneys curled up warmly togetherunder the quilts as Henry read aloud from Mrs. Radcliffes novel,The Mysteries of Udolpho.

Valancourt, Henry read, betweenthese emotions of love and pity, lost the power, and almost thewish, of repressing his agitation; and, in the intervals ofconvulsive sobs, he, at one moment, kissed away her tears

Henry stopped reading and scattered severalquick kisses across Catherines face. She giggled and prodded himin the chest. There are no tears here, sir. Pray continue.

I would much rather kiss you.

Read!

I hear and obey, madam. Henry returned toUdolpho. Now, where was I? Oh, yeskissed away her tears,then told her cruelly, that possibly she might never again weepfor him, and then tried to speak more calmly, but only exclaimed,O Emilymy heart will break!I cannotcannot leave you! NowI gazeupon that countenance, now I hold you in my arms! A little while,and all this will appear a dream. I shall look, and cannot see you;shall try to recollect your featuresand the impression will befled from my imagination;to hear the tones of your voice, and evenmemory will be silent!I cannot, cannot leave you!

The first time Catherine read Udolpho,she had wept over this passage; but when Henry read Valancourtsdialogue, he used such a simpering, affected voice that she foundherself laughing at the poor Chevaliers distress.

Why should we confide the happiness of ourwhole lives to the will of people, who have no right to interrupt,and, except in giving you to me, have no power to promote it? OEmily! Venture to trust your own heart, venture to be mine forever! His voice trembled, and he was silent; Emily continued toweep, and was silent also, when Valancourt proceeded to propose animmediate marriage, and that, at an early hour on the followingmorning, she should quit Madame Montonis house, and be conductedby him to the church of the Augustines, where a friar should awaitto unite them.

Henry stopped reading and pondered for a moment.The banns were not published? No license obtained? A curiousbusiness; I dare say that the brave Valancourt might have found theAugustine friar less receptive to his scheme than heanticipated.