Agatha Christie - The Murder at the Vicarage

I t is difficult to know quite where to begin this story, but I have fixed my choice on a certain Wednesday at luncheon at the Vicarage. The conversation, though in the main irrelevant to the matter in hand, yet contained one or two suggestive incidents which influenced later developments.

I had just finished carving some boiled beef (remarkably tough by the way) and on resuming my seat I remarked, in a spirit most unbecoming to my cloth, that anyone who murdered Colonel Protheroe would be doing the world at large a service.

My young nephew, Dennis, said instantly:

Thatll be remembered against you when the old boy is found bathed in blood. Mary will give evidence, wont you, Mary? And describe how you brandished the carving knife in a vindictive manner.

Mary, who is in service at the Vicarage as a stepping-stone to better things and higher wages, merely said in a loud, businesslike voice, Greens, and thrust a cracked dish at him in a truculent manner.

My wife said in a sympathetic voice: Has he been very trying?

I did not reply at once, for Mary, setting the greens on the table with a bang, proceeded to thrust a dish of singularly moist and unpleasant dumplings under my nose. I said, No, thank you, and she deposited the dish with a clatter on the table and left the room.

It is a pity that I am such a shocking housekeeper, said my wife, with a tinge of genuine regret in her voice.

I was inclined to agree with her. My wifes name is Griseldaa highly suitable name for a parsons wife. But there the suitability ends. She is not in the least meek.

I have always been of the opinion that a clergyman should be unmarried. Why I should have urged Griselda to marry me at the end of twenty-four hours acquaintance is a mystery to me. Marriage, I have always held, is a serious affair, to be entered into only after long deliberation and forethought, and suitability of tastes and inclinations is the most important consideration.

Griselda is nearly twenty years younger than myself. She is most distractingly pretty and quite incapable of taking anything seriously. She is incompetent in every way, and extremely trying to live with. She treats the parish as a kind of huge joke arranged for her amusement. I have endeavoured to form her mind and failed. I am more than ever convinced that celibacy is desirable for the clergy. I have frequently hinted as much to Griselda, but she has only laughed.

My dear, I said, if you would only exercise a little care

I do sometimes, said Griselda. But, on the whole, I think things go worse when Im trying. Im evidently not a housekeeper by nature. I find it better to leave things to Mary and just make up my mind to be uncomfortable and have nasty things to eat.

And what about your husband, my dear? I said reproachfully, and proceeding to follow the example of the devil in quoting Scripture for his own ends I added: She looketh to the ways of her household.

Think how lucky you are not to be torn to pieces by lions, said Griselda, quickly interrupting. Or burnt at the stake. Bad food and lots of dust and dead wasps is really nothing to make a fuss about. Tell me more about Colonel Protheroe. At any rate the early Christians were lucky enough not to have churchwardens.

Pompous old brute, said Dennis. No wonder his first wife ran away from him.

I dont see what else she could do, said my wife.

Griselda, I said sharply. I will not have you speaking in that way.

Darling, said my wife affectionately. Tell me about him. What was the trouble? Was it Mr. Hawess becking and nodding and crossing himself every other minute?

Hawes is our new curate. He has been with us just over three weeks. He has High Church views and fasts on Fridays. Colonel Protheroe is a great opposer of ritual in any form.

Not this time. He did touch on it in passing. No, the whole trouble arose out of Mrs. Price Ridleys wretched pound note.

Mrs. Price Ridley is a devout member of my congregation. Attending early service on the anniversary of her sons death, she put a pound note in the offertory bag. Later, reading the amount of the collection posted up, she was pained to observe that one ten-shilling note was the highest item mentioned.

She complained to me about it, and I pointed out, very reasonably, that she must have made a mistake.

Were none of us so young as we were, I said, trying to turn it off tactfully. And we must pay the penalty of advancing years.

Strangely enough, my words only seemed to incense her further. She said that things had a very odd look and that she was surprised I didnt think so also. And she flounced away and, I gather, took her troubles to Colonel Protheroe. Protheroe is the kind of man who enjoys making a fuss on every conceivable occasion. He made a fuss. It is a pity he made it on a Wednesday. I teach in the Church Day School on Wednesday mornings, a proceeding that causes me acute nervousness and leaves me unsettled for the rest of the day.

Well, I suppose he must have some fun, said my wife, with the air of trying to sum up the position impartially. Nobody flutters round him and calls him the dear Vicar, and embroiders awful slippers for him, and gives him bedsocks for Christmas. Both his wife and his daughter are fed up to the teeth with him. I suppose it makes him happy to feel important somewhere.

He neednt be offensive about it, I said with some heat. I dont think he quite realized the implications of what he was saying. He wants to go over all the Church accountsin case of defalcationsthat was the word he used. Defalcations! Does he suspect me of embezzling the Church funds?

Nobody would suspect you of anything, darling, said Griselda. Youre so transparently above suspicion that really it would be a marvellous opportunity. I wish youd embezzle the S.P.G. funds. I hate missionariesI always have.

I would have reproved her for that sentiment, but Mary entered at that moment with a partially cooked rice pudding. I made a mild protest, but Griselda said that the Japanese always ate half-cooked rice and had marvellous brains in consequence.

I dare say, she said, that if you had a rice pudding like this every day till Sunday, youd preach the most marvellous sermon.

Heaven forbid, I said with a shudder.

Protheroes coming over tomorrow evening and were going over the accounts together, I went on. I must finish preparing my talk for the C.E.M.S. today. Looking up a reference, I became so engrossed in Canon Shirleys Reality that I havent got on as well as I should. What are you doing this afternoon, Griselda?

My duty, said Griselda. My duty as the Vicaress. Tea and scandal at four thirty.

Who is coming?

Griselda ticked them off on her fingers with a glow of virtue on her face.

Mrs. Price Ridley, Miss Wetherby, Miss Hartnell, and that terrible Miss Marple.

I rather like Miss Marple, I said. She has, at least, a sense of humour.

Shes the worst cat in the village, said Griselda. And she always knows every single thing that happensand draws the worst inferences from it.

Griselda, as I have said, is much younger than I am. At my time of life, one knows that the worst is usually true.

Well, dont expect me in for tea, Griselda, said Dennis.

Beast! said Griselda.

Yes, but look here, the Protheroes really did ask me for tennis today.

Beast! said Griselda again.

Dennis beat a prudent retreat and Griselda and I went together into my study.

I wonder what we shall have for tea, said Griselda, seating herself on my writing table. Dr. Stone and Miss Cram, I suppose, and perhaps Mrs. Lestrange. By the way, I called on her yesterday, but she was out. Yes, Im sure we shall have Mrs. Lestrange for tea. Its so mysterious, isnt it, her arriving like this and taking a house down here, and hardly ever going outside it? Makes one think of detective stories. You know Who was she, the mysterious woman with the pale, beautiful face? What was her past history? Nobody knew. There was something faintly sinister about her. I believe Dr. Haydock knows something about her.