The Dalwich Desecration by Gregory Harris Page A

laughter abruptly caught in his throat with the obvious flaw in his statement. “Shite.” He spat the word out as though it tasted rotten.
    â€œAnd what does her brother think of the boy she’s been courting?”
    â€œCourtin’?” Mr. Chesterton snorted with amusement. “Mo wasn’t courtin’ nobody. You make her sound like one a them upper-crust snoots wot hangs off her gentleman’s arm swoonin’ every time he looks at her while she waits ta shove a litter out for him. That weren’t Mo. Ya bloody well met her. I’d a think you’d a seen that.” He eyed us critically. “She were the type who could have what she wanted and weren’t shy about takin’ it. Ain’t too many women know their own minds like that,” he pronounced.
    â€œI rather think the true art of a woman is in letting the man believe he’s in charge when all the while she is bending him to her will,” Colin replied.
    â€œThat was Mo,” Mr. Chesterton snorted. “She could make me starkers. You’d a thought I was workin’ for her half the bloody time.” He shook his head again, this time with a wistful hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
    â€œAnd you say she wasn’t seeing anyone in particular then?” Colin pushed back to the topic at hand.
    â€œShe’d been gettin’ close to a fine lad the last bunch a months, but they wasn’t doin’ any high-flyin’ courtin’.”
    â€œAre you talking about the Honeycutt boy?”
    â€œ ’At’s him. Edward Honeycutt.”
    â€œA fine lad you say?” Colin repeated, casually leaning back in the wagon and glancing about the bucolic scenery as though he were only enquiring in passing, which, most certainly, I knew he was not.
    Raleigh Chesterton nodded without a second’s thought. “He’s a smart, reliable sort, which is sayin’ a lot given he’s not yet quite twenty. He helps me out at the pub gettin’ me books ta tally. I ain’t never had much of a head for numbers,” he scoffed. “And I let him putter about the kitchen and tend to the bar once in a while. Those are the skills he’ll really be able ta use.”
    â€œI’d say he’s taking a uniquely divergent path from his father’s occupation,” Colin remarked.
    â€œ ’At’s the truth. Edward’s always readin’ and studyin’ so he don’t have ta muck about in cow and chicken shite like his father does. That’ll be left for his brother David ta do. That boy can’t tie his ruddy shoes without an extra hand.”
    â€œMiss O’Dowd told us she was going to move to London as soon as she got married. Did you know she and young Mr. Honeycutt were harboring those plans?”
    â€œThose two didn’t have a feckin’ farthin’ between ’em. They weren’t goin’ nowhere. And after all I did for ’em. Ungrateful little shites,” he snarled.
    Colin’s closest eyebrow arced up before a benign smile tickled the corners of his lips. “And what about Miss O’Dowd’s brother? What did he make of his sister’s relationship with Edward Honeycutt?”
    Mr. Chesterton gave a shrug that seemed to border on annoyance. “I already told ya he’s in the mines. Doyle ain’t got nothin’ ta do with anything.”
    â€œI understand that,” Colin shot right back as we turned onto a long, muddy drive that led to a large, well-used farmhouse. “But he must have had some opinion if he was as close to his sister as you’ve said.”
    Raleigh Chesterton tossed a foul look at Colin and I could tell he was displeased at being goaded by him. “Yer about ta meet Edward yerself, so why the hell don’t ya ask him?!”
    â€œIndeed,” Colin muttered under his breath and, to my relief, left the subject alone.
    I turned back to study the