What Remains of Heaven by C. S. Harris

“Really?” What had Miss Jarvis said? The Bishop asked for my assistance in preparing the speech he was to give before the House of Lords this Thursday.
    The Reverend nodded again, his head moving up and down in a way that reminded Sebastian of a pigeon pecking at seed.
    Sebastian took another sip of his wine. “It seems a strange thing to have done—rushing off to the Bishop simply because some workmen had stumbled upon an old crypt. I mean, why the Bishop?”
    “Because of the body, of course.”
    “You were concerned about . . . what? A scandal? Over a decades-old murder victim?”
    Mr. Earnshaw’s eyes bulged alarmingly. “Good heavens. Can it be that you do not know?”
    “Don’t know what?”
    “About the ring!”
    “What ring?”
    “Sir Nigel’s ring! I recognized it.”
    Sebastian set aside his drink with a click . “You’re saying you recognized a ring on the body in the crypt?”
    “Yes, yes. An ancient Roman profile, carved in black onyx and mounted in a setting of filigreed silver. Sir Nigel wore it always on his right little finger.”
    “Who is Sir Nigel?”
    The Reverend stared at him. “Why, Sir Nigel Prescott. Bishop Prescott’s eldest brother!”

Chapter 15
     
    “The imbecile never mentioned the ring to anyone,” said Sir Henry Lovejoy.
    They were in Hyde Park, walking along the banks of the Serpentine. The magistrate had brought a loaf of stale bread and was crumbling it up to feed the ducks. Sebastian said, “But you have heard of Sir Nigel?”
    “Oh, yes. We’ve had constables fanning out across the entire area, asking about men who disappeared thirty to forty years ago. His name came up right away.”
    Sebastian watched as a plump drake, its feathers iridescent in the sunlight, waddled out of the reeds toward them. “Sir Nigel was the Bishop’s eldest brother?”
    Lovejoy nodded. “By some thirteen years. He went missing in July of 1782. His horse was found wandering on Hounslow Heath, so it was generally believed he must have fallen victim to highwaymen. But his body was never found.”
    “How long was this before the crypt of St. Margaret’s was bricked up?”
    “Unfortunately, there was a fire in the sacristy some years ago that destroyed many of the church’s records. We’re still trying to ascertain the exact date of the closure.” Lovejoy threw a chunk of bread to the drake, who caught the morsel out of the air. “Sir Nigel’s widow, Lady Prescott, still lives at Prescott Grange. A son inherited the estate.”
    “Sir Peter Prescott,” said Sebastian.
    Lovejoy kept his gaze on the task at hand. “You know him?”
    “We were at Eton together.”
    The magistrate tossed the drake another handful of crumbs. “I understand he was a posthumous child, born some months after his father’s disappearance.”
    Sebastian nodded. “He suffered a fair amount of grief over it at school—you know what boys can be like. But he always took it well.” Sebastian watched the drake waddle away, tail feathers flashing in the sun. “I’m told there were originally five Prescott brothers. The middle three were all killed in the wars of the last century.”
    “Good heavens. I hadn’t heard that. A most unfortunate family, indeed.” Lovejoy emptied the rest of his bread on the grass. “If Bishop Prescott learned that his brother’s body had been discovered, it would certainly explain why those who saw him after Earnshaw’s visit described him as agitated.”
    “True. Except that William Franklin also described the Bishop as troubled. And he saw Prescott on Monday.”
    “It’s my intention to take the victim’s clothing, watch, and fob out to Lady Prescott this afternoon. Hopefully she’ll be able to make some sort of identification without actually viewing the remains.”
    “What I want to know is, what happened to the ring?”
    Lovejoy glanced over at him. “It wasn’t on the body?”
    Sebastian shook his head. “Earnshaw says he brought the ring up to London,