A Noble Pair of Brothers (The Underwood Mysteries Book 1) by Suzanne Downes

to Mr. Underwood that almost every other grave was tended but this one.
    Gil did not want to pause, but he could not ignore the gently spoken, “Surely this is very unusual, Gil?”
    As he turned he saw, with a sinking heart, exactly where his brother stood.  It was a grave he weeded occasionally himself, when he had the time, and one which engendered a certain sadness in himself, so Heaven knew what effect it would have upon his brother’s sensibilities.  However, without seeming unutterably callous, he could not drag his brother away, so he was forced to reluctantly retrace his steps and take his place at Underwood’s side.
    The stone bore the simplest yet the most complex epitaph ever carved in stone.  The word was “Unknown”.  No other information was included – none was available.
    It was several seconds before Mr. Underwood spoke again, “How is it possible that there should be someone ‘unknown’ in this tiny, out of the way place?  Surely everyone who lives or dies here must be known to all?” 
    “Well, even the smallest of places have the occasional vagrant passing through,”  pointed out the vicar reasonably, rather inclined to take offence yet again at his brother’s dismissive attitude. ‘Tiny, out of the way place’ indeed!  Did Underwood have to make it sound as though the parish of Bracken Tor was next door to nowhere, and that the vicar had been banished there to rot?  “But as it happens, there appears to be a rather tragic element to this story.  I’m afraid the poor girl was killed here.  Just over a year ago.  Before my time.”
    “Killed?  You mean in an accident of some sort?”  His brother’s sudden interest caused the vicar to err on the side of wariness, “No, not an accident.”  Though the vicar obviously did not wish to expound further, Underwood would not allow himself to be put off, “If not an accident, then what?  I can think of only one alternative.”
    “She was murdered.”  Curt and to the point, thought Underwood, but why the reluctance to speak of the tragedy?  There was evidently a great deal more to all this than the vicar was admitting.
    “In the wood on Sir Henry’s land?” guessed Underwood, with sudden insight, recalling the conversation he had had with Miss Wynter.
    Gil looked faintly surprised, “That is where she was found, yes.  But how did you know?”
    “Something that someone said,” answered Underwood tersely, “So, no one was able to identify her?”
    The vicar became more and more reluctant to speak on the subject; “It is over and done with.  Discussing the matter now will not bring the poor girl back.”
    “No, but it might bring the swine who killed her to justice – and prevent him ever laying another young girl beneath the soil before her time!”   There was a harshness in his voice and a subdued violence in his eyes which Gil had never witnessed before and it was perhaps this which caused the vicar to regard this remark as somewhat ominous.  His expression reflected that disquiet as he asked, rather diffidently, “You are not intending to involve yourself in this, are you?”
    “I have not been unsuccessful in the past, have I?”
    Gil, recalling only too clearly what the consequences of that past had been, was even less reassured, “Chuffy…” he began pleadingly.  The use of a childhood pet name may have been unconscious, but it was not lost on Mr. Underwood.  Since he refused to use his two given names, which only his family knew, Gil generally managed without calling him anything at all, or resorted to the use of his initials, C. H. To his students he was Mr. Underwood – or Snuff behind his back, due to his habit of imbibing the same – to his colleagues he was simply Underwood.  It had never occurred to him to worry what a woman would call him, should he ever allow one to become that closely involved. 
    To hear his brother call him Chuffy was a momentary return to their youth – an eloquent