The Price of Murder

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I, who had recently become engaged to be engaged with Clarissa Roundtree, did walk with her on a Thursday morning in April 1774. We went hand in hand, as was her wish. Through the great market in Covent Garden we went. In the usual way of it, the “Garden,” which it was most often called, was strong-smelling, crowded, and noisy. Greengrocers hawked the quality of their carrots and new potatoes. Ballad sellers sang their wares. All England, it seemed, had gathered there that they might make proper preparations for the coming Easter holiday.

As it happened, this year’s Easter held special significance for Clarissa. She was quite determined that we publish our banns of marriage as soon as the Lenten season had passed.

“But Clarissa,” said I, objecting, “what use is there publishing our banns when we cannot yet marry?”

“Oh Jeremy, you know far better than I that we need not be married after the banns are posted. It’s simply that we can be married thereafter. We shall then be officially engaged.”

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