“No, Edward, of course not. I’m afraid I am not able to control Mrs. Winchester. She seems. . ” she trailed off, knowing it would serve no purpose. Edward had expressed his feelings and was already thinking of something else.
Maddock came in and informed them dinner was served.
The following day the storm had passed and the street was clean in the white April light, the sky bleached blue, and the garden tremulous with dew, every grass blade bright. Charlotte and Emily spent the morning occupied with the usual household duties, while Sarah went to visit the dressmaker. Caroline was closeted with Mrs. Dunphy, the cook, going over kitchen accounts.
In the afternoon Charlotte went alone to deliver the mufflers to the vicar’s wife. It was a duty she disliked, especially since it was a day on which the vicar himself was highly likely to be at home, and he was a man who always produced in her a profound depression. Still, there was no avoiding it this time. It was her turn, and neither Sarah nor Emily had seemed in the least likely to relieve her of it.
She arrived at the vicarage a little before half past three. It was mild after the storm and it had been a pleasant walk, something under two miles, but she was used to exercise, and the mufflers were not heavy.
The maid opened the door almost immediately. She was a severe, angular woman of indeterminate age, and Charlotte could never remember her name.
“Thank you,” she said politely, stepping in. “I believe Mrs. Prebble is expecting me.”
“Yes, ma’am. If you’ll come this way.”
The vicar’s wife was sitting in the smaller back parlour and the vicar himself standing with his back to the black, smoking fire. Charlotte’s heart sank as soon as she saw him.
“Good afternoon to you, Miss Ellison,” he said with a very slight bow, more a bending of his back. “How pleasant to see you spending your time in small duties for others.”
“A very small thing, vicar.” She instinctively wanted to deny it. “Only a few mufflers my mother and sisters have made. I hope they will be. . ” she trailed off, realizing she did not really mean anything, uttering empty words, noises to fill the silence.
Mrs. Prebble reached for the bag and took it. She was a handsome woman, broad-busted, strong, with fine, strong hands.
“I’m sure next winter there will be those who will be most grateful for them. I have frequently noticed that if your hands are cold, your whole body is chilled, haven’t you?”
“Yes, yes, I suppose I have.”
The vicar was staring at her and she looked away quickly from his cold eyes.
“You seem a little chilled now, Miss Ellison,” he said very clearly. “I’m sure Mrs. Prebble would be happy to offer you a dish of hot tea.” It was a statement. There was no avoiding it without discourtesy.
“Thank you,” she said, without feeling.
Martha Prebble rang the little bell on the mantel and when the maid came back a moment later she requested the tea.
“And how is your mother, Miss Ellison?” the vicar enquired, still standing with his back to the fire, shielding them all from its heat. “Such a good woman.”
“Well, thank you, vicar,” Charlotte answered. “I’ll tell her you were asking after her.”
Martha Prebble looked up from the sewing she was doing.
“I hear your Aunt Susannah has returned from Yorkshire. I hope the change of air has done her good?”
Mrs. Winchester had lost no time!
“I believe so, but she was not ill, you know.”
“Things must be hard for her, at times,” Martha said thoughtfully. “Alone.”
“I don’t think Aunt Susannah minds,” Charlotte spoke before thinking. “I think she prefers it.”
The vicar frowned. The tea arrived. Obviously it had been already prepared and only awaited the signal.
“It is not good for a woman to be alone,” the vicar said grimly. He had a large, squarish face with a strong, thin mouth and heavy nose. He must have been quite fine as a young man. Charlotte was ashamed of how deeply she disliked him. One should not feel that way about a man of the Church. “It leaves her vulnerable to all kinds of dangers,” he went on.
“Susannah is perfectly safe,” Charlotte replied firmly. “She has adequate means, and she certainly doesn’t venture out alone except in the daytime. And at night, of course, the house is quite secure. I believe her manservant is very proficient, even in the use of firearms.”
“I was not thinking of violence, Miss Ellison, but of temptation. A woman alone is subject to temptations of the flesh, to lightmindedness and entertainments that by their very shallowness tend to pervert the nature. A good woman is about the tasks of her house. Consider your Bible, Miss Ellison. I recommend you read the Book of Proverbs.”
“Susannah keeps a very good house,” Charlotte felt impelled to defend her. “And she doesn’t occupy herself in-in lightminded amusements.”
“You really are a most argumentative young woman,” the vicar smiled at her stiffly. “It is unbecoming. You must learn to control it.”
“She is only being loyal to her cousin, my dear,” Martha said quickly, seeing Charlotte’s face colour in quick anger.
“Loyalty is not a virtue, Martha, when it misguidedly praises that which is evil and dangerous. You have only to look at Chloe Abernathy, unfortunate child. And Susannah is her aunt, not her cousin.”
Charlotte could still feel the heat under her skin.
“What has Chloe Abernathy to do with Susannah?” she demanded.
“Bad company, Miss Ellison, bad company. We are all weak vessels, and in bad company women, especially young women, are easily led to become subject to vices, even to fall under the influence of evil men and end their lives in destitution and abandonment on the streets.”
“Chloe wasn’t anything like that!”
“You are soft-hearted, Miss Ellison, and so a woman should be. You should not know of such things and it does your mother credit that you do not see them. But great evils begin in small ways. That is why even the most innocent of women need the protection of men, who see the seeds of sin in time to guard against them. And bad company is the seed of sin, child; there can be no doubt of it. Poor Chloe was much taken with the company of the Madison daughters lately, before her death. And perhaps you did not fully appreciate their lightmindedness, the frivolous painting of their faces, the wearing of clothes intended to attract the attention of men, and the lingering about without chaperones indulged in by the Misses Madison. But I am sure your father was aware, and would not have let you associate with such people. You may thank his wisdom that you are not also lying murdered in the street.”
“I know they giggled rather a lot,” Charlotte said slowly; she tried to recall the Misses Madison, to see in them any of the beginnings of sin the vicar spoke of. Her memory produced nothing more than a lot of romantic nonsense and very little harm. Empty, certainly, but not wicked, even in embryo. “But I don’t remember anything spiteful in them.”
“Not spiteful.” The vicar gave a faintly patronizing smile. “Sin is not spite, my dear child; sin is the beginning of the road to damnation, to indulgence of the flesh, to fornication and the worship of the Golden Calf!” His voice rose, and Charlotte knew instinctively it was the beginning of a sermon. She clutched desperately.
“Mrs. Prebble,” she leaned forward in total hypocrisy. “Please tell me what else you would like us to do, what next we may make to contribute to the relief of the poor? I’m sure both my mother and my sisters would be most grateful to know!”
Martha Prebble was a little startled by the vehemence in her voice, but she too seemed more than happy to leave the subject of sin.
“Oh, I’m sure any blankets, or especially clothes for children. The poor always seem to have so many children, you know. They seem to have more than those of us who are more comfortably suited.”
“Naturally.” The vicar was not to be left out. His face was massive, resting on his broad shoulders like a monument. “It is precisely because they indulge themselves and give birth to more children than they can support that they are poor, and the rest of us inherit the obligation to care for their needs. I suppose it is productive of patience in affliction for them, and of Christian charity and virtue in us.”
Charlotte had no answer for that. She drank the last of her tea and stood up.
