It being a Sunday, it was perhaps not quite right to be so busy about puzzles and secrets. Though, when she came to consider the matter, Dido could not
However, she was quite certain that she was straying from the strict path of virtue by allowing her mind to range over broken window catches, corrupted laundresses and unsigned notes during divine service itself. And, as she sat beside Flora in their high-sided pew, she did strive most earnestly to rein in her thoughts to proper contemplation and devotion. But it was exceedingly difficult for just across the worn flags of the aisle, shut into another crowded pew, was Mr Vane himself – providing her with an opportunity for contemplation of a very unreligious kind.
Sunshine was flooding into the nave of the church through the old leaded windows, very bright against the plain white plaster of the ceiling and the colourful coats and gowns and bonnets of the congregation. And one ray of light was falling directly upon Mr Vane, lighting him up as if he were an actor upon a stage – though whether he should play a hero or a villain, Dido found hard to determine.
He was certainly not an ill-looking man. Indeed he had a rather handsome face – though it was too broad and habitually smiling to suit her taste. He had a kind of polished look, a gleam of self-satisfaction – and ingratiation.
He was a very ingratiating man.
She had first caught sight of him this morning in the churchyard. A black, bowing figure moving restlessly about among the bright colours of the gathering ladies, repeatedly baring his shining fair hair to the sun as he swept the hat from his head. He attended, she noticed, exclusively to wealthy widows – constantly smiling his care and concern at them.
Watching him, it had been impossible (even with all the virtuous intentions of a Sunday) not to wonder about his motives. They were mercenary. She did not doubt that from his slighting of all his poorer patients in the crowd. But she could not quite determine whether his ambitions reached only to substantial fees, or whether they might aspire to more. To legacies perhaps… Or even to marriage – for, after all, it was not unknown for rich widows to fall in love with their physicians…
It was just as her thoughts were got to this point that she noticed he was stopped in the shadow of the church porch – and talking very earnestly to Mrs Midgely. He seemed to be giving some very particular piece of information – and she was smiling at what she heard. Dido pressed forward eagerly through the crowd, certain in her own mind that he was telling of his visit to the magistrate and determined to hear what she could. But there were a great many twisting parasols and jealously guarded muslins between her and the porch and before she could come close enough to hear anything, the pair had been interrupted.
As Dido approached the porch, Mrs Midgely’s broad yellow back was retreating and it was Miss Neville who was now standing beside the apothecary, her sallow face twitching nervously beneath a remarkably ugly grey bonnet as she whispered something urgently about ‘my poor mother’.
The look of gentle concern was gone from Mr Vane’s face. He seemed very far from sympathetic about Mrs Neville – although he seemed to think that she was very unwell, for he shook his head and said something about it being, ‘A bad business. Very bad indeed.’
He began to walk away, but Miss Neville detained him with an anxious question. ‘But, you will say nothing about…?’
Mr Vane bowed abruptly and walked off into the church before she could finish.
All of which was very strange and interesting; and now, as she sat in her pew, Dido could not help but dwell upon the memory of it – rather to the exclusion of Mr Hewit’s earnest discourse. She could not like Mr Vane – it was weak of him to be influenced by Mrs Midgely – and why should he be so negligent of Miss Neville and her poor mother? But he looked so very much at ease with himself that she could not doubt his motives in going to the magistrate. He had all the appearance of a man who
Her eye slowly moved away from Mr Vane, along the lines of dutifully attentive faces. There was Miss Neville, her hands plucking at her reticule, frowning at the preacher as if she resented his words; and, beside her, Mr Lansdale, one arm resting along the side of his pew, head thrown back, fine blue eyes fixed attentively upon the pulpit. And then, in the row behind, Miss Prentice and Mrs Midgely…
Dido’s wandering eye was immediately halted. She stared – at least she stared as much as a person
The expressions upon both women’s faces were arresting. Startling. Though they could not have been more different. Miss Prentice was enraptured; her eyes were wide and she was so moved that tears were running down her round cheeks. But Mrs Midgely’s face burnt red – the rouge all swallowed up in a flush of fury.
Hastily Dido turned her wandering attention in its proper direction – and began to listen to the sermon. What was Mr Hewit saying which could produce such widely differing effects in his audience?
‘…Charity, my dear friends! St Paul teaches us that it is the greatest of all virtues. “Charity suffereth long and is kind,” he tells us. Charity “thinketh no evil”. It “rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth”. When we have charity in our hearts, my friends, we do not bear grudges, or resentments, we are able – we are willing – to forget the past mistakes and transgressions of others. We are willing to forgive what is past…’
He spoke gently and feelingly; but there was a great deal of power in his accents – and in the expression of his lined and careworn face. And, Dido noticed that, as he spoke, he was looking very directly at Mrs Midgely.
‘That was a very moving sermon, Mr Hewit,’ said Dido, pausing in the shady porch as she and Flora left the church.
Mr Hewit’s sombre face broke immediately into a very kindly smile. ‘Dear Lady! You are extremely generous to say so.’ He bowed and lowered his voice. ‘And may I say that your approval of my little discourse does you credit. In my experience it is the charitable who take most pleasure in hearing charity commended.’
‘Thank you.’
The broad smile had somewhat eased the deep lines of the clergyman’s face; but the sadness lingered in his eyes – and there was something too in the stoop of his slight shoulders, his haggard face and, most particularly, in his rather shabby clothes and his unfashionably powdered hair, which was not like any other popular visiting preacher that Dido had ever met. He was now looking rather despondingly at the departing crowd. ‘I do not think,’ he continued, raising a thick white eyebrow in half-comical regret, ‘that my discourse gave universal satisfaction.’
Dido found that the man was rather winning upon her. She smiled and stepped closer to him. ‘I fear there may have been a little disappointment,’ she whispered playfully.
‘Disappointment?’
‘Yes,’ she confided, ‘I believe you were expected to preach against the French.’
‘Indeed?’ He looked very thoughtful. ‘But, my dear lady, why do you suppose that there should be disappointment? Did I not preach most eloquently against the French?’
‘I beg your pardon? I do not quite understand you.’
‘Was not every word which I spoke in praise of charity a rebuke to our neighbours across the channel? Are not a want of charity and compassion at the root of every violent scene lately enacted among them? Is it not the absence of charity which has turned the high ideals of their revolution into tyranny and outrage?’
‘Oh!’ said Dido, startled into seriousness. ‘Yes…’ She was quite struck by his words, and she could not help but wonder whether they might not have some bearing upon Richmond as well as France – and whether the lack of charity among her neighbours might not also end in a scene of violence…
She shivered – the old stone porch suddenly felt remarkably damp and cold. And she was on the point of making him a more thoughtful reply, when his attention was drawn away.
‘Ah!’ he cried, ‘Mrs Midgely, Miss Prentice! It is such a very great pleasure to meet with old friends!’
Dido turned just in time to see Mrs Midgely walking past with scarcely a nod, while Miss Prentice stopped and held out her hand smilingly. ‘Such a beautiful sermon, Mr Hewit. It was so very…’
‘Thank you! Thank you, dear lady!’ He took her hand, folded it in both his own and seemed to study her
