“It all seems to be quite unimportant.” Grandmama reasserted her influence on the conversation. “My acquaintance is with you, and has been since our youth. I should like to pay my respects at the funeral, and should be greatly indebted if you would inform me as to when it is.”
“Oh certainly,” the vicar answered before either of the Misses Worlingham had time. “How kind of you. Yes-it is to be held in St. Anne’s, next Thursday at two o’clock in the afternoon.”
“I am obliged.” Grandmama was suddenly very gracious.
The door opened again and the parlormaid announced Mr. and Mrs. Hatch, and was followed immediately by a woman of about the same height as Angeline, and with a considerable resemblance to her in feature. The nose was a trifle more pronounced, the eyes had not faded, nor the hair, and she was obviously a generation younger, yet there was much in the bearing that was like, and she too wore the total black of mourning.
Her husband, only a step behind her, was of medium height and extreme gravity. He reminded Charlotte quite strongly of pictures of Mr. Gladstone, the great Liberal prime minister, in his earlier years. There was the same dedicated purpose in his stare, the same look of total rectitude and certainty in his own convictions. His side whiskers were less bristling and his nose of less grand proportions; still, the impression was sharp.
“My dear Prudence.” Celeste greeted Mrs. Hatch with outstretched hands.
“Aunt Celeste.” Prudence went to her and they kissed each other lightly, then she moved to her Aunt Angeline, and was kissed more closely and held a moment longer.
Josiah was more formal, but his condolences seemed every bit as sincere. In fact he looked quite obviously distressed; his face was pale and there was a drawn appearance to the skin about his mouth. His emotions were apparently very deep and he kept them in control with some effort.
“The whole situation is quite dreadful,” he said fixedly, looking at no one in particular. “Everywhere there is moral decline and decay. Young people in confusion, not knowing whom or what to admire anymore, women unprotected-” His voice was thick with distress. “Look at this unspeakable business in Whitechapel. Bestial-quite bestial. A sign of the chaos of our times-rising anarchy, the Queen closed up in Osborne ignoring us all, the Prince of Wales squandering his time and money in gambling and loose living, the Duke of Clarence worse.” Still he looked at no one, his mind consumed with his inner vision. His body was motionless, but there was great strength in it, a feeling of waiting power. “The coarsest and most absurd ideas are being propagated and there is one tragedy after another. Everything has begun to slip ever since the dear bishop died. What a terrible loss that was.” For a moment a look of sheer anguish crossed his features as if he gazed upon the end of a golden age, and all that followed must be darker and lonelier. His hands clenched in front of him, large knuckled and powerful. “And no one remotely near his stature has arisen to carry God’s light for the rest of us.”
“Theophilus …” Angeline said tentatively, then stopped. His look of contempt froze the words before they were formed.
“He was a good man,” Prudence said loyally.
“Of course he was,” her husband agreed. “But not his father’s equal, not by a very long way. He was a pygmy in comparison.” A strange mixture of grief and contempt crossed his face, then a zeal that had a wild beauty, almost visionary. “The bishop was a saint! He had wisdom incomparable with any of us. He understood the order of things as they should be, he had the insight into God’s ways and how we should live His word.” He smiled briefly. “How often I have heard him give counsel to men-and to women. Always his advice was wise and of spiritual and moral upliftment.”
Angeline sighed gently and reached for her handkerchief, a wisp of cambric and lace.
“Men be upright,” he continued. “Be utterly honest in your dealings, preside over your families, instruct your wives and children in the teachings of God. Women be obedient and virtuous, be diligent in your labors and they shall be your crown in heaven.”
Charlotte shifted uncomfortably in her chair. The strength of his emotion was so obvious she could not dismiss it, but the sentiment was one she longed to quarrel with.
“Love your children and teach them by your example,” Hatch went on, unaware of her, or anyone else. “Be chaste-and above all, be dutiful and be loyal to your family; therein lies your happiness and the happiness of the world.”
“Amen,” Angeline said with a sweet smile, her eyes raised as if in thought she could feel her father somewhere above her. “Thank you, Josiah, you have again reminded one of the purpose and reason for life. I don’t know what we should do without you. I do not mean to speak slightly of Theophilus, but more than once I have thought you were Papa’s true spiritual heir.”
The color spread up his cheeks and for a moment there seemed to be tears in his eyes.
“Thank you, my dear Angeline. No man alive could wish for a finer compliment, and I swear to you, I shall endeavor to live worthily of it.”
She beamed at him.
“The window?” Celeste said quietly, her face also softer and an expression of pleasure filling her eyes. “How is it progressing?”
“Very well,” he answered after a sharp sniff and a shake of his head. “Very well indeed. It is most gratifying to see how everyone in Highgate, and far beyond, wishes to remember him and give all they can. I think they truly realize that these are dark times full of the doubts and misguided philosophies that these days pass as some kind of greater freedom. If we do not show very plainly what is the right way, God’s way, then many souls will perish, and drag the innocent down with them.”
“You are so very right, Josiah,” Celeste put in.
“Indeed,” Angeline nodded. “Indeed you are.”
“And this window will be a powerful influence.” He would not be cut off before he had spoken his mind, even by agreement. “People will look at it, and remember what a great man Bishop Worlingham was, and revere his teachings. It is one of the achievements of my life, if I may say so, to perpetuate his name and the good works that he performed in his mortal existence here.”
“I’m sure we are all indebted to you,” Angeline said heartily. “And Papa’s work will not die as long as you are alive.”
“Indeed we are most grateful,” Celeste agreed. “I’m sure Theophilus would say so too, were he alive to do so.”
“Such a loss,” Clitheridge said awkwardly, two spots of pink coloring his cheeks.
His wife put her hand on his arm and her grip was surprisingly firm; Charlotte could see the white of her knuckles.
A pinched expression crossed Josiah Hatch’s face, drawing tight the corners of his mouth, and he blinked several times. It seemed a mixture of sudden envy and disapproval.
“Ah-I–I would have expected Theophilus to initiate such a project himself,” he said with wide eyes. “I am sometimes tempted to think, indeed I cannot avoid it, that Theophilus did not truly appreciate what an outstanding man his father was. Perhaps he was too close to him to realize how far above that of others were his thoughts and his ideals, how profound his perception.”
It seemed no one had anything to add to this, and there were several moments of uncomfortable silence.
“Ahem!” The vicar cleared his throat. “I think, if you will excuse me, we will leave you, and go and visit Mrs. Hardy. Such a sad case, so difficult to know what to say to be of comfort. Good day, ladies.” He bowed rather generally in the visitors’ direction. “Good day to you, Josiah. Come, Eulalia.” And taking his wife by the arm he went rather hastily out into the hallway and they heard the front door open and close again.
“Such a kind man-so kind,” Angeline said almost as if she were pronouncing an incantation. “And so is dear Lally, of course. Such a strength to him-and to us all.”
Charlotte thought that perhaps without her the vicar would collapse into incomprehensibility, but she forbore from saying so.
“He preaches a very good sermon,” Celeste said with faint surprise. “He is really very learned, you know. It doesn’t come through in his conversation, but perhaps that is as well. It doesn’t do to overwhelm people with more learning than they can understand. It offers neither comfort nor instruction.”
“How very true,” Prudence agreed. “In fact I admit at times I do not know what he is talking about. But Josiah assures me it is all extremely good sense, don’t you, my dear?”
“So it is,” he said decisively, nodding his head a little, but there was no warmth in his tone. “He is always up
