to date on what the learned doctors of theology have said, and frequently quotes their works; and he is always correct, because I have taken the liberty of checking.” He glanced briefly at the three visitors. “I have a considerable library, you know. And I have made it my business to take such periodicals as are enlightening and enlarging to the mind.”
“Very commendable.” Grandmama was frustrated with her enforced silence for so long. “I presume Theophilus inherited the bishop’s library?”
“He did not.” Celeste corrected her instantly. “I did.”
“Celeste wrote up all Papa’s sermons and notes for him,” Angeline explained. “And of course Theophilus was not interested in books,” she went on, looking with a nervous glance at Prudence. “He preferred paintings. He had a great many very fine paintings, mostly landscapes, you know? Lots of cows and water and trees and things. Very restful.”
“Charming,” Caroline said, simply for something to add to the conversation. “Are they oils or watercolors?”
“Watercolors, I believe. His taste was excellent, so I am told. His collection is worth a great deal.”
Charlotte was curious to know if Clemency had inherited it, or Prudence; but her family had already disgraced itself more than enough for one day. And she did not believe that the motive for Clemency’s murder, which they had all skirted delicately around mentioning, was money. Far more likely was the dangerous and radical reform she so passionately worked for-and apparently so secretly. Why had she not told even her aunts and her sister? Surely it was something to be proud of, most particularly with such a history of service as her grandfather’s?
Her speculation was cut short by the parlormaid arriving yet again to announce Dr. Stephen Shaw. And again, he was so hard on her heels that she almost bumped into him as she turned to leave. He was not above average height and of strong but not stocky build, but it was the vitality in his face that dominated everything else and made the others in the room seem composed of browns and grays. Even tragedy, which had left its mark on him in shadows around his eyes and more deeply scored lines around his mouth, did not drain from him the inner energy.
“ ’Afternoon, Aunt Celeste, Aunt Angeline.” His voice was excellent with a resonance and a diction full of character and yet in no way eccentric. “Josiah-Prudence.” He gave her a light kiss on the cheek, more a gesture than anything else, but a shadow of irritation crossed Hatch’s face. There was the bleakest flicker of amusement in Shaw’s eyes as he turned to look at Grandmama, Caroline and Charlotte.
“Mrs. Ellison,” Celeste explained, introducing Grandmama. “She was a friend of ours some forty years ago. She called to give us her condolences.”
“Indeed.” The shadow of a smile became more distinct around his mouth. “For the bishop, for Theophilus, or for Clemency?”
“Stephen-you should not speak flippantly of such matters,” Celeste said sharply. “It is most unseemly. You will allow people to take the wrong notion.”
Without waiting for invitation he sat down in the largest chair.
“My dear aunt, there is nothing in creation I can do to prevent people from taking the wrong notion, if that is what they wish to do.” He swung around to face Grandmama. “Most civil of you. You must have a great deal of news to catch up on-after such a space.”
Neither the implication nor his amusement were lost on Grandmama, but she refused to acknowledge them even by an excuse. “My daughter-in-law, Mrs. Caroline Ellison,” she said coldly. “And my granddaughter, Mrs. Pitt.”
“How do you do.” Shaw inclined his head courteously to Caroline. Then as he looked at Charlotte, a flash of interest crossed his features, as though he saw in her face something unusual.
“How do you do, Mrs. Pitt. Surely you are not acquainted with the Misses Worlingham also?”
Hatch opened his mouth to say something, but Charlotte cut across him.
“Not until today; but of course the bishop was much admired by repute.”
“How excellently you choose your words, Mrs. Pitt. I presume you did not know him personally either?”
“Of course she didn’t!” Hatch snapped. “He has been gone about ten years-to our misfortune.”
“Let us hope it was not to his.” Shaw smiled at Charlotte with his back to his brother-in-law.
“How dare you!” Hatch was furious, spots of color mottling his cheeks. He was still standing and he glared down at Shaw. “We are all more than tired of hearing your irreverent and critical remarks. You may imagine some twisted modicum of what you are pleased to call humor excuses anything at all-but it does not. You make a mock of too much. You encourage people to be light-minded and jeer at the things they should most value. That you could not appreciate the virtue of Bishop Worlingham says more about your own shallowness and triviality than it does about the magnitide of his character!”
“I think you are being a trifle harsh, Josiah,” his wife said soothingly. “I daresay Stephen did not mean anything by it.”
“Of course he did.” Hatch would not be placated. “He is always making derisory remarks which he imagines to be amusing.” His voice rose and he looked at Celeste. “He did not even wish to donate to the window. Can you imagine? And he supports that wretched man Lindsay in his revolutionary paper which questions the very foundations of decent society.”
“No it doesn’t,” Shaw said. “It merely puts out certain ideas on reform which would distribute wealth more equitably.”
“More equitably than what?” Hatch demanded. “Our present system? That amounts to overthrow of the government-in fact, revolution, as I said.”
“No it does not.” Shaw was overtly annoyed now and he swung around in his chair to face Hatch. “They believe in a gradual change, through legislation, to a system of collectivist state ownership of the means of producing wealth, with workers’ control-full employment and appropriation of unearned increment-”
“I don’t know what you are talking about, Stephen,” Angeline said with her face screwed up in concentration.
“Neither do I,” Celeste agreed. “Are you speaking about George Bernard Shaw and those fearful Webbs?”
“He is talking about anarchy and the total change or loss of everything you know!” Hatch replied with very real anger.
This was far deeper than the reopening of an old family quarrel. They were profound issues of morality. And turning from him to Shaw, Charlotte believed that in his eyes also she saw a fire of seriousness beneath the perception of a very surface absurdity. Humor was always with him, it was deep in all the lines of his face, but it was only the outer garment of a passionate mind.
“People can get away with anything these days,” Grandmama said unhelpfully. “In my youth, Bernard Shaw, Mr. Webb, and their like would have been put in prison before they were permitted to speak of such ideas-but today they are quite openly quoted. And of course Mrs. Webb is quite beyond the pale.”
“Be quiet,” Caroline said sharply. “You are making bad into worse.”
“It is already worse,” the old lady retorted in a stage whisper audible to everyone in the room.
“Oh dear.” Angeline wrung her hands nervously, looking from one to the other of her nephews-in-law.
Charlotte attempted to repair some of the damage.
“Mr. Hatch, do you not think that when people read the ideas proposed in these pamphlets they will consider them, and if they are truly evil or preposterous then they will see them for what they are, and reject them out of hand? After all, is it not better they should know what they stand for and so find them the more repellent and frightening, than merely by our recounting of them? Truth cannot but benefit from the comparison.”
Hatch stopped with his breath drawn in and his mouth open. Her premise was one he could not possibly deny, and yet to do so would rob him of his argument against Shaw.
For seconds the silence hung. A carriage rattled past the street going up Highgate Hill. A snatch of song came from somewhere upstairs and was hushed instantly, presumably some young housemaid disciplined for levity.
“You are very young, Mrs. Pitt,” Hatch said at last. “I fear you do not fully grasp the weakness of some people, how easily greed, ignorance and envy can draw them to espouse values that are quite obviously false to those of us who have had the advantage of a moral upbringing. Unfortunately there are an increasing number”- here he shot a bright, hard glance at Shaw-“who confuse freedom with license and thus behave completely irresponsibly.
