vicarage.
‘Ah Miss Kent!’ he began immediately upon seeing her, and bowed with great formality. ‘This is indeed a heaven-sent opportunity! I had been very much hoping that I might, in the course of the day, avail myself of the pleasure of a few minutes private conversation with you.’
‘Indeed?’ she smiled up at him politely. He was a tall, very solemn man who had, no doubt, been rather handsome in his youth; but his youth was almost twenty years distant now and in those years he had grown thin and dry. And when he removed his hat, it was clear that his hair – though still tolerably black – was so thin atop as no amount of brushing about was quite able to disguise.
‘Yes, I fear,’ he clasped his hands in the small of his back and rocked himself forward on his toes – very much as if he were about to preach a sermon, ‘I fear that you have been suborned .’
‘Suborned? Oh dear! I hope that I have not, for it sounds very disagreeable.’
‘It is, my dear,’ he continued seriously as they walked on. ‘Very disagreeable indeed. It appears that your good nature has allowed you to be imposed upon. You have been led into error, Miss Kent, and, as a clergyman, I feel it incumbent upon me to set you right.’
‘Oh!’
‘I am aware,’ he said, sinking his voice almost to a whisper to prevent it being heard by the Crockfords – or by Mrs Harman-Foote who was now come out onto the steps to meet them. ‘I am aware of the service which your friend,’ a glance here towards the steps, ‘has asked you to perform – I mean, of course, with regard to her dead governess. Butyou do wrong to interfere. Suicide is a grievous sin.’
‘It is indeed, Mr Portinscale,’ said Dido, matching his solemnity, ‘and no one should be accused of it falsely.’
He shook his head and a little colour tinged his thin cheeks. ‘These matters should be left in the hands of God, my dear.’
‘But they are not in the hands of God,’ Dido pointed out gravely, ‘they are in the hands of the coroner.’
‘Who would not be suffered to remain in authority if God did not will it,’ he answered quickly. Then he seemed to recollect himself and spoke more calmly. ‘We must trust in the Lord,’ he insisted. ‘We must not meddle with what He has ordained.’
‘No! That is nonsense!’ The words burst from Dido involuntarily as the weakness of his position struck her. The colour in his cheeks deepened with displeasure. She forced herself to speak less violently. ‘This philosophy, sir, would argue against all good works and make inertia the greatest of all virtues. I cannot believe but that we are sometimes required to exert ourselves in the cause of charity.’ She drew a long breath. ‘I do not doubt Mr Wishart’s good intentions. But his verdict may be mistaken. An injustice may have been done. I cannot believe it wrong to try to discover the truth.’
He was about to reply, but he was prevented by the approach of their hostess.
They all walked on into the house together and it was not until some time later that Dido was calm enough to wonder just why Mr Portinscale should interest himself so much in the business. Why should he care so very much that the coroner’s verdict remain unchallenged?
* * *
… Well, Eliza, there were nine of us at dinner, for besides the Crockfords and Mr Portinscale there was Henry Coulson, the landscape gardener, and of course Captain Laurence, who is staying once more with his cousins at Madderstone. (By the by, I do not know whether Captain Laurence has a home of his own when he is not aboard ship, but, if he has, I fancy it is not so comfortable as Madderstone Abbey.)
Well, as you may imagine, Mrs Harman-Foote’s duties as hostess did not allow for any conversation between us while we remained in the dining room, beyond an assurance, almost shouted along the table, of her intention of taking me to see Miss Fenn’s bedchamber as soon as she should be at leisure.
Indeed it was
‘Ah Miss Kent!’ he began immediately upon seeing her, and bowed with great formality. ‘This is indeed a heaven-sent opportunity! I had been very much hoping that I might, in the course of the day, avail myself of the pleasure of a few minutes private conversation with you.’
‘Indeed?’ she smiled up at him politely. He was a tall, very solemn man who had, no doubt, been rather handsome in his youth; but his youth was almost twenty years distant now and in those years he had grown thin and dry. And when he removed his hat, it was clear that his hair – though still tolerably black – was so thin atop as no amount of brushing about was quite able to disguise.
‘Yes, I fear,’ he clasped his hands in the small of his back and rocked himself forward on his toes – very much as if he were about to preach a sermon, ‘I fear that you have been suborned .’
‘Suborned? Oh dear! I hope that I have not, for it sounds very disagreeable.’
‘It is, my dear,’ he continued seriously as they walked on. ‘Very disagreeable indeed. It appears that your good nature has allowed you to be imposed upon. You have been led into error, Miss Kent, and, as a clergyman, I feel it incumbent upon me to set you right.’
‘Oh!’
‘I am aware,’ he said, sinking his voice almost to a whisper to prevent it being heard by the Crockfords – or by Mrs Harman-Foote who was now come out onto the steps to meet them. ‘I am aware of the service which your friend,’ a glance here towards the steps, ‘has asked you to perform – I mean, of course, with regard to her dead governess. Butyou do wrong to interfere. Suicide is a grievous sin.’
‘It is indeed, Mr Portinscale,’ said Dido, matching his solemnity, ‘and no one should be accused of it falsely.’
He shook his head and a little colour tinged his thin cheeks. ‘These matters should be left in the hands of God, my dear.’
‘But they are not in the hands of God,’ Dido pointed out gravely, ‘they are in the hands of the coroner.’
‘Who would not be suffered to remain in authority if God did not will it,’ he answered quickly. Then he seemed to recollect himself and spoke more calmly. ‘We must trust in the Lord,’ he insisted. ‘We must not meddle with what He has ordained.’
‘No! That is nonsense!’ The words burst from Dido involuntarily as the weakness of his position struck her. The colour in his cheeks deepened with displeasure. She forced herself to speak less violently. ‘This philosophy, sir, would argue against all good works and make inertia the greatest of all virtues. I cannot believe but that we are sometimes required to exert ourselves in the cause of charity.’ She drew a long breath. ‘I do not doubt Mr Wishart’s good intentions. But his verdict may be mistaken. An injustice may have been done. I cannot believe it wrong to try to discover the truth.’
He was about to reply, but he was prevented by the approach of their hostess.
They all walked on into the house together and it was not until some time later that Dido was calm enough to wonder just why Mr Portinscale should interest himself so much in the business. Why should he care so very much that the coroner’s verdict remain unchallenged?
* * *
… Well, Eliza, there were nine of us at dinner, for besides the Crockfords and Mr Portinscale there was Henry Coulson, the landscape gardener, and of course Captain Laurence, who is staying once more with his cousins at Madderstone. (By the by, I do not know whether Captain Laurence has a home of his own when he is not aboard ship, but, if he has, I fancy it is not so comfortable as Madderstone Abbey.)
Well, as you may imagine, Mrs Harman-Foote’s duties as hostess did not allow for any conversation between us while we remained in the dining room, beyond an assurance, almost shouted along the table, of her intention of taking me to see Miss Fenn’s bedchamber as soon as she should be at leisure.
Indeed it was
Similar Books
