Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Hugh tried to convince himself it was his imagination, but by the time he stood up in the pulpit to read the sermon on Sunday, it was clear the entire village was on edge.
Even King Saul’s howls sounded mournful.
Dark looks flashed among parishioners, families held their children close as if protecting them from some evil, and mutters rumbled like distant thunder.
Hugh looked down at his notes on the sermon prescribed for that day in the church calendar, then set them to one side.
Lord, give me Thy wisdom!
“Love,” he said, glancing around at the people who were becoming his family.
“That is the one thing our Lord commands of us. Love of God and love for others. It is sometimes described as charity in the Bible. I can say with confidence that I have seen that sort of love in abundance in this village.”
A few shoulders came down.
“What do I mean?” he continued. “The Bible tells us that love is patient and kind.” He found his gaze lingering on Georgie, and he couldn’t help his smile.
“You have all been remarkably patient with me as I settled into my new responsibilities. And your kind gifts of food and advice have warmed my heart and the heart of my son.”
Pip grinned in the first row. Mrs. Hallet and others near him smiled at the boy. Some remained scowling as if they didn’t like the reminder of the stranger in their midst.
“The Bible also says that love doesn’t envy. We all like to think we’re above such things. But I will admit that I wish I could cook as well as Mrs. Hallet. If you haven’t tried her scones, you have missed a treat.”
His housekeeper blushed.
“Love has no room for arrogance or pride,” Hugh told them. “At Tyneham, I have seen those Society would consider the greatest among us reaching out to those who might be considered the least.” He nodded to His Grace, who inclined his head in return.
Someone humphed. Hugh suspected it was the colonel. He pressed on regardless. “Those marked by love do not think of themselves first. They are not easily provoked.” This time he let his gaze linger on Georgie’s father. To his surprise, the colonel shifted in his seat and dropped his gaze.
“Those who love do not look at their neighbors and family with suspicion,” Hugh said, and more people shifted.
“Whether we agree on any particular matter is unimportant. The Lord did not say love those who have lived next door to you your entire life or love those who provide a good custom for your business. He said to love thy neighbor, and when pressed on who might be considered a neighbor, he told a story about a man his listeners would have disdained to so much as recognize. We are all neighbors.”
A few more gazes dropped, but others looked from one side of the church to the other as if reconsidering.
“Because we are a people who love, we do not rejoice when we see evil done,” Hugh said, feeling the strength of the words inside him. “Indeed, those who love rejoice in the truth.”
His Grace was nodding, and Hugh dared to think he saw a few other signs of agreement around the chapel.
“Those who love stand up under adversity, they believe in each other, and they put their hope in God. Because of that, they can endure anything this world has to offer. Today, I ask you: Are you marked by love? What can you do to show God and your neighbors that you care? Let us pray.”
Cloth rustled, and heads bowed. He finished the service in the usual manner then went to the door to greet his parishioners as they left.
Some skittered past, gazes averted. Shame? Or still doubtful of his connection to the thefts?
Others took the time to thank him with smiles and murmured words.
Mr. Pritchard went so far as to stop beside him. “Loving others is all well and good, Vicar, but someone is stealing. Surely the good Lord would want that to stop.”
His voice carried, and others paused to glance back.
“And stop it shall,” Hugh promised. “I have faith that the thief will repent.”
Mr. Pritchard snorted. “The Bible may talk about love, but it also says God gave us a sound mind. If you ask me, it’s about time we used those minds, before something worse happens.”
* * *
Georgie had hoped to speak with Hugh after the service, but her father took her arm and drew her firmly toward the waiting coach.
“Your vicar doesn’t mince words,” he grumbled. “I’ll give him that.”
“He is passionate about his vocation,” Georgie agreed. “I find that commendable.” She pulled away from her father. “And he should know that at least one person was listening. Excuse me.”
Her father yanked out his pocket watch, but Georgie didn’t wait for him to consult it. Lifting her skirts, she hurried back to where Hugh was greeting the last of the parishioners. They dipped curtseys or knuckled their brows to her before leaving the steps clear.
“That was an inspired sermon,” Georgie told him. “Thank you.”
A faint pink brushed his cheeks, like the beginnings of a sunrise. “I only spoke what the Lord put in my heart.” He looked out over the emptying churchyard. “I hope it had some effect.”
“It did,” Georgie promised. “I felt it, and I’m sure others did too. You reminded the innocent that they were loved and could love in return. And the guilty must think about how their actions are hurting those they are called to love.”
He blew out a breath. “May the others see me through your eyes, Georgie.”
She reached out and pressed his hand. “They do. How could they not?”
“Always the optimist.” He smiled softly at her. “I had hoped for better, but the colonel still seems to hold a different opinion.”
She glanced to where her father was pacing before the open door of the coach as if he couldn’t wait to leave. “He was impressed. I could tell. But I realized it isn’t his good opinion I crave anymore.” She returned her gaze to Hugh’s. “It’s yours.”
His brows rose. “Georgie, I…”
Pip came skipping out of the church and slipped his hand in Hugh’s. “What about a treat with dinner, Father? I could try my hand at Mrs. Hallet’s scones, like you said.”
Georgie couldn’t help her smile. “There, you see? Pip listened.”
The boy nodded. “I always listen.”
Hugh chuckled. “Sometimes.” He met Georgie’s gaze. “I shouldn’t keep you, though I’d like nothing more.”
“No, you’re right.” Georgie took a step back. “I should go. Perhaps I could bring Oliver tomorrow to visit Pip.”
Pip grinned. “Yes, ma’am!”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Hugh corrected him before looking to Georgie. “We would enjoy that. Thank you.”
Georgie inclined her head, then took her leave of them, but she was certain that of the four of them, she and Hugh would enjoy the visit the most.
* * *
Sally insisted on accompanying Bailey and Morrigan back to the manor after services.
The girl’s smile remained bright, her chatter congenial, but she kept casting Morrigan looks.
What, did Sally think Morrigan was going to blurt out the truth behind the thefts?
She’d said what she intended to say to Sally, and no one else.
Morrigan wasn’t about to spread rumors, not when she’d been the recipient and knew the damage they could cause.
As they neared the house, Sally slowed, and she put out a hand to stop her brother. “I need to talk to you.” Her teeth worried her lower lip.
Ah, she was going to confess. Good for her. Morrigan removed her hand from Bailey’s arm. “I’ll get back to my duties. Good day, Sally.”
The girl’s head bobbed, but her gaze was already going to her brother, who was frowning.
Like the other staff on duty Sunday afternoons, Morrigan hurried to change into her working uniform of black dress, white apron, and ribboned cap.
Everyone who didn’t have the half-day off had to pitch in on various tasks.
Morrigan took Anastasia for a walk in the garden, then assumed the place of the kitchen girl to help the cook with the Sunday dinner.
She didn’t see Bailey, who was taking Mr. Kinsle’s place today while the butler and his wife had their half-day off.
It was a sign of the household’s respect for Bailey that he’d be asked to fulfill the butler’s duties.
She couldn’t help the pride filling her.
He was a good man, and they looked to have a good future. She was so blessed!
She was just filling a bowl with spring peas at the worktable when the door to the house opened, and the duke stepped into the room.
Everyone froze, then went into a flurry of curtseying and bowing. Mrs. Carmichael stepped around their employer to come and stand beside Mrs. Bettleton, who was waxing white. Bailey stood at the duke’s shoulder, gaze straight ahead.
“I’m sorry to intrude,” His Grace said as if this wasn’t his kitchen, his pots and pans, and his food. “I have been informed there is a thief in Tyneham Manor.”
Morrigan’s stomach dropped. Who would have pointed the finger at one of them? Surely Bailey knew the truth now. Why hadn’t he explained the matter to His Grace? She glanced at Bailey, but his face was as stiff as his shoulders.
“I dislike even having to consider that as a fact,” the duke continued, his quiet voice somehow penetrating past the sizzle of roast on the spit and the bubble of soup in the pot.
“If anyone wishes to speak to me about the matter, I will be available in the library until dinner. And I would like nothing more than to be proved wrong.” His gaze went from staff member to staff member, the weight of it settling over Morrigan.
She dipped a curtsey with the rest of the female staff as he left.
“It couldn’t be one of us,” Mrs. Bettleton insisted, looking to Mrs. Carmichael first. “We know our own.” She too glanced around as if trying to assure them all and herself as well.