Chapter 4 #2
He lifted his head and thought for a moment.
“The earl perhaps. He was instrumental in aiding them in finding positions. They were so angry with Miranda and me when they discovered I was not their natural father.” He looked up at them, silently pleading with them to understand.
“I knew Miranda was already with child when we wed, but I loved her anyway. I didn’t blame her.
I knew how convincing some men could be and what false promises they might make. ”
“You don’t have to explain to us. It is obvious you loved your wife in the way you speak of her.”
“It was bad of me, but I was glad, for it gave her a reason to marry me. But I held off. You see, I’d loved her for a long while, but a vicar in my circumstances condemns a woman to a life near poverty, in addition to the heaped-on responsibilities in caring for others that not all women want or are capable of carrying. I didn’t want that for Miranda.
“But God smiled down on me before Miranda’s parents could send her away to have the baby in anonymity and give it up for adoption.
I’d completed my training and was serving as a substitute curate while awaiting my assignment.
To my surprise, I was offered the position here in Mertonhaugh, a much better position than I feared I might get, as I had no connections as many other young curates had. I hurried to ask her to marry me.”
They were all silent for a moment. Cecilia saw an old, stooped woman leave one of the almshouses built of Kentish ragstone and walk in their direction. She wore a drab green dress with a dark-blue shawl wrapped around her. She carried a willow basket and walked slowly with a cane.
“Now is the time to move on to other conversations,” Cecilia advised. “After all, this will most likely be brought up again at the inquest this afternoon.”
James raised an eyebrow at Cecilia’s sudden change of topic but followed her lead. “Vicar, in my temporary role of churchwarden, you were going to show me some of the repairs needed in the church. Perhaps we should discuss those now.”
The vicar looked up. “I think that is an admirable idea,” he gratefully told James and rose to his feet.
“Cecilia?” asked James
“I will sit here for a while. You go on. I’ll catch up later.”
Cecilia looked after them as they walked away, and then across the churchyard, not yet turning to recognize the woman who approached. It wasn’t until the woman was nearly beside her that Cecilia looked up.
“Hello,” she said.
The old woman nodded and, without asking, slowly eased her body down to sit on the stone bench next to Cecilia.
Everything she wore looked old and oft mended, including the mob cap that almost covered her gray, grizzled hair.
But her clothing and herself were clean and neat despite her obvious poverty.
She set a rough willow basket on the ground, then placed both hands across each other on the handle of her old cane. Her chin slowly sank to settle on top of her hands.
It looked so like a practiced routine that Cecilia was hard-pressed not to laugh.
“There now,” the woman said. “I’d hoped to catch the vicar before he went off again, but the day be yet young. I am Mrs. Hull,” she said in a forthright manner, though her voice crackled and hissed with age. There was a lively energy in the woman’s eyes that belied her feebleness.
“I am Lady Branstoke,” Cecilia returned.
The old woman nodded. Thought for a minute, then continued.
“I live down the path here in the last tiny almshouse cottage…at least for now. The vicar wants me to move to the middle one so he might have the end one for the curate he hopes to get, you see.” She compressed her lips and shook her head.
“But I don’t want to move. I like my little house.
’Tisn’t much, and I have it fixed up the way I like it.
Yes, just the way I like it,” she told Cecilia in a manner that sounded quite pleased with herself.
“You are truly fortunate,” Cecilia said pleasantly, hoping for an opening to question this woman about Mrs. Jones.
“Could you tell him that?”
“I’m sorry, tell him what?” Cecilia asked.
“That I don’t want to move to the middle almshouse,” the old woman said matter-of-factly.
“Me?”
“Yes,” the woman said, lifting her head from her hands that rested on the cane. “You’re a toff. He listens to toffs.—Not that he doesn’t listen to others as well, mind you, but he listens to toffs better…” Her brow furrowed. “I suppose we all do if we know what is good fer us.”
“I’m sure you can talk him round to your way of thinking,” Cecilia said with a smile. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Naturally, you being a lady and all.”
The woman’s manner amused Cecilia, and she found she quite liked her. She might make a good ally in their investigation. “How well did you know Mrs. Jones?”
“Purty well, if I do say so meself. She helped get me to living in the almshouse when we found out me pension was gone, taken back by my last employer when he lost everything at cards.”
“Took your pension? I didn’t think that was possible,” Cecilia said.
The woman shrugged philosophically. “Don’t know how he done it—weren’t much—but he done it. But Mrs. Jones, she helped me, she wrote to the Earl of Mortlake on my behalf.”
Cecilia’s brow furrowed. “Why did she need to appeal to the earl?”
“’Cause he paid for the almshouses here. The old earl did afore him as he built ’em, and now who’s ever the current earl gets to say as to who gets to live in ‘em.”
“I didn’t know that!” Cecilia said. “Is the church and all its property in his living?”
“Yes, on account of this used to be the Mortlake family seat when the title came down to him after helping defeat the Roundheads.”
“What do you mean when you say: used to be the family seat?” Cecilia asked.
“The old earl, he got a bigger, fancy property in Sussex and built a grand house there. Leastwise, that’s what they say. They hardly ever visited Mertonhaugh.”
“But now they live here,” Cecilia stated.
“On account of the fire destroying that grand house. Served him right for abandoning Mertonhaugh, I say.”
“You seem to know a great deal about the area.”
“Born and bred here, only moved to Maidstone for the years I were in service… Mrs. Jones used to ask me questions about the area all the time, particularly about the people, or I should say the parents and grandparents of the people who are here now. Folks seem to like to talk about their families, and Mrs. Jones told me what I told her gave her the openings she needed to start good conversations.”
“Most clever. Do you believe she could have committed suicide?” Cecilia asked.
Mrs. Hull gave a short, soft laugh. “Mrs. Jones? ’Cor, no. She was one to solve problems, not run away from them, if you know what I mean.”
“I do, indeed. Did you know her daughters?”
“Faith and Hope? Aye, right nice and proper little gels until they got sent to that fancy school.” She shook her head.
“Two spoiled gels came home! Not that that were the vicar’s and Mrs. Jones’ fault.
Mrs. Jones confessed to me that their real father wanted them raised a certain way, and not in a way that is correct for people in our positions.
” She sighed. “They thought themselves above us in the village.”
“Oh! You know they are not the vicar’s daughters?”
“Aye, but the truth wasn’t well known, you know. I guess Mrs. Jones had’a talk to someone about it, and her someone was me,” she said with a little laugh.
“She trusted your discretion,” Cecilia said.
Mrs. Hull nodded. “I was blessed,” she said.
“And I’m the only one she told that Miss Faith sent her a letter two months ago.
Said that she knew she and Hope were a mite hasty, and she was sorry for that.
She wanted to tell her she was fine and had secured a good position, but didn’t tell her where, only that the earl knew. ”
Cecilia sighed. “Well, that is something, I guess.” She stood up. “Let’s find the vicar and my husband. I need to return home for a bit before the inquest.”
Mrs. Hull rose slowly to her feet. “You watch out for the magistrate at the inquest. He don’t like women, or what he thinks of as womanish ways.”
“What do you mean?” Cecilia asked as they walked toward the church.
“Won’t let his wife and daughter have tea in the afternoon, says that’s too womanish and barbaric.”
“Womanish?” Cecilia repeated, astonished.
“Yes. That is what he says. Mrs. Hester, she loves the tradition and loves tea. She brings tea down to my little cottage two to three times a week so she might enjoy it. I love the company and the gossip,” she said on a coy laugh.
“And she leaves what extra tea she has brought with me, so I might enjoy another day of tea.”
“That sounds wonderful!” Cecilia said.
Mrs. Hull nodded. “And I do need to talk to the vicar. He’ll be needing a cook and someone to keep for him; I’d like the job.”
Cecilia and Mrs. Hull found the men in the north transept. They were discussing the raised stage the pulpit sat on.
“That floor looks dangerous, Mr. Jones. We need to put this repair at the head of our list lest the wood collapse under you and you fall through the floor.”
“I’m sure the lanterns must be more important,” Mr. Jones said. “If the floor gave way, you are only talking about a drop of two feet at most.”
“But it could be a drop to cause injury, as it would come upon you unawares. It won’t take much to put in new floorboards. I’ll have the Summerworth carpenter here to fix it before Sunday services. Shouldn’t take long.”
Mr. Jones looked at the cracking and sagging floorboards and reluctantly agreed. “But lanterns working are important for the congregation.”
“Yes, and they will get fixed. Don’t you feel it would be nice to have something on your list done? Then you can look forward to getting it all done and not thinking of it as a list that goes nowhere?” James asked.
“James,” Cecilia said. “Are you about done here? Hugh needs to be fed before the inquest.”
He nodded. “I think we are done here for now anyway,” he said.
“And you need to eat, too, Mr. Jones,” said Mrs. Hull.
“I’m not hungry, Mrs. Hull.”
“Nonsense. You may not feel hungry, but for you to make it through the inquest this afternoon, you’d best have food. I’ll nip up to the house and get something for you. Gracious knows I know where everything is. And I can go on cooking and keeping for you, too,” she said.
The vicar frowned and shook his head. “I can’t think right now, Mrs. Hull.”
“I understands, truly,” she said soothingly.
“I’ll just do for you today so you ken see to what ya needs to do, and then we’s can talk more on a more permanent situation.
Wanted to let you know before that Mrs. Ralston come about offering the same.
” She shook her head. “Her house ain’t tidy like mine.
“I ain’t braggin’, but I wanna help today. Also, wanna let you know I’s interested afore Mrs. Ralston come offering the same. Asides, I cain’t abide havin’ nothin’ to do. That’s why I helped with Miranda’s garden and do trimming around some of the headstones.”
The vicar looked bemused and a bit hunted.
Cecilia and James tried to hide their laughter at the competition forming between the neighbor ladies, and Mrs. Jones was not even in the grave yet.
The Branstokes took their leave of the vicar, saying they would see him at the inquest that afternoon. In the meantime, they were going to see the earl to see if he knew where to find Hope and Faith. They wanted to send express messages to both young women.