the people stood for the Creed, he purposefully ascended to the carved oak pulpit and cleared his throat. It was time at last for the main business of the morning.
‘“For unto every one that hath shall be given, and he shall have abundance: but from him that hath not shall be taken away even that which he hath.”’
He paused and closed the book. ‘Three servants were each given a sum of money by their master. An unequal amount, representing the unequal share we each receive of this world’s goods.’ He looked around the church. All eyes were upon him. ‘It is not the will of the Almighty that we should all start out with the same inheritance, and even if that were the case, a few years would bring about inequality. The hard-working and thrifty would prosper while the shiftless and idle would spend what they had and be reduced to poverty.’ He took a breath, and his voice deepened into judgemental sternness. ‘And there are those present here this morning who have squandered their money in habits of idleness and intemperance. They must surely feel a sense of shame.’
Complete silence had fallen on the congregation, and some heads turned towards the malodorous strangers from Lower Beversley.
Edward looked down the length of the nave to where Susan sat with bowed head, and anger rose within him. Must she always suffer for being born a Lucket?
Worse was to come.
‘It is my unhappy duty this morning to point out an example – and likewise a warning – of the dire consequences of improvidence,’ the rector continued. ‘I take no pleasure in doing so, I assure you, but rather sorrow. May we all heed and learn from the fate of those who have come to beg from the prudent and provident this morning.’
Sighs and shivers passed over the assembly like a chill wind, and feet shuffled uncomfortably. The four Luckets sat dumbly in their pew behind the font like a row of miscreants in the stocks. Bartlemy lowered his black head, but Dolly continued to stare straight in front. Joby gazed at the floor, and Jack might have been looking anywhere.
Polly shrank back between her companions on the maids’ bench. Osmond thought that her painful blushes were due to his bold appraisal of her, and his desire increased.
Edward saw Susan’s head drop still lower, and he seethed with rage; how much longer was she to be tortured by this pompous old fool?
The harangue went on for a further half-hour before the steeple clock struck twelve and the rector stepped down, having ordered the applicants to stay behind after the service to receive an agreed amount from the church wardens. He raised his hand in the final blessing, and the singers began Psalm 100. The worshippers scraped their feet, and the rector commenced his stately walk down the aisle. Ignoring the row of beggars, he lifted his heavy chin above his swathed cravat, and looked straight ahead.
Which is why he did not see the warning glare in Doll Lucket’s eyes as she slowly raised her right hand, clutching the prayer book. Drawing back her arm like a bowman taking aim, she threw the black leather-bound missile at the rector’s head with all her strength as he passed. It caught him on the left temple, landing with a force that would have done credit to the leather-covered ball that the men whacked with their bats on the green.
The rector’s yelp of surprise and pain went unheard, drowned by an unearthly shriek from Doll. She opened her mouth and howled like an animal, again and again, building up a blood-curdling wall of sound. Her bony frame shook with the effort, her face was hideously contorted, and her upraised hands were clenched.
The people stood motionless, unable to focus their thoughts, though one or two superstitious souls fell to their knees in terror that an unclean spirit had got into the Lord’s house.
For it was a howl of the doomed, the damned, the trapped, a sound of fury and without hope. Nobody who heard Doll that Sunday morning ever forgot her
‘“For unto every one that hath shall be given, and he shall have abundance: but from him that hath not shall be taken away even that which he hath.”’
He paused and closed the book. ‘Three servants were each given a sum of money by their master. An unequal amount, representing the unequal share we each receive of this world’s goods.’ He looked around the church. All eyes were upon him. ‘It is not the will of the Almighty that we should all start out with the same inheritance, and even if that were the case, a few years would bring about inequality. The hard-working and thrifty would prosper while the shiftless and idle would spend what they had and be reduced to poverty.’ He took a breath, and his voice deepened into judgemental sternness. ‘And there are those present here this morning who have squandered their money in habits of idleness and intemperance. They must surely feel a sense of shame.’
Complete silence had fallen on the congregation, and some heads turned towards the malodorous strangers from Lower Beversley.
Edward looked down the length of the nave to where Susan sat with bowed head, and anger rose within him. Must she always suffer for being born a Lucket?
Worse was to come.
‘It is my unhappy duty this morning to point out an example – and likewise a warning – of the dire consequences of improvidence,’ the rector continued. ‘I take no pleasure in doing so, I assure you, but rather sorrow. May we all heed and learn from the fate of those who have come to beg from the prudent and provident this morning.’
Sighs and shivers passed over the assembly like a chill wind, and feet shuffled uncomfortably. The four Luckets sat dumbly in their pew behind the font like a row of miscreants in the stocks. Bartlemy lowered his black head, but Dolly continued to stare straight in front. Joby gazed at the floor, and Jack might have been looking anywhere.
Polly shrank back between her companions on the maids’ bench. Osmond thought that her painful blushes were due to his bold appraisal of her, and his desire increased.
Edward saw Susan’s head drop still lower, and he seethed with rage; how much longer was she to be tortured by this pompous old fool?
The harangue went on for a further half-hour before the steeple clock struck twelve and the rector stepped down, having ordered the applicants to stay behind after the service to receive an agreed amount from the church wardens. He raised his hand in the final blessing, and the singers began Psalm 100. The worshippers scraped their feet, and the rector commenced his stately walk down the aisle. Ignoring the row of beggars, he lifted his heavy chin above his swathed cravat, and looked straight ahead.
Which is why he did not see the warning glare in Doll Lucket’s eyes as she slowly raised her right hand, clutching the prayer book. Drawing back her arm like a bowman taking aim, she threw the black leather-bound missile at the rector’s head with all her strength as he passed. It caught him on the left temple, landing with a force that would have done credit to the leather-covered ball that the men whacked with their bats on the green.
The rector’s yelp of surprise and pain went unheard, drowned by an unearthly shriek from Doll. She opened her mouth and howled like an animal, again and again, building up a blood-curdling wall of sound. Her bony frame shook with the effort, her face was hideously contorted, and her upraised hands were clenched.
The people stood motionless, unable to focus their thoughts, though one or two superstitious souls fell to their knees in terror that an unclean spirit had got into the Lord’s house.
For it was a howl of the doomed, the damned, the trapped, a sound of fury and without hope. Nobody who heard Doll that Sunday morning ever forgot her
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