business, and he ranted in the afternoons
when the hardy few appeared for additional devotions. In fact, he ranted whenever he had an audience, no matter how small,
and Chaloner had once caught him holding forth to a frightened baby.
‘I tried to catch you yesterday,’ said North, ushering Chaloner towards the small gathering that sat near the pulpit. These
were the chapel’s ‘council’ – those with the time and inclination to argue about funds, building repairs and which psalms
to sing. ‘Were you looking for work again?’
‘Will you leave us if you are successful?’ demanded a large woman who wore a massive shoulder-width brimmed hat and voluminous
black skirts. Faith North was clearly annoyed that her community might lose the man who acted as their treasurer. ‘We were
in a dreadful mess before you came along, and I do not want to go through
that
again. I have better things to do than juggle money, and we cannot let Temperance do it, not after the chaos she created
last time.’
Temperance blushed and stared at her shoes. ‘I told you I was hopeless at book-keeping, but you insisted I do it anyway. It
was not entirely my fault things went wrong.’
‘I thought it would do you good,’ sniffed Faith. ‘Make you a better wife when the time comes.’
‘No harm was done,’ said North, laying a sympathetic hand on his daughter’s broad shoulder. ‘Heyden untangled the muddle,
and we are making a profit now – enough to maintain our chapel, buy food for the poor and pay Preacher Hill.’
‘The Lord,’ boomed Hill, making several people jump. The preacher wore drab, slightly seedy clothes, and his pinched face
was entirely devoid of humour. His small eyes glinted when he spoke of his love of God and his hate of blasphemers, two subjects
that merited identical facial expressions, and a large mouth accommodated his shockingly powerful voice. ‘The
Lord
allowed us to make this profit. Heyden had nothing to do with it.’
Faith sighed wearily. ‘So you tell us every week, Preacher. But it is cold in here, and I want to go home, so we should turn
our attention back to the business in hand. You can tell us about the Lord’s fiscal omnipotence later, when we are in front
of a fire with a hot posset in our hands.’
North indicated Chaloner was to sit next to him. ‘Two more windows were smashed last night, and we have been discussing whether
or not to replace them.’
‘You have sufficient funds in the—’ began Chaloner.
‘We should not,’ stated Hill with great finality. ‘The Lord broke them for a reason, and we must bow to His will. We shall
spend the money on Bibles for the poor – to keep them warm this winter.’
‘The Lord broke them?’ asked Chaloner. ‘I thought it was apprentices.’ He did not point out that if Bibles were offered to
the needy with the addendum that they were to provide warmth, then they were likely to end up on the fire.
‘Be quiet,’ ordered Hill indignantly. ‘Only true believers are allowed to speak here.’
‘Hush, Preacher,’ said North reprovingly. ‘Heyden has given us several good ideas – such as putting wire in the windows to
repel fireballs – and we do not want him to resign because you insult his religious convictions. God works through unusual
instruments, and he may well be one of them.’
‘Very unusual,’ agreed Hill, eyeing Chaloner coolly. ‘But if he were to accept the Truth, and follow the Way of the Light,
then I might—’
‘Windows,’ prompted Temperance. ‘I do not see whywe should suffer when we have the money to rectify the problem, and, despite what Preacher Hill says, I do not think God
wants us to be miserable. I have never known a more bitter winter – snow already, and frosts that threaten to freeze the great
Thames itself.’
‘The
Lord
will freeze the Thames,’ proclaimed Hill dogmatically. ‘Not frost.’
‘These acts of violence worry me,’ said North,
when the hardy few appeared for additional devotions. In fact, he ranted whenever he had an audience, no matter how small,
and Chaloner had once caught him holding forth to a frightened baby.
‘I tried to catch you yesterday,’ said North, ushering Chaloner towards the small gathering that sat near the pulpit. These
were the chapel’s ‘council’ – those with the time and inclination to argue about funds, building repairs and which psalms
to sing. ‘Were you looking for work again?’
‘Will you leave us if you are successful?’ demanded a large woman who wore a massive shoulder-width brimmed hat and voluminous
black skirts. Faith North was clearly annoyed that her community might lose the man who acted as their treasurer. ‘We were
in a dreadful mess before you came along, and I do not want to go through
that
again. I have better things to do than juggle money, and we cannot let Temperance do it, not after the chaos she created
last time.’
Temperance blushed and stared at her shoes. ‘I told you I was hopeless at book-keeping, but you insisted I do it anyway. It
was not entirely my fault things went wrong.’
‘I thought it would do you good,’ sniffed Faith. ‘Make you a better wife when the time comes.’
‘No harm was done,’ said North, laying a sympathetic hand on his daughter’s broad shoulder. ‘Heyden untangled the muddle,
and we are making a profit now – enough to maintain our chapel, buy food for the poor and pay Preacher Hill.’
‘The Lord,’ boomed Hill, making several people jump. The preacher wore drab, slightly seedy clothes, and his pinched face
was entirely devoid of humour. His small eyes glinted when he spoke of his love of God and his hate of blasphemers, two subjects
that merited identical facial expressions, and a large mouth accommodated his shockingly powerful voice. ‘The
Lord
allowed us to make this profit. Heyden had nothing to do with it.’
Faith sighed wearily. ‘So you tell us every week, Preacher. But it is cold in here, and I want to go home, so we should turn
our attention back to the business in hand. You can tell us about the Lord’s fiscal omnipotence later, when we are in front
of a fire with a hot posset in our hands.’
North indicated Chaloner was to sit next to him. ‘Two more windows were smashed last night, and we have been discussing whether
or not to replace them.’
‘You have sufficient funds in the—’ began Chaloner.
‘We should not,’ stated Hill with great finality. ‘The Lord broke them for a reason, and we must bow to His will. We shall
spend the money on Bibles for the poor – to keep them warm this winter.’
‘The Lord broke them?’ asked Chaloner. ‘I thought it was apprentices.’ He did not point out that if Bibles were offered to
the needy with the addendum that they were to provide warmth, then they were likely to end up on the fire.
‘Be quiet,’ ordered Hill indignantly. ‘Only true believers are allowed to speak here.’
‘Hush, Preacher,’ said North reprovingly. ‘Heyden has given us several good ideas – such as putting wire in the windows to
repel fireballs – and we do not want him to resign because you insult his religious convictions. God works through unusual
instruments, and he may well be one of them.’
‘Very unusual,’ agreed Hill, eyeing Chaloner coolly. ‘But if he were to accept the Truth, and follow the Way of the Light,
then I might—’
‘Windows,’ prompted Temperance. ‘I do not see whywe should suffer when we have the money to rectify the problem, and, despite what Preacher Hill says, I do not think God
wants us to be miserable. I have never known a more bitter winter – snow already, and frosts that threaten to freeze the great
Thames itself.’
‘The
Lord
will freeze the Thames,’ proclaimed Hill dogmatically. ‘Not frost.’
‘These acts of violence worry me,’ said North,
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