Kate grew uncharacteristically grave. “I am sorry, Mr. Keith. I did not stop to consider your feelings.”
Keith waved away her apology with his good arm. “No harm done, Miss Katherine. That was done by the French. Besides, losing this arm has had its advantages, I assure you. Ah, the pity of pretty females and the hospitality of a fine family.” He lifted his glass in salute. “Thank you, Boney. You changed my life.”
The former lieutenant was clearly somewhat drunk, and feeling a little brazen. But his bravado and ironic humor didn’t quite cover the pain in his eyes.
“I know,” Captain Overtree quipped. “We shall engage a fiddler to play Irish jigs all night. We’d all have to keep our arms at our sides for that dance.”
Mr. Keith grinned at him. “Excellent notion, Captain. Hear, hear.”
Around the room, people exhaled, relieved the tense moment had passed.
The next morning, Mrs. Overtree gave the cook a few days notice to ready the picnic, and scheduled the dinner for Stephen’s final night to give the servants the most time to prepare. Soon, invitations were ordered and the dressmaker summoned. Mrs. Overtree insisted that both Sophie and Kate have new gowns for the occasion. The dressmaker, Mrs. Pannet, arrived, followed by her thin, work-worn assistant bearing a sample case and portfolio.
After surveying her subjects’ coloring and taking their measurements, the dressmaker pulled forth fabric swatches and drawings of fashionable but relatively simple gowns, considering how quickly they were needed. Mrs. Pannet and Mrs. Overtree conferred together and settled on their choices. Sophie deferred to her mother-in-law, who was far more decisive and who, after all, would be paying the dressmaker’s bill. Kate’s gown would be pale pink satin with a crossover bodice, while Sophie would have a gown of blue net over white, with a broad neckline front and back and a high waist. Sophie was especially glad for the high waist.
On Sunday, Stephen’s mother announced, “Your father will not be joining us for church today. Not with this damp weather. It is not good for his chest.”
“I feel perfectly well, my dear,” his father protested.
“Now, yes. And I should like to keep it that way. But the old church with its chilly draughts and sniffling children? Very catching. Especially in your weakened state. No, you stay here, quiet and warm. Better yet, in bed. Don’t forget Dr. Matthews comes tomorrow with a new elixir from London. I won’t have him thinking I’ve grown lax in my duty.” She pulled on her gloves. “We shall pray for you.”
Poor Papa, Stephen thought. It must be hard at times, being married to a woman raised by a take-charge army commander.
They put on their coats and hats, and made ready to leave. The footman handed around umbrellas, just in case. The ladies accepted, but the colonel waved away the offered implement and made do with turning up the collar of his greatcoat. Stephen did the same.
As they walked to church, the damp mist turned to steady rain. Around him, three umbrellas opened like mushrooms. A flash of orange caught Stephen’s eye. He glanced over and saw Gulliver dash through the wet grass and behind the church.Uh oh.
“Where is that cat going?” His mother wrinkled her nose. “Mangy creatures. A stray, no doubt. Better in the churchyard than Overtree Hall.”
Stephen exchanged concerned looks with Kate. Then he tried to catch Sophie’s eye, but her gaze remained on the fleeing feline. He hoped she wouldn’t give away Winnie’s secret. He sifted through his sluggish mind, trying in vain to think of something to say to distract them both.
“Do you... never miss church, Mrs. Overtree?” Sophie asked his mother, sending him a subtle, knowing look.
Stephen exhaled in relief.
“Never. I attend every divine service, and give alms to charity, and pray without ceasing. Who knows what would happen if I failed to do so?”
“Mamma...” Stephen gently protested. “It isn’t all on your shoulders. It’s on God’s. Do you really think that if you were to miss one service, or forget to pray, or even heaven forbid, do something wrong, that God would take Papa from you as punishment? Or say, allow me to die, when I otherwise would have lived?”
“Of course He might.”
“Mamma.... I don’t think God works that way. Yes, He wants us to pray, read the Scriptures, and fellowship with other believers, but it isn’t as though marking off duties on a list is a guaranteed cure-all.”
She sniffed. “I don’t know that I agree with you. In any case, it is better to be safe than sorry.”
“But it sounds almost like a superstition for you. And how taxing to believe you hold Papa’s fate, not to mention that of your entire family, on your own shoulders. Do you never grow weary?”
“Always. But it is my lot in life.”
“Your mother is a paragon, Stephen,” his grandfather spoke up. “The vicar respects her highly and holds her up as a model for his other parishioners. We should all be half as diligent.”
Stephen nodded, but he thought that his mother secretly enjoyed all the attention she received as the long-suffering, dutiful wife of sickly Mr. Overtree. He wished she relied a little more on God and a little less on her own good deeds and religious observances.
They entered the church as the bells rang. Around them, the congregation filled the boxes and pews.
The parish clerk called the service to order as the vicar, Mr. Nelson, climbed into the pulpit. For a moment, Stephen tried to imagine himself in those black forms and white collar, instead of his usual uniform—visiting the sick, helping the poor, and making sermons. Perhaps his grandfather had been right to steer him away from the church. He enjoyed being active and outdoors more than studying, though reading the Scriptures certainly satisfied his soul. Whatever the case, Stephen wouldn’t “put his hand to the plough and look back.” He wanted to serve God, his country, and his family wherever he was. And if he could do some good to friends or neighbors along the way, so much the better.
The topic of Mr. Nelson’s sermon that day was God’s merciful redemption of the world, through Christ’s sacrificial death. He read from Psalm 32, “Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.” And he ended with Galatians 1, “Grace be to you and peace from God the Father, and from our Lord Jesus Christ, who gave himself for our sins, that he might deliver us from this present evil world, according to the will of God and our Father: To whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.”
