Francis’s jaw clenched. This was a far harder charge to address. “Yes, your grace. Following the incident just related, Miss Bartlett sought sanctuary with my sisters who run the Brody School for Young Ladies in Harley Street. They were away from home for the Christmas vacation, so their school’s porter brought her to me for her safety. I gave her overnight accommodation as she refused to go to the Mission in Wapping in the middle of the night.”
“So, it is true that you spent the night under the same roof, unchaperoned?”
Francis had no way of avoiding the truth of that statement. “If you call my sleeping on the floor in front of my sitting room fire, while she slept in the bed in another room, sleeping under the same roof, then yes. There were no liberties taken, I can assure you. The lady had just escaped from a molester. This man.” He jabbed finger in the direction of Travener and sent him an angry glare.
“What about his public attack on me with a sword, your grace? Surely you don’t condone your clergymen attacking people with weapons?” Travener asked in his drawling manner.
“How do you respond to the charge of attacking Lord Travener?” the bishop asked, a thread of disapproval in his usually neutral voice.
“As Lord Travener was attempting to help Mrs. Jenkins force Miss Bartlett into a carriage against her will, I say I had full justification to fight him off.”
The bishop’s eyebrows rose so high they almost reached his white wig.
“What about his behavior towards my daughter, your grace?” Reverend Hodges interjected in an affronted voice. “He threw my daughter over and married an actress!”
Fanny sobbed into her handkerchief. “We were to be married, but he abandoned me for her,” she wailed.
Francis inhaled a deep breath, fighting the tension in chest. “That is untrue, Fanny, and you know it. You broke off our informal engagement. Quite indisputably. I married Miss Bartlett after that occurrence.”
“Is this true, Miss Hodges?” the bishop asked gently.
She looked up at the bishop, her eyes red and watery. “Yes, but—”
“She was too upset—” her father began.
The bishop held up a hand cutting off the Reverend’s excuse. “And you, Lord Marchmere, what accusation do you have to make about Reverend Brody?”
“He comes from a family of raving Benthamites. Education for women in the classics. Votes for women. Whatever next? It’s unnatural! Quite inappropriate for the church. A bad influence. He shouldn’t be let anywhere near women and children.” Marchmere’s look, of outrage with a pinch of smugness, stoked the anger in Francis’s belly.
The bishop’s eyes widened in response to this statement. “Ahem. Is that your only complaint about Reverend Brody?”
“Isn’t that enough?” Marchmere huffed.
The bishop turned to Francis’s employer, Reverend Randolph, who sat stiffly on his chair, looking embarrassed to be in the room. “And what about you, Reverend Randolph? I asked you here because you have the longest and closest association with Brody. What is your assessment of his work and character?”
Reverend Randolph pushed his fingers into his receding hairline in a gesture of discomfort, but his kindly face held compassion. “I have had no issues with the work of Reverend Brody during his time at St Paul’s. He comes from an educated, albeitAvant guard,family that’s heavily involved in social issues. I knew his father—a good clergyman. Until Francis’s recent hurried wedding, I thought him a steady and sensible young minister, but his choice of wife…an actress…now makes me wonder…”
“And yet you married them?”
“At the time I did not realize she was the latest star of The Regent Theatre, the leading lady of a burletta, no less. I cannot imagine a woman less suited to the role of a clergyman’s wife, who must of course be an irreproachable role model for women and girls.”
Francis groaned. Clarissa was blameless, but her profession was not considered reputable. “I can only re-iterate that my wife is without moral blemish and fully supports me in my charitable works.”
“That’s as may be, Brody, but—” Reverend Randolph answered.
“She will be an asset to my work in St Paul’s parish, encouraging other theatre people into the church. They will feel less judged if there is one of their own profession by my side.”
The bishop didn’t answer immediately, then he swept his gaze over the assembled company. “Thank you all for coming this morning and providing your testimonies. This inquiry is now concluded. Reverend Brody, please remain behind, so that Imay talk with you.” He picked up a pen from his desk and dipped it into his inkstand and began to write on the document before him.
The witnesses in his inquisition trooped past him. Mrs. Jenkins scowled at him. Marchmere didn’t deign to look him in the eye. Typical of the man.
Viscount Travener paused to lean down and whisper in his ear. “Gentlemen entertain actresses, they don’t marry them, you fool.”
Anger exploded in Francis’s chest. He jerked out his seat, his hands fisted. “Never disrespect my wife again,” he hissed at the man, who had the sense to step back and hurry on his way, the smirk wiped off his face.
Reverend Randolph placed a steadying hand on Francis’s shoulder. “Let it go, young man. Never rise to the taunts of others.”
Francis tipped his chin and folded himself back into his chair, trying to regain an even temper.
