with grief while he administered comfort, and he began to blink rapidly as his imagination stirred thick with the image.
Samuel Scammell walked over to them, breaking Hervey's thoughts, and thanked the minister for the service. 'You'll come to the Hall tomorrow, brother? Mr Blood has the will, indeed yes.' He licked his lips and smiled at Hervey. 'I think our dear departed brother may have remembered your good works.'
'Yes. Yes.'
The household waited for Scammell and Campion beside the farm cart that had brought Slythe's body to the churchyard. Ebenezer was already mounted beside the cart, drooping in the saddle, his twisted left leg supported by a specially large stirrup. He held Scammell's horse. 'Brother Scammell?' He held the reins out, then looked at his sister. 'You'll go in the cart with the servants.' His voice was harsh.
'I shall walk, Ebenezer.'
'It is not seemly.'
'I shall walk, Ebenezer! I want to be alone!'
'Leave her, leave her!' Scammell soothed Ebenezer, nodded to Tobias Horsnell, who had the reins of the carthorse and Campion watched them go.
It took all of her control not to run across the ridge down the hayfields to the stream, and there to strip naked and swim in the pool for the sheer, clean joy of it. She dawdled instead, relishing the freedom of being alone, and she climbed part way up through the beeches and felt the wings of her soul stretching free at last. She hugged one of the trees as though it was animate, clinging to it in joy, feeling the seething happiness because a great weight was gone from her. She put her cheek against the bark. 'Thank you, thank you.'
That night she slept alone, ordering Charity from her room, insisting on it. She locked the door and almost danced for the joy of it. She was alone! She undressed with the curtains and windows open and saw the touch of the moon on the ripening wheat. She leaned on the sill, stared into the night, and thought her joy would flood the land. She was not married! Kneeling beside the high bed, hands clasped, she thanked God for her reprieve. She vowed to Him that she would be good, but that she would be free.
Then Isaac Blood came from Dorchester.
He had a white face, lined with age, and grey hair that hung to his collar. He was Matthew Slythe's lawyer and, because he had known Slythe well and knew what to expect at Werlatton Hall, he had brought his own bottle of malmsey wine which he eked into a small glass and sipped often. The servants faced him, sitting on the benches where they gathered for prayers, while Samuel Scammell and Faithful Unto Death flanked Campion and Ebenezer on the family bench. Isaac Blood fussed at the lectern, arranging the will over the family Bible, then fetched a small table on which his wine could stand.
Goodwife Baggerlie, in memory of her good, loyal and God-fearing service, was to receive a hundred pounds. She dabbed her red-rimmed eyes with her apron. 'God bless him! God bless him!'
Faithful Unto Death had been surprised at the legacy. It was an enormous amount. His eyes watched Goodwife and he assumed that Slythe would be more generous with a man of God than with a house-servant. He smiled to himself, and waited as Isaac Blood sipped malmsey and wiped his lips.
'To our Brother Faithful Unto Death Hervey,' Isaac Blood began reading again, and Scammell leaned forward on the bench and smiled at the vicar. Hervey kept his eyes on the lawyer. 'I know,' went on Blood, 'that he will not wish distraction from his humble toiling in God's vineyard, so we will not burden him beyond his desires.'
Hervey frowned. Blood sipped his wine. 'Five pounds.'
Five pounds! Five! Hervey stiffened on the bench, aware that all the servants were watching him, and he felt the agony of insignificance, of virtue unrewarded, of hatred for Matthew Slythe. Five pounds! It turned out to be the same sum that went to Tobias Horsnell and some of the other servants. Five pounds!
Blood was unaware of the seething indignation to his left.
Samuel Scammell walked over to them, breaking Hervey's thoughts, and thanked the minister for the service. 'You'll come to the Hall tomorrow, brother? Mr Blood has the will, indeed yes.' He licked his lips and smiled at Hervey. 'I think our dear departed brother may have remembered your good works.'
'Yes. Yes.'
The household waited for Scammell and Campion beside the farm cart that had brought Slythe's body to the churchyard. Ebenezer was already mounted beside the cart, drooping in the saddle, his twisted left leg supported by a specially large stirrup. He held Scammell's horse. 'Brother Scammell?' He held the reins out, then looked at his sister. 'You'll go in the cart with the servants.' His voice was harsh.
'I shall walk, Ebenezer.'
'It is not seemly.'
'I shall walk, Ebenezer! I want to be alone!'
'Leave her, leave her!' Scammell soothed Ebenezer, nodded to Tobias Horsnell, who had the reins of the carthorse and Campion watched them go.
It took all of her control not to run across the ridge down the hayfields to the stream, and there to strip naked and swim in the pool for the sheer, clean joy of it. She dawdled instead, relishing the freedom of being alone, and she climbed part way up through the beeches and felt the wings of her soul stretching free at last. She hugged one of the trees as though it was animate, clinging to it in joy, feeling the seething happiness because a great weight was gone from her. She put her cheek against the bark. 'Thank you, thank you.'
That night she slept alone, ordering Charity from her room, insisting on it. She locked the door and almost danced for the joy of it. She was alone! She undressed with the curtains and windows open and saw the touch of the moon on the ripening wheat. She leaned on the sill, stared into the night, and thought her joy would flood the land. She was not married! Kneeling beside the high bed, hands clasped, she thanked God for her reprieve. She vowed to Him that she would be good, but that she would be free.
Then Isaac Blood came from Dorchester.
He had a white face, lined with age, and grey hair that hung to his collar. He was Matthew Slythe's lawyer and, because he had known Slythe well and knew what to expect at Werlatton Hall, he had brought his own bottle of malmsey wine which he eked into a small glass and sipped often. The servants faced him, sitting on the benches where they gathered for prayers, while Samuel Scammell and Faithful Unto Death flanked Campion and Ebenezer on the family bench. Isaac Blood fussed at the lectern, arranging the will over the family Bible, then fetched a small table on which his wine could stand.
Goodwife Baggerlie, in memory of her good, loyal and God-fearing service, was to receive a hundred pounds. She dabbed her red-rimmed eyes with her apron. 'God bless him! God bless him!'
Faithful Unto Death had been surprised at the legacy. It was an enormous amount. His eyes watched Goodwife and he assumed that Slythe would be more generous with a man of God than with a house-servant. He smiled to himself, and waited as Isaac Blood sipped malmsey and wiped his lips.
'To our Brother Faithful Unto Death Hervey,' Isaac Blood began reading again, and Scammell leaned forward on the bench and smiled at the vicar. Hervey kept his eyes on the lawyer. 'I know,' went on Blood, 'that he will not wish distraction from his humble toiling in God's vineyard, so we will not burden him beyond his desires.'
Hervey frowned. Blood sipped his wine. 'Five pounds.'
Five pounds! Five! Hervey stiffened on the bench, aware that all the servants were watching him, and he felt the agony of insignificance, of virtue unrewarded, of hatred for Matthew Slythe. Five pounds! It turned out to be the same sum that went to Tobias Horsnell and some of the other servants. Five pounds!
Blood was unaware of the seething indignation to his left.
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