Finally she came to her firstborn, Stevie, seven. His fluffy ginger hair had darkened a little and become more like Arabella’s auburn. He was reading a lot and could write his name. He said his prayers without guidance from Elsie, and it was she who said ‘Amen’ with him.
Kenelm had always done this with Stevie, but now that they had three children he found that it took up too much time.
She left the boys in the care of the nurse, who slept within earshot of them. On the landing she met her mother coming out of the bishop’s room.
Elsie’s parents had barely spoken to one another for five years, until the bishop had fallen ill this past summer, at the age of sixty-seven. He suffered chest pains and was short of breath, so much sothat any effort exhausted him, and he no longer got out of bed. So Arabella had begun to nurse him.
Now Elsie and her mother walked down the stairs together and went into the dining room for supper. There was hot soup, a cold game pie and cake. A jug of wine stood on the table, but both women drank tea.
Kenelm was at a meeting in the vestry and had said he would be late, so they started without him.
Elsie asked how her father was.
‘A little weaker,’ Arabella said. ‘He complains that his feet are cold, even though there’s a blazing fire in the room. I took him some clear soup for supper, and he drank it. He’s sleeping now. Mason’s with him.’
‘Why do you take care of him? Mason could do it on her own.’
‘A question I often ask myself.’
Elsie was not satisfied with that. ‘Is it because you’re thinking of the afterlife?’ Elsie had been on the point of saying ‘the Day of Judgement’ but had felt it was too harsh.
‘I don’t know much about the afterlife,’ Arabella said. ‘Nor do the clergy, though they pretend to. Happily married couples think they’ll be together in heaven, but what about a widow who marries a second time? She may have two husbands in heaven. Will she have to choose between them, or can she have both?’
Elsie giggled. ‘Mother, don’t be silly.’
‘I’m just pointing out the foolishness of what people believe.’
‘Are you still in love with my father?’
‘No, and I probably never was. But that wasn’t his fault. We were both responsible for the things that happened to us. I should never have married him, of course, but it was my decision. He asked me, and I could have said no. I would have, if my pride had not been wounded by the boy who rejected me.’
‘Some rebound marriages work out well enough.’
‘The trouble was that your father was never really interested in me. He wanted a wife, for convenience and because it’s thought to prove that a clergyman isn’t, you know, a molly.’
‘Is Father a molly?’
‘No, but his inclination in the other direction is not very strong. After you were born we made love rather infrequently. And eventually, you see, I found someone who could hardly keep his hands off me because he loved me so much, and I realized that that was how it ought to be.’
That’s not how it is for me, Elsie thought sadly. But I’m sure it could be – with Amos. She drank some soup and said nothing.
Arabella said: ‘I don’t want him to die hating me. I don’t want to stand by his grave cursing him. So I think about the early days, when he was slim and handsome and not so pompous, and I was at least fond of him. And perhaps he’ll forgive me before the end.’
Elsie did not think her father was the forgiving type, but that was another thought she kept to herself.
The confessional atmosphere evaporated when Kenelm walked in. He sat at the table and poured a glass of madeira. ‘What are you two looking so solemn about?’ he said.
Elsie decided not to answer. Instead she said: ‘How was your meeting?’
‘Very straightforward,’ he replied. ‘It was an organizational discussion. I had cleared everything beforehand with the bishop, so I could tell the clergy what he wanted them to do. When they disagreed, I said I would speak to the bishop about it again, but I did not think he would change his mind.’
Arabella said: ‘Are you sure the bishop even understands what you say to him?’
‘I believe so. At any rate, between us we make sound decisions.’ Kenelm took a slice of the game pie and began to eat.
Arabella stood up. ‘I’m going to retire. Goodnight, Kenelm. Goodnight, Elsie.’ She left the room.
Kenelm frowned. ‘I hope your mother isn’t displeased with me for some reason.’
