The Reckoning Read Online Free PDF Page A

Cobbey and his wife, who are just old and poor. I shall take them food, and medicine.'
    ‘ And good advice, I'm sure.'
    ‘ But of course,' she assented, smiling. 'Man does not live by bread alone. One must always take the opportunity to improve the state of mind.'
    ‘ Yes, and since we no longer have a priest to undertake that part of it ...' James said darkly.
    Father Aislaby, the family chaplain, had left them suddenly in February, almost without notice, to undertake missionary work in India. His going had been a great inconve nience to everyone. As well as tutoring the male children of the house, he had educated the six choristers of the chapel school, who had had to be sent back to their parents with apologies. He had also performed quite a number of secre tarial duties for the family and estate, which now had to be shared out amongst people who already had too much to do.
    Héloïse missed him in his priestly capacity. In a sense he had never been 'her' priest — he had been chosen and appointed by her predecessor, and was too reserved a man for her ever to feel she really knew him, or, more importantly perhaps, that he knew her — but she was used to regular confession and to daily celebration of the mass. The silent chapel and unserved altar were a yawning chasm in her life. Though she kept the sanctuary lamp burning, and attended herself to the flowers and candles, the living feeling of a chapel that was used was gradually seeping away, as the heat leaves the earth after sunset. She had been, as yet, unable to replace him: a household chaplain, it seemed, was an anach ronism in 1816.
    However, she said mildly, 'He did not do it to annoy, James. He had the call, and when one has the call, one cannot ignore it.'
    ‘ He had the call, all right — to get away from our wretched cold, wet winter. He didn't go off to do missionary work in Ireland or Manchester, you notice!'
    ‘ That is not even worth a protest,' Héloïse smiled, turning away. 'But I must get on. There is so much to do today.’
    James opened the door for her. 'Who goes with you?'
    ‘ No-one,' she said, faintly surprised. Then, thinking she had his trouble, 'I do not stay long in each house, and the ponies stand very well.’
    James shook his head. 'It's not that. I just don't want you driving about alone. There are too many rough customers on the roads these days — men on the tramp, discharged soldiers — and Ned says there are quite a few Irish beggars passing through, too. You had better take Stephen with you.’
    Stephen had his own work to do — but she scanned her husband's face and saw that he was sincerely worried for her safety, so she said meekly, 'Very well.’
    He looked relieved. 'I'll go and find him for you,' he said, following her out onto the step.
    But there was no need — Stephen was already there, holding the heads of the bay ponies harnessed to the little park phaeton. James had had that carriage made for her when they first became betrothed, more than twenty years ago. The life-span of a carriage, of course, was only eight or ten years at the most, and the parts of the phaeton had been repaired and renewed so often that there probably wasn't a single splinter left of the original. But the design was so pleasing, light and graceful, and the ponies were so well schooled, that even an indifferent whip like Héloïse could enjoy driving it. Besides, it spoke of James to her, and she wouldn't have changed it for the most expensive new carriage in York.
    ‘ Ah, Stephen,' James said, 'I want you to go with my lady to the village this morning.’
    He met Stephen's eye with a grave and admonitory look, which Stephen returned intelligently. Héloïse observed the exchange with a small smile, but said nothing.
    ‘ Certainly, sir,' said Stephen. 'I was going to suggest it myself. The roads are very poached, my lady, and if a wheel was to go into a rut, you'd need someone to push you out.'
    ‘ So I would,' she said, kindly going