CHAPTER SEVEN (Part Two)

Rosalind was looking forward to her first Sunday morning service at the ancient village church of St Mary’s.

     The family’s big landau stood before the front entrance with Mr Jowett in the driver’s seat steadying the four magnificent horses.

     With Pricilla at her side Rosalind went out to the coach with the rest of the family, but she hung back when she saw Sir Leopold. She had been told the whole household attended the morning service but she had not expected to see him among the party for he did not strike her as a man of religious bent.

     The family crowded around the carriage door. Mr Cedric handed his daughters inside and then stood back for his father to enter before entering himself.

     Mrs Gilbert pushed her way forward to enter next. ‘You travel in the trap with the rest of the servants,’ she said sharply to Rosalind.

     ‘But Father, I want Rosalind to ride with us,’ Pricilla protested loudly from inside the carriage. ‘Please, Father!’

     Mr Cedric alighted from the coach, his face blank of expression as he looked at the housekeeper.

‘There’s room for one more only,’ he said to her. ‘Rosalind will ride with us. Perhaps you’ll be good enough to take the trap, Mrs Gilbert?’

     The housekeeper’s face turned dark red with fury.

     ‘But I have always ridden to church with the family, Mr Cedric,’ she exclaimed in a piercing tone. ‘It’s been a tradition of many years,’ She tried to peer inside the coach. ‘Sir Leopold! I protest at this treatment.’

     Sir Leopold remained silent which Rosalind thought was cowardly of him.

     ‘I don’t mind taking the trap,’ Rosalind said to Mr Cedric in an effort to be conciliatory. ‘I am a newcomer, after all.’

     ‘So she should!’ exclaimed Mrs Gilbert. ‘The jumped-up hussy.’

     Mr Cedric scowled. ‘No,’ he said sharply. ‘Pricilla wants her close. We’ll have no more argument, Mrs Gilbert.’

     Whereupon he took Rosalind by the elbow and practically pushed her through the coach door. Rosalind felt her face flame up as she took a seat between Pricilla and Melissa, who hissed like a snake at the close contact.

     Cedric and Sir Leopold sat opposite. Feeling embarrassed and out-of-place Rosalind kept her gaze down, certain that Sir Leopold’s expression would be disapproving. She would have much preferred to travel in the trap, with the kitchen staff for congenial company.

     Mercifully the coach ride to the church took no more than fifteen minutes or so. The lovely old church looked holy and serene in the morning sunshine. Everyone alighted and walked up the stone path to the door. Sir Leopold and Mr Cedric went inside the church almost as once.

 Villagers were arriving too and other families in the district. Rosalind spotted Brice Thomas and his sisters. Melissa eagerly hurried over to them and Pricilla pulled at Rosalind’s hand.

‘Come on Roz. Let’s join the Thomases. We can sit in their pew.’

     Rosalind held back. ‘I think not Pricilla,’ she said. ‘It wouldn’t do. You go and join them.’

     Hesitating for just the moment the girl ran off towards the group who were making their way in. At that moment the trap arrived, George Dobbs driving, and the staff stepped down. While Mrs Jowett, Maggie and Linda were talking and laughing, Mrs Gilbert marched up the stone pathway with a face like thunder. Hastily Rosalind stood aside for her not wanting a scene outside the church.

     Then she went into the cool dark interior in the company of cook and maids and was glad to sit at the back with them, unnoticed.

     The church soon filled up. It seemed to Rosalind that most of the villagers must be there. The chattering and rustling of clothes and prayer books ceased as the figure of the curate came into view. He stood before the altar for a moment and then solemnly climbed into the high pulpit.

     Rosalind noted again that Joshua Tucker was a handsome young man, with thick dark wavy hair brushed back from his face and long enough to reach his collar. He cut an imposing figure standing there, with his height and width of shoulder. Rosalind wondered idly how many of the village girls were already in love with him.

     ‘It’s a wonder God doesn’t strike him dead,’ Linda said in a low whisper. ‘For his impiety.’

     Rosalind was startled but at that moment the curate gave out the number of the first hymn and everyone stood. When that finished the service proceeded, but in a hurried slip-shod way that had Rosalind wondering what the curate was about.

     Curiosity seized her. ‘What did you mean – his impiety,’ Rosalind managed to whisper to Linda.

     ‘I’m not the only village girl he has insulted with his coarse attentions,’ Linda whispered. ‘And the names he called me when I wouldn’t do as he wanted.’

     Rosalind was shocked. ‘Have you told anyone?’

     ‘Only my mother. Who else would believe me against the word of the curate?’ Linda breathed. ‘But lately he’s changed towards me and now crosses the street to avoid me. But I still don’t trust him.’

     Joshua Tucker prepared to start his sermon. Sitting next to Rosalind Mrs Jowett murmured to her. ‘Nudge me if I start to snore.’

     He stood in the pulpit for a moment in silence, glancing around the congregation. ‘I have no sermon for you today,’ he said.

     Rosalind thought she heard one or two sighs of relief.

     ‘Instead, I have a grave duty to perform,’ Joshua went on.

     A rustle of surprised whispers rippled though those seated and he held up a hand to silence it.

     ‘I have uncovered sin in its most prurient form in this village.’

     A wave of whispers came again. Joshua Tucker’s accusing voice rose above them.

     ‘There is one recently come amongst us from the town, and already she is plying her filthy trade here in our fair village of Rhosilli.’

     The whispers became cries of astonishment and concern.

     ‘True men, fathers and husbands, innocent hitherto; have been corrupted by her unashamed lasciviousness.’

     Someone called out. ‘Who is she?’ It sounded like Mrs Gilbert’s voice.

     Joshua lifted an outstretched arm and pointed to the back of the church. ‘There she is, wantonly unashamed and defies the Lord God to sit under his holy roof.’

     Linda clutched Rosalind’s arm. ‘Oh, no!’ she whispered terrified. ‘What is he trying to do?’

     Rosalind stared at the man in the pulpit and was certain his eyes were on her and no one else. She sat transfixed not understanding what was going on.

     She was aware that heads were turning to stare at the back. Mrs Gilbert was among them, her face alight with triumph and malice.

     ‘You see!’ Joshua Tucker exclaimed with satisfaction. ‘She does not defend herself. She knows she is vile and contemptible.

     ‘Name her! Name her!’ Again it was Mrs Gilbert who cried out.

     ‘I must name the guilty one for the salvation of this community,’ he said in a loud voice. ‘This vile sinner is none other than Rosalind Trevellian. She must be drive out from our village.’

     Shocked to the core Rosalind jumped to her feet. ‘This is a terrible lie,’ she cried out in distress. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong.’

     ‘Admit your sins before God!’ Joshua stormed.

     ‘God knows I am innocent!’

     ‘Blasphemy!’ Joshua’s voice rose to a resounding pitch that rang around the walls of the church. ‘Your mouth is foul with lies and deceit. You are not fit to be amongst us.’

     Rosalind started down the aisle towards the pulpit, aware that everyone was staring. She stopped and glared up at him looming above her like the angel of death.

     ‘You spout these lies and accusations so easily,’ Rosalind shouted at him. ‘You have no right to accuse me of any wrongdoing. You’re no man of God. You’re a disgrace to the Cloth.’

     Joshua’s face went dark red. He turned to the congregation. ‘You see how she disrespects God’s House? Blasphemously challenging God’s word.’

     ‘I challenge your words,’ Rosalind called out in a high voice. ‘The words of a liar!’

Vaguely she wondered why Sir Leopold or Mr Cedric did not intervene on her behalf. Did they both believe these infamous lies?  

      ‘I have proof of your depraved goings-on,’ Joshua said loudly. ‘Two of the men you have corrupted have come to me asking for forgiveness. Although they are deeply ashamed they are willing to come forward now and speak out against you.’

     Rosalind turned to the congregation and shook her head vigorously. ‘There is no such proof. I’m innocent.’

     ‘Samuel Draper!’ Joshua called loudly. ‘Come forward.’

     Slowly a man stood up in the congregation. He looked a labouring man of rough appearance.

     ‘Come forward,’ Joshua urged. ‘It is your duty.’

     The man edged his way to the aisle and moved towards the pulpit as Rosalind looked on dumbfounded. He stood a foot or so from her, facing those seated in the pews, his head averted from her gaze.

     ‘Samuel Draper, tell the good people here how this woman corrupted your soul.’

     Draper stood clutching his cap, his trembling fingers turning it round and round before his chest.

‘She worked her wicked wiles on me,’ he said in a half whisper. ‘I’m a simple man and not used to the ways of wanton women. She asked me for a shilling for her favours. I could not resist her devilish thrall.’

     There were cried of disgust and dismay from the congregations.

     Rosalind rounded on them. ‘He’s lying I tell you! I’ve never met this man before,’ she said strenuously. ‘I deny everything he says. I’m a respectable woman, the daughter of a parson.’

     Someone hooted. ‘Shame on you, you hussy!’ It was Mrs Gilbert again. ‘She must leave the village. We cannot have such a low creature living among us decent folk.’

     ‘Decent!’ Rosalind cried out, glaring at Mrs Gilbert. ‘The wrong one is being accused of indecency here,’ she said.

     Her glance flickered over Sir Leopold, but his expression was stony and cold. Rosalind knew she could not repeat what she had heard and knew about his relationship with his housekeeper. She had no wish to accuse anyone.

     ‘What does she mean?’ someone called.

     ‘She is foundering in the mire of her own sin,’ Joshua said quickly. ‘But I bring forth yet another man whom she has soiled. Frederick Palmer, stand up.’

     A youngish man stood up from the midst of the congregation, tall and lanky and not ill-dressed. Rosalind had never set eyes on his before that moment.

     ‘You all know Frederick Palmer, the son the candle-maker at Middleton village,’ Joshua said. ‘Mr Palmer, tell us of your meeting with this unchaste woman.’

     Frederick Palmer spoke from where he was in the congregation.

     ‘I was walking on the cliff path between Rhosilli and Cliff House when she...’ He pointed a finger at Rosalind. ‘She stopped me, ogling and lifting her skirts. She said I could have her for sixpence and pulled me down into the heather.’ He dropped his head. ‘I am ashamed now.’

     Rosalind was appalled and cried out. ‘Why are these men lying? I have never seen either of them before in my life.’

     ‘She still protests innocence in the face of evidence from two hitherto decent men whom we all know,’ Joshua said loudly. ‘She is a foreigner amongst us, contaminating the purity of this village. Such a corrupting influence must be driven from our midst!’

     Rosalind stared appalled at the congregation. Some faces showed shocked expressions, while others were jeering. How could they believe such lies? But then, she was a stranger. Villagers were always ready to believe the worst of a stranger.

     Mrs Gilbert stood up. ‘She should be stoned, like they did in the Old Testament!’ she cried out.

     Then enlightenment hit Rosalind. She lifted a hand and pointed at the older woman. ‘You’re behind this outrage!’ she cried out. ‘I should’ve guessed. You hypocrite!’

     ‘Silence!’ thundered Joshua. ‘We’ll hear no more from the tainted lips of this sinner.’ He glanced down at Sir Leopold in the front pew. ‘I think Sir Leopold will know what to do. He will cast her out immediately. Send her packing back to the filthy gutters of the town where she came from.’