Highgate Rise - Anne Perry [49]
Her husband, only a step behind her, was of medium height and extreme gravity. He reminded Charlotte quite strongly of pictures of Mr. Gladstone, the great Liberal prime minister, in his earlier years. There was the same dedicated purpose in his stare, the same look of total rectitude and certainty in his own convictions. His side whiskers were less bristling and his nose of less grand proportions; still, the impression was sharp.
“My dear Prudence.” Celeste greeted Mrs. Hatch with outstretched hands.
“Aunt Celeste.” Prudence went to her and they kissed each other lightly, then she moved to her Aunt Angeline, and was kissed more closely and held a moment longer.
Josiah was more formal, but his condolences seemed every bit as sincere. In fact he looked quite obviously distressed; his face was pale and there was a drawn appearance to the skin about his mouth. His emotions were apparently very deep and he kept them in control with some effort.
“The whole situation is quite dreadful,” he said fixedly, looking at no one in particular. “Everywhere there is moral decline and decay. Young people in confusion, not knowing whom or what to admire anymore, women unprotected—” His voice was thick with distress. “Look at this unspeakable business in Whitechapel. Bestial—quite bestial. A sign of the chaos of our times—rising anarchy, the Queen closed up in Osborne ignoring us all, the Prince of Wales squandering his time and money in gambling and loose living, the Duke of Clarence worse.” Still he looked at no one, his mind consumed with his inner vision. His body was motionless, but there was great strength in it, a feeling of waiting power. “The coarsest and most absurd ideas are being propagated and there is one tragedy after another. Everything has begun to slip ever since the dear bishop died. What a terrible loss that was.” For a moment a look of sheer anguish crossed his features as if he gazed upon the end of a golden age, and all that followed must be darker and lonelier. His hands clenched in front of him, large knuckled and powerful. “And no one remotely near his stature has arisen to carry God’s light for the rest of us.”
“Theophilus …” Angeline said tentatively, then stopped. His look of contempt froze the words before they were formed.
“He was a good man,” Prudence said loyally.
“Of course he was,” her husband agreed. “But not his father’s equal, not by a very long way. He was a pygmy in comparison.” A strange mixture of grief and contempt crossed his face, then a zeal that had a wild beauty, almost visionary. “The bishop was a saint! He had wisdom incomparable with any of us. He understood the order of things as they should be, he had the insight into God’s ways and how we should live His word.” He smiled briefly. “How often I have heard him give counsel to men—and to women. Always his advice was wise and of spiritual and moral upliftment.”
Angeline sighed gently and reached for her handkerchief, a wisp of cambric and lace.
“Men be upright,” he continued. “Be utterly honest in your dealings, preside over your families, instruct your wives and children in the teachings of God. Women be obedient and virtuous, be diligent in your labors and they shall be your crown in heaven.”
Charlotte shifted uncomfortably in her chair. The strength of his emotion was so obvious she could not dismiss it, but the sentiment was one she longed to quarrel with.
“Love your children and teach them by your example,” Hatch went on, unaware of her, or anyone else. “Be chaste—and above all, be dutiful and be loyal to your family; therein lies your happiness and the happiness of the world.”
“Amen,” Angeline said with a sweet smile, her eyes raised as if in thought she could feel her father somewhere above her. “Thank you, Josiah, you have again reminded one of the purpose and reason for life. I don’t know what we should do without you. I do not mean to speak slightly