Chapter XX: No Lady Head of the Parish

And now began a very strenuous life for Rachel.

Mrs. Greville had been as good as a curate to Luke; and she was now laid aside unable to do any work at all. She lay thinking and worrying over the fact that she was no longer any good to her son. The worry did not help her to recover from her illness. In fact the doctor told Rachel that so long as her husband's mother allowed herself to be consumed with anxiety she could not hope to get strong. Was there no-one, he asked, who could help in the matter? Surely there were some ladies in the parish who could divide the work between them?

Rachel knew that no more workers were to be had. In fact several had given up their districts. They so entirely disagreed with the Vicar in his determination not to allow the parish hall to be used for whist drives and dancing, that they felt out of sympathy with him, and had left the Church.

Those who remained were already too full of work to undertake anything further.

Luke came home from seeing his mother one day, in the depths of despair.

"She is worrying herself to death," he said, "over the Mother's Meeting and the Sunday School." Then he looked across at his wife, who was playing "Dickory, dickory dock!" with the baby. Her face had been full of love and happiness, but at his words the smile faded. She knew what was coming.

"I suppose," he said, then he hesitated.

"Well?" asked Rachel.

"I suppose you couldn't manage to take my mother's place?"

"To superintend the Sunday School and the Mother's Meeting?"

"Yes. It would lift such a burden off her heart. You see she is one of those people who worry unnecessarily, and I can't tell you what a relief it would be to me to be able to tell her that her place has been supplied."

"I don't quite see how I can, with baby," said Rachel.

"But there is Polly. She likes looking after him."

"Dickory, dickory, dock," sang Rachel again, "the mouse ran up the clock." But while playing she was not only thinking of the anxiety which would be hers if she had to leave baby constantly under Polly's care; but she was wondering if her own health would stand it. She must keep well for Luke's sake as well as for baby's, and lately she had felt sometimes at the end of her tether. She had already undertaken a district of her own and various other duties, and what with the cooking and the house, not to mention all the work that little Pat entailed, she had felt that if she did not soon have a rest she would break down altogether. Yet here was Luke, looking at her with his anxious pleading eyes; and she had never failed him yet, how could she fail him now?

"Dickory, dickory, dock," sang Rachel as she ran her fingers up Pat's little arm:

"The mouse ran up the clock,
The clock struck one,
Down the mouse ran,
Dickory, dickory, dock."

Baby crowed with merriment, and Rachel looked up gravely at her husband.

"I'll see what I can do," she said quietly.

Luke's face beamed.

"Thank you dearest," he said. "I'll go round at once and relieve mother's mind."

Rachel sighed as she heard the front door close after him.

She looked down gravely at the child in her arms.

"I wonder if I have done right," she thought. "Anyhow my little baby I won't neglect you for any number of Mothers' Meetings or Sunday Schools. You and Daddie must come first."

Then she sang again—

"The mouse ran up the clock,
The clock struck one,
Down the mouse ran,
Dickory, dickory, dock."

"Ah! Me! The life of a clergyman's wife is difficult," she sighed.

And besides all the work and care, poverty stared her in the face. She could not help fancying that Luke's great coat was turning green; and that he was growing thin, notwithstanding all her efforts to provide him with nourishing food. That he was unconscious of it himself she felt sure.

He was quite unconscious also of the necessity of not giving away money unnecessarily. Generous by nature, people had soon found it out, and he could not resist giving when asked. Now that his mother was no longer able to give him advice in the matter, and to restrain the impulse which was so strong in him, and which was a beautiful trait in his character so long as he did not allow it to interfere with his duties as a husband and father, he had been freer than usual with his money. He had no idea that such was their poverty that Rachel who now had taken upon herself to keep the accounts, and to pay the bills, went without nourishing food, in order that there might be enough for him and his little son.

He never noticed that when he had meat for his dinner Rachel ate bread and cheese, and that the various dishes that she invented to help to give him a good appetite she did not share with him. Now and then she laughed to herself to see how extraordinarily oblivious he was as to what was going on around him. She was thankful that he never noticed that she looked tired, and was growing thin. It would only have added to his anxiety. But she hoped she would not break down, for his sake and the baby's.

And now this fresh work had come upon her. It was not even as if she had been trained up to it. If only they had let her begin when she was stronger, it would have been easier.

A few days after she had given the promise to Luke, Mrs. Stone called. Rachel had rather begun to dread her calls, for though she was always loyal to Luke, and had more than once proved herself to be a good friend, if there was any complaint to be made by the parishioners, Mrs. Stone was always the one to be asked to make it known to the Vicar and his wife. People knew that she was on intimate terms with them, and felt that she was the best person to plead their cause. By now Rachel had become conscious of this, and as Mrs. Stone sat down and began to enquire about Mrs. Greville and to ask after the baby, Luke's wife felt confident from the rather uneasy expression of her face, that the real cause of her call was yet to be made known.

It was not long before she learnt what it was. "I want to know," said Mrs. Stone as she rose to go, "if it would be possible for you to come more regularly to the working party?"

"I am almost afraid I really can't manage that," said Rachel. "I have about as much as I can do."

"Well you won't mind me having asked you, I know," said Mrs. Stone. "I thought it was only kind to let you know that people are complaining a little."

"Complaining of what?" said Rachel rather sharply.

"I don't like to hurt you. But they say that now Mrs. Greville is laid aside there seems no lady head of the parish. I think that it would do a lot of good if you could just manage that monthly engagement. Even if you only came for an hour."

"I wonder how many of those people realise what it is to have an incompetent servant and a baby to look after," said Rachel. She felt indignant. "I was not engaged to act the part of a curate. When I married I promised to love, cherish, and obey my husband. I didn't promise to do all the parish work that other women ought to be doing."

Mrs. Stone had never seen Rachel anything but calm and bright: and was much distressed at the result of her advice.

"My dear, I am so sorry to have pained you," she said. "Of course we ought not to expect the impossible from you."

Rachel, overwrought and very remorseful, burst into tears.

"I ought not to have said that. I'm so sorry," she sobbed. "Only just now I feel as if I couldn't do a thing more. Please forget it. The fact is," she added, "I have to say a dozen times a day, 'Lord I am oppressed. Undertake for me.' But it was very very wrong of me. I will certainly come if I possibly can. Of course for Luke's sake I ought not let it be said that there is no head of the parish, and I really love that kind of work."

Mrs. Stone went home flushed and distressed. She saw that Rachel was just on the verge of a breakdown, and blamed herself for not doing more to take the heavy burden of the parish off her shoulders.