Chapter XXI: The Bishop Looks Into the Kitchen

Mrs. Greville's illness not only gave Rachel more work to do in the parish, but took up a certain amount of her time in visiting her and seeing that she was well looked after. And her mother-in-law, being such an active woman was not an easy patient to do with. Her incapacity to help her son was trying in the extreme to her, and she was one of those people who look on illness as a humiliation. The atmosphere of the sick room was not a happy one.

Moreover, Rachel found that visiting her meant various little extra duties to perform, as there was someone or other always on Mrs. Greville's mind. Would Rachel give Mrs. Jones a look as her heart was constantly giving her trouble; and Mrs. Jacob was probably in great need of a grocery ticket. She would like to know also if Mrs. Grayston's baby had arrived, and how she was. And by-the-bye, she had promised to lend a book the day before she was taken ill to that poor crippled man in Rainer Street. Then two or three women ought to be looked up who had not lately been to the mothers' meeting. And though Miss Sweet had not told her, she felt sure that her young man was going to spend the week end with them soon, and that in all probability she would not be likely to take her class at the school that Sunday. Someone ought to be found to take her place.

What all these commissions meant to Rachel can be imagined; but she knew that if her mother-in-law had the faintest idea of how tired she felt and how terribly full her days were she not have asked her to do this extra work.

Curiously enough, Mrs. Greville, after that time of anxiety about Rachel leaving the baby alone, had scarcely mentioned Pat; indeed Rachel wondered at times if she had forgotten him. Anyhow, she had quite forgotten how difficult it was to leave him so often with Polly, who indeed had other work to do.

What tried Rachel more than anything was that when her mother-in-law was getting better, she suddenly relapsed into her old habit of thinking her incapable. She would say "No, you had better not go and see Mrs. Guy. She is a woman that needs careful handling. You'd probably offend her, ask Mrs. Stone." Or when Rachel had taken pains to make some appetising little dish for her, denying herself perhaps an egg for breakfast so as to be able to spare one for her mother-in-law, Mrs. Greville would worry at her extravagance, reminding her that she was the wife of a poor parson, and that if she were not more careful she would land him in debt. Rachel put all these uncomfortable moods down to illness, but it did not make her life easier.

One day after a specially trying time, she hurried home to find to her surprise the Bishop sitting in the drawing-room.

The sight of his dear familiar face was almost too much for her. She clung to his hand without speaking.

In a moment he saw that Rachel was overdone.

"Come and sit down my dear child," he said. His tone of voice was so full of kindness and sympathy that Rachel nearly gave way to tears.

"You have come just at the wrong time," she said, with a faint laugh in which the Bishop detected the tears that were not shed. "I am so tired that I can't feel as glad as I know that I am to see you."

The Bishop looking at the girl, was shocked at the change in her. That she was not only tired, but seriously ill, he saw at a glance.

"You have been working too hard," he said quietly. "What have you been doing?"

"Oh don't let's talk of it. I want to forget it all now you have come. You will stay to lunch of course, but I can only offer you pot luck."

"No, I can't stay to lunch," he said rising, "but I am going to tell that nice little maid of yours to bring you some beef tea or milk. You need it."

"Beef tea!" exclaimed Rachel laughing. "Why, only invalids can go in for such luxuries and I certainly am not one."

"I am not quite so sure of that. Anyhow you need something at this moment and you must let me go and see what there is to have, while you sit still."

"Oh you mustn't pity me," cried Rachel. "I can go on quite well if no-one notices me; but sympathy just weakens me. You really mustn't be too kind." Rachel had risen looking distressed. Then she dropped into her chair again and covered her face with her hands. "I wish you hadn't come," she sobbed.

"No, you don't. You are very pleased to see your father's greatest friend. You mustn't talk nonsense," said the Bishop with a smile. "Don't you suppose I understand? You needn't mind me finding this out. You must let me try and help you, and get you something. Polly will help me."

Rachel sat still while the Bishop made his way into the kitchen. She was so played out that she had not even the energy to wonder what he would find there. She just lay still with a restful sense of being looked after.

The Bishop stood in the tiny kitchen facing the diminutive Polly.

"Your mistress isn't feeling well," he said, "and I want to know what there is in the house that she would fancy. She must have something. Have you any soup or bovril?"

Polly overwhelmed with the importance of the occasion turned red. That she had never seen bovril or knew what it was the Bishop discovered before she had answered, "That there ain't no such stuff anywheres in the house, Sir. We don't eat bovril and there ain't no soup," she added.

The Bishop smiled.

"Well, what are you going to have for dinner?" he asked.

"Master, he is to have a chop," said Polly, "and Mistress she say she'll have some bread and cheese to-day."

"And what are you going to have?"

Polly flushed crimson and hung her head.

"Mistress, she say that I'm to have the leg of the chicken that Mrs. Stone brought us two days ago. There's just one leg left and the Mistress won't take it herself. It ain't right that I should be eating chicken while she eats cheese."

The Bishop loved little Polly on the spot. He was thankful that there was anyhow one person in the house who thought of Rachel. What had Greville been about to let his wife get into such a weak state.

"You may enjoy the leg of the chicken with a clear conscience, my girl," said the Bishop, "for I feel sure your Mistress would not be able to eat it to-day. There's milk I suppose?"

"Yes Sir, there's baby's milk," said Polly doubtfully, "but I don't think Mistress would like me to touch that. She's very particular about his milk."

"Well I want you to run round to the grocer's and buy for me a bottle of bovril. Run as fast as you can and I'll tell you how to make it. Where is the Baby?"

Polly put her finger up and listened.

"I do believe he's just awake," she said. "I'll bring him down if you'd be so kind as to look after him while I go to the Grocer's."

The Bishop carried the baby into the drawing-room and laid him on Rachel's lap.

"That will do you good," he said smiling at her.

The sight of her baby in the Bishop's arms brought the happy colour into Rachel's face.

"He doesn't know what a privilege he has just had," she said laughing. Then she looked down at the child, "I do hope he will be a good man like his father," she murmured.

"So thank God, she still loves her absentminded husband as much as ever!" thought the Bishop, but he felt he could have shaken him. To possess such a treasure and not take more care of her was in his opinion reprehensible in the extreme. They were a blind pair! He to her lovely self-forgetfulness, and she to his absentmindedness. Well, he was thankful that she was still devoted to him.

Rachel laughed when she discovered that the Bishop had made her bovril himself! It was luxury to be looked after and taken care of.

Before he left, he made her promise to have medical advice.

"It would never do for me to see a doctor," she expostulated, "and I have no time in which to be ill. What do you suppose Luke would do with an invalid wife, and little Pat with a useless mother! No, it won't do to give in and it was only the sudden sight of you that made me so stupid."

"It is only right to both your husband and child that you should consult a doctor," returned the Bishop. "Possibly all you need is a tonic; anyhow, as I consider I stand in the position of a father to you, you must do what I say. And you must certainly curtail your work."

And so Rachel gave way and promised, and the Bishop left the house with a heavy heart. Besides the state of Rachel's health he had learnt for the first time of their extreme poverty of which he had had no idea. He did not suppose that Rachel's family knew the state of their finances, as Gwen would certainly have enlarged upon it in her letter to him had she known. No doubt Rachel had hidden the fact from her mother partly to save her pain, and also to prevent her from blaming Luke for marrying her when he could not provide for her. Something must be done. He was unwilling to give Luke too sudden a shock by telling him what he thought of his wife's health, but as Mrs. Greville was now getting stronger, he decided to enlighten her quickly about the matter. He would write directly he got home; and meanwhile, the thought that this was only one case of extreme poverty that existed among the clergy in his diocese, lay on his heart like lead.

But the doctor told Mrs. Greville of the serious state of Rachel's health before the Bishop's letter reached her.