Chapter IV: An Incapable Housekeeper

Rachel stood looking down at the sirloin of beef she had ordered from the butcher and which now lay on the kitchen table. She was rather dismayed at the size of it and wondered how it ought to be cooked. She was determined that Luke should be well fed so that his mother should have no excuse to accuse her of not taking proper care of her son.

Polly was upstairs doing the bedrooms, and Rachel was thankful that she was not near to see her perplexity. Then the front door opened and she heard Mrs. Greville calling her. Vexed at being taken by surprise, Rachel resolved to lock the front door in future. She went into the hall to meet her mother-in-law, closing the kitchen door behind her. Mrs. Greville gave her a hearty kiss.

"I thought I would just look round," she said, "to know if you would like any advice about dinner or would care for me to give you a lesson in cooking this morning. I am due at Mrs. Stone's at twelve to help her to cut out for the working party, but I can spare you an hour or so if you like. What have you got for dinner?"

"A sirloin of beef; and I thought of having a rice pudding, that is to say if Luke likes milky puddings. I see you have provided us with rice and tapioca."

"A sirloin! That will never do; it must be changed at once," said Mrs. Greville, making her way to the kitchen. "It is the most expensive part of beef that you can have. You and Luke won't be able to indulge in that kind of thing. You must remember that you are a poor parson's wife, and must cut your coat according to your cloth."

Rachel flushed and wondered if she would ever be able to call her house and her food her own.

"I'll take it round to the butcher;" said Mrs. Greville as she surveyed the sirloin. "He's very obliging, and I know he will change it for a piece of the rump or a little liver. Wrap it up in several pieces of paper and put it in a basket and I will take it round at once."

"But it's too heavy for you and it's raining."

"Never mind the rain. It must be done or Luke won't get any dinner and this is a heavy day for him. I'll come back in a few minutes and give you a hint or two about to-day's meal."

Rachel bit her lip. She could scarcely bear this interference, yet she knew she was herself to blame for it, as she was utterly incapable. But if only she could be left alone she would learn from her very mistakes; and why need Mrs. Greville always be reminding her of the necessity of economy. She was sure it could not be necessary: she ought anyhow to have had a good general at first so that she could have learnt from her how to do things. As it was she was not even allowed to order her own dinner.

But as she saw her mother-in-law leave the house with the heavy joint in the basket, her anger melted. She remembered that she was only trying to help her exceedingly incapable daughter-in-law, and after all, she needed to be told how to cook the beef she had bought. It was no use ordering a nice dinner for Luke if she could not cook it for him!

When Mrs. Greville opened the door again with her basket considerably lightened, vexation at her own incapacity had taken the place of anger in Rachel's heart.

"I'm afraid," she said, as she took the basket from her mother-in-law's hands, "that you must think that Luke has married the wrong wife."

Mrs. Greville smiled kindly. Rachel's sudden humility touched her and she was pleased.

"Well, my dear, you may make yourself easy as Luke anyhow does not think so. He is under the impression that he has married perfection, and we won't undeceive him. It is just as well for a man not to know that his wife is not so capable as he imagines. Besides which," she added, as she took Rachel's apron off the kitchen door and tied it round herself, "if you pay attention to what I am teaching you there is no reason why you should not be as good a cook as I am. But don't look so melancholy I beg of you, nor so dreamy. I must tell you that there is no time in the life of a clergyman's wife to dream. You will find that every moment is important if you mean to look well to the ways of your household and also to help in the parish. A Vicar's wife has very little time in which to play."

Rachel pulled herself together though almost every word that had been spoken seemed to hurt her. She determined to pay all attention to what Mrs. Greville was going to teach her, not only for Luke's sake but that she could dispense with the cooking lessons as quickly as possible.

"There now," said Mrs. Greville, after showing Rachel exactly what to do, "you'll get on I'm sure."

Then noticing a look of depression on the girl's face, she added kindly, "And don't be downhearted. Although you've been taught nothing of this nature, unfortunately, you'll soon get into it. But whatever you do don't allow yourself to get depressed. A man when he comes home, after a hard day's work and a great many tiresome people to satisfy, needs a bright face to welcome him. For his sake, my dear, be plucky and do all you can to make up for lost time. Why girls are not taught really useful things I can't imagine. However, matters are improving in that direction. By-the-bye," she added, as she stood by the front door, "it's the working party this afternoon and you'll be expected. Luke will tell you where Mrs. Stone lives. It isn't far, and if you are not too long over your dinner you'll just have time to get there. Mind you're not late. A Vicar's wife has to set the example of being punctual. Good-bye again, and I hope you and Luke will enjoy your dinner. You may tell him that it was cooked by his mother; that will give him an appetite."

Rachel felt all on edge and wondered how she could bear many more mornings like the one she was spending. Yet she was well aware that Mrs. Greville meant all she said and did in kindness. And now and then she had noticed quite a nice smile flit across her face. Yes, she must try to love her; but this type of person she had never come across. Somehow she had never imagined for a moment that the mother, whom Luke loved so devotedly, would be like Mrs. Greville. She could not but compare her with her own sweet pussy mother, with her low, musical voice. Then a great longing for her mother took possession of her, and she ran up into her room and locking the door gave way to a flood of tears.

But there was twelve o'clock striking and Luke might be coming in, anyhow his dinner would have to be ready by one o'clock, and she had a hundred and one things to do before going to the working party. She must look her best and be her best.

She rather anticipated the working party. For one thing it would be her first appearance at a Parish meeting and she felt on her metal. No doubt she could get a little fun out of it. The prospect that Mrs. Greville had held out to her of a life without any time to play, had sounded dull, and she determined that the description given to her should not be correct. She would not lead a dull life, why should she? Having a sense of humour she often saw fun where others saw just the reverse. Anyhow she was determined to be in a gay mood at the working party and if it was possible to get any fun out of it, she would. She was not fond of her needle but that did not signify, and indeed could not be helped.

Rachel looked through her dresses and with a little chuckle chose one which, as she told Luke afterwards, would astonish the "natives." It was not exactly a dress for a working party, but she resolved that now she was to make her first appearance she should be dressed prettily for Luke's sake. So determined to forget the morning cooking lesson, she started off directly dinner was over, in a merry mood. Luke had had only time to sit down to a hurried meal before he was due at a clerical meeting, so she had not the pleasure of showing her pretty frock to her husband before leaving the house.

Arrived at Mrs. Stone's house, she was shown into the drawing-room which seemed full to overflowing of ladies, all elderly and all talking, till she made her appearance. Then the buzz ceased for a moment and Rachel felt conscious of about thirty pairs of eyes scrutinising her. But she was nothing daunted being quite used to meeting strangers and to being made much of by them. She was shown a seat near Mrs. Stone who at once took her under her wing, and Rachel congratulated herself on this fact, for her face was pleasant and smiling, and she looked as if humour was not left out of her composition.

Rachel felt at home at once and before long Mrs. Greville, glancing across the room, wondered what caused the quiet ripple of laughter that came from the corner where Rachel sat. She noticed that her daughter-in-law was looking exceedingly pretty and happy. There was no distressed frown on her brow which she had noticed in the morning; she looked the gayest of the gay. Mrs. Greville wished that she had put on a more suitable dress and a hat that did not look as if it had come out of Bond Street. She was quite a foreign element in the room and it rather worried Luke's mother to see how the ladies round her daughter-in-law laid down their work again and again to listen more easily to Rachel's conversation. Could it be possible that she heard Polly's name? Surely Rachel was not making fun of the girl she had secured for her. Besides there was nothing whatever to laugh at in Polly. She was a staid little body and a thoroughly good teachable girl. But yes; there it was again. No doubt Mrs. Stone who looked so thoroughly amused was drawing her out. It was really very awkward and tiresome. She only wished that Rachel was more staid and more what a clergyman's wife should be.

Mrs. Greville looked longingly at the clock, it was just upon four. She would propose to Rachel that she should not wait for tea as Luke might be wanting his. It would be quite easy to do, and natural.

Rachel rose delighted at Mrs. Greville's suggestion made in a low tone of voice. She had enjoyed herself and had talked freely about some of her difficulties in house keeping, quite unconscious of the fact, that she was being drawn out by some members of the working party with not altogether kind motives. She had addressed most of her conversation to Mrs. Stone, whom she liked, feeling instinctively that she was a woman to be trusted, but she gradually began to feel a little uneasy at the probing questions of some of the others; questions which she felt they had no right to ask; and which there was no necessity to answer; but she was so anxious to make friends with Luke's people and not to annoy them by showing her own annoyance that she was conscious that she was talking more than she ought. So when Mrs. Greville proposed to her to go home in case Luke was back from the clerical meeting, she rose with alacrity, and was pleased when Mrs. Stone said that she was so sorry that she had to leave as she had added greatly to the pleasure of the afternoon.

When the door closed behind her, an amused smile passed from one to the other of those who had been sitting near her.

"The Vicar has certainly given us a surprise," said one in a low voice, so that Mrs. Greville could not hear. "She has roused us all up this afternoon."

"A more unsuitable clergyman's wife I cannot imagine," said another.

"Her hat must have cost three pounds at least," remarked a third, "and as for her dress!"

"She was not a surprise to me," said a friend of Mrs. Greville's. "For I gathered from hints of the Vicar's mother that she was quite incapable. Not that she does not like her, and is thankful that she is devoted to her son, but she wishes he had chosen another kind of girl for his wife."

"Mrs. Greville," said Mrs. Stone, in a voice that all could hear, "I'm delighted with your daughter-in-law. She is so sunny and amusing. She will do us all good."

Mrs. Greville smiled with pleasure but shook her head a little.

"She is very young," she said, "only nineteen, and it will, I fear, take a long time before she settles down to undertake the responsibilities of being head of the parish."

"But," said Mrs. Stone, "surely there is no need to take that position yet. We have you and could not have anyone better. Let her have a little more time before being weighed down with the needs of a parish. She is full of fun and vitality, and should not have too much put upon her all at once. Let her take up the duties gradually; it is not as if she had been brought up to it."

Mrs. Greville sighed audibly.

Meanwhile Rachel hurried home. She had not known that there was a chance of her husband coming back to tea, and was delighted with the prospect. She felt happy, and a little elated, hoping that she had made a good impression on the working party. Mrs. Stone had been particularly nice to her, and so had one or two others. At the same time she could not forget the grave face of a lady who sat near enough to hear all the fun and nonsense she had been talking. This lady had not once looked up from her work, and had actually shaken her head over one or two of Rachel's remarks. The remembrance of her and the look of evident surprise on the faces of others rather weighed upon her spirits as she neared home. Had she talked too much? Had she been frivolous? She hoped not. She wanted to help Luke and not to hinder him, and she could not forget Mrs. Greville's words, about the necessity of the Vicar's wife setting an example to the parish.

Her face was a little grave as she opened the dining-room door, but the sight of her husband's smile of welcome as he looked up from the letter he was writing, cheered her.

"I did not stop to tea," he said, "as I have to write some important letters before the choir practice this evening, I know you won't mind me not talking."

Rachel ran upstairs to take off her hat and then busied herself in getting the tea. So he was going out again this evening! She was disappointed. However, she congratulated herself that she had him to tea.

"Well," he said, as he laid down his pen at Rachel's announcement that tea was ready. "How did you get on at the working party? I'm glad they have seen you."

"But they didn't like me," said Rachel laughing, "at least some of them did not."

"Nonsense. How could they help it?" He took her face between his hands, and looked lovingly into her eyes.

"They think I'm too young and frivolous, and moreover incapable, and not half worthy of their Vicar," answered Rachel. "I read it all in their faces, and I'm quite sure that with the exception of Mrs. Stone and one or two others I shocked them. But let me go and pour out your tea. You have a lot to do."

Luke seated himself at the table and began cutting the loaf of bread.

"What did you say to shock them?" he said.

"I enlarged upon Polly's peculiarities. I like Polly, she amuses me immensely, and I really feel that I could make quite a nice little maid of her, if only I knew how things ought to be done myself. Happily there are a few things I do know, and I take pains to inform Polly of them. But she is the queerest little creature I have ever seen."

Luke was not listening. He was looking at Rachel, thinking what a radiant wife God had given him; and a fear arose in his heart, lest marrying him might be the cause of her high spirits being quenched, and of life taking on a too sober hue. Sin abounded in his parish and he did not see how Rachel could learn of all the evil, and be as bright and happy as she now was.

"You must not let those ladies who looked gravely upon you this afternoon, count too much," he said. "Some of them have been at the work for years, and have got too solemn and severe."

Rachel laughed.

"Don't be afraid," she said. "I could not imagine myself not seeing the fun in things; my only fear is that I shall be too frivolous for them."

Luke did not smile; he was still wondering if he had done right in bringing Rachel into the midst of all the sadness of his world. She seemed made for happiness and flowers and the singing of birds. She had loved the country and the trees and the beauties of the world; and now he had brought her into a sordid town, and into a poky little house with the saddest of outlooks. He had never realised, as he did this afternoon, what he had done.

"Now what are you considering?" she said playfully, as his eyes still dwelt gravely on her face. "Are you disappointed in me too? Well, if so you will have to put up with me 'till death us do part.' Are you glad Luke?" She looked at him over the tea pot, leaning forward towards him, with the sweetest of smiles.

"It is just that; I am not sure that I am glad," he said slowly.

Rachel laughed again. She knew he did not mean what his words implied.

"Well, here I am, and you must make the best of me. But please don't look at me any more, but eat your tea or you won't get through your letters. I wish I could help you to write them."

"That unfortunately you could not do as they are private. However, there is something else you might do. Do you think you can come with me to the choir practice and play the organ? Crewse had to go home on business, and will not be back in time, so if you don't come I shall have to do my best. But bad is the best; besides if I am paying attention to the organ, I can't look at the boys. You do play the organ, don't you?"

"I should love to do it," said Rachel. Here was at least an opportunity of helping Luke. She had begun to wonder when the chance of doing so would come her way, as all the posts in the parish seemed to be filled up, and those that were not were appropriated by her mother-in-law.

"You must not expect a good choir," said Luke. "There are not many musical people, and what there are, are caught up naturally by the mother parish. However, we are doing what we can, and you won't anyhow have to suffer by listening to anthems. I have put down my foot at that. If anthems are sung I believe in them being sung perfectly, so that people may not be prevented worshipping God as they listen, by hearing discordant sounds and wrong notes. So you will be spared that."

Rachel did not think that she would mind even that, so long as Luke was in the church, but she did not say so.

The church was built of red brick, red both inside and out. It lacked beauty of architecture, and Rachel missed the wonderful feeling there is in the thought that for generations worship to God has ascended from the place. But on the other hand it was kept beautifully clean and was very airy and bright, and Luke was devoted to it.

Rachel seated at the organ sent up a prayer of thanksgiving, that she was allowed to help her husband, and hoped fervently that the choir master might often have to go away on business so that she could take his place. Moreover, besides the pleasure it gave her to help Luke, she loved playing the organ, and had been used to doing so in her little village church at home, and this evening she saw Luke in a new light. This was the first time she had seen him among his people, and it interested her much. Also she saw how very much reverence counted in his estimation. He evidently never forgot that he and his choir were in Church and in the presence of God, and Rachel noticed how this sense of God's Presence was communicated to the men and boys, and indeed to herself. As she played the organ she felt that she was not only serving Luke, but One much higher than Luke.

When the practice was over and the choir dispersed, he still remembered that they were in a sacred building and lowered his voice as he spoke to her, and took her round the church.

"I have it always open," he explained to her, "so that those who live in crowded rooms can have a quiet place to come and pray."

"And do they come?" asked Rachel.

"I have only once found anyone here," he said, "but I often remind them of the fact, that it is possible for them to pray in quiet. And I'm quite determined that the Church shall be kept as it should be. We Evangelicals, sometimes err in not looking after material things such as neat hassocks, and dusted benches. We think so much of the spiritual side of the work, that the material is neglected."

"Our little Church at home, for instance," said Rachel, "the door is kept shut all the week and so it always has a musty smell on Sunday. It is such a pity."

"I have heard people remark in discussing St. Mary's Church, that the way it is kept would put people off going there if they did not know what a splendid preacher Mr. Simpson is. As it is, the place is crowded. I don't suppose the Rector has the faintest idea of the state of his church. He is thinking altogether of more important matters, but it is a pity. They have not anything like so good a preacher at our Church," he added, laughing, "but they have a cleaner and more airy building and I intend that it should be kept so."

"Don't you think Mr. Crewse will be obliging and leave the organ to me?" said Rachel. "I should love to be your Organist. I play rather nicely, does he play as well?"

"Not nearly as well. That is to say he does not take pains with the expression as you do. His great aim seems to be to make the boys sing loud. However, he has his very good points and I fear I must not fill up his post," he added. "It would break his heart."

"That would be a bad beginning for me."

CHAPTER. V.

TWO POINTS OF VIEW.

Rachel found it a little difficult to keep up her spirits as the days passed. Luke was so engrossed with Parish matters that she saw little of him; and when he was at home, his thoughts were apparently full of his work. He did not realise how little he talked of anything else, nor how long his silences were. His great desire to keep all sorrowful things from his wife prevented him sharing his worries with her, and instead of coming home after a meeting he would often turn in to 10, High Street, and discuss the difficulties with his mother, while Rachel tried to occupy herself in things over which she had to concentrate her attention so as not to worry over his long absences.

At times he would suddenly awake to the consciousness that Rachel was not looking quite as bright as usual and felt remorse at having taken her away from her home.

On these occasions he would try and manage to get a free day off and take her for a jaunt. But he felt it an effort and it put him back in his work. These free days, however, were days of bliss to his wife, till she recognised the fact that it was only when he was not engaged in his life work that they had communion with one another. She was of no help to him in the most important times of his life. This knowledge made her grow restless and unhappy.

At last she spoke to him of her longing to help him more. They had gone by train to some woods not far off and had lunch in a lovely spot they had discovered. The morning was bright and sunny, and as weather had a great effect on Rachel she was in a merry mood which communicated itself to her husband. Then, as after lunch they still sat on enjoying the rest and the smell of the damp earth, Rachel sighed.

"Isn't this heavenly?" she said. "I wish we lived in the country, don't you?"

"No, I don't," said Luke. "I should die of ennui! and I cannot imagine life without plenty of work. My work is my life."

"And I am kept outside," said Rachel. The moment the words were out of her mouth she regretted them.

Luke looked down at her in surprise.

"How do you mean?" he asked.

Rachel, her hands clasped round her knees, looked up into the branches of the tree above her, saying slowly, "I mean that there does not seem any possible way in which I can help you or share your life; for you say your work is your life. I am outside your work."

Luke did not answer. He was conscious that what she said was true. Had he not taken pains that her bright spirit might not be quenched by knowing all the sin that abounded in his parish? He could not bear the thought of his wife hearing the sad stories that she would inevitably come across if she worked in the parish. He felt convinced that the shock she would receive would be too much for her sensitive spirit. No, she was meant for happiness; why cloud it before the time? After a moment of troubled silence, he said:

"As for helping me, you can best do that dearest, by being happy. You cannot tell what it is to me when I come home to find you there; and to know that you have not been troubled by the sin that has weighed upon my own heart all day. The very fact of being with someone who is unconnected with it is a tremendous help."

Rachel was silent. It did not seem to cross Luke's mind that it was difficult to keep happy and bright so long as she had only the house and its cares to think about. She needed outside interests to fill her unoccupied time and thoughts.

"I suppose your mother shares your difficulties with you?" she said.

"Yes. My mother always has done so. She has a happy knack of letting troubles of that sort drop away from her like water off a duck's back. That is one of the great differences between you and her. She is not sensitive as you are, and she has worked so long at this kind of thing that she does not feel it as you would. My mother is just the one that I need in my work. I can discuss anything with her and I lean considerably on her judgment." He did not see the change of expression on his wife's face, nor that the sun had gone out of it, but he noticed her silence.

"You understand, don't you?" he said.

Rachel did not answer, but kept her eyes on the top branches of the tree above her. He did not know her eyes were full of tears. He thought he had explained the situation to her satisfaction, and supposed she knew him well enough to understand that it was his great love for her that was the cause of his decision not to worry her with his troubles.

And Rachel, sitting by his side on the soft moss, kept her eyes away, and wondered if all men were as ignorant of a woman's heart as Luke, or whether it was just because he lived so much up in the clouds that he had never studied human nature.

Luke flung himself back on the moss with his hands behind his head and looked in the same direction as his wife. The silence between them struck him as beautiful and restful, and he felt certain that Rachel was enjoying it to the full, as he was. Silence is the greatest proof of friendship, and it was a luxury to him.

Rachel on the other hand, felt she had rather too much of that luxury. As yet she had made no real friends. Mrs. Stone was the one that she liked best, but they were not on sufficiently intimate terms for her to feel she could run into her house should she be dull. So that with the exception of Polly and her mother-in-law she had no conversation except when callers came. And the callers were not always of the stamp of people with whom she could exchange thoughts. Besides, they often talked about people and things of which she knew nothing, as Luke was not communicative. She sometimes felt in an awkward position in consequence.

"What!" they would exclaim. "Did not the Vicar tell you?"

So now as Luke lay back enjoying the quiet and fully convinced that his wife, whom he loved as his own soul, was equally enjoying it, Rachel sat looking away from him feeling miserable and lonely, conscious that Luke had not found her the helpmeet he had expected her to be. She was feeling it all so much that she knew if the subject was again touched upon she would burst into tears, and cause her husband surprise and worry; so when she had successfully controlled her feelings she turned the conversation to the beauty of the trees. She felt it almost difficult to think of anything to talk about that would interest him, as he had just told her that his work was his life, and she was debarred from taking any part in it.

But Luke, quite unconscious of the sad thoughts of his wife, enthusiastically agreed in her admiration of the trees and began reciting a poem on the subject, thus giving Rachel time to try to get over her sore feelings; before the poem was finished she was able to turn and smile upon him.

"I never indulged in these holidays before I married," he said laughing, "consequently I revel in them with you beside me. You can't think Rachel what it is to come home and find you always there. It is a little heaven on earth. Don't say again that you are outside my life or don't help me. It just makes all the difference to me and to my work. Do you know that sometimes in the very midst of it I suddenly think of you and thank God for giving you to me."

Rachel flushed with happiness. If this really was so, and Luke was not one to flatter, perhaps her longing to be near him in the battle with evil and sin in the belief that she could help him, was a mistake. She was more of a help to him, apparently, in seeing to his house and welcoming him back from his work than if she was actually fighting, as it were, by his side.

Suddenly her thoughts were interrupted by Luke saying, as he had said on that moonlight night at Southwold, which seemed now so long ago:

"Sing Rachel."

Rachel hesitated. "I don't know what to sing," she said.

"Sing what you sang at Southwold, on the sea. What a perfect night that was, do you remember?"

Remember! Rachel could never forget it. How often had the thought of it saddened her. Somehow things had not been just as she had hoped and expected on that moonlight evening when she and Luke had been alone on the great wide sea. She had never had him quite so absolutely to herself since that day; ever since then she had had to share him with others. No, she could not sing those words just now. They seemed sacred to that wonderful time which they had spent in the pathway of the moon.

"Not that Luke," she remonstrated.

"Well sing something else," he said, not having noticed the slight tremor in her voice. "I want to hear your voice among the trees."

"I'll sing the two last verses of your favourite hymn," she said.

"Drop Thy still dews of quietness,
Till all our strivings cease;
Take from our souls the strain and stress
And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of Thy peace.
Breathe through the heats of our desire
Thy coolness and Thy balm,
Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire,
Speak through the earthquake, wind and fire.
O still small voice of calm."

Luke did not move. He lay looking up at the green leaves above him. Then he said:

"How is it you always know exactly the right words to sing? My soul has been full of strain and stress lately. A great deal of sadness is going on among my people. I need to let the peace of God rule my heart, and to listen to 'the still small voice of calm,' and to remember that there is my wife at home praying for me."

Rachel forgot her own trials to think of his.

"I did not know you had been so worried," she said, her voice full of sympathy. "Have people been horrid?"

"No, not horrid to me; but the devil is playing havoc in the place, and it is a strain."

Rachel felt ashamed. Luke had been enduring the strain and stress of battle with the enemy, thinking altogether of his people, while she had been engrossed in her own little trials, caused by an insane jealousy of the one who was the only person who could advise and help him. How small she was! How poor and mean! How unlike the good Christian that Luke supposed her to be. She was filled with shame and scorn of herself.