Page 77 of My Gentleman Spy
Chapter Thirty-Two
Hattie leftthe house just before sunrise the following morning. It had come to the notice of the rest of the household that Will was not an early riser. Most days he would not come down for breakfast until well afternine.
“Continental hours, he calls them,” Mr. Littlenoted.
Whatever they were, Will's desire to remain abed late each day meant Hattie had the run of the house to herself in the morning. It also meant she could slip out of the house without him asking her where she wasgoing.
As part of her need to make amends not only with Will, but with the world, she knew the time would come when she would have to face returning to St. John’s parish church. As she dressed this morning she knew that time wasnow.
One of the unexpected outcomes of her work at St. John’s parish was her parent’s acceptance of Hattie moving freely between their home and the church without an escort. This decision had been the cause of the first of many rows between her father andEdgar.
“I know these streets better than either of them,” shemuttered.
Rugged up against the chill of a mid-Autumn morning Hattie set out. She made good time along Long Acre Street and up Drury Lane until she reachedHolborn.
When she got to Holborn she stopped on the opposite side of the street from St. John’s. She had spent many days inside the simple stone church, helping London's poor andneedy.
The plain watery broth she prepared in the church kitchen when she was able to source ingredients, was often the only meal the church’s parishionersgot.
She pushed back her shoulders, then crossed the street and climbed the steps to the front door. In a matter of minutes, she would know whether she was welcome to return ornot.
Closing the door behind her, she stood in the dimly lit church and breathed in. Placing a hand over her heart, she whispered. “Home.”
As expected, nothing had changed since the last time she had set foot inside the plainly decorated nave. It had only been a matter of a month or so, but it felt like half alifetime.
There were no beautiful lead decorative windows in St. John’s, only glass. The floor was a functional grey tile. The little money the parish had, was spent on charitable works. Two vases either side of the altar were the only concessions to color. Filled with red and white roses from the bequest of a deceased benefactor, they gave heart to the soul of thebuilding.
The hacking cough which was the signature tune of Father Retribution Brown announced hisarrival.
“Here I go,” shewhispered.
As the minister slowly made his way through the side door entrance, Hattiewaited.
“FatherBrown?”
He turned and screwed his eyes tight as he tried to focus on her face. His initial look of recognition, was swiftly replaced withshock.
“Hattie? Good lord child where did you come from?” heexclaimed.
He looked to one side of her. Hattie shook herhead.
Her, “Only me,” was met with a frown. Father Brown shuffled closer and took a hold of Hattie’shand.
“So where are your parents and Peter? Has something terrible befallenthem?”
It was the question to which she had spent most of the morning constructing a suitableresponse.
“My parents and your nephew are likely still at sea and somewhere off the coast of West Africa. They should be in Freetown by the end of the month. I chose not to go with them,” shereplied.
Hattie waited. She had agreed with Will that the lies were to cease. The truth was, she was here in London and the others were not. There was not much else tosay.
Father Brown’s aged weathered hand squeezed hers gently. He sucked air loudly into his lungs and then began tolaugh.
By the time he let go of Hattie's hand, he was well into a rough cackle. She stood watching him,dumbfounded.
It was not the reception she had been expecting. Anger perhaps, even open dismissal would not have come as a surprise, but laughter was most certainly not something she had entertained in her thoughts. She found it ratherunsettling.
Retribution Brown was a man Hattie had never been able to see clearly. He was more softly spoken than his nephew, but she had never felt at ease in his company. His name had always given her reason forpause.
