Page 14 of Heartbreaker of the Ton
Moisture stung Etty’s eyes, and she leaned forward to kiss her son’s head. The vicar smiled and inclined his head, as if in recognition.
“And so, rather than merely invite you to ask questions, I would have you consider the merits of this one instruction…”
He paused and glanced toward Sir John and his wife in the front pew.
“Love thy neighbor,” he said. “Go forth and act with consideration toward another, whether they be a friend you’ve fallen out of favor with, a subordinate in your employ, a relativeyou’ve been meaning to write to but have yet to find the time, or…”
He resumed his attention on Etty.
“Or a stranger in need of a friend.”
Gabriel fidgeted on Etty’s lap, then tried to climb to the floor.
“Not yet, sweetheart,” she said, pulling him into her arms. “Mama will take you outside in a moment.”
When he’d settled, she glanced up again. The vicar had stopped speaking, but was still looking at her. When she met his gaze, he continued.
“I will always lend an ear if you wish to discuss what it is to love—to do good. And for those of you in need, who have none other to turn to, then I am at your disposal.”
Etty’s vision clouded. She blinked, and a tear splashed onto her cheek. The vicar smiled again, and she looked away, unable to conquer her shame.
His words were forher—the stranger in need. The misfit. The pathetic creature with no one to turn to. Was that how he viewed her, a lost soul to be pitied?
Then he resumed his attention on the rest of the congregation and the sermon continued. But this time, when Gabriel let out a cry as he tried to snatch Etty’s hymn book, the volley of tutting she’d expected was conspicuous in its absence.
When the service concluded, Etty slipped out of the building. Gabriel wriggled in her arms, squealing with excitement, and she placed him on the path and took hold of his leading strings.
“Stone!” he cried, toddling toward the gravestones.
“No, sweetheart, we can’t play on those,” Etty said.
“Stone! Stone!”
She glanced over her shoulder at the main entrance to see the vicar emerge chatting to the squire’s wife. The woman’s nose twisted in contempt as she glanced at Etty. The vicar might have delivered a sermon on being tolerant of noisy children, but LadyFulford—and, most likely, half the congregation—would have already let go of any resolution to live by the principles he’d spoken of. For them, it was the mere attendance at church that rendered them superior to others—there was little need to sully themselves with any of the activities that the vicar had described asgood.
“Come on, Gabriel—let’s take a look at the stones around the back.”
Etty picked up her son and carried him along the path that ran alongside the church building, where he could explore the gravestones away from Lady Fulford’s disapproving stare. Once out of sight, she set him down and approached a statue of an angel covered in moss.
“Stone!” he cried, toddling forward until he reached the limit of his leading strings. Etty gave them a gentle tug.
“Come and look at this angel, sweetheart.”
“Stone!” he cried again. “Stone, stone!”
“No, Gabriel, let your mama take a look…”
He let out a wail and rolled onto the ground.
“Gabriel, please!” she cried.
“Stone!”
With a sigh, she approached him and set him on his feet. “Which stone do you want to see, sweetheart?”
He toddled toward a headstone near the edge of the churchyard, fashioned from soft gray stone, patched with lichen, as if someone had dropped great splashes of yellow and green paint on the surface. At the foot was a posy of flowers, a mixture of wildflowers, grasses, and a single rose. The wildflowers had already withered, their petals clinging limply to the stone, but the rose still held its color—a soft pink, one petal turning brown at the edges.
Gabriel reached for it, but Etty pulled him back.
