Anne Perry - Blind Justice

But he did ask a number of the other questions that rose in his mind.

“Does God live only in churches?” he said very quietly to her. He did not want the other people in the omnibus to hear him. They probably all knew the answer and would think he sounded stupid.

She looked a little surprised and instantly he wished he had said nothing. If he paid attention, he would probably have learned the answer anyway.

“No,” she replied. “God is everywhere. I think it’s just that we give him more thought inside churches. Like learning at school. You can learn to read and write anywhere, but school makes it easier to concentrate.”

“Do we have a teacher at church too?” That seemed a reasonable question.

“Yes. He’s called a minister.”

“I see.” That was a bit worrying. “Is he going to make me answer questions at the end?”

“No. No, I won’t let him do that.” She sounded very sure.

He relaxed a little. “Why do we have to go?”

“We don’t have to. I would like to.”

“Oh.” He sat in silence for almost half a mile.

“Will he tell us about heaven?” he asked finally.

“I expect so,” Hester answered. Now she was looking at him, smiling.

He felt encouraged. “Where is heaven?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I don’t think anybody truly does.”

That troubled him. “Then how are we going to get there?”

She looked awkward. “You know, that’s something we’d all like to know, and I have no idea. Perhaps if we go to church often enough and really pay attention, we will figure it out eventually.”

“Do you want to go there? To heaven, I mean?”

“Yes. I think everybody does. It’s just that too many of us don’t desire it enough to do the things that are necessary to get there.”

“Why not? That seems silly,” he pointed out.

“We don’t think about it, or believe in it, hard enough,” she answered. “Sometimes we decide it’s too hard to get there to be worth the trouble, or that we won’t make it anyway, no matter what we do.”

He thought about it for several minutes while the omnibus went up a slight incline, slowing as it did so. The horses must have struggled a bit.

“Well, if you’re not going to heaven, then I don’t think I want to either,” he said at last.

She blinked suddenly, as if she were going to cry, only he knew she wouldn’t because Hester never cried. Then she put her hand on his arm for a moment. He could feel the warmth of it, even through the sleeve of his new jacket.

“I think we should both try to get there,” she told him. “In fact, all three of us should.”

He thought about that and made a note of several other questions he wanted to ask. He would save them for another time-he felt like he had bothered her enough for now. So they rode in silence until the omnibus pulled up at their stop. They walked about fifty yards along the pavement to what looked like a meetinghouse. It was not really a proper church, the kind he had expected with the tower and the bell, but Hester seemed quite sure, so he went in beside her through the large open doors.

Inside there were rows of seats, all very hard, with the sort of backs that made you sit up straight, even if you didn’t want to. There were crowds of people there already. All the women he could see had hats on: big ones, small ones, ones with flowers, ones with ribbons, pale colors, dark colors, but nothing particularly bright, no reds or pinks or yellows. All the men wore dark suits. It must be some kind of uniform, like at school.

They had been there only a few moments when a handsome man came forward, smiling. He had fair, wavy hair touched with silver at the sides. He held his hand out, looking for an instant beyond Hester. Then, realizing there was no man with her, he withdrew his hand and bowed very slightly instead.

“How do you do, ma’am? My name is Abel Taft. May I welcome you to our congregation?”

“Thank you,” Hester said warmly. “I am Mrs. Monk.” She turned to introduce Scuff, and his heart almost stopped beating. Who was she going to say he was? An urchin she and Monk had picked up from the dockside, who knew no other name but Scuff? Would they make him leave?

Taft turned to meet Scuff’s eyes.

Scuff was paralyzed, his mouth as dry as dust.

Hester smiled, her head a little to one side. “My son, William,” she said, with only the barest hesitation.

Scuff found himself smiling so widely his face hurt.

“How do you do, William?” Taft said formally.

“How do you do?” Scuff’s voice came out scratchily. “Sir,” he added for good measure.

Taft was still smiling too, as if his smile were almost fixed on his face. Scuff had seen expressions like that before, on the riverbank, when people were trying to sell you something.

“I hope you will feel uplifted by our service, Mrs. Monk,” Taft said warmly. “And please feel free to ask any questions you care to. I shall hope to see you often and perhaps get to know you a little better. You will find the entire congregation friendly. We have some very fine people here.”

“I am sure,” Hester agreed. “I have already heard so from others.”

“Indeed?” Taft had started to move away but stopped, his attention suddenly renewed. “May I ask whom?”

Hester lowered her eyes. “I think it might embarrass them if I were to say,” she replied modestly. “But it was most sincere, I assure you. I know, at least, that you do a great deal of truly Christian work for those who are not nearly as fortunate as we are.”

“Indeed we do,” he said eagerly. “I am delighted to see that you are interested. I shall look forward to telling you more after the service.”

She looked up at him very directly. “Thank you.”

Scuff regarded her with confusion. He had never seen her behave like this before. Of course, lots of women looked at men like that-but not Hester! What was wrong with her? He did not like the change in her. She had been perfect just as she was.

Hester led him toward a couple of seats near the back of the hall, and they took the rather squashed places as other people moved along a bit to make room. There were certainly far more people present than he had imagined would want to be here. What was going to happen that was worth all this jostling and shoving, not to mention dressing up and wasting a perfectly good Sunday morning? The sun was shining outside, and hardly anybody had to go to work!

He started to pay attention when the service began. Mr. Taft was in charge, telling everybody when to stand, when to sing, and saying prayers on everyone else’s behalf. All they had to do was add “Amen” at the end. He seemed to be full of enthusiasm, as if it were all rather exciting. He waved his arms about a bit, and his face was alight. It was a bit like it was his birthday party and all of them his guests. Scuff had seen a party once for a rich boy whose parents had hired a pleasure boat. There were colored ribbons everywhere and a band playing music. It had stopped at one of the docks and Scuff had crept close enough to watch.

There was music here in this church as well, a big organ playing, and everybody sang. They seemed to know the words. Even Hester did not have to do more than glance at the hymnbook that she held open so he could see it as well. But he had never heard the tune before and got lost very quickly.

Hester gave him a little nudge now and then, or put her hand gently on his arm, to warn him they were about to stand up or sit down again. He noticed that she looked around rather a lot. He thought she was watching to see what they were doing, so she could copy them. Then he realized she knew what to do; she just seemed to be interested, almost as if she were looking for someone in particular.