The Maidens of Walsingham
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– The Count of Draymore is a highborn person. I think we shall never again have the honour of seeing him at Walsingham," the parson answered her with a slight chuckle.
Christine's heart sank: she was suddenly seized with an irresistible desire to see the Count, but her father's words disappointed her.
– I hope that during my audience you will not indulge in laziness, but will tidy up the church, – the pastor announced to his daughters.
– When will you be back? Will you be back in time for dinner? – worried Catherine: she jealously watched that her father did not starve.
– I think so. And now we must rest from the day's labours.
The family lay down on their miserable beds.
Cassie was always the first to fall asleep, but this evening she was full of energy and desperate to do something naughty.
– Katie, shall we sing a song? – came a little voice in the darkness.
– It's late, darling, we need to sleep," Catherine answered her.
– But I can't sleep. Let's sing a song!
– Oh, God, Kate, calm her down! – came Christine's disgruntled voice.
– Chris, you should be more restrained," her father told her sternly. – Cassie, we'll sing, but tomorrow.
– But I want it now! It's a funny little song about chickens.
– Will you keep your mouth shut?
Christine's loud shout frightened poor Cassie, and she stopped talking and breathed deeply in fear.
– God will punish you for this! – Kate shouted at Christine, knowing what Cassie's heavy breathing meant. – You scared her! Cassie, come here.
Cassie quickly moved over to Kate's mattress and put her arms around her sister's neck. She couldn't get over her fright, and she couldn't understand why she had made Christine so angry, because all she wanted to do was sing a song about chickens.
She covered her ears with her hands and tried not to hear Cassie's sighs, which only annoyed her.
In the morning Cassie felt sick: her forehead was burning, and her skin was hot and moist. The girl did not go to matins. Cassie tossed and turned on her mattress for a long time, but still managed to fall asleep. When the Glowfords' neighbours heard that Cassie was unwell, they promised to bring some milk for her.
After the morning mass, Pastor Glowford went to the Count of Draymore's estate, Rivershold, which he had never been to during his stay in Walsingham, for the old landlord never took any interest in the fate of his peasants. The pastor walked: he was fond of walking, and at such times felt full of vigour. He had no horse, and he did not want to disturb the parishioners with his problems, and there was only one horse in the village. So, dressed in his best suit, long since worn and patched by Catherine's hands, Pastor Glowford walked along the dusty road to Rivershold. On the way, he prayed that God would listen to the prayers of his parishioners, turn Lord Draymore's heart to them, and meet their needs. He carried with him a large, yellowed paperweight with an old drawing of the church, wishing to show it to the Earl, with a view to its possible restoration. Strangely enough, the pastor believed the new landlord and thought that the Lord himself had brought him to Walsingham. But suddenly the pastor remembered Cassie's illness and became worried: how was his treasure feeling? But the knowledge that Catherine was looking after her reassured him: his face brightened, and with renewed strength and hope in his heart he made his way to the manor.
Chapter 4
The two lords were seated in the large, sumptuous drawing-room, furnished with expensive English-style furniture, drinking brandy and discussing yesterday's trip to Walsingham.
– How could such squalid places exist in the early nineteenth century? I thought they had all disappeared a couple of centuries ago! – Lord Draymore said in surprise and grinned sarcastically. – Oh, Uncle Buck, what a burden you've put on my neck in exchange for this estate!
– But why didn't your uncle mention the village when he gave you his will? – Viscount Wilworth asked him.
– I have no idea. Perhaps he didn't even realise there was a village on his land. I myself learnt of it from my secretary.
– But, my friend, with your wealth, you can do these peasants a great deal of good. You have seen how poor they are, how crooked their houses are, how poorly they are dressed… Poor, wretched people.
– Yes, Dominic, I have. But in this dirt my eyes saw not only poverty, but also a beautiful flower, – said Colin Draymore, remembering the beautiful modest daughter of the pastor, Christine.
– Be serious. You should not think of that girl,' frowned the viscount. – Let this flower remain undefiled.
– Why this moralising? I have no wish to deal with that pretty girl. She is a peasant! I'm just paying honour to her beauty," the Count said with a mocking sneer.
– Then it must be said that the youngest Glowford is much lovelier than your beauty," said Dominic Wilworth, and his heart ached with pity for Cassie.
– Yes, indeed, but she is ill, and that spoils her.
– But it's only a question of looks.
– Yes, that little girl with the marvellous curls is a wonder. I feel sorry for her," Colin muttered, not wanting to spread his negative opinion of her.
The moment he'd seen Cassie, the same dark thoughts had flashed through his mind as when he'd seen her sister Christine. But Cassie's dementia repelled him. Viscount Wilworth, on the contrary, became imbued with genuine sympathy and pity for Cassie. He was very surprised that the parson had not treated her as a child and how calmly he treated his daughter's illness as a must.
– I will help these peasants. It's time to show them the benefits of civilisation and the Enlightenment. I will rebuild their houses, the church, the mill, other buildings, roads, fences… Not immediately, of course: first I have to sort out all the documents left behind by my uncle. I have to look round the garden and get rid of the ugly sculptures. Where did my uncle get his love of antiquity? Renovate the park, the garden, the stables. One stable isn't enough, I must build another," Lord Draymore said thoughtfully, imagining how it would change the appearance of Rivershold.
– Better take care of the peasants," his friend urged him. – Your plans won't go anywhere, but fifty peasants will die before you realise them.
– Oh, come on. They've been living all these years.
– Yes, they have, and that's why their village has become a "rotten place" and will eventually disappear from the face of the earth. How many peasants live there?
– One hundred and fifty-one. Half of them are children.
– You see, if you don't want a bunch of hungry children when their parents die, you should build the village first, then your estate.