The Secret of Pembrooke Park(35)

“I imagine it’s difficult to get away with your aunt needing someone to look after her.”

“Yes, it would be.”

As they passed the public house in Easton, Duncan swept out, then drew up short at the sight of his mistress. “Ah. Miss Foster.”

“Hello.”

“I saw Miss Eliza. And I hoped she might walk with me to Ham Green.”

Abigail glanced at Eliza, saw the flush of pleasure she tried to hide.

“Then I shall leave you to it,” Abigail said with a smile. “A good day to you both. And do greet your aunt for me.”

“I shall, Miss Foster. Thank you.”

Abigail continued her walk alone for a time, then turned and started back. As she strolled again down the tree-lined road, she remembered when she and her father had first arrived in Mr. Arbeau’s carriage and were stopped by the former barricade. Now she crossed the bridge unimpeded, admiring the marsh marigolds and silvery white lady’s smocks growing along the riverbank.

She looked ahead and was surprised to see two boys run through the churchyard. They threw open the church door, and from within she heard the hum of many voices before the door closed again, muffling the sound. Was there some special service she was unaware of?

Deciding to follow, Abigail entered the churchyard. As she did, she glanced over to where she’d seen Eliza standing earlier. Sure enough, flowers lay on one of the graves. She squinted, but the name on the headstone was not Smith as she’d expected. It was Robert Pembrooke.

She must have mistaken the spot Eliza had stood. Blinking away confusion, Abigail continued on to the church door. She quietly opened it and crossed the vestibule on the balls of her feet, to keep the heels of her half boots from disrupting the quiet within.

Inside she saw William Chapman sitting amidst several older boys and girls, their heads bowed over slates. Leah was sitting with a group of younger children, heads bent over books. William glanced up, and his quick smile at seeing her lightened her heart.

“Excuse me for a minute,” he said to the children. “Colin, you’re in charge.”

The older boy nodded, and William walked over and joined Abigail at the back of the nave.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No problem.”

“I saw a few children coming back to church and wondered what was going on. You must think me a terribly nosy neighbor. Are you teaching them the Scriptures, or . . . ?”

“We teach reading, writing, and ciphering, as well as the catechism, yes.”

“Don’t they go to school?”

“Our little Sunday school here is the only education some of these boys and girls will receive.”

“But why?”

“Most begin farming with their fathers as soon as they are able or are apprenticed by age thirteen or so, or sent out to service, in the case of girls. For many, Sunday is their only day free to learn.”

Abigail glanced at Miss Chapman. “And your sister teaches as well?”

“Yes, she is excellent with the younger children especially.”

“Has there always been school here?”

“No, it’s something we’ve started recently.”

A young man raised his hand, and William excused himself to answer his question.

Leah came over and greeted her. “Hello, Miss Foster.”

“Miss Chapman, it is very good of you and your brother to teach these children.”

She shrugged off the praise. “I enjoy it.”

“I suppose their parents contribute something—or is the schooling free?”

Leah shook her head. “I understand some schools charge a penny or twopence a week to help defray the cost of books and slates, but William insists we charge nothing. He buys what we need out of his own modest income.”

“I’m sure if others knew of the work you’re doing here, they would be happy to help.”

“You’re probably right. But William is proud and hates to ask for anything.”

William returned and clearly overheard his sister’s last few words. “You give me too much credit. I have asked for donations of books and supplies and have received a few, though many people don’t believe in educating the poor. Some say it’s futile, or even dangerous—rendering them insolent to their superiors.”

“I take it you disagree?” Abigail asked.

He nodded. “I think every person deserves to understand enough of basic mathematics to take care of his expenses and know when he’s being overcharged. To be able to read the newspaper and keep abreast of what is going on in the world. To know how to write a letter to a loved one. And to read the greatest love letter of all—the God-breathed Scriptures.”

He flushed. “Forgive me. I did not intend to preach another sermon today.”

“That’s all right,” Abigail said. “I admire your passion. And your efforts.”

He grinned. “I’ll take your admiration. But I’d prefer your help.”

Abigail felt her brows rise. “Me? How can I help?”

Leah said, “Good idea, Will. You could help me with the younger children, Miss Foster. Take Martha there. She’s joined us only recently. Neither of her parents can read, so she’s a bit behind the others.”