‘The vicar is Reverend Jackson, the fellow at the front. The other two are visitors– friends of the Wordsworths. I believe they are going to preach and read the prayers which will be a blessed relief for us all.’
‘How so?’
‘Because we all agree that Mr Jackson is a worthy man and yet last in the line for the gift of public speaking.’
Then hopefully he was more gifted at writing a note to a worried mother.
The service began with the familiar bidding prayer of the Matins, followed by a hymn chosen to celebrate the Rush Bearing, and then one of the clergymen, who introduced himself as Reverend Bloomfield, stood to give a long sermon on filial piety. This was not a subject calculated to speak to her heart because she felt far from pious when her thoughts went to her own parent. Disengaging from what he was saying, Dora had time to study those in the congregation. Knotte was listening with his usual squirrel-like quivering attention. Langhorne was yawning and eyeing the Queen of the Rushes even though his ladylove, Lady Alice, was but a few pews away at the front. Moss was staring fixedly at the window over the altar, deep in his own thoughts. Cooper and Crawford were showing every sign of awareness that their uniforms were meeting with general admiration from the girls. Sadly for Crawford, a fresh crop of youthful spots somewhat undermined his manly charms. He should take solace that he would grow out of those. But where was Wright?
Dora swivelled slowly in her seat to look behind her while trying not to attract attention to her movements.
The man from Colebrookdale was nowhere to be seen.
The sermon ended and the next hymn was announced. Under the cover of the rustling of pages, Dora whispered: ‘Where is Mr Wright?’
Knotte started and looked about him in surprise. ‘Is he not here?’
‘No. I haven’t seen him. Have you?’
‘Now you mention it, no. He isn’t much of a churchgoer, but I thought he wanted to see the procession. Perhaps he watched that and left?’
‘But did you see him earlier?’
‘No, I did not. We must ask the others after the service. He might be indisposed. Some of us were drinking heavily last night. We must check on him.’ He scratched at the back of his hand where he had an outbreak of red itchy skin. The man was clearly a bag of nerves. He made Dora feel uneasy merely sitting beside him.
When the service ended, the congregation flooded back into the sunlight. The girls were laughing, gathering around a fiddler who was to lead them to the celebration at the inn.
‘Do you want to go with them?’ asked Knotte, gesturing to the line at the gate. ‘This is the girls’ day and I’m sure you’d be very welcome among their number.’
Normally, she would love to do so as they had seemed a welcoming crowd, but she had other fish to fry today. ‘I’d prefer to stay with you, Mr Knotte, if you have time for me.’ She hoped Jacob would thank her for taking on this task of absorbing the man’s attention. ‘I would appreciate you telling me more about the locality. No one knows it as well as you.’
‘Not even Mr Wordsworth?’ He looked delighted by the idea that he was the expert.
‘Not even him. Tell me, what should I be looking at in this valley? Where are the places of the most touching local stories, the spots that inspire the poets?’
‘We must start with Michael’s sheepfold then,’ he said, nodding to the north. ‘It’s not far out of the village, a path off the road that leads to Keswick. It inspired one of Mr Wordsworth’s best poems. Shall we visit it? We can call in on Wright on the way back.’ He offered her his arm.
‘How long will it take?’
‘Are you a good walker?’
‘I believe so.’
‘Then no more than an hour and a half. We can be in time to dine with the others. Cooper has booked a room at the inn for us.’
‘I’ll just tell Dr Sandys and the viscount where I’m going.’
‘I’d be delighted to show them too.’
‘But of course. I’ll pass on the invitation.’
She hurried over to Jacob who was waiting for the Wordsworths to step away from their conversation with the clergymen.
‘I’ve got Knotte to take me on a local walk. It should take an hour or so and then we will be dining. Can you get to the cottage and back in time to join us at the inn?’
He nodded. ‘Nero can manage that. I might be a little late, but I doubt anyone would notice. I can claim my brother detained me. He is dining with Lord Furness and Lady Alice.’
‘They’ve not invited you?’
