Thaddeus Lewis Mysteries 3-Book Bundle. Janet Kellough
the class meeting on Tuesday. There was no sign of anything amiss when we went in, but while we were in prayer, the room suddenly started filling up with smoke.”
Lewis sighed. He knew what was coming.
“Them vicious Wesleyans climbed up onto the roof and stopped up the chimney!”
It was the sort of prank that was becoming all too common when the different denominations attempted to share premises. Lewis had heard of locks being changed in the middle of the night, then changed back again the next; of one rival group linking arms and surrounding a church, so that another group couldn’t get in. It was all just too petty for words.
Varney’s face was serious, though. “I know what you’re going to say, Mr. Lewis — that it was nothing but a small crowd of trouble-makers, and we should ignore it, but this time it got out of hand. Before I knew it, some of our men had rushed outside and removed the ladder so the vandals couldn’t get down. They jumped off the roof, and one man broke his leg. After that, it was bedlam, the men all lit into one another, and as well as the broken leg there are quite a number of broken heads.”
Lewis deposited Martha on the floor and sat down. This was serious — people had been injured and someone would be called to account for it.
“That’s not the worst, though,” Varney went on. “While all this fracas was going on in the dooryard, nobody was paying any mind to the chimney. It was still stopped up, and the smouldering made it catch fire. Before anyone’s attention could be got, it had burned a big hole in the back part of the roof. That church won’t be used by anyone for a while.”
Lewis felt his anger growing, but he attempted to control it so that it wouldn’t be reflected in his words. Anger would do them no good here.
“That is the most disappointing thing I think I ever heard,’ he said finally. “That this contention should lead to the destruction of a House of God.”
“Oh, aye, it’s bad business all right. Anyway, I just came to say that in the meantime, we’d better make plans to use my place instead, don’t you think?”
Bless Varney and his ilk, he thought. In spite of the trouble in Demorestville, his first thought was the continuation of the church.
He realized that the man was still standing in the doorway. His news had taken them by such surprise that he had not yet been invited in.
“Take a seat, Mr. Varney,” he said. “I’ll get us some coffee while we sort this out.” Betsy had nudged the kettle over onto the stove and it was singing.
Varney smiled. “Now, I’d hoped you might offer, but I’m a tea man, myself. Not everyone is, you know. Some people never have it in the house, so I just happened to have brought a little with me, I’m that thirsty. I hope you’ll boil it up for me.” He produced a package that looked to weigh at least half a pound, and Lewis knew that he would leave it all behind when he left. Their few luxuries most often came that way. A member of the congregation would drop by and “just happen” to have a little of this or that, which they always managed to forget to take away with them again. Lewis silently sent up a prayer of thanks; tea was far too dear to find its way to his table very often. The storekeeper’s gift would go a long way toward reviving Betsy’s spirits.
Varney settled himself at the table while the tea steeped.
“What is the reaction to all of this trouble in the rest of the village?” Betsy asked. “Has anyone learned a lesson from this, or do the feelings still run high between the two groups?”
“The Wesleyans claim that they had nothing to do with it, that the men who climbed up on the roof were the village hooligans. They say they’re going to hold the Methodist Episcopals to account for the damage to the church. After all, we were the ones using the church at the time, so according to them, we’re the ones who are responsible.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Lewis said. “How can we be responsible for something done by someone else?”
“Oh, aye, I know. The man who broke his leg, in the meantime, is threatening to bring a lawsuit against both groups because of his suffering bodily harm. Some of the Episcopals are threatening to have the Wesleyans up in front of a magistrate for fomenting dissension. It’s a right stew, it is, and in the meantime, everyone is asking me what they should do.”
“I’ll tell you what they should do, and you’ll take this news back with you, Mr. Varney. We will help the Wesleyans repair the damage to the church.”
“Now, why would we do that, beggin’ your pardon? It’s them that caused the damage.”
“Because I’m tired of this nonsense, that’s why,” Lewis said. “This could have been a lot more serious. People could have been killed. The church could have burned down entirely. I can only hope that an act of conciliation will have the desired effect, and put the whole matter to rest.”
He could see that this directive didn’t sit well with the storekeeper, but the man had no alternative to offer.
“I want you to tell everyone that a subscription has now been opened to make the necessary repairs and that donations of money and goods or offers of labour can be made at the General Store. You’ll see, Mr. Varney, that even if this gesture doesn’t result in a truce, it will certainly enhance your reputation as a fair-minded man. It won’t do any harm and it just might do some good.”
He could see that Varney liked the idea of enhancing his reputation, after he’d had a moment to mull it over, and he nodded his head as he considered the proposal.
“And in the meantime, yes, I think we’d better plan on using your place for services, if you don’t mind. Thank you very much for the offer.”
Over their tea they discussed how all of the meetings and services could be accommodated without too much disruption to the store’s business, and eventually arrived at a plan that would answer both considerations.
It was only as Varney was leaving that he mentioned the news that sent Lewis reeling. It was said as an afterthought, an addendum, information that was only by-the-by.
“Oh, with all the other dreadful things I had to tell you, I almost forgot,” he said. “There’s a young girl died quite suddenly. I know she’d had some conversation with you, although I don’t believe she had actually joined the Society yet.”
Lewis had been reaching for some wooden spoons and an iron pot for Martha to play with, but now he froze in mid-turn. “Who is it? Who’s dead?”
“That pretty girl who came to one or two of the meetings. Rachel … Rachel Jessup — her that lived with that evil-looking fellow who works at the blacksmith’s.”
Lewis felt his heart miss a beat. “Yes, I knew her. She had been coming to meetings with her sister-in-law. I had hoped she would join the congregation. She told me she was going to make a decision soon.”
“Well, I’m afraid she’s left it too late. She’ll make no decisions now.”
He had not asked the obvious question yet, but Betsy did it for him.
“How did she die?”
“She was found by her brother,” Varney said. “Her sister-in-law had just had her baby and was at her parents’. Apparently the girl was left behind to look after the house, but when the brother came back, she was dead in her bed.”
Martha was bored by the makeshift toys Lewis had given her and was making another bee line for the ash can. “Martha, no!” he said sternly. Her face wrinkled up in protest, but at least she didn’t start to cry. Betsy picked her up, and began jouncing and rocking her.
“Do they have any idea what happened?”
“Not really,” Varney said. “She was fully dressed, apparently, even had her boots on. The only thing amiss was that there were some strange marks on her neck.”
Lewis had seen strange marks on a young girl’s neck