an angry bear. He paced, then sat on the sofa. “It happened up North.”
“In Randolph’s parish in Northumberland?” Verity asked when it seemed her father wouldn’t go on.
“Right. At a Christmas pageant.”
“The archbishop attended?” Verity prompted. It was odd for the chief prelate to be so far from home at that time of year, but she wasn’t going to distract her father with questions.
“He was in the area. Some favor for a noble family, I believe.”
“And so, at the pageant.”
Her father spoke in a rush. “Some irreverent jokester had put a ram in the manger instead of a lamb. And the creature assaulted the archbishop.”
“That’s it?” Verity had imagined so much worse—quite wild scandals in fact. She was actually disappointed.
“Knocked him down?” said her mother, as if she was thinking something similar.
“No.” Papa sighed, looking resigned. “The ram mistook His Grace’s white vestments for a ewe. He was bent over, speaking to a child, I believe. And the ram…addressed himself to the archbishop’s…hindquarters.” Under the stares of his wife and daughter, he added, “There. I’ve told you. Let us not speak of it again.”
Verity’s mother choked. On a laugh? Verity wasn’t sure. She’d figure it out, as soon as she could stop thinking of rams she’d seen among the flocks near Chester. And the high-nosed archbishop. “So, well, of course they pulled the ram off.”
“Eventually,” said her father. “But the incident was not only deeply humiliating, it was dangerous.”
“And not Randolph’s fault,” Verity said. “He didn’t bring in the ram. I’m sure he knew nothing about it. It’s unfair to blame him for the stupid prank of a parishioner.”
“When he learned the archbishop would be attending, he should have checked every element of the arrangements,” her father said. “I would have. And discovered the ram, too. And gotten rid of it well ahead of time.” There was no doubt in his voice.
“Even when you were in your first parish?”
“At any time.”
Silently, Verity admitted that he was probably right. Papa was a stickler for detail. “It was just a silly accident,” she tried.
“Which became a scurrilous jest. You don’t know what it’s like to stand before a congregation and preach to them, Verity. If a churchman is to help people, he must be listened to and heeded. And for that, he requires respect. Not sniggering whispers behind dirty hands.”
Verity could see how fervently Papa believed this. The archbishop must feel it far more keenly. She might have argued that a hearty laugh over the ram, even telling the story on himself, could have dissipated the effect. But she didn’t think the point would weigh with Papa. Anyway, it was too late for that. “This was years ago, wasn’t it? What about forgiveness?”
“I’m sure the archbishop has forgiven Lord Randolph.”
“But not forgotten, eh?” said Verity’s mother.
“I would say, rather, that His Grace formed a judgment of Lord Randolph’s character and feels that he’s not a person to trust with heavy responsibilities.”
“You mean he’ll never allow Randolph to advance in the church,” Verity said. Having lived in a cathedral close for much of her youth, she knew that the church hierarchy encompassed all the emotions seen among the laity. There were politics. Revenge was not unknown, despite the scriptures.
Papa acknowledged her point with a nod. “So you see why he isn’t the husband for you.”
Verity had so much to say about this that words crowded her tongue and stopped it.
And then her father startled her by adding, “I’m well aware that you don’t want to spend your life in a country parish, Verity, or even a provincial deanery.”
“You are?”
“My dear girl, what demure miss spends all her free time buried in Cook’s voyages, or throwing kitchen knives at a defenseless log?”
“I didn’t think you noticed.”
“When we had to call on the knife sharpener every month?” Her mother looked amused. “But Stephen, has anyone tried to fix this? Lord Randolph is the son of a duke.”
“I’m sure he’s done what he can. And failed, demonstrably.”
But had he? Verity wondered. She needed to find out.
“Couldn’t you speak to the archbishop?” her mother added. “You have a respected position.”
“I have it because I know when to intervene and when to keep out of a matter.”
“You won’t then?” Verity asked.
“I’m not acquainted with the young man. I can’t vouch for him.”
“Even if I tell you he’s a truly admirable person?”
“I can see that he’s earned your regard. But this is a decision for your whole life, Verity. And you are choosing the very thing you wished to