what they are truly put on earth for.”
“Then you consider the monster Dr. Frankenstein’s child, despite the fact that he was born fully grown?” Mr. Garrett suggested.
“No, no,” Destry insisted. “I have no idea about this book but was speaking about children in general, Reverend.”
“Sometimes I do believe that my two boys are monsters.” That made everyone laugh, and Mr. Garrett went on. “But taking your point and applying it to Dr. Frankenstein’s creation, it is clear that the doctor abandoned him when the creature did not meet his expectations. What should he have taught him?”
“That we should all love one another,” the marquis answered promptly.
“Bravo, my lord,” Beatrice whispered to him. On her other side Cecilia looked over her sister’s head at Lord Destry in some confusion.
“We should teach our children to contribute to the common good,” Lord Belmont added.
Mr. Garrett nodded again and waited for other answers.
“To obey the Commandments and allow their betters to lead them.” Baron Crenshaw sat with his arms folded across his chest, his words bold and insistent.
“Very interesting, my lord. So here in this small group we already have three different schools of thought. One emphasizing love of fellow man, the second an obligation to make a contribution to society, and the third, the need to obey.”
“I take issue with the suggestion that we should teach them to let their betters lead them. What if their betters are misguided?” Lord Jess called out from the back of the room. His stance was indolent, leaning as he was against the wall near the door, but his tone belied his relaxed posture. “What if children are misinformed and wrongly taught?”
He straightened and walked to stand at the edge of the rows of chairs, still not part of the group. Not quite. “What if they are raised to believe that physical force is a solution when they are frustrated or angry?” He paused for a long moment. “As the monster demonstrated.”
“Many believe physical punishment is necessary.” Mr. Garrett offered the sentence for debate, Beatrice thought, not because he believed it himself. His eyes were too kind to allow it.
“In the schoolroom, perhaps,” Lord Jess allowed, not at all irritated by the dissent, “but what about physical force among adults?”
“If they are consenting adults then they may fight to their death.” Mr. Brent spoke his piece, turning to look at Lord Jess and then at the countess, who gave a slight smile.
“But, sir, what if they do not consent? What if one is forced to accept physical discipline? As an adult?” Lord Jess addressed his question to the group but Beatrice could see Lord Crenshaw stiffen. He was not looking at Lord Jess. If he had been, Lord Jess would have been singed by the baron’s eyes. They burned with rage.
“To force someone to accept physical punishment is wrong.” Mrs. Kendrick was the first woman to voice an opinion and Beatrice silently cheered her on. “As the book unfolds the reader sees that even the monster understands right from wrong. If Frankenstein’s monster is human enough to know he is doing wrong, then are not men equally intelligent?”
“Slaves are treated without a thought for their humanity,” Beatrice said and hoped that her comment would advance the discussion.
“They are property and can be dealt with as the owner sees fit,” Crenshaw volunteered from his seat.
“And what of wives?” Lord Jess asked. “Upon marriage, what they own becomes their husband’s property, but they themselves do not, even though Saint Paul says that wives must be submissive to their husbands.”
Mr. Garrett shook his head. “My wife takes great issue with that passage, and that alone makes me realize that ‘submissive’ may be the wrong word.”
“As a vicar, Mr. Garrett, are you not honor bound to follow the teachings of the Church of England?” Lord Crenshaw demanded.
“Yes, I am, but that does not mean I cannot question their wisdom and suggest other interpretations. Bear in mind that Paul’s command to me is ‘Love your wife.’ How is forcing her submission a loving act?”
“Because it is in her best interest.” Crenshaw made the statement as if it were obvious, then sat back. He was relaxed enough that Beatrice did not fear a fist-fight.
“It is in your wife’s best interest to do what you wish her to do?” Mr. Garrett addressed his question to the group.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Wilson when Crenshaw merely shrugged.
“I often think it is in my best interests to do what Lady Olivia asks of me,” Mr. Garrett countered.
There was