Vicar's Daughter: Chapter Three

Chapter Three

I stumbled blindly, hurriedly along the path to the stream, shielding my flickering candle from the frosty breeze. I desperately, desperately needed to think. Everything had gone wrong. Tears stung in my eyes as I reached my rock. Then, I opened the bound book half-filled with my words and began to write.


November 15, 1815

Father beat me tonight. It was  because of Mother again. I never can win, can I?  Why does Mother do this to me?  She hurts me so much! Really, I try to do what's right and it always ends up the same way!
 
Mama went to gossip with Mrs. Clemons today and this time their victim was Mrs. Whitaker. (Mrs. Whitaker was chosen randomly. Neither Mrs. Clemons nor Mama particularly dislike her or anything like her-- Mama has not disapproved of my calling on her or talking to her- it's just that they must gossip of something and she had given them an excuse to do so.)But their choice presented me with some difficulties. I was utterly sickened by Mama's zeal as she told me of their conversation. Did I recall her telling me of Mrs. Whitaker's absence on Saturday Eve, the night of the women's charity meeting? It had been quite appalling, for she had given her word to attend. Indeed, she  had certainly said something on planning to come, which, it being the Lord's work and all, Mama would be loathe to break.

But indeed Mrs. Clemons had known the reason for her absence- apparently the tutor she had hired for her youngest son had arrived. Had I ever heard of so laughable excuse in my life?  Perhaps Mr. Whiatker had been in Town , but there was still all those servants they kept around the place- who knows what for but to take care of these express situations.

Oh, Mother knew she had never known anyone else so profligate. She knew her conscience could never abide such guile. Mrs. Clemons had agreed, but really Mrs. Whitaker had never shown a true interest in any charitable work- what had she done beyond tend the occasional meeting or contribute some of her fine money?

The Whitakers had always behaved quite ostentatiously with that money of theirs. Mrs. Clemons knew if the Good Lord had showered her with such blessing, she would never think of engaging in such decadence. Who could forget her daughter's wedding last autumn with the special license, and that bridal gown- with the silk and the pearls and that scandalous neckline. Or indeed the fancy French governess she'd hired to educate her daughter- everyone knew nothing good came out of that country. Balls every other month! With waltzing! They agreed that that woman was nothing but a duplicitous, deceitful, heathen, wasteful, decadent-

What could I do but interrupt her? I told her Mrs. Whitaker did not deserve to be spoken of in such a way. And of course I knew, even then, that there was only the slimmest of chances that it would go well.

And it did not. Mother shot her response back: Did I condone her behavior? The woman behaved like a Corinthian, etc, etc.

And I said, "I realize that you disagree with much of Mrs. Whitaker's  conduct, however that is between her and-"

But she interrupted me:  Oh, she disagree-d did that mean I supported her?

Now I was almost certain I had lost because what we were doing could be called nothing but arguing, but still  I said, "I could not agree with her extravagance, Mother. You have taught me too well for that." Which was slightly fudging the truth, but considering the cause I pardoned myself.

For a minute I thought It'd worked because she said she was glad to hear that. But then she was off again

So I tried to reason with her,  which, if I'd thought about it half a moment more, I'd have known wouldn't have worked because Mother is ruled only by her emotions and lives life from one outrage to the next.  I reminded her that Mrs. Dennison had almost single handedly began the parish school, and of course has always been kind to me.

But by this team she was completely fired up. "So a handful of good deeds obviously  done solely to impress the public are to forgive  a lifestyle of extravagance and sin!"  she cried. "Humility, the woman is clearly nothing but a hypocrite!"

And that was just too far, so I said,  "Mother, do not say so!"

And then I'd really lost. She was raging: How dare I act as if I knew better than she! She'd raised me right and I had no reason to behave in such a manner! And I could be sure Father would hear of this.

And of course she told him at supper- a revised version, that is. She had gone to visit with Mrs. Clemens and had found out some very troubling information about Mrs. Whitake that made her very  concerned  for her. So, she came home and told me about it and was shocked to find me  very callous. I had not sympathized in the least, but instead belittled her worry for Mrs. Whitaker. She had very gently tried to show me the seriousness of it all, however I just went on being stubborn! Really, I behaved like I knew better than my own Mother! I had outright defied her! She simply didn't know what to do with me!

Typical mother. I've seen her do it dozens of times- she can accuse, insult, and attack a person and later  turn the entire situation around to make  it seem the other person had done it all to her. And Father always believes her. And he always beats me.

Isn't there some solution to all of this? Why do Mother and Father treat me this way? They're not really bad people-, but-look at them- so blind to their sin! Mother is the Vicar's wife and her cherished pastime is to gossip about her parishioners!  Her moral guide is what makes her look good, not what is right. I don't think she can even distinguish between truth and lies anymore. And then there's Father. He can't keep his temper for anything.  The only time he speaks to those in his congregation is to point out their sin. And all these problems come down to bear at home and I have a back full of scars.

There must be a way out because I'm not sure how much longer I can stand this.