It is on the second Sunday after my fall from grace that the word comes down from above that I must go back to the church for more of the Preacher's counseling and guidance. Damn, and I just got out of that place, I thinks, what with him going on and on about sin and stuff as usual and looking at me when he says it, me now standing in the back, apart from the ladies.
We were preparing the noon meal when I was summoned, and I put aside the tray of steamed greens I was making up and wipe my hands, heave a heavy sigh, and head out. The other girls give me looks of sympathy as I go, but Betsey, strangely, looks at me with real alarm in her eyes, and says don't... but lets it drop there and sits down and worries her hands in her lap. Don't what? I wonders as I cross the space between the church and the school, going past the graveyard and the unmarked grave.
I open the door and go in and again he is standing tall and severe up at his podium, his white collar tabs glowing in the half darkness of the place. He points to the aisle in front of him and I go there and kneel and put my hands up in a prayerful attitude as I did on my last visit to this place.
"We have now seen where your wanton ways have gotten you, haven't we, girl?"
"Yes, Sir, we have."
"And have you prayed for forgiveness, girl?"
"Yes, Sir, I have." Anything to get me out of here.
"I think it is plain to you now that the Devil is indeed in you, girl, is he not?"
"I hope he is not, Sir." Get ready, my poor knees, for yet more pain. "And I do not believe he is, Sir." I look up at him when I say this and hold his gaze. I am growing heartily sick of all this.
"What? You dance wildly in the streets, showing your limbs before decent people and expect us to believe that?" He takes a deep breath and pulls himself up to his full height. The light inside the church is gloomy, with dust motes floating about in the weak light that comes through the high windows. "You end up in jail and there carouse with whores and other low types the whole night long and you say the fiend is not in you, has not taken possession of you entirely?"
"It was not that way at all, Sir," I say, wearily, and settle back onto my haunches. Sounds to me like the Preacher has been talking to somebody from the jail to know so much about my night there. Prolly that Wiggins. I drop my hands from the prayerful attitude and fold them in my lap. How much more can they do to me?
"Liar!" he shouts, coming around the lectern and pointing his finger at me. "Liar! Strumpet! Minion of Satan!" He is working himself up to a fine froth and I'm starting to get scared. It is now that I notice he has a long rod in his hand. "You will put your hands back up in a proper supplicating posture and you will beg on your bended knees the good Lord's forgiveness for your transgressions against his holy teachings!"
I do not do it. I say instead, "I do not recall the good Lord saying anything about singing and dancing, 'cept maybe that thing about makin' a joyful noise unto the Lord, which is what I was doin' when I was arrested. I was makin' joyful noises unto some of his own creatures, to bring them some cheer, I was, and there was no harm in it, Sir, not a bit."
He is astounded. His mouth works up and his eyes stare at me in disbelief and I swear a line of spittle comes out the side of it and runs down his chin. I get to my feet, as I have had enough of this.
"What! No shame? No contrition? You are possessed! You will prostrate yourself!" he shouts, letting loose a cloud of spit droplets in the air. "Prepare to have the Devil beaten out of you!"
He raises his rod and comes toward me. I back off a few steps and says, "No, Sir. I will not be beaten by you. I have been beaten by Mistress Pimm, but I suppose that goes with being in a school, but I will not be beaten by you, not in a church." I pause for breath, for my heart is poundin' and my chest is startin' to heave. "I go to a church for solace and consolation and to be in company with my friends in the presence of God and to think about my place in His universe, not to be beaten and shamed!"
I'm in a fine froth myself by now and I don't know where I'm gettin' the cheek to speak up like this but I push on, the words just pourin' out o' me.
"I spent almost two years in the Royal Navy, and I was not flogged once, Sir, not once!" I pull myself up and throw my head back. "I ain't apprenticed to you, and I ain't a member of your household. You think that 'cause I ain't a lady no more that you can beat on me if you want, but you're wrong, Sir, as I am a freeborn English woman and I will not be struck by you!"
I've been walking backwards this whole time and I'm about to turn to go out the door when he rushes up to me and grabs me by the arm and lifts the rod again, shouting something about a Jezebel right into my face, but I shouts back at him, "You let go of me, Preacher! If you hit me I'll put the police on you, I will! I know where they are and how things work down at the courthouse and ... and ... and I got me a lawyer, too! So let go of me!"
With that I jerk my arm from his grasp and bolt out the door, leavin' the amazed Preacher alone in the gloom of his church.
I rush back into the warmth and safety of the kitchen and put my back to the door and stand there pantin', tryin' to calm myself down. Through the fog of my fear and anger I hear Betsey say, "See, Peg, seel It's happening again!" and "Shush, you don't know, you must be quiet, hush your mouth now!" from Peg.
I think that's what was said, but when I ask Betsey about it later, she just shakes her head and won't say a word. And neither will Peg.