Lord Mullion's Secret by Michael Innes Read Free Book Online Page A

delightful daughters.’
    â€˜And a son, of course.’
    â€˜And, indeed, a son. I fear the rain is becoming, if anything, heavier.’ Dr Atlay had paused to open the south door of the church and peer out. Hung on the door was a notice – addressed perhaps to the faithful or perhaps to casual gazers – saying Please keep closed to conserve heat , although in fact there was no visible provision for providing anything of the kind. ‘However,’ Dr Atlay continued, ‘you and I are quite snug for the moment, Mr Honeybath. It is true that the church is somewhat tenebrous and even speluncar in suggestion, a state of affairs attributable to the opaque quality achieved by Victorian stained glass – of which, I may say, we owe our abundance to the generosity of the eleventh earl. However, to his successor we owe similarly the repair of the roof, which is now watertight. So if light be excluded so, too, is the rage of the elements. You and I, my dear sir, may consider ourselves as cosily accommodated as Aeneas and Dido in their cavern.’
    â€˜Yes, indeed.’ Honeybath was a little surprised by this pagan – and somewhat scandalous – comparison, which was no doubt to be attributed to the vicar’s orthodox classical education. ‘Are all those monuments and effigies,’ he asked, ‘connected with the Wyndowe family?’
    â€˜Assuredly they are – except, of course, that a number of my own predecessors are suitably commemorated on unobtrusive tablets in the chancel. The first Wyndowes, you will recall, were no more than knights of the shire, and the first whose sepulture is recorded here is Sir Rufus Windy. His is the figure on your right hand, with his nose broken off.’
    Honeybath surveyed Sir Rufus with proper respect – but what he was then prompted to say was not untouched by levity.
    â€˜It has always struck me as odd, Dr Atlay, that in this matter of Christian burial it is the upper classes who enjoy God’s chilly benediction, while their inferiors in this transitory state are out in the warm sun.’
    â€˜Ah!’ If Dr Atlay was put momentarily to stand by this he recovered quickly. ‘I do not recall that Shakespeare’s application of the old saw is precisely to that effect. But you are, of course, perfectly right. The rude forefathers of the hamlet are out in the churchyard and certainly exposed to the elements – sun, wind and rain alike. However, that grand principle of subordination is involved. Are you familiar with the sermons of William Gilpin, as you doubtless are with his Observations relative chiefly to picturesque beauty in the mountains and lakes of Cumberland and Westmoreland? ’
    â€˜I do know Gilpin on the Picturesque. He holds an important position – does he not? – in the history of English taste.’ Honeybath felt that with Dr Atlay in learned vein it was necessary to put one’s best foot forward. ‘But his sermons, I am afraid, have escaped me.’
    â€˜They were published, I believe I am right in saying, in several volumes between 1799 and 1804. And in one of them he remarks that subordination pervades all the works of God. It is a profound truth not much regarded by modern theologians, I am sorry to conclude.’
    Honeybath began to regret that he had accepted sanctuary as he had done. Had he walked on to the lodge, shut up though it might be, he could at least have cowered under its eaves until the arrival of Swithin in his car. As Swithin would now drive past the church unregarding, it looked to Honeybath as though he were booked to enjoy Dr Atlay’s company until the tempest abated. Nor did he judge the topic upon which they had fallen particularly congenial. In an effort to find an alternative he now looked carefully round the gloomy little church. A number of its tombs and monuments, he felt, could be made to serve very tolerably as conversation pieces in the modern