Mrs Hargreaves had spent the entire morning listening for a knock at the door.

It never came.

The church bell had rung.

The congregation had gathered.

The divine service had been heard.

And still she waited.

Now the afternoon sun stretched across the valley and the cottage remained quiet.

John had gone to the fields.

Agnes had gone about her duties.

Yet neither absence troubled her.

It was the empty pew that occupied her thoughts.

Their empty pew.

A shadow crossed the doorway.

Mrs Hargreaves looked up.

Then came a knock.

Her stomach tightened.

For a moment she remained seated.

Another knock followed.

Reluctantly, she rose and lifted the latch.

Margery Rushworth stood outside.

"Good day ta thee, Mrs Hargreaves."

Mrs Hargreaves forced a smile.

"Margery."

"I missed thee this morning."

The words struck harder than they should have.

"What brings thee here?"

Margery hesitated.

"I thought I'd come by and see if all were well."

For a moment Mrs Hargreaves considered sending her away.

Instead she stepped aside.

"Come in."

Margery entered and settled herself beside the hearth.

For a while they spoke of ordinary things.

The weather.

The planting.

A neighbour's wandering cow.

Yet both women knew why Margery had truly come.

At length she folded her hands in her lap.

"The vicar had much to say this morning."

Mrs Hargreaves felt her stomach tighten.

"Oh?"

"Aye."

Margery stared into the embers.

"He spoke of divine service."

Neither woman looked at the other.

"He reminded folk of their duty to attend."

Mrs Hargreaves remained silent.

"And he reminded us of the king's decree."

The room suddenly felt smaller.

Margery lowered her voice.

"He said those who absent themselves place themselves in danger."

Mrs Hargreaves swallowed hard.

"Danger?"

"Aye."

Margery glanced towards the door.

"He spoke of penalties."

The knot in Mrs Hargreaves' stomach tightened further.

"And forfeitures."

Silence settled between them.

At last Margery sighed.

"The churchwardens noticed thee were absent."

Mrs Hargreaves closed her eyes.

There it was.

The thing she had feared.

"And the steward?"

Margery hesitated.

"He noticed too."

Mrs Hargreaves looked away.

"He asked after thy family."

For a long moment neither spoke.

At last Mrs Hargreaves whispered,

"We have done nowt."

Margery gave a sad smile.

"That may not matter if folk think otherwise."

Mrs Hargreaves felt tears prick her eyes.

"John will not bend."

"Aye."

"He believes he risks only his own neck."

Margery remained silent.

Mrs Hargreaves looked up at her.

"But it is Agnes who will suffer for it."

The words broke whatever strength remained.

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

"She has done nowt wrong."

"I know."

"Yet folk will remember."

Margery reached across and squeezed her hand.

"Not all folk."

For a while they sat together in silence.

At last Margery rose.

"I should be getting home."

Mrs Hargreaves walked her to the door.

There Margery paused.

"Oh."

Mrs Hargreaves looked up.

"Thomas asked after Agnes this morning."

The words caught her by surprise.

"Agnes?"

"Aye."

Margery smiled faintly.

"He wondered why she weren't at church."

Mrs Hargreaves said nothing.

"It were only a passing question."

Then Margery wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and set off along the lane towards Moorehouse Lane.

Long after she had disappeared from sight, Mrs Hargreaves remained standing in the doorway.

The steward had taken a prayer book.

Yet for the first time, she feared he had taken something else besides.

Her daughter's future.

And while she stood worrying over what might be lost...

Thomas Rushworth knew nothing of it.

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                                                                    -XVI-