Chapter Two
The Angels and the Reverend
The celebrations of the wedding at the Governor's house, as Mistress Highaway had seemed to hint at it, allowed the gathering of a little circle of personalities of the Massachusetts Bay Colony.
Governor Bellingham and his sister, Mistress Ann Hibbins, a widow whose nasty face encouraged not Hester's aesthetical mind to approach her, supported financially and materially the festivities, and their many servants would attend the guests in the reception hall with impeccable zeal before the dinner, holding refreshments on silver plates. Of course John Warburton, a solidly built man with a tanned skin, and his cheerful bride Elizabeth were present, radiant with the joy of a young marriage. Elizabeth also introduced Hester to old Reverend Wilson, which composed with his wife a stern-looking portrait, but of a prominent social influence in the colony. He frowned when he learned Hester was there by herself, even for a short time. The young woman hurried away from him as soon as she could, and, thanks to her new friend's goodwill, chanced upon Judge Edward Right, also with his wife and demonstrating signs of good comradeship with Wilson and Bellingham, as a probable result of a long collaboration in the administration of the settlement.
Jack Firestone was present too, with his bright blue-green eyes, his elegant complexion and charmingly self-confident smile. He was in conversation with Mistress Hibbins. When he felt Hester's eyes on him, and beheld her in her golden dress and beautiful collaret, some black curls escaping the confinement of her hat, he discreetly waved at her.
Hester waved and smiled back. She genuinely wondered how a rich and handsome man like Firestone could possibly be still single in his thirties. Was he a widower?
"Mister Firestone never married, as far as I know." Elizabeth answered in a low voice, with teasing eyes. "He must be one of the most charming men in the area –do not ever tell John what I told you, dear –yet never has he been found reprehensible for any dishonest behaviour. People talk, of course. But one may wonder whether being an unmarried man really should be so suspicious. Reverend Dimmesdale is still a bachelor himself"
Ay, Reverend Dimmesdale. Hester glanced at the young man now involved in a solemn discussion with old Reverend Wilson, Judge Right and Governor Bellingham, amongst other powerful men. Hester had seen him in the morning at the end of the service, similarly surrounded by so many people, and mainly young ladies, eager to approach him or earn a word of attention from his lips, that she had hardly found any opportunity to exchange a word with her new pastor.
If Arthur Dimmesdale was still a bachelor, it surely was not to blame on an unattractive face or a presumed lack of women; his complexion was fair, his eyes velvet blue and his brow high. He was endowed with a natural elegance in his gestures and walk, glowing through his humility, and granting him a sensitive presence wherever he stood, even if he remained silent.
Hester had had the chance to understand further the power of attraction that was his, as soon as he had started to preach. It had occurred to her that he could speak the tongue of angels: words had poured out from his lips as from heaven, and the young woman had not been able to take her eyes off him for all the forty-five minutes sermon, and only when he had stopped speaking had she been conscious again of where she was, when, and with whom. She had exchanged amazed looks with the surrounding attendants and understood that almost anybody had been living the same enchantment.
How could a young theologian, freshly out from college, speak with so much authority and power, enough to make all her anxiety and doubt vanish and excite in her a new zeal to serve God in truth and spirit, that, she struggled to understand, and it was likely that an eloquence such as Arthur Dimmesdale's was more a matter of the heart than of the mind. The reverend could touch the chords of Hester's soul as easily and skilfully as a master harpist would the chords of his instrument, and play on them to create the most blissful melody, tuning it to the choirs of Heaven.
Alas, the danger that all the women falling under the spell of this otherworldly power, and Hester Prynne amongst them, were too blinded to take heed of and dread, was to mistake the man for the word, and take for love what was of awe, and for flesh what was of the spirit.
In the daylight, from the pulpit, the reverend had met Hester's eyes, and she had known that the young man of that night had recognised the young woman, even if his voice had not flinched, neither his face twitched. His piercing look had drilled her as many golden arrows. She could not define what had occurred between the two of them; but whatever it was, it had been striking, and physical. She wondered if he had felt the same, and right then, in the hall next to Elizabeth, she found herself searching for his slender figure as soon as she lowered her guard.
Hester started to believe he had not even taken notice of her, when he suddenly broke away from his circle. It was in total disbelief that she watched him coming their way.
"At last you could escape, Good Master Dimmesdale!" Elizabeth merrily welcomed him. "I was about to wonder whether you would ever be free to have a word with me!"
"I am always free to have a word with you, Mistress Warburton" he courtly replied.
The young bride heard her new name with great pleasure.
"Master Dimmesdale, have you met Mistress Hester Prynne? She arrived only two days ago, and she happens to live in Mrs and Mr Highaway's pension as well!"
The reverend's eyes rested upon Hester, charged with a wholehearted attention, though his thoughts remained impenetrable.
"We have met indeed." He admitted softly. "How do you do, Mistress Prynne?"
"Fairly well, good sir. Do you feel better yourself?"
A quick shadow crossed the young man's face, and his mouth compressed for a fleeting moment. Out of anger, or pain, Hester could not fathom, neither whether he was more embarrassed by the question than by the fact Elizabeth could not understand what Hester was hinting at.
"Hm. Better, with the help of God. I am so sorry I have not been much present at the common meals of Mrs Highaway the last two days. However, it is my wish to come to know more about you, Mistress Prynne."
Dimmesdale spoke the words with simplicity and innocence; yet, to win such a disputed attention as that of the reverend was enough to flatter Hester's vanity.
"Reverend Dimmesdale makes it a point of honour to know personally every single one of the sheep the Lord gave him." Elizabeth explained. "I leave you into good hands, Mistress Prynne!"
The bride left them for John, who was now in a fiery debate with Judge Right over the recent unprecedented audacity of the Parliament of England, which had declared the King's Ship Money decree to be illegal.
At once, Hester felt shame and suppressed prideful resentment burning her cheeks. What had she been imagining? She barely dared to look directly into Arthur Dimmesdale's eyes.
"Shall we sit down?" he suggested.
They sat nearby the chimney, and Hester told him her story in truth: her childhood in the neighbourhood of London, raised by an Anglican mother and Puritan father of old gentry –a parliamentarian very politically in sight in the House of Common. He had been at the head of the most diehard party against the outlaw of the ship money, a very burning subject at the moment. The year before, he had been arrested by the soldiers of the King and imprisoned and his goods taken away. She and her mother had moved in with her aunt, whose husband knew a certain Mr Prynne. Hester's uncle had gathered for her a modest dowry, out of Christian charity, and Mr Prynne had married her in spite of the disgrace of her father. Three months later, she had arrived in America, sent ahead by her husband.
Hester nonetheless chose to conceal the unpleasant details of the deformity and advanced age of her husband, not so much because she was ashamed of it as because she strove to hide them from her own eyes. The thought was unpleasant indeed, and it was furthermore her wish to be a better wife and foster a feeling of affection for the man she was bonded to, yet could not honestly pretend to love.
Dimmesdale listened to her patiently and without intervening, his penetrant stare not leaving her a single moment. He displayed now and then a concerned brow or a compassionate smile, while keeping at all time a respectful and distant posture, though gently bent forward out of attention. Hester was overwhelmed, and all the more confused that she could not understand this subjugation. She often looked away or lowered her eyes during her recounting. For the first time, she was scared of a man. Her pride bowed down to him like the reed to the wind. This man of God genuinely had a power that upset her.
"I say, your husband surely shows a admirable trust in your righteousness and steadfastness, to send you on your own in a faraway land. This is a real tribute to your marriage-bonds, don't you think?"
Hester never looked at her situation that way, but she welcomed the remark with a true relief. Hopefully, the reverend could be right.
"In truth, I intended to write him a letter, that night we met in the living room…" she confessed.
She could not finish, for the Governor and one of his officers had come to them. Dimmesdale got up slowly.
"Here you are, Master Dimmesdale" Bellingham said with a loud voice. "Everybody is curious to hear what you have to say about what happened in London. John Warburton keeps maintaining the King abused his prerogatives."
"Forgive me your worship, I was rather having a word with Mistress Prynne here, and marvelling –is it not the day? –at one of the most, idealistic illustrations of conjugal partnership."
"Ay, I learned about Mr Prynne's leap of faith. This is truly remarkable –Would you do the same with your own wife, Officer Power?"
"God help me, I cannot say" The officer answered. "I believe I care too much about my wife to send her alone on a perilous journey to the other end of the world."
The blow drained the blood from Hester's face, and she gazed at the carpet. An awkward silence followed the blunt assertion, before Governor Bellingham cleared his throat.
"I say, Officer Power, that is the answer of a man who lacks confidence"
"If you will excuse me"
Hester curtsied hastily and walked away, fighting the tears. Before she could reach the door, Mistress Hibbins and Jack Firestone intercepted her.
"Now, child" he encouraged her, "Do not run away."
They drew the young woman on the side, standing in front of her to prevent any indiscreet eye and give her time to compose herself.
"You poor thing", Mistress Hibbins. "We heard every single word. Men are ruthless creature, are they not?"
"Ay" Hester moaned, between uncontrollable sobs.
The woman Hester had thought earlier unkind and unpleasant now handed a handkerchief over to her, patting her back in a protective gesture.
"This Andrew Power is a brute" Firestone angrily deplored.
"But Good Reverend Dimmesdale looks very downhearted. Look, Jack! The godly man rebukes the lout one"
Attracted by the gathering, Elizabeth arrived, holding John by the hand. Her eyes widened when she beheld the red swollen eyelids of her guest.
"Mistress Prynne! What makes you cry the day of my marriage?"
"Mistress Prynne was deeply moved when she saw you two going hand in hand, and all those good wives who came along with their husbands." Mistress Hibbins replied.
Hester glanced at her with eyes full of grateful relief. She wiped her tears and returned a feeble smile to Elizabeth. The latter took her hands in hers.
"You shall not be alone! We shall be here for you! Shall we not, John?"
"You may count on us, Mistress Prynne." John generously answered without hesitation. Him and Elizabeth matched perfectly. "Our door shall always be opened for you."
"I greatly appreciate your kindness…" Hester assured them, "I am sorry I was not very well prepared for your marriage, but I could not compel myself to come empty-handed, so I resolved to sew a little something for you at the last moment, Mistress Warburton."
From the pocket of her apron, she took out a woman hat embroidered with white lace, subtly woven into floral patterns. Elizabeth received it with graceful amazement.
"Behold, John! Is it not beautiful?" She took off her own hat and put on the new one, and turned around to show him every angle. "Thank you so much, Mistress Prynne, you should not have! Allow me to kiss you!"
Elizabeth kissed her before Hester could give an answer. She gave thanks to God for providing so quickly to her loneliness. This surely promised to be a precious friendship.
Meanwhile, Governor Bellingham and Officer Power, now of a guilt-stricken countenance, entered their circle. Behind him, Dimmesdale had put on a look of severe righteousness, which told Hester he had been drawing upon his spiritual authority to awaken a careless man to his deeds and duties toward his neighbour.
"Ahem, Mistress Prynne…" Andrew Power humbly ventured. "My words earlier…"
"Pardon me" Hester snapped. "I do not know what you are talking about"
The officer blinked at her, disconcerted.
"I must insist…" he tried again.
"Have a look at this hat, my good sirs", Hibbins cut off, waving at Elizabeth.
"Well, I do not remember you wearing this hat a few moments ago, Mistress Warburton" Bellingham admitted.
"You remember well, your worship." Elizabeth smiled, a sparkle of pride in her eyes. "This is a wedding present from Mistress Prynne".
In the meantime, now in need of confession and forgiveness, officer Power risked another approach to attract Hester's attention, but she ignored him. Lost, he turned to Dimmesdale, who silently signified him to give up.
"Many a matron will envy you this little piece of art", Hibbins declared to Elizabeth. "Made in a day and night!"
"Consider such refinement and skill in the fancy, your worship", Firestone suggested. "Surely your draper should take notice. Had you not told me about your struggling to find a new tailor for the Election Day?"
From the corner of her eyes, Hester saw Andrew Power straighten himself and stare at Jack Firestone. It was likely that he took notice of the architect only now.
"Hitherto I have found none indeed", the Governor answered, bending to have a closer look at the hat. "Mistress Mann was a possible candidate, but Hester Prynne reveals here a striking talent. Were I not so anxious to look impartial, I would go so far as to say that you have no equal in the Massachusetts Bay colony. What do you think officer Power?"
"As a man of law, I do not presume to pronounce myself on such matters", Power replied sombrely.
"I shall need the judgment of a man of God, then" Bellingham retorted. "Do you taste beauty, Master Dimmesdale?"
"In truth, I find you much reckless to ask me so!" the reverend evasively answered. "But here comes draper Rockwell. I daresay his verdict deserves our careful consideration".
Henry Rockwell was an elder man with sharp blue eyes and a grey hair falling upon his shoulders. He wore a brown suit and an elegant large-brimmed hat with a feather. His ears had caught bribes of the debate.
"Are you now talking about pattern and embroidery, good people?" he guessed.
"Ay, we may very well have just found our new tailor for the next Election Day, if you will take the time to consider it."
Hester silently watched the thread of her fate being woven out. Everything was happening so quickly she was petrified, not so much by fear as by boiling expectation. Truly, the fact that the work of her hands was being praised by so many did not displease her vanity. She frequently glanced at Arthur Dimmesdale, unconsciously checking on his face the slightest sign of wonder or approval. To her disappointment, she was only to notice a seemingly indifference, or at least, detachment on his part toward the emblem of her fame. His looks would often melt away into other spheres of thoughts she was denied the access, though burning to enter.
The draper, carefully and with an expert eye, considered the subtlety and style of Hester's embroidery. Not one angle escaped his merciless examination and defiant touch. From time to time, he would raise his eyebrows in true bewilderment.
"Is it the work of a man or a woman?" he eventually asked.
"It is the work of Mistress Prynne here" Firestone gave her a knowing smile.
"I take it as greatly valuable it is not too much of a womanish taste. Can you present a work of similar quality on any material, Mistress Prynne?" he inquired suspiciously.
"Quite well, sir, if I am given the time and the proper tools."
"Would you then be interested in exercising your craft on Judge Right, Reverend Dimmesdale and myself in view of the coming Election Day?" Governor Bellingham asked her. "You shall work in collaboration with Mr Rockwell here, and of course, you shall be paid accordingly."
All eyes were now turned to Hester, but it was only when she felt Dimmesdale's look piercing her that she blushed slightly, a reaction her fierce and passionate nature was not at all familiar with.
"I would be honoured, sir" she simply said.
"The reputation and prestige of our glorious colony shall owe you a lot, Mistress Prynne"
At that moment, a servant in blue coat hurried toward officer Power, and whispered something to his ear from behind. Power's face suddenly became very pale and his eyes distressfully shrank. He nodded, then turned to the freshly married couple, taking his hat off.
"I pray, my young friends, forgive me –an emergency…"
A surge of emotion impeded him to finish.
"Any bad news, Mr Power?" John enquired with alarm.
"Very distressful news indeed…my son fell from his horse and lost consciousness. I must leave at once."
"Precious Lord!" Elizabeth exclaimed.
"You must go for sure" John said very seriously, "And I am going with you. Elizabeth my dear, look after our guests while I am away, will you?"
"Let me come as well, Mr Power" Dimmesdale offered.
"Ay, please do, I beg of you" Power spoke with a pleading voice, and Hester could not help feeling a pang in her heart for the poor man whose lack of delicacy had nonetheless wronged her earlier. "I…I do not know what to expect…"
The reverend put a comforting hand on his restless shoulder. "No more. Let us go forthwith".
"You may take two of my horses to speed your course" Governor Bellingham informed Dimmesdale and John, who had come walking, and he instructed a servant. The four men left the hall in great haste.
As soon as they were gone, the young bride sympathetically burst into tears.
"Poor, poor Dorothea!" Elizabeth whimpered.
Hester held her shaking hand, and tried to comfort her with all the soothing and hopeful words she could foster.
"We must pray for the boy, ladies! He is only eight!"
Ladies? Hester looked around her. Mistress Hibbins stood there, but Firestone was gone.
