Free The Prince and the Quakeress: (Georgian Series) by Jean Plaidy Page A

sister,’ said Uncle Henry, ‘not to adorn her.’
    ‘Oh yes, brother,’ Mary agreed fervently.
    But as Hannah grew a little older she found a great pleasure in beautiful things and when one of the flower-sellers in the market gave her a rose she carried it up to her room and pinned it on her dress. Her great dark eyes seemed to glow more brightly; the pink of the flower toned perfectly with the grey cloth and seemed to bring out the delicate pink in Hannah’s own clear skin.
    Uncle Henry cried out in dismay when she came down to dinner wearing the rose.
    ‘What is that thou art wearing, Hannah?’ he asked, and she thought that the devil must have changed the beautiful flower into a toad or something horrible since that was the only way she could account for Uncle Henry’s horror.
    She looked down at it. ‘It… it is a rose… Uncle.’
    ‘A rose. And what is it doing there?’
    ‘It is just there… Uncle.’
    ‘How didst thou come by such a thing?’
    She was bewildered. She had been so pleased to be given the rose; she enjoyed its scent; and the contrast of colour it made on her dress; she had felt happy wearing it. And now it seemed she had done a dreadful thing.
    ‘Old Sally the flower-seller gave it to me.’
    ‘Thou shouldst not have taken it.’
    ‘She wished it, Uncle.’
    ‘The place for flowers is in gardens. God put them there. He did not mean them to be worn for vanity.’
    She had flushed and although she was unaware of this, her beauty was startling. It alarmed Uncle Henry as well as her mother. They would have preferred to see her insignificant.
    ‘Thou art guilty of vanity, niece,’ said Uncle Henry. ‘I think thy mother will agree with me.’
    ‘Indeed yes, Henry,’ whispered Mary Lightfoot.
    ‘This is a sin in the eyes of the Lord. Thou wilt go to thy room. Take off that flower. Give it to me… now…’
    She felt the tears in her eyes. For a few seconds she hesitated, almost ready to defy him. Then she was aware of her mother’s terror; and she pictured them being turned out of this comfortable house… back to Wapping… the cold, cold room, the smell of boots and shoes… the smell of the river and the vague lightness of hunger. Then with trembling fingers she handed him the rose.
    He took it and said to her in a voice that thundered with indignation so that she was reminded of Moses returning from the mountain to find his people worshipping the golden calf: ‘Go to thy room. Pray… pray long and sincerely for God’s help. Thou hast need of it.’
    She walked slowly up the stairs. The feeling of sin weighing heavily on her.
    In the cold room she knelt and prayed until her knees were sore. Then her mother came in and they prayed together.
    When they rose from their knees and Hannah’s mother appeared to think she had gained God’s forgiveness for her wickedness, she ventured to say as though excusing herself: ‘But it was such a pretty rose.’
    That gave Mary an opening for one of those lectures which were so much a part of Hannah’s upbringing.
    ‘Sin often comes in the guise of beauty. That is why it is so easy to fall into temptation.’
    *
    When she was alone Hannah would stand at the window and watch the ladies and gentlemen pass through the market on the way to the theatre. They were so beautiful but so sinful, for they wore more adornments than a single rose. Hannah feared it was probably sinful to watch such people. There was so much sin in the world that it seemed one must constantly be on the alert for it. There they were, the ladies in their Sedan chairs, and surely their complexions could not have been naturally so brilliant as they appeared; ornaments flashing in their hair; feathers, diamonds… What a load of sin they must carry on their persons if a simple rose could be so full of iniquity.
    But how Hannah loved to watch them! Gentlemen with brocade coats and elegant wigs; footmen running ahead of theirchairs to clear the way and while some in the crowd