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“Even though he stole from other people?”

“Hannah! Do you not listen to Reverend Wilson’s Sunday sermons?”

“I try,” Hannah said. “But he is exceptionally long-winded, and it is hard to stay focused.”

Sophia’s lips twitched at Hannah’s confession. “I agree,” she said, “but that is why we have Elinor. She listens to him with angelic attention, and I have taken to asking her for a condensed version on Monday mornings.”

“What?” Hannah’s shock momentarily superseded her anguish. “Why did I not know about this?”

“Because we meet in the parlor whilst you and Father go over the household accounts in Father’s study.” She shrugged apologetically. “I thought I was the only one unable to maintain my concentration at church. Now that I know otherwise, I shall tell Elinor that you wish to join us.”

“Thank you,” Hannah said, meaning it sincerely. “I am quite sure I would benefit from the review.”

“Yes, well, you would certainly have benefited from this week’s message,” Sophia said. “According to Elinor, after the reverend read the story of the woman caught in sin, he reminded the congregation that it is not our place to judge and that God will forgive whomever He pleases. We, on the other hand, are supposed to forgive all men, women, and children.” She paused. “It’s my opinion—and this has nothing to do with Reverend Wilson or Elinor—that God has a special place in his heart and in heaven for children. I think He forgave your pickpocket long ago.”

The flicker of hope Hannah had experienced in her bedchamber surged a little stronger. “Does that mean you think God has also forgiven little-girl Hannah for what she did to the pickpocket?”

“There was never any need,” Sophia said. “In that instance, little-­girl Hannah did nothing wrong.” She eyed her thoughtfully. “Although if Reverend Wilson, Elinor, and the Bible are to be believed, God may take exception with you not forgiving yourself.”

Hannah took an unsteady breath. After so many years of bottling up her guilt and fears, she had finally removed the cork. The experience was both terrifying and freeing, and at this precise moment, she could not tell which emotion was at the fore.

“It may take me a little while to adjust my thinking,” she said.

Sophia took her arm again, the warmth of her smile bringing a lump to Hannah’s throat. “Two weeks ago, Elinor told me that Reverend Wilson’s sermon was all about patience and waiting on the Lord’s timing. I think you may take however long you need if, in the end, you come to realize that that particular burden was never yours to carry.”

“I did not hear anything beyond Reverend Wilson’s reading of the story of Job,” Hannah admitted.

Sophia grinned. “The first thing you must do when we return home is reschedule your Monday morning meeting with Father to a later time. No matter how much you love ledger books, I daresay you will be better able to tackle the finances if you go in armed with Elinor’s synopsis of the minister’s message.”

“I think you may be right.” Hannah’s gaze fell on the scaffold once more. Her deep unease over being in this place remained, but already, the familiar ache in her heart had changed from one of utter despair to one of deep sadness.

“Are you ready to return home?” Sophia asked.

“Yes. I’m glad I came, but I still do not like this place.”

“Neither do I. The warm parlor at home sounds much better.”

“You told me you like taking carriage rides in the rain,” Hannah said.

“I did, didn’t I?” Sophia said. “I suppose you can blame Reverend Wilson for that.”

Taking care to avoid the worst of the puddles, they started back toward the waiting carriage. Prescott was ready for them and pulled open the carriage door.

“Thank you, Prescott,” Hannah said. She waited until Sophia joined her inside and the door was closed again before asking, “Why on earth would telling me that you enjoy taking carriage rides in the rain be Reverend Wilson’s fault?”

Sophia lowered her cloak’s wet hood and wrinkled her nose at her muddy boots. “Oh. Well, unless Elinor has failed me, he has yet to give a sermon on bearing false witness.”

Hannah stared at her. And then she began to laugh. Very soon, Sophia was laughing too. It was the very last thing Hannah would ever have imagined doing on her ride home from Tyburn Gallows, but they had gone less than ten yards before she determined it was also exactly what she had needed.

Chapter 15

The Merry Piglets public house was a shabby establishment on the corner of an even shabbier alley off Holburn Road. A layer of soot coated the gray stone walls and small-paned windows. Paint was peeling off the black door, and if the number of feral cats lurking nearby was any indication, the place was rife with rats and mice. The place appeared wholly uninviting, yet during the ten minutes Samuel had been observing the establishment from the alley entrance, a steady stream of patrons had entered through the dilapidated front door.

“That was the eleventh customer in the last quarter of an hour,” Clarke said softly.

“Twelve, if you include the young boy who got here first,” Jealous responded. He had arrived at their rendezvous point a few minutes before Samuel and Clarke.

“What do you think?” Clarke asked, his face masked by the dark shadows. “Are they gathering for a purpose? Or is the ale here cheaper than elsewhere?”