‘. . . bring the fatted calf and kill it. Let us feast and celebrate!’ Ralph decreed for her.
Kitty longed to ask her father if this meant that anyone could behave just as they liked and still return home to a joyous welcome, because that was how it sounded. She knew Ralph would tell her that their Father in heaven would forgive anyone who repented of their sins, but in reality, it didn’t sound quite fair on the other son, who’d stayed and been good all along, but didn’t get the fatted calf killed for him. Then Ralph would say that good people got their reward in the kingdom of heaven, but that seemed an awfully long time to wait when others got it on earth.
‘Katherine!’ Her father broke into her thoughts. ‘You’re daydreaming again. I said, would you please take your sisters up to the nursery and organise their morning studies? As your mother is too unwell to give them lessons, I shall come up to the nursery at eleven and we shall have an hour of Bible study.’ Ralph smiled benignly at his daughters, then stood up. ‘Until then, I will be in my study.’
*
When Ralph appeared in the nursery at eleven, Kitty ran to her bedroom to retrieve the books she intended to return to the public library before she embarked on visiting her mother’s parishioners. Descending the stairs to the entrance hall, she hastily pulled her thick shawl and cape from a peg, eager to escape the oppressive atmosphere of the manse. As she tied the ribbons of her bonnet beneath her chin, she entered the drawing room and saw her mother sitting beside the fire, her pretty face grey and exhausted.
‘Dearest Mother, you look so tired.’
‘I confess that I am feeling more fatigued than usual today.’
‘Rest, Mother, and I shall see you later.’
‘Thank you, my dear.’ Her mother smiled wanly as Kitty kissed her and left the drawing room.
Stepping out into the bracing morning air, she made her way through the narrow streets of Leith and was greeted by numerous parishioners, some of whom had known her since she was no more than a ‘squalling bairn’, as they often liked to remind her. She passed Mrs Dubhach, who, as usual, asked after the reverend and gushed over last Sunday’s sermon, to the point where Kitty began to feel quite nauseous.
After bidding farewell to the woman, Kitty boarded the electric tram heading for central Edinburgh. After changing trams on Leith Walk, she alighted near George IV Bridge and headed for the Central Library. She glanced at the students who were chatting and laughing as they walked up the steps to the vast grey-brick building, lights shining out from the many mullioned windows into the drab winter sky. Inside the high-ceilinged main hall it was barely warmer than outside, and as she set her books down at the returns desk, she hugged her shawl tighter to her as the librarian dealt with the paperwork.
Kitty stood patiently, thinking about one particular book she had recently borrowed: Charles Darwin’s On the Origin of Species, first published over forty years ago. It had proved to be a revelation for her. In fact, it had been the catalyst that had caused her to question her religious faith and the teachings that her father had instilled in her since childhood. She knew he would be horrified to think she had even read such blasphemous words, let alone given them any credence.
As it was, the reverend only grudgingly condoned her regular visits to the library, but for Kitty, it was her haven – the place that had provided the bulk of her education in subjects that went far beyond what she learnt from Bible study or her mother’s basic English and arithmetic lessons. Her introduction to Darwin had come about by chance, after her father had mentioned that Mrs McCrombie, his church’s wealthiest benefactor, was considering a visit to her relatives in Australia. Kitty’s interest had been piqued and, knowing next to nothing about the distant continent, she had browsed the library shelves and had stumbled upon The Voyage of the Beagle, which chronicled the young Darwin’s adventures during a five-year journey around the globe, including two months spent in Australia. One of his books had led to another, and Kitty had found herself both fascinated and disturbed by the revolutionary theories Mr Darwin espoused.
She wished that she had someone she could discuss these ideas with, but could only imagine her father’s apoplexy if she ever dared to mention the word ‘evolution’. The very idea that the creatures which populated the earth were not of God’s design, but instead the outcome of millennia spent adapting to their environment, would be anathema to him. Let alone the notion that birth and death were not His to bestow, because ‘natural selection’ determined that only the strongest of any species survived and bred. The theory of evolution made prayer seem rather arbitrary because, according to Darwin, there was no master beyond nature, the most powerful force in the world.
Kitty checked the clock on the wall and, having completed her business with the librarian, she did not linger among the shelves as she normally would, but made her way outside and caught a tram back to Leith.