“Sweetheart, I don’t think they will believe you either.”
“Cordelia is a stupid, silly girl who lies all the time. Why would people believe her over a good man like Mr. Berkeley?”
Her father shrugged, and shook his head, burying his face in his hands with a moan. She sat on the floor at his feet and rested her head on his knees. He absentmindedly stroked her hair and sighed. “Oh, Mercy. I don’t know what to do.”
After a long and heavy silence, she asked, “Am I ruined?”
“Maybe. I don’t want to lie to you.”
Tears began to stream down her face. “I don’t understand how God could let this happen.”
“Don’t blame God. He instructs us over and over again how to act in his Word. When people don’t listen, it’s certainly not His fault. He doesn’t control people like puppets. He gave everyone free will. For instance, the Bible clearly states that a fool decides a matter before he hears both sides. But most people will decide the matter without ever talking with you or Mr. Berkeley to discover the truth.”
“Then most people are fools.”
“Sadly, yes. I know many times I believed what others have told me without going to the source. I’m guilty too.”
“Have you spoken with Mr. Berkeley?”
“Not yet. I wanted to talk with you first. I’m going over to his house now. I hope he is home.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No, sweetheart. Let me handle this.”
“Please, Daddy. I want to talk with him.” She looked up into his eyes. “Please let me come.”
“Go get dressed. I’ll wait.”
She ran upstairs and let her maid help her dress. Then she twisted her hair in a bun and rushed back downstairs in less than ten minutes.
When she walked into her father’s office, she could see he hadn’t moved. His arms still rested on his knees. His head hung low, hopeless.
Gently, she touched his shoulder. “I’m ready.”
Nodding slowly, he stood. “Let’s go.”
They stepped out into the pouring rain, walked to Mr. Berkeley’s door and knocked. A butler answered the door.
Mercy’s father asked, “Is Mr. Berkeley in?”
With a nod, the man opened the door and ushered them through a stunning antechamber into a parlor. “I’ll let Mr. Berkeley know you’re here.”
Mercy stared at the roaring fire surrounded by an exquisite Italian marble fireplace. A deep forest green rug partially covered the elaborate inlaid floor that must have come from the wood of at least two dozen different kinds of trees.
Beautiful tapestries and artwork covered the walls. Costly moldings adorned every available nook and crevice. Rich velvet drapes of gold hung from the large windows while leather chairs and sofas sat scattered about the room in cozy clusters.
She continued to gaze around the parlor at the magnificent surroundings that seemed such a perfect compliment for such a magnificent man.
So this was Mr. Berkeley’s home. She’d wanted to see it, but not under these circumstances. She glanced at herself in a mirror and almost shuddered in embarrassment.
She looked like a drowned rat.
The door opened slowly, and Mr. Berkeley stepped inside looking splendid as always, but his eyes looked different. They had lost their sparkle.
He nodded politely. “Mr. Creed. Miss Creed. Would you like some tea?”
Her father answered quickly, “No, thank you, Mr. Berkeley. I’m glad you’re here. We need to talk.”
“Yes, we do.”
He walked forward, took a thick, velvet blanket off a chair and came and wrapped it around Mercy’s shoulders tenderly, offering a slight smile.
He motioned to the sofa. “Have a seat.”
Shaking his head, her father countered, “No. We will get your furniture all wet.”
“Believe me. I don’t care. It will dry.”
Tentatively, Mercy and her father sat on a brown leather sofa.
Mr. Berkeley sat in a chair across from them and sighed. “Mercy told you the rumors aren’t true?”
“Yes, she did. I even had to explain to her what rape is, and she adamantly denies you did anything even remotely close to that. She says you merely kissed her cheek.”
He nodded. “That is true. I have to confess I wanted to do more, but I would not allow myself to unless I had your blessing to properly court her. Yet I wonder how many people will believe it.”
“I suppose a few will believe it, but most will choose to believe the worst, especially since the rumor is about you.”
Mercy cast her father a disbelieving glance. “Daddy, what a horrible thing to say!”
“The higher someone has climbed in life, the greater people enjoy their fall.”
“Why is that?”
She asked her father the question, but Mr. Berkeley answered by asking her a question. “Miss Creed, have you even seen the crab pots down at the harbor?”
“Crab pots?”
“Have you?”
“Yes, I have seen them.”
“Well, once when I was a little boy I asked the crabman, ‘Why don’t the crab pots have lids? Don’t you worry the crabs will climb out and get away?’ The man had shook his head and said, ‘No, son. Watch the crabs for a minute and you will see why.’ So I watched and I noticed that every time a crab got near the top and was about to climb out, another crab would reach up and pull him back down. It happened over and over again.”
Mr. Berkeley leaned back against his chair as if all energy had simply drained out of him. “Many humans are like the crabs. They want to see people be yanked back down.”
Mercy stared at him for several moments and then looked at her father who nodded. “He is right.”
She shook her head in confusion. “You both sound so cynical.”
Mr. Berkeley’s eyes looked heavy. She watched the muscles in his jaw clench and waited for him to speak.
Finally, he gave a weary looking shrug and muttered, “It’s hard to live in this harsh world for long without getting cynical.”
“Surely it’s not as bad as the two of you are saying. Truth will prevail.”
Both men let out a bitter laugh and again she shook her head in confusion.
“But Mr. Berkeley, you’ve worked so hard to make a good life for yourself. Surely one foolish girl can’t hold the power to destroy it with a few words.”
“Miss Creed, think of how much work, effort and time it took you to create your garden. Years, am I right?”
She merely nodded.
“It would take one fool about ten minutes to completely destroy it. It takes much less effort to destroy something than it does to build it in the first place. I’m not a defeatist. I’ll try my best to fight against these lies and I know you will too, but we need to be realistic. Lies are usually more alluring than the truth and people love to be tantalized.”
“It seems that without a victim there can be no crime. Can’t people see that if the courts don’t have enough evidence to prosecute you that the claims are untrue?”
“You would think so.” His beautiful blue eyes looked tired. “But speculation destroys as many lives as hard, cold facts.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
“Have you talked to your pastor about this? Surely, he’ll want to help you.”
He let out a bitter, sardonic laugh. “My pastor?” Suddenly, he stood and demanded, “Wait here.” He strode from the room and in less than a minute walked back in holding a piece of fine stationary. “I just got this last night. Read it.”
Mercy took the letter from his hand and read out loud:
Mr. Berkeley,
Word has come to me that you have been accused of something unsavory. As you can imagine, my concern is for my congregation. Your name has been tainted and any association with me or my parishioners could taint us as well. I’m asking that you wait for the dust to settle a bit and then perhaps you can re
turn. Your understanding is appreciated.
Sincerely,
Pastor Lawrence
The letter slipped from Mercy’s hand to the floor and she lifted her eyes to Mr. Berkeley in utter and complete shock. “The man knows God’s word, preaches God’s word and yet acts like this! The letter is so condescending. How can he just assume you understand? I don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t understand either.”
Mercy’s father offered, “Mr. Berkeley, please don’t blame God for this. Pastor Lawrence’s words are in direct opposition to the true heart of God. Galatians 6:1 tells us, ‘Brethren, if a man be overtaken in a fault, ye which are spiritual, restore such a one in the spirit of meekness; considering thyself, lest thou also be tempted.’
Mr. Berkeley listened closely, but said nothing.
Her father continued, “Even if you were at fault, the end result should be restoration. People aren’t trash that you just cast out when they become inconvenient. I’m sorry, Mr. Berkeley. I’m truly sorry for this man’s behavior and I’m sure the Lord is sorry too.
“But mark my word, his day is coming when he will need mercy, understanding and compassion, and it will not be there. Jesus clearly said that whatever measure of mercy you measure out to others will be measured back to you when you need it. This man seems too worried about his reputation that he has forgotten mercy.”
Again Mr. Berkeley just nodded thoughtfully, but said nothing.
Her father grabbed her hand and sat forward. “I’ll tell you what I think we can do to help fight these rumors. Mr. Berkeley, you were going to ask my permission to court my daughter. Well, you have it. Tomorrow if the rain has stopped, you and Mercy can take a stroll through town with my wife and me. The four of us together. It will show to the world that my wife and I don’t believe the rumors. Let’s hope it’s a sunny day tomorrow.”
Mercy looked at her father and gripped the edge of the chair to keep the room from spinning. What had just happened?
She glanced at Mr. Berkeley but he merely lifted his eyebrow in question, as if to say… Is this what you want, Mercy ?
No. It’s not what she wanted. How could she go about town pretending to be courted by Mr. Berkeley if she was already secretly engaged to Ian? She would be the only one to know it was a charade.
But if Mr. Berkeley thought he was truly courting her, when she had to call it off, she would hurt him. Yet if she refused to be seen in his company and allowed these horrible rumors about him to grow and spread, he would be hurt too.
Her father clapped his hands in resolution and stood. “Yes. Today I’ll do what I can to meet with people and spread the truth. I suggest you do the same. Tomorrow, we’ll meet at your office around noon and go for a stroll.”
Mercy stared at her father who now seemed to have hope glimmering in his eyes. She couldn’t shatter it.
Mr. Berkeley stood and offered his hand. Her eyes shot up to his face. She placed her hand in his and arose, never looking away from his unwavering blue gaze that seemed to bore into her soul.
She could see that he desired her assurance that this is what she wanted. The poor man had been through enough. She gave him the best smile, her trembling lips would allow. “I look forward to our stroll tomorrow.”
He leaned forward and spoke near her ear, “Will you?”
“Certainly. We will dash these rumors or die trying.”
Mr. Berkeley allowed a small smile to escape. “Well, I’d prefer the dashing to the dying .”
“Me too,” she reassuringly patted his arm.
The whole way home her father talked of how all things worked together for good for those who loved God. Somehow good was going to come of this.
She hoped so. Oh, how she hoped so.
****
Addison stood at the window and watched Mercy and her father walk toward their house in the pouring rain. Somehow he found himself officially courting her.
This is what he wanted, but he could see it wasn’t what she wanted. She’d put on a brave face and tried her best to give him a reassuring smile, but the thought of them courting displeased her. He wondered why.
He knew other women found him handsome and charming. He was a hard worker and would always do his best to provide well for her. Did she really see herself as above him?
With a frustrated sigh, he reclined on the sofa and placed the back of his hand against his forehead. Maybe it was for the best that Mercy didn’t love him since he had no intention of falling in love with his wife.
He’d always known he wanted children, and that this would require a wife. But he knew his wife could never become too important to him. He would not become a weak man like his father.
He was a strong man. Alcohol, he’d never touched, and women, well he had certainly touched his share of them, but he’d never allowed any of them near his heart.
The marriage he’d always imagined for himself would be easier if neither one of them loved the other. Perhaps, this was all for the best. Swiftly, he stood. Yes, it was for the best.
Later, he sat in his coach looking at the rivulets of rain making pathways down the window. Everything beyond that lost its focus. But the world was not so easy to make fade away.
He forced his eyes to adjust to the people scurrying about their day. The coach pulled up to his office, and he slapped his knees before getting out.
Time to go dash those rumors. Or die trying.
****
As soon as Mercy walked in the door, she dried off and got to work. She retrieved her Bible, some stationary and then sat at her writing desk, chewing on her pen, trying to decide what to say.
Finally, she dipped her pen in the ink and the words flowed onto the page. About an hour later, she went down and found her father who was preparing to leave.
“Daddy,” she asked, “Do you have a minute to hear a letter I just wrote?”
“Yes, who is it to?”
“Pastor Lawrence.”
“Mr. Berkeley’s pastor?”
“Well, former pastor, I suppose. I don’t want to overstep my bounds, so I want you to be honest and tell me what you think.”
“I will.”
She sat on the sofa and motioned for him to sit next to her. When he sat beside her, she flattened out the letter on her lap and began to read:
Dear Pastor Lawrence,
My name is Mercy Creed. I’m the girl who Mr. Berkeley was accused of doing something “unsavory” with. Let me first assure you that the accusation is a complete lie. Mr. Berkeley is a gentleman and has never been less than respectful while in my company.
The charge, which I again assure you is false, was started by a vengeful and spiteful person who was truly malicious in trying to besmirch another’s good reputation.
Now, Pastor Lawrence, Mr. Berkeley had never attended church before your service. He really enjoyed it and wanted to take me with him to hear you this Sunday.
But Mr. Berkeley also showed me your letter and I have to say that I am shocked. You said you didn’t want any association with him until ‘the dust settled,’ because you didn’t want to get dirty.
These lies against Mr. Berkeley have hurt him, but your banishment from the church, which makes it seem like you’ve investigated the claims and found him guilty, is akin to betrayal.
My understanding is that a man of God’s job is to help people who need help. Not cast them aside if they become inconvenient.
With that in mind, I felt compelled to write you and share one of my favorite passages in the Bible—the story of the Good Samaritan. I find it interesting that you recently used this story in your sermon.
Jesus told of a man who walked alone from Jericho into Jerusalem, which was very dangerous since robbers hid in the hills.
A man was brutally attacked and left for dead on the side of the road. A religious leader came walking by, saw him but quickly crossed to the other side because he didn’t want to get involved and get his fancy robes dirty. He probably told himself th
at this man deserved what he got, but whatever the case may be, he didn’t help him.
Another religious leader came along and did the exact same thing.
Then a Samaritan walked by. He was not religious, but he loved God and was compassionate. He saw the injured man and stopped to help him.
Sitting down on the dirt, he cleaned and dressed the man’s wounds with oil. When the task of mercy was finished, the Samaritan was probably covered in dust, dirt, blood and oil, yet helping another was more important to him than staying clean.
Understanding Mercy Page 16