This incident has something to do with Rhoda's story, for it was the reason why Mrs.
Lovell went to Wrexby Church, the spirit of that lady leading her to follow her own impulses, which were mostly in opposition.

So, when perchance she visited the Hall, she chose not to accompany the squire and his subservient guests to Fenhurst, but made a point of going down to the unoccupied Wrexby pew.

She was a beauty, and therefore powerful; otherwise her act of nonconformity would have produced bad blood between her and the squire.
It was enough to have done so in any case; for now, instead of sitting at home comfortably, and reading off the week's chronicle of sport while he nursed his leg, the unfortunate gentleman had to be up and away to Fenhurst every Sunday morning, or who would have known that the old cause of his general abstention from Sabbath services lay in the detestable doctrine of Wrexby's rector?
Mrs.Lovell was now at the Hall, and it was Sunday morning after breakfast.

The lady stood like a rival head among the other guests, listening, gloved and bonneted, to the bells of Wrexby, West of the hills, and of Fenhurst, Northeast.

The squire came in to them, groaning over his boots, cross with his fragile wife, and in every mood for satire, except to receive it.
"How difficult it is to be gouty and good!" murmured Mrs.Lovell to the person next her.
"Well," said the squire, singling out his enemy, "you're going to that fellow, I suppose, as usual--eh ?" "Not 'as usual,'" replied Mrs.Lovell, sweetly; "I wish it were!" "Wish it were, do you ?--you find him so entertaining?
Has he got to talking of the fashions ?" "He talks properly; I don't ask for more." Mrs.Lovell assumed an air of meekness under persecution.
"I thought you were Low Church." "Lowly of the Church, I trust you thought," she corrected him.