Chapter Fifteen
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
St. Mary’s Church
Inverness
“I implore ye tae take action. What my sister intends tae do is against the law of God and the church!”
“She is marrying the man you are betrothed to?”
“Aye! She stole him from me!”
Emelia was convincing—oh so convincing. That was one of her many gifts. In this case, she was trying to convince the monsignor at St. Mary’s in Inverness that the church needed to intervene in this situation.
So very much had happened since she returned home.
Nothing was going as she had planned it. Gone were the days of Emelia controlling everything around her, including her parents. While her mother was still very malleable, her father seemed to have hardened in some ways. He said he believed her story, yet he was unwilling to rescind his permission for Eventide to marry Darien. That, at least, kept Darien from tearing Blackrock apart with his rage, but he still wasn’t a happy man because Fergus had asked him to wait for the marriage.
And the man didn’t want to wait.
Emelia could see this situation slipping from her grasp, and that wasn’t something she could allow. She had tried to talk to Darien, to perhaps soften the man and even seduce him, but he wouldn’t talk to her, period—he wouldn’t even look at her. She’d gone so far as to plant herself in front of his chamber door so that when he awoke in the morning, she would be right there waiting for him, but all he did was glance at her and walk around her. When she tried to grab his arm, he pulled her fingers off and tossed her arm away.
Somehow, her desire to marry Darien had become something more. Now, it had turned into a tug of war, a contest against her sister that she intended to win. Eventide had Darien under her spell, and that was clear, but Emelia wasn’t one to give up or give in. As she had so often rejoiced over in the past, she had managed to take Luke away from her sister. She was confident she could also take Darien away, only that was going to take more time, and time was something she didn’t have. Her father, uncharacteristically, refused to discuss the matter with her.
That meant she had to take drastic measures.
It all started when she heard from one of the servants that Darien had sent a missive to his father. Emelia knew that once Lares dun Tarh arrived, the situation would move markedly against her. She didn’t really know Darien’s father, but she did know that he believed what everyone else believed, that she had willingly run off with Luke and wasn’t abducted. That meant the man was against her, and Emilia had to find somebody that was stronger than the Earl of Torridon.
She had to bring the church into the situation.
And that was where she found herself now.
The man she was in discussion with was in charge of St. Mary’s, Monsignor Carrick. He was well respected, having received the honorific title of “monsignor” from the pope himself for exemplary service to the church. He knew her entire family because her parents were generous with their donations and had attended mass there, about once a month, since Emelia was a child. Since Fergus was trying to ignore her pleas and her mother had no power, Emelia had come to a man who could not only force Fergus to her will, but also match Lares dun Tarh’s power.
Monsignor Carrick had listened to her explain the situation for almost an hour. The problem was that he was a man not prone to taking sides unless it directly affected church teachings, so as the minutes passed and Emelia pleaded, she became more and more emotional. By the time she’d told him everything, she was in tears. Real tears this time.
She couldn’t tell if he was sympathetic or not.
“Please, monsignor,” she begged as he sat there and pondered the situation, “I am betrothed tae this man. I’m stolen by another, and when I manage tae return, my sister has taken my betrothed from me. It’s not right! The church must intervene because we are talking about the sanctity of marriage. He is my husband!”
The man sat in his chair, hands folded at his chin, clearly thinking on what she’d said but in no hurry to make a judgment. “Was there a written contract of this?” he asked in a low, slow voice. He was from England and perhaps viewed the Scots as inferior, as was suggested in everything about him. “And who, exactly, brokered this contract?”
Emelia nodded. “There is a written contract,” she said. “My father and Lares dun Tarh, Earl of Torridon, agreed on the terms. I was tae marry the earl’s second son, Darien, and he would inherit my father’s titles.”
“So this was to be an alliance marriage.”
“I suppose so,” Emelia said. “What difference does it make if my sister is marrying the man in my stead?”
The monsignor shrugged. “Because there would still be an alliance should he marry your sister,” he said. “But you are correct—if the contract calls for you and this man to marry, then he was your husband the moment the contract was agreed upon.”
Emelia nearly collapsed in relief. “Then ye’ll do something about it?”
The monsignor didn’t seem too excited to intervene. He shrugged lazily and sat back in his chair, gazing off into the small chamber they were seated in as if finding everything around but the lass in front of him of interest.
“The Earl of Torridon, you say?” he finally asked.
Emelia nodded. “Lares dun Tarh.”
“I have heard that name.”
“He is a powerful earl,” she said. “And… and I’m sure he wouldna appreciate his original intentions being thwarted by my sister. He made the decision that his son and I should wed. I canna imagine he is pleased with the changes.”
The monsignor scratched his head. “I suppose this is something to investigate,” he said. “As men of the cloth, we are protectors of everything the church represents, and that includes marriage. What does your father say to all of this?”
The question caused Emelia to falter, though it shouldn’t have. She should have known it would come up at some point. She was so glad that the priest seemed to be seeing her side of the situation that a question like that threw her.
“My… my father has been bewitched by my sister,” she said. “He has told me that his word is above God’s.”
The monsignor frowned. “That does not sound like Fergus.”
“I know,” Emelia said. “But that is why I’ve come tae ye for help. My father is not himself these days. Something evil is afoot.”
“Why do you say that?” he asked. “Is he possessed by a demon?”
Emelia did what she did best. She lied. “He has no regard for the church these days and will do as he pleases,” she said. “Monsignor, I have been wronged. God’s holy union of marriage has been wronged. Will ye not help me?”
The monsignor yawned. “What about Torridon?” he said. “Has he protested this change of brides?”
“He would if he knew.”
“He does not know?”
Emelia shook her head. “I dunna believe so,” she said. “Monsignor, please . Will ye come tae Blackrock and stop this… this travesty?”
He shrugged, a gesture that eventually turned into a nod. “You are in luck, lady,” he said. “The Bishop of St. Andrews is supposed to visit this parish this week, so when he comes, I will refer the matter to him. Mayhap we will visit your father and convince him that making decisions that go against the church’s teachings does not put him in our favor.”
Emelia was feeling that familiar rush of relief again. “I believe he needs tae be reminded of that,” she said. “But ye must hurry. I fear my sister and my betrothed are planning tae marry very soon, and it must be prevented.”
“I take it that your betrothed does not wish to marry you?”
“Nay,” Emelia said, embarrassed. “As I said, my sister has bewitched him. He doesna know what he wants right now.”
“Another man who must see the truth of God.”
“Aye.”
The monsignor nodded. Given that he’d expended all of the energy he intended to on this matter, he stood up from his chair, signifying the end of the meeting. Emelia stood up quickly, wanting to pester him with more questions on the timing of the bishop’s arrival, but she wisely kept her mouth shut. She already had an agreement for the visit, but it concerned her that everything was predicated on the arrival of the bishop. Then they would have to travel to Blackrock, which wasn’t particularly far away, but it would take time.
She wanted the priest to come with her now.
“I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly feigning tears. “Ye know my family and I dinna want tae spill our secrets, but ye should know… I’ve only told ye a partial truth.”
“Oh?” the monsignor said curiously. “What more is there?”
She lowered her head, pretending to be quite upset. “I love my sister,” she whispered. “When I told ye that she bewitched men, I believe she has summoned the darkness tae do it. Tae give her power.”
The monsignor’s curiosity turned to concern. “And how would you know this?”
Emelia crouched down. Using her finger, she traced a triangle with three points and a gap at the bottom on the floor of the church. “This,” she whispered. “I’ve seen her draw this symbol in blood. ’Tis the devil’s symbol. Monsignor, I believe we’re all in terrible danger. It’s not simply the marriage or the broken contract. I believe my sister is bringing hell and damnation upon us. I dunna think we can wait for the bishop.”
Monsignor Carrick took a few steps, standing over her as he gazed down at the well-known symbol. It represented the cloven hoof of a goat, most often associated with Lucifer.
Evil.
“Are you sure you saw this?” he asked.
Emelia nodded as she stood up, wiping her eyes. “I am,” she said. “I was afraid tae ask her because I dinna want her tae cast a spell on me.”
“You think she’s a witch?”
Emelia shook her head. “I dunna think so,” she said. “But someone has taught her how tae bewitch a man. She must be saved. We must all be saved, monsignor. Will ye please come with me now, before it’s too late?”
The man gazed at her, his brow furrowed with real concern. He hadn’t shown much enthusiasm through the entire meeting, but one mention of a cloven-hoof symbol and, out of sheer obligation and attention to duty, he was showing interest. If what Emelia said was true and he failed to act, it would be very bad for him, indeed.
Catastrophic, even.
He didn’t want his superiors catching wind of it.
“Very well,” he finally said, with great reluctance. “Wait for me on the road in front.”
Emelia did. She scampered out of the chamber and out into the sanctuary of the church with its dirt floors, soaring spires, and elaborate windows. A small palfrey waited for her just inside the gate, and beyond that was a road and the River Ness. Truly, Emelia felt better than she had since her return to Blackrock, knowing that Monsignor Carrick was going to get involved. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it sooner.
Darien was as good as hers.