Chapter 36 Messengers
Messengers
“I’m almost afraid to ask.”
I looked at him; he was watching me warily.
“I want to believe it’s a fair omen,” I replied, holding out the pot.
He took it and peered inside, turning it in his hands. “Is it a flower?”
“A rose was what first came to my mind. It reminds me of the one at the top of the stained glass window in your laboratory.”
“Yes, a rosette. Roses have strong religious associations. They also have many health benefits, and spiritually they are considered to be protective.” His lips curved down as he handed the pot back to me.
“They can be used for blood purification, and I experimented with sweetbriar when distilling my vital essence.”
“It didn’t work?”
“It nearly killed me.”
I sighed and let the pot slip into the washbasin.
My cheeks warmed as I remembered In the Leaves. “Mrs. Rochester says a rose in a teacup is a symbol of romance. We are newlyweds.”
“Mmm. Occam’s razor.” I raised an eyebrow, and he added, “It’s a problem-solving principle that says the least complicated explanation is often the preferred one.” Gaze softening, he said, “I choose to interpret it as a nudge toward our meeting with the priest. Are you ready to go?”
Fog had settled in overnight, making it easier for a youthful-looking stranger in fine, old-fashioned clothing to escort a plainly dressed, unmarried miner’s daughter without anyone taking much notice.
Though the hour was still early, it was late enough that we’d missed the miners’ march to Wheal Enys. But a farmer driving a cart laden with pears tipped his hat to us as we set out.
Once he was gone, Harker said, “There’s something I need to tell you. I saw another of Goosevar’s memories last night.”
I turned, eyes wide. “Why haven’t you said so?”
“Because this morning it felt more important to speak of us.”
My heart skipped, and I squeezed his arm. He covered my hand with his.
“Sometime in the night I started thinking about my memory of Goosevar’s origin,” he said, “and about the connection between him and me. That memory came to me in a dreamlike state, as I was dying. But I wondered whether it might be possible for me to call up his memories intentionally.”
“And you have!”
“I believe so, though I’m not sure whether it has gained us anything.
I had seen his beginning, so I tried to see his end, assuming it to be true that he’d been killed by St. Gomonda.
I tried calling up his memory based on my own memory of seeing the painting in the bell tower as a boy.
And fragments did seem to come to me. I saw robed priests, large crosses, and even a man armed with a bow.
There was panic and angry shouting in a language I would guess to be Old Cornish. ”
“Was it like last time? Did it feel the same, I mean?”
Harker nodded. “I saw it through his eyes. He was frightened and enraged. My own head was burning with it. Just as an arrow struck us, I lost my connection to the memory. But I felt the arrow’s impact anyway, in the same place Jack’s bullet penetrated.”
I let out a breath. “Well, I don’t think I agree with you that it’s not important. Knowing that the holy men defeated him, at least for a time, as well as how they did it, could help us. But the arrow is hard to understand. Jack shooting him in the chest barely slowed him.”
“Maybe they were able to defeat him because they were holy men. They had crosses, which we know can cause injury. I wish the memory had come to me more complete.”
“Should we have another look at the painting when we get to the church?”
“Yes, good idea.”
We heard the clopping of horse hooves, and a gentleman appeared out of the fog.
I thought I recognized him from the tearoom, though I didn’t know his name.
He glanced at us as he was passing, and his gaze stuck on Harker.
The man reached for his hat, like he would tip it, but instead he pulled it down lower and clucked to his horse to move on.
Harker seemed lost in thought, and I didn’t bring the man’s behavior to his attention. But it left me uneasy. Had he guessed who Harker was based on the stories going round in the village? If so, the stories had apparently also convinced him that Harker was best avoided.
“Are you feeling anxious about seeing Father Kelly?” Harker asked as we drew near the parish church.
I glanced at him. “Do I seem so?”
“You’ve gone unusually quiet.”
I laughed. “I wonder whether you’ve had a chance to think about the effect I will have on your peaceful sanctuary.”
He smiled. “Peaceful sanctuaries cease to be either when one wakes up alone in them every day.”
“So you say now. I’m sure Jack would have a word or two to offer that would make you think twice about that.”
On that thought, I sobered, and Harker squeezed my hand. “I hope we’ll find Father Kelly in,” he said. “It’s only the middle of the week.”
“He’s there most days. You can often glimpse him on the grounds through the windows at The Magpie. I think he has a fondness for the dead.”
Harker’s brows lifted. “Indeed?”
“I can’t think why else he would spend so much time among the gravestones. I don’t imagine it’s a requirement of the position. Mum always believed he could speak to them.”
“Interesting.”
We had come to St. Gomonda’s gate, and we stepped onto the path that led alongside the sanctuary to the main entrance. The churchyard, with its big trees, was all but lost to the thick fog.
Before we reached the entrance, a figure approached us from the grounds. I held my breath, hoping it might be Jack. But we soon discovered it was the other man we were seeking.
“Mina,” said Father Kelly as he joined us, eyes moving over Harker with a look of polite curiosity.
“Father Kelly,” I said, “this is Mr. Harker Tregarrick, of Roche Rock.”
“Ah,” he said, smiling, his surprise plain, “Mr. Tregarrick. It’s a pleasure meeting you at last. I have often wondered whether you were in fact real.”
“Thank you, Father,” Harker replied graciously. “I confess I wonder myself sometimes.”
The priest laughed, and then his gaze moved between us. “Is there something I can do for the two of you?”
“Indeed, there is, sir,” replied Harker.
“I know we properly owed you this notice last Sunday, but Mina—Miss Penrose—and I have come to notify you of our wish and intention to marry. I wondered whether you’d be willing to read the banns for us this Sunday, so we might conclude the business before the month is out? ”
The priest’s brows lifted high on his forehead. “Allow me to congratulate you both.”
Harker and I murmured our thanks.
His keen gaze settled on me. “Forgive me, but in situations like these, I feel compelled to ask—is there a particular reason for haste?”
I believed I understood what he meant by “a particular reason,” and it brought a rush of heat to my face. I gave a quick shake of my head. “No, Father.”
“I’m afraid we haven’t been as discreet as we might,” added Harker. “I hope to spare Mina from gossip by formalizing my intentions as soon as possible.”
This was a clever way of stating things, as it was mostly the truth.
The priest gave us a knowing nod. “In theory, I have no objection. I see no reason to make young people wait when I believe they know their hearts. But the only thing I know of you as of yet, Mr. Tregarrick, is that half the village believes you to be some kind of monster. I don’t mean to suggest I agree with them, and I hope you won’t take offense at my frankness. ”
Harker looked down, but he shook his head. “On the contrary. I respect you for looking out for the interests of your parishioners. I am happy to offer any reassurances you require.”
“I am a reasoning man,” continued the priest, “and you appear to be a respectable and rational gentleman. Nevertheless, I do feel I owe it to Mina’s parents, rest their souls, to ask a few questions.” His gaze now came to rest on me. “Do you trust me, Mina?”
Rather an odd question. It made me worry about what was coming next. But I said, “I do, Father.”
“Good. Now then, is it your wish that the wedding be conducted as soon as possible? You’re not being forced in any way?”
“No, Father. We made the decision between us.”
“And you feel you know him well enough to commit yourself to him for the rest of your life, perhaps even beyond? You are possibly the only person in the village who knows Mr. Tregarrick at all. One of the few who’ve even glimpsed him.”
What was I to say? As far as Harker and I were concerned, we had already committed ourselves beneath the oak trees on his estate.
And the reasons had not been the usual ones that caused people to marry.
I could hardly explain this to Father Kelly, yet I was certain it must be the worst kind of sin to deceive a priest.
But there was a truth I could tell him.
I looked at Harker. “I love him, Father.”
Harker’s spectacles had slipped down, and I saw his eyes widen, then go soft. His lips parted, as if he would speak, but then he glanced at Father Kelly.
“I would ask the same of you, son,” said the priest. “You’re sure of your reasons for this decision?”
Harker’s eyes came back to my face, and he said, “God knows I have never been a religious man, but Mina has made me believe in angels. She has brought light where there was only darkness. I love her, Father.”
My heart sang, and the blood hummed in my veins. I longed to feel his arms around me.
This answer clearly pleased the priest, too, who closed his eyes and nodded. When he opened them again, he said, “I will read the banns this Sunday. I feel I must ask, however—have you and Jack quarreled over your engagement? I’m sure you’d prefer that he not speak against you in church.”
This brought my feet back to solid ground. “Jack doesn’t know yet, Father. In fact, we haven’t seen him since yesterday, and we wanted to ask whether you had.”