Chapter 36 Messengers #2
The priest frowned. “I have, in fact.” My breath caught. “Yesterday evening, after dark, I saw him cross the churchyard. I wouldn’t have known him but for the moon and his red hair. I called after him, but he slipped into the shadows.”
Harker and I exchanged uneasy glances.
“I’ve been worried about Jack since last he was here,” continued Father Kelly, “and since you and I talked about the rumors in the village.” His gaze brushed Harker.
“We intend to look for him today,” I said, “but if you see him again, will you tell him I’m worried about him?”
“I will. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”
Tap, tap, tap.
The sudden noise drew all our gazes. A couple of yards away from where we stood, a very old Cornish cross, about the height of a man, had been planted in the churchyard. A magpie perched on top of it, knocking a hazelnut against the carved stone.
“That’s a medieval wheel cross, is it not, Father?” asked Harker, eyeing it with interest.
“It is indeed,” replied the priest as the magpie flitted away.
“A very early one. In fact . . .” He thought for a moment, rubbing his beard.
“That cross originally came from your family’s estate, if memory serves.
It’s carved from the same black granite.
It may have been a last remaining marker of a much older church. ”
Harker and I both stared at him. I recalled how we’d wondered whether Goosevar’s burial place might have been disturbed during the chapel’s construction.
“Well,” said Father Kelly, “I shall see you both Sunday, then, for the reading of the banns?”
“You shall,” replied Harker. “Thank you, Father.”
The priest gave us a slight bow. “Good day to you both.”
We watched him walk to the church entrance and step inside. As soon as he was gone, Harker said, “So maybe this cross served as a kind of grave marker over Goosevar—or even a guardian—after he was killed.”
“I was thinking the same. The priests killed and then buried him right there, on what would later become your family’s estate.”
Harker glanced at the bell tower. “Shall we go have a look?”
The fog, moving and changing like a living thing, formed a patchy veil over the old structure. One moment I could make out only the arched doorway, the next only the upper section with its arched window and parapet.
We crossed to the door and entered, but it was too dark to see—at least for me. Harker removed his spectacles and peered up at what remained of the painting.
After a few moments, he pointed to something and said, “Those look like roses.”
My eyes had adjusted enough that I could just make out the blotches of color along the arrow shafts that I’d noticed before. “So they do. You’re thinking of the rose in the teapot?”
He nodded and rubbed a thumb over his chin. “I wonder if the story’s not literal.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Rose water in my vital essence made me terribly ill,” he continued. “Maybe because it’s poison to Goosevar. Could be it wasn’t arrows that killed him at all. Maybe the priest poisoned him.”
This reminded me of something. “When last I was here, Father Kelly told me St. Gomonda was an apothecary.”
Harker’s brows lifted with interest, but then I recalled, “You saw actual arrows, though. In your memory of his death.”
His gaze went back to the painting. “Mmm. Let’s think it over awhile. We’ll make our visit to The Magpie. Once we’re home, we’ll see if we can work it out.”
My heart fluttered. Once we’re home. Together. Because we were married. It still didn’t feel real.
We left the tower and passed back through the churchyard, then crossed the road to The Magpie. The aroma of scones drifted on the air, and I thought it must be close to opening by now.
I led Harker around to the back garden, through the drooping sunflowers and glistening spiderwebs, and tapped on the kitchen door.
My employer appeared, eyes going wide at the sight of us. “Heavens,” she said, standing frozen only a moment before stepping back from the door. “Come in out of the damp. So many visitors this morning. Let me get you both a cup of tea.”
I started to urge her not to trouble herself, but she went to work quickly, seeming flustered. Her uneasiness had me worrying that some unsavory rumor had reached her already.
While the tea steeped, she arranged scones, cream, and jam on a plate. Finally she set it all before us, pouring our tea before sitting on a stool across the worktable from us.
“I’m so pleased to see you recovered, Mina,” she said. “It’s been lonely here without you.” Her eyes wandered to Harker.
“I’ve missed you, too, ma’am,” I said, adding milk to my tea. “I want to introduce you to Harker Tregarrick, of Roche Rock. We’ve come to you with some news.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you, sir.” She smiled, but it was strained.
“Before you share your news, I think I best tell the both of you—young Jeremy Martin was just here, and the constable, too. It seems Jeremy was on your estate, Mr. Tregarrick, and . . .” She wiped her hands on her apron.
“Well, another body has been discovered.”
My hand jerked, tipping my cup and spilling tea over the table.
Jack!