Chapter 3
Chapter Three
JADEON
At age eighteen, I was fast becoming a man and grew restless with having to remain in the castle to avoid the harsh elements.
As usual, Father was engrossed in his business affairs and rarely had time for us.
And Mother, who was pregnant, had become preoccupied with preparing both the staff and nursery.
Thus I spent many hours alone, reading in the library or whiling away the hours studying the violin or piano—though Alex was the musically gifted one and always outshone me with his natural talent.
Occasionally, he persuaded me to join him in a hunt, but as neither of us had a head for killing, we rarely brought home a trophy.
The year was sorely bitter in many other ways.
My friendship with Catherine took an unexpected turn.
Catherine’s mother had insisted an escort be present whenever we spent time together.
Having observed Catherine alone with Alex and me, she felt conflicted with her daughter’s impending womanhood.
Such an invasion of our privacy made it impossible for us to continue our friendship as we had done before.
We stole moments when we could, hiding from her escorts, only to fear being discovered and the worst being thought of us.
We could never relax and so our shared moments were always a strain.
My feelings for Catherine were so consuming that by Christmas I had eventually found the courage to ask my father’s permission to marry her.
Lord Artimas was not surprised by my choice of a bride and was reassured the girl came from a good family.
And despite her status being lower than ours, he conceded and gave permission for me to marry.
Lord Artimas had lectured me accordingly.
I, being the good son, had listened intently, though secretly I hoped he would soon shut up, so I could go to Catherine.
Dressed in my finest suit, I immediately visited her parent’s home and uncharacteristically hugged her father.
Her parents instructed me to await their dispatch when an appointment to meet with their eldest daughter would be arranged.
Soon after, I received a letter from Catherine, agreeing to meet me in her father’s church in Marazion.
Unable to recall ever feeling quite this happy, I galloped over the snow-covered hills leading to the chapel. My horse actually lost a shoe. Turning back was not an option.
The cold did not affect me.
Catherine knelt in prayer in front of the altar. I respectfully walked through into the empty chapel. The heavy perfume of incense lingered.
I paced.
Catherine genuflected before the large cross on which a crucified Christ hung at the front of the church. On hearing me, she approached briskly, meeting me halfway up the aisle.
“Jadeon, I think you know why I have asked you here. You know me better than anyone.”
I held her hand to my chest and looked down at my perfect Catherine, my heart pounding.
“Well,” she continued, “I have made a decision and wanted you to be the first person I told. I know you will give me your blessing.”
I studied her expression, attempting to interpret her words. The ringing in my ears was distracting.
“Jadeon, I am going to take the veil.”
My jaw dropped.
Silence.
The cold caught up and I could not feel my fingers.
“Well?” she asked.
“A nun—that’s wonderful, truly!”
She smiled.
“For God’s sake, why?” My voice strained, my decorum lost. “Catherine, are you sure? This is so serious—you can never marry. You have to shave off your hair, for goodness’ sake. And if you end up in The Order of Mary, that local convent, it would mean—” My lip quivered.
“It would mean that we would no longer be able to see one another, yes.”
I slumped down in the front pew.
She sat down beside me. “It’s what I want, more than anything.”
I would not lose her to God.
I glared up at the cross and wondered what could be done. I studied her face. “I was hoping that you and I—”
Catherine offered a sympathetic smile.
I winced.
Catherine spoke, something about her vision of Saint Catherine of Alexandria, but her words faded. She believed this to be her destiny, and the good news was she had her father’s blessing.
But she did not have mine.
Though I have no recollection of leaving the church, I do remember throwing up behind it. I spent the rest of the afternoon by the half-frozen river behind the chapel. The pain was so intense, it felt permanent.
I had reasoned with God, begging him to change her mind.
On my eventual return to the castle, I could not help but think Catherine’s background, with her family so entrenched in the Church, would have also influenced her decision.
Just as my horse made it to the path leading up to St. Michael’s Mount, Catherine’s father, Father De Mercy, rode past me on horseback, coming away from the castle.
Neither of us spoke. We just looked at one another.
Pity was in the priest’s eyes. I hated him for not warning me.
Alex greeted me. He had been waiting for my return, and I noticed he too had been crying, old tears staining his cheeks, his eyes red.
“She is gone!” I dismounted my horse and handed the reins over to one of the grooms. My head down, I walked past my brother and into the castle.
Alex ran after me. “I sent the servants for you, but they could not find you,” he said.
“What?”
Alex, fretfully, continued, “The midwives and physicians were called when she went into labor this morning, but everything went terribly wrong. They could do nothing for her. We would have had a sister. She passed, just after three. Thank God you have returned.”
It dawned on me. Alex referred to our mother.
I went numb.