by Philip Henry
This time the crowd roared in its approval. The bishop said a short prayer for their safety and they all began to file out.
O’Conor addressed the two other men quietly. ‘Do you really think they can find it after five-hundred and sixty-four years?’
‘It never left these shores. It is here somewhere. It will be found, sooner or later,’ the bishop answered.
‘We have given them hope,’ Hopkins added. ‘Even without the crystal, that will give them courage and strength.’
‘For a while,’ O’Conor said. He turned to the bishop. ‘Are preparations being made?’
‘Shanahan has begun already. With any luck, it will be ready by the time we find the crystal.’
‘Luck has not been on our side of late,’ Hopkins said. ‘Let us hope that changes.’
Downhill, 1784
The fire crackled beneath the arch of ornate marble. It cast a soft flickering light across the study. He had asked the servants not to light the lamps tonight. Instead he lit a single candle. He wiped the dribbles of last night’s hardened wax away before setting it down on his desk. He checked the door was locked for a third time, then removed the paper from behind his bureau. He rolled it out gently on his desk and weighed it down with a polished stone from the beach, given to him by one of the children of the parish. He dipped the quill in the inkpot. The nib hovered above the page. He imagined a tether to his rational mind holding it there, trying desperately to stop him from writing any more. However, no tether could hold back what he had to say.
Even though his heart was racing, his brain was calm. Each phrase, each word, must be the exact word that best describes his feelings. Anything less would unworthy of the lady. He read what he had already written.
15 March, 1784
Ma chère cousine,
I hope you will excuse these writings if they do not compare to the practised hand of the poets that I know you do so admire, for love is a language never studied and barely understood by me. I can only hope that the honesty of my words will suffice where polished verse is lacking.
I hope the sentiment of this missive is not overly shocking to you. It cannot have gone unnoticed that when I have occasion to touch your hand in greeting I am loathe to release. Are my affections folly? Am I a fool to imagine that your eyes linger a fraction longer than is acceptable in polite society between cousins? If that look conveyed a fraction of the love I feel for you, I would take that sliver of time and trade it for eternity in Heaven.
Your husband is a fine man of commerce and good standing. His business dealings have made him a great fortune, though I fear he is ignorant of the priceless treasure that shares his bed.
I know of the absurdity of my actions. You are over three decades my junior, you are married and have a high place in English society, and if my intentions were ever discovered I would find myself expelled from the church. Though I care deeply for Elizabeth and our children, she no longer ignites the fire in me that she once did. Ours is a marriage in name only. It seems I make no better a bishop or husband than I did a barrister. All I can offer in my defence is that the laws of man and God seem petty if they mean I should ignore my love for you.
The bishop looked down at the words. There was growing fear inside him, but also excitement. Just to release these words from inside himself was liberating. He took a deep breath and continued.
I think of you often, dressed in your finery, your hair lightly powdered and wearing your favourite pearls. It is an image I believe will stay with me all my days. Frideswide, my love, if there is any part of you that believes me more than just a foolish old man coveting that which he will never have, then I implore you to make your feelings known to me, as I have to you.
I eagerly await your reply.
With love, F.
The bishop sat back and read the entire letter again. He held up the frame that carried the likeness of Frideswide Mussenden. The picture did not capture her essence or her radiance. He folded the letter carefully then heated the wax-stick on the candle’s flame and dripped it onto the fold of the letter. When there was an adequate pool he pressed the seal of the Bishop of Derry into the hot wax.
When he was sure it had set he got up and walked to the fireplace with the sealed letter in his hand. He rang the bell for a servant. He would send it immediately. He would instruct the messenger to wait for a reply, even if it took her days to compose one.
He would gamble everything. She was worth it. He had spent years filling his villa with paintings, sculptures and priceless works of art from all around the world, but what were pieces of stone and decorated canvas next to Frideswide. But what if she denied his advances? Not only would he never know her touch, but he might never again look upon her. If she told her husband he would surely never allow the bishop to cross his threshold again. The bishop looked into the dancing flames of the fire.
The door opened and his butler entered. ‘You rang, your grace?’
The bishop turned and looked at the butler for a few moments then shook his head. ‘I apologize. I rang by accident.’
The butler nodded and left.
The bishop dropped the letter into the fire.
The following morning the bishop was sitting alone breakfasting when the butler interrupted him. ‘Excuse me, your grace, but a messenger has just delivered this.’ He reached the bishop an envelope. The butler took two steps back and waited.
The bishop tore the paper open roughly. ‘Probably from Elizabeth and the children. News of their holiday.’ The butler said nothing. The bishop opened the letter and read:
Frederick,
I regret that I must trouble you, but a business deal of some import has come to my attention and I must make my way to the Far East on the first available ship. These linens I seek are not only of the highest quality, but the price at which they are being sold would lead you to believe they are fit for vagrants, not kings. It is my intention to buy a large quantity and return with them to England, where I shall be able to sell them at an astounding profit.
I will be gone several months at least. I do not wish to leave Frideswide alone for that length of time, nor does she wish to accompany me. You will remember the conversation we had when last we met concerning certain members of the local gentry making advances towards her. This is the burden of having a much-desired bride.
So I am sending her to you and Elizabeth. When last you visited she seemed most interested in your talk of the beauty and customs of Ireland, perhaps you would take this opportunity to indulge her interests. I do hope this is not an imposition, but there is no one else I trust to ensure her virtue.
I have instructed the messenger to ride ahead and deliver this. Frideswide’s coach cannot be more than half a day behind him. I hope this gives you and Elizabeth adequate time to prepare for her arrival.
I am indebted to you.
Charles Mussenden
‘We are expecting company,’ the bishop said. ‘Prepare a guest room immediately.’
The butler nodded. ‘Any response for the messenger?’
‘No, pay him the usual… no, pay him double, and make sure he and his horse are well nourished before he begins his return journey.’
‘As you wish, your grace.’ The butler left quietly, closing the dining room doors behind him.
It was only then that the bishop allowed himself to smile, and then laugh.
The bishop had finished his breakfast and was filling his pipe with tobacco when the butler opened the doors again. ‘Mister Shanahan to see you, sir.’
‘Michael,’ the bishop boomed loudly. ‘Come in. Are you hungry?’
‘No, thank you.’
The bishop gestured the butler to leave and Michael to sit down, which they both did. Michael cleared his throat and then timidly began. ‘It cannot have escaped your notice that we are nearing the end of our project, your grace. I estimate two to three more months for completion.’
‘Indeed. When I hired you for this job I was assured of your
skill as an architect, but your work is a revelation. What you have designed goes far beyond the remit of a mere architect. That such an instrument of death could look so beautiful is indeed confounding in a most agreeable way.’
‘Thank you, sir. I thought, since you were good enough to let us build it on your land, on your doorstep almost, that it should be something as beautiful as the rest of the villa, to all outward appearances at least.’
‘Capital idea, Michael. And those two fellows who have done the carvings…’
‘The McBlains, David and James,’ Michael said.
‘I noticed just yesterday that they have finished my little Latin phrase. Exquisite work, just exquisite.’ A cloud of smoke rose around him as he lit his pipe.
‘You, ah…’ Michael cleared his throat. ‘You are going to release the funds to complete it, then?’
The bishop looked shocked. ‘Well, whyever not?’
‘It’s just, there have been some rumours. You know, since the amulet hasn’t been found. Two years now. Some people have been saying that…’
‘The amulet will be found, of that I have no doubt. And when it is, I want our little project to be ready.’
Michael’s shoulders relaxed as he exhaled. ‘Thank you, sir.’
‘I have a meeting with my banker tomorrow. I will make arrangements then for the remainder of the funds to be released. The price is as we agreed, still? You haven’t incurred any unexpected costs?’
‘No, no, sir. The price is what we talked about originally.’ Michael got up and nodded to the bishop. He started towards the door.
‘A master builder, an artist, an innovator, and you keep to your price; you are indeed a rare breed, Michael.’
Michael chanced half a grin at the bishop, nodded, and quickly left.
As soon as Frideswide stepped from the coach that evening, all thoughts of the bishop protecting his reputation left his mind. She was more beautiful than he remembered. She smiled coyly as he kissed the back of her hand in greeting. He took her arm and led her inside as the footmen unloaded her belongings.
The servants smiled as they passed. Some of them had been taking bets below stairs. The bishop’s usual posture was hunched and slow, but they had noticed when he would visit the town twice a week by himself, taking a single horse and not the coach (and driver), he would return with not only a greatly improved mood, but also the bounce in his step and confident swagger of a man half his age. Since the servants had all been made aware of this, they now looked out for it and noticed this lightness of step also showed up when certain female guests would come to stay. Those who had bet that the bishop’s posture would not improve with the arrival of Mrs Mussenden had just lost their money.
‘I do hope this is not an imposition,’ she said as they crossed the threshold.
‘It is a surprise of the most agreeable kind, Mrs Mussenden. I regret that my wife and children are not in residence though. They are taking a holiday on the coast of Donegal.’ He looked closely for her reaction. Was it just his imagination or did he detect the briefest smile on her lips? ‘I hope you will not find the company of an old man too tedious.’
‘Bishop Hervey, I have heard many things about you, but I have never heard anyone describe your company as tedious.’ She turned and gave him a smile. Then, in almost a whisper, ‘I’m sure we can amuse ourselves until your family’s return.’
The bishop smiled widely. The butler entered and silently chastised the footmen who were grinning behind the back of the bishop and his guest. Their faces became solemn and the butler began directing them. They waited at the foot of the stairs to follow Frideswide.
‘I’m sure you must be hungry from your trip,’ the bishop said, in a voice the help could all hear. ‘We will dine as soon as you are ready.’
Frideswide dressed for dinner in an ivory-coloured dress with a neckline that fully accentuated her womanly attributes. She wore her favourite pearls. The bishop wore his best dinner suit.
The talk during dinner was perfectly respectful. The servants waited by the walls, ready to refill any glass or add an extra portion of meat or vegetables. Frideswide ate little but seemed filled. The bishop ate heartily. They rarely made eye contact and when they did their eyes did not linger. The bishop knew there would be time to talk freely after dinner, out of earshot of the servants. Even if they didn’t inform his wife of any untoward conversation or action, he knew they talked among themselves and to the shopkeepers when they went to town for provisions.
After dinner Frideswide and the bishop walked to the cliff edge, just a few hundred yards from the villa. They stood by the fence and looked across the ocean at the setting sun. Frideswide looked down at the beach far below on her left and remarked on its beauty.
‘There is much beauty to be seen tonight,’ the bishop answered. Frideswide blushed and again gave a little smile. The bishop still didn’t feel confident that his affections would be returned. ‘Frideswide is an unusual name. I don’t believe I have ever met another. Do you know of its origins?’
‘Frideswide was an Anglo-Saxon princess,’ she began with the confidence of a story oft told. ‘While still very young she founded a priory and took a vow of celibacy. Despite this, a Mercian king tried to court her. When she refused his advances he tried to ravish her, but she escaped him by hiding in a nearby wood. She returned to the priory where he continued his pursuit of her until he lost his sight. Frideswide felt compassion for him and prayed to St. Catherine of Alexandria and St. Margaret of Antioch who instructed her to hit the ground with her staff. When Frideswide did this the ground gave way and revealed a well. She used the water from the well to cure his blindness.’
‘As good a parable as I have ever heard.’
‘You think it a parable?’
‘A man blinded by love is redeemed by the object of his affections? Yes, I believe it a parable.’ He stepped closer to her. ‘Many men have been blinded by love. To stare at great beauty too long is akin to staring at the sun on a summer’s day.’
She turned and took a step away from him with a gentle laugh. ‘You are all your reputation suggests, Frederick.’
It was the first time she had called him by his first name. He took it as an encouraging sign. ‘You alluded to the fact that I had a reputation earlier. Pray tell, what gossip lies in my wake?’
‘It is not my place.’
‘Nonsense. I care not for the rules of polite society. We are just two people, talking. Two friends should be able to talk without censorship.’ He edged closer again.
She turned to him. ‘A common phrase I have heard is “When God created the human race, he made men, women and Herveys”.’
The bishop laughed. ‘And what meaning to you derive from those words?’
She looked unsure, but continued. ‘Perhaps that the rules which exist for men and women do not apply to you. Is it true?’ She stepped closer and looked him in the eyes. ‘Do you disdain what most people would hold sacred?’
‘On the contrary, what most people hold sacred, I would hold in equal or even greater esteem.’ He raised his hands to hold her but she stepped back. ‘What other rumours do you hear of me?’
‘What of your meetings with Countess Lichtenau? Are those reports idle speculation? They have certainly angered the Prince of Prussia for, if rumours are to be believed, she is his mistress.’
‘Wilhelmine and I have a friendship. I do not deny that.’
‘A friendship like ours?’ she asked quickly.
‘That is yet to be seen,’ the bishop answered carefully. He thought he detected the smallest hint of a smile as she turned away.
The sun had gone down a few minutes ago and there was now a chill in the air. Frideswide shivered.
‘Do you wish to go inside?’ the bishop asked.
‘I would like to stay out here for a little longer. Perhaps I could trouble you for my shawl.’
‘Certainly. Perhaps I should bring some wine out, too?’
‘I believe I wou
ld enjoy that.’ She smiled at him.
When the bishop turned they both saw the structure. He noticed the look of interest on Frideswide’s face as she examined the round building with its domed roof.
‘Magnificent, isn’t it?’
‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘There is a story behind its construction that will chill your bones. You are not easily frightened, I trust?’
She shook her head.
‘Then I will tell you the story when I return.’ He smiled and hurried back to the villa.
Once inside he made his way down to the cellar. It took him quite a long time to pick the perfect bottle. He believed wines to be like women; each with their own personality and each best enjoyed in a milieu reflecting that personality. Eventually he selected a youthful, fruity Burgundy. He quickly made his way back up the stairs to the kitchen and found two glasses. He carefully uncorked the wine and put his nose to the neck of the bottle. The scent of wine always had an affinity with romance in his life. This was the perfect bottle for tonight. He put on his topcoat and had a servant fetch Frideswide’s shawl from her room. When the servant returned he grabbed it and said the staff could retire for the night. The bishop stopped at the back door and put the shawl to his face. He breathed in the scent of Frideswide and was intoxicated by it.