“We have to prove to him that he’s not and that you’re a different person.”
“But that won’t help them be together,” she said.
“They can’t be, Nina. It’s impossible!”
She firmed her mouth into a flat line. “If we don’t get them together we won’t achieve anything. This will go on and on forever just as it has been and I can’t guarantee he won’t absorb me completely even if I do try to resist him.”
“What do you suggest we do then?” Martin leaned back in his chair and studied her as if to say the problem was hers to solve. “Giles has ruled out exorcism so we can’t get rid of the damned man that way. We can’t destroy the music. We don’t know where either of them is buried. We’ve achieved absolutely nothing by coming here,” he finished in disgust.
“But we have achieved something. We’ve found Miranda and we know where she died.” Her voice faltered and she stared at Martin as the memories of that nightmarish hallucination flooded her mind.
“Nina,” he said sharply. He grabbed her hand and squeezed her fingers so hard she cried out in pain.
“Stop it. I’m here with you. I was just remembering. She wanted to be with him so much.” Her eyes filled with tears. “There must be a way.”
“When you think of it, tell me because I haven’t a clue.” He picked up his beer glass. “Let’s order lunch.”
Jessica joined them a short while later. She came in with her cheeks pink and her nose red, an excited light in her eyes, pushing through the lunchtime drinkers who had slowly gathered in the bar.
“May I?” She indicated the spare chair at their table. She pulled off her coat and Martin hung it up for her as she sat down.
“We’ve ordered soup,” he said. “Like some?”
“Lovely. Thank you.”
He went to order for her.
“I’m sorry to barge in on you two but I’ve been thinking,” she announced when he sat down again.
The crowded room, full of chatter and laughter effectively screened their conversation but Nina and Martin instinctively leaned closer to hear what she’d come up with.
“We’ve been trying to think of a way to prove to Piers that Miranda is dead, haven’t we?” she asked. “Trying to stop him manipulating you. Now, I asked myself, what is it he wants?”
“To be with Miranda,” answered Nina promptly.
“Exactly.”
“But we were just discussing that and it’s impossible.” Not impressed by Jessica’s brainwork so far.
“But he can be,” she said triumphantly. “We’ve got Piers whenever we want him or at least you can summon him up Martin, can’t you, like you did in London?” She was almost breathless with excitement.
“But we don’t have Miranda,” said Nina slowly.
“We do now. We have the painting of the real Miranda, and we have you.” Jessica eyes were wide, her face flushed from the fire and her own animation. “You can play the Shadow Music just as he wants. We can bring them together. We can bring Piers to life in front of the painting and he’ll see her and recognise her, here in the village where they met.”
“And then what?” asked Martin.
“Don’t you think if we play the music and Nina allows Piers to come through and speak to her and she speaks for Miranda and we control it they’ll be together and maybe he’ll be satisfied?”
“No,” said Martin. “I think he’ll want more. And what makes you think we can control it? Look what happened last time.”
Nina said suddenly, “What if we marry them? If we get Giles to bless them and marry them?”
“Yes,” breathed Jessica. “Oh, yes. Lay them both to rest as a married couple.”
“What do you think?” Nina turned to Martin expectantly. He screwed up his brow and cocked his head to one side sceptically.
“Maybe. It’d be dangerous though, for you. Very dangerous.” He leaned forward and grabbed her hands. “Could you do it?”
Nina swallowed. “I think so. We have to try, don’t we? But…” she gave a tiny ghost of a laugh, “There’s always the danger I’ll end up married to Piers instead of Miranda.”
Martin smiled. “There is one other problem of course. We have to get the painting out of Broome Hall, and do you think Mrs. Turner will let us take it? We can’t possibly do it there.”
“No problem,” said Jessica fiercely. “We’ll get her to call Rupert, or I will, and ask his permission. But why do we need to move it?”
“Because that place is grief stricken and Piers can’t go there. It’s Ethan’s grief, we think,” said Nina. “We both felt it. It’s oppressive. Like a shroud.”
“Goodness. I’ve never felt anything remotely like that there,” said Jessica in amazement. “But if you say so. Perhaps the church is the best place then.”
“Would Piers approve?” asked Martin.
“I think he would for Miranda’s sake,” Nina said after a moment. “I think he would want whatever she wanted and she would want to be married in church, her own church.”
“And she’d be forgiven at the same time,” said Jessica. “If Giles blessed her. Nina’s right, a girl of Miranda’s time and place in society would want to be married in church with the blessing of her family and her community.”
“Poor girl won’t have the blessing of her family,” said Martin.
“Unless you count me,” offered Nina.
Their soup arrived and as soon as the waitress had gone Jessica said, “That must be so, mustn’t it? Why did we never think of it before?”
“We did,” said Martin, “but we hadn’t seen how much alike they are. That painting really clinches it, doesn’t it?”
“Do you think Giles will be in it?” asked Nina. “Marrying a ghost to a painting?”
“Why ever not?” Jessica gazed at them both with her soup spoon suspended above her bowl.
Nina and Martin stared back at her and then all three burst out laughing at the same moment. Nina had to put her spoon down she was laughing so much and they cackled and wheezed at their table until exhaustion and sore stomach muscles made them stop.
“Bags you ask him,” gasped Nina to Jessica.
“It was your idea,” she retorted.
“Do you think it will work?” Nina looked at Martin, serious now.
He picked up his spoon and took a mouthful of soup. Nina did the same. Leek and potato soup, hot, thick and hearty with chunks of brown bread to go with it.
“Good soup,” he said.
“Martin?” Nina swallowed the mouthful and watched him intently. “Do you?”
He raised his eyes to hers and said softly, “I absolutely couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you, Nina. I’d never forgive myself, I couldn’t live with myself.” He paused, moisture in his eyes as he gazed at her. She stretched her arm out and gripped his hand in hers. He smiled. “And your Dad would have my guts for garters.”
“What could happen, really?” asked Jessica.
“I’ve no idea,” said Martin. “That’s the trouble. We just don’t know. I suppose the worst that could happen is Nina actually becomes Miranda or Miranda takes over Nina’s spirit or whatever, and we lose her to the past.”
“But I can fight him now,” said Nina. “I know he wants Miranda not me.”
“But can you really?” asked Jessica. “Look what happened yesterday. You had no control over that.”
“But I went willingly. Now—now, I don’t want to go through that again. Anyway you’ll all be there, and we’ll be in the church. It’ll be different.” To Nina herself that sounded forlorn and by his expression Martin was far from convinced. “We should see what Giles thinks. If he won’t be in it we can’t try it anyway.”
“I’ll contact Rupert this afternoon and see if we can get Miranda out of that room,” said Jessica in a stronger more purposeful tone. “Now, eat up. We’ll need our strength to face Giles.”
Chapter Sixteen
Giles didn’t return to the vicarage until the
evening. The light faded rapidly as the afternoon wore on and although it wasn’t late, Jessica turned on the lights and drew the curtains against the cold and encroaching darkness. Martin managed to keep the wood fire going in the living room and even brought in another basket of logs from the wood shed outside.
“Wood fires are all very well,” he grumbled as he dumped the basket on the hearth. “But they’re bloody hard work.”
“Very romantic, though.” Staring into the flames, Nina sat snug and warm in one of the armchairs, her feet tucked under her and a glass of wine in her hand.
“You can bring in the next load of wood then.” He bent to kiss her. Nina slid her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him closer. The urgency in her kiss told him she was frightened, wanted reassurance despite her apparent calm. He squatted down beside the chair.
“Are you sure you want to try this?” He held her face gently in his hands and kissed her again. Nina nodded.
“We have to,” she said firmly.
“Okay.” He stood up and went to the kitchen where Jessica was assisting Mrs. Webb, Giles’ cook and housekeeper. If Mrs. Turner was the epitome of a nasty housekeeper Mrs. Webb was the opposite—nonstop talk and spent most of her time sitting down as he far as he could gather from their short acquaintance.
“It’s my legs you know,” she said to Jessica as Martin entered the kitchen. “They go right up to my knees.”
“Goodness gracious,” exclaimed Jessica and shot Martin a look fraught with suppressed laughter. He looked away quickly and went to the cupboard for a glass.
“You don’t have to stay, Mrs. Webb, we can manage very well, thank you, now that you’ve got the dinner under way,” said Jessica. “It’s so nasty out tonight you’d best get home early. Don’t want to be running about in the cold late at night. With your legs.”
Mrs. Webb hauled herself up off the chair her face wreathed in smiles.
“That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Harrow. I would like to get off home. Sid worries when I’m out late this weather. I tell him it’s only a skip and a hop to the vicarage from home but you know what men are like, think we women are helpless. Little do they know, eh?” She gave Jessica a conspiratorial wink and nodded in the direction of Martin who was pretending not to listen while he poured himself a glass of red wine. “Let them think it, I say. The dinner’s in the oven and should be ready in an hour and a half. Just check occasionally that it hasn’t started to dry out. The flame can go under the potatoes and other veggies about twenty minutes before you want to eat.
“Thank you very much,” said Jessica. “It’ll be wonderful and we’ll manage.”
“Leave the dishes and I’ll clear up in the morning.” Mrs. Webb struggled into her coat and pulled a yellow and purple knitted hat down over her ears. “Night all. Here I go off into the wild, black yonder.” She gave a raucous shout of laughter.
“Take care,” called Martin. “Good night.”
“Thank you, good night.” Jessica closed the kitchen door firmly as Mrs. Webb’s bulky figure disappeared into the night. “What an exhausting woman. Excellent cook though, I think.”
“Smells good. When will Giles be home?”
“She thought about five-thirty. It’s after that now.”
“Glass of red?” Martin held the bottle up invitingly.
“Yes, please. I think we all need fortification. This is the most extraordinary thing I’ve ever come across, Martin. I hope I’m strong enough to be of some help to you.”
“Jessica, you’re marvellous.” Martin reached down another wine glass from the cupboard and filled it. “You’ve no idea how we felt when we met you and you believed us. And you have helped, enormously. We didn’t know about Cutting Marsh or Broome Hall—you did. And how would we have found the painting without you?”
Jessica smiled and touched Martin’s arm. “Thank you. My worst fear is becoming a silly, useless old woman. I tell my children to knock me on the head if I get like that.”
Martin kissed her soft cheek. “You’ve a long way to go yet, Jessica Harrow.”
“So. Can’t leave you two alone for a minute and you’re canoodling in the kitchen.” Nina’s amused voice made Martin smile. She held out her empty glass and he poured her another.
The front door crashed open and a blast of cold air rushed down the hall and into the kitchen.
“Good heavens, it’s cold. Snow on the way, I’ll wager,” came Giles voice booming around the vicarage. “Anybody here?”
“In the kitchen,” called Jessica. Martin got out another glass in readiness.
Giles came in, rubbing his hands, a wide smile splitting his face, pudgy cheeks glowing red, hair wispy and wet against his forehead.
“How are we all?” he boomed. “I must say it’s lovely to have company when I come home, especially on a foul and desperate night like this.”
“Here.” Martin thrust the glass of red into his hand.
“Oh, I say, what service, thank you indeed, Martin.” He beamed around at them all and raised his glass. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” they chorused.
“Dinner will be about an hour and a half,” said Jessica. “I sent Mrs. Webb home.”
“Marvellous.”
“Come and sit by the fire, Giles, we have something to ask you,” said Nina.
They waited while Giles went upstairs for a moment and then returned in woollen sweater and slippers to settle himself with his wine in the armchair next to Jessica’s. Nina and Martin sat facing them on the couch.
“Fire away,” said Giles.
Martin exchanged a glance with Nina. It was her crazy idea. He’d support her in it but he wouldn’t promote it.
“We’ve decided we should change our approach,” said Nina. “The whole time we’ve been trying to think of ways to prove to Piers that Miranda is dead and that he can’t resurrect her.”
“We should help them be together,” burst in Jessica eagerly. “Don’t you agree, Giles? Reunite them. That’s what Piers really wants.”
“Yes, I do agree,” Giles said slowly. “How?”
“Marry them,” announced Jessica.
Giles absorbed this dramatic statement and then the realities and ramifications began to manifest themselves. His cherubic face froze in an expression of bewilderment while Jessica’s words hung in the air. Then he opened and closed his mouth twice and looked desperately at first Martin and then Nina as if seeking reassurance that he’d heard correctly.
“Who exactly?” he asked.
“Piers and Miranda,” said Nina.
“Who else?” asked Jessica.
“Indeed.” Giles picked up his wine glass, drank, and replaced it on its coaster on the coffee table. “They don’t exist,” he said. “Anymore.”
“But they do,” exclaimed Jessica. “Piers can be summoned at will. Both these two have seen him and spoken to him.”
She leaned forward, fingers gripping each other so hard the knuckles were white. Giles stared at her. He might suddenly decide he was hosting a group of lunatics and throw them all out. Martin glanced at Nina and she too was gazing at Giles with an eager, apprehensive expression.
“We have to do something, Giles. I know this sounds insane but this has to be stopped before Nina is permanently harmed. We’re getting desperate,” Martin said in as rational a voice as he could muster. “We think that painting of Miranda that Ethan did, holds her spirit. She’s waiting there in deep sorrow.”
“Waiting for Piers,” interrupted Nina. “She’s devastated. The sadness in that room is unbearable. If we take that painting to the church we thought we could summon Piers with the music and then I may be able to summon Miranda’s spirit or allow her to appear through me and then…”
“You want me to marry them,” finished Giles.
Nina nodded. Martin held his breath as the silence stretched. Jessica still clutched her hands together. Giles closed his eyes. His lips moved in prayer then his eyes popped open. He looked at Jessica.
“Can we get the painting?”
“I’ll ring Rupert and ask him to speak to the housekeeper.”
“If I hadn’t experienced that music…I suppose it’s no more insane than anything else we’ve been up to lately.” Giles laughed a strained-sounding laugh quite unlike his usual boisterous chuckle. Then his face clouded. “Won’t it be dangerous for you, Nina?”
“Yes,” she said. “It might be but if we don’t try it what else will we do? Go on like this forever? Time has no meaning for Piers. And we’re so close to resolving it.”
“True.” Giles nodded. “I take it you’ll be using the music to summon Piers?”
“Yes,” said Martin. “Perhaps we can record the parts and play it that way. I can use meditation as well. That seems to be the most effective combination. We need Nina to represent Miranda. At first, at least. We want Piers to see the painting and then, who knows?”
“I’ll be in charge of the tape player,” said Jessica. “I can turn it off if things get too out of control.”
“So you want me to perform the marriage service when he appears and Nina will make the responses for Miranda?”
“Yes,” said Martin and Nina together.
“At worst I’ll be married to Piers,” added Nina with a weak little smile.
“Piers didn’t appear to be a believer, a Christian,” said Giles.
“Does that matter?” asked Jessica. “Miranda was. Anyway we don’t really know that about him. Many people dabble in alternative beliefs and still cling to a belief in God and the church when it comes to the important events in their lives.”
“Hatch, match, and dispatch,” agreed Giles. “Sadly yes, you’re right. Even less so now than back then, I would surmise.”
“So you’re saying that even if Piers did experiment with the Golden Dawn thing he would have been brought up in the Christian tradition?” asked Nina. “And still basically follow the church teachings?”
“I would say so, yes,” said Giles. “Given the era and his family background and social standing.
“Miranda most certainly would have been a faithful churchgoer,” said Jessica. “She deserves to be given eternal rest and happiness.”
Shadow Music Page 28