Shadow Music

by Elisabeth Rose

  “So does Piers,” said Nina. “His only crime was to fall in love.”

  “A crime of which we’re all guilty at some time in our lives,” said Giles. He raised his glass. “To Piers and Miranda, may our plan succeed and grant them eternal rest in each other’s arms.”

  “Piers and Miranda,” chorused Martin, Nina, and Jessica. “Here’s to this one final and irrevocable step,” added Martin. Glasses clinked. For better or for worse. Till death us do part.

  ****

  Nina peered through the trees. The sunlight slanted between the branches of the oaks in shafts of hot silver. She lifted the heavy hair from the back of her neck. Twigs had caught in her bonnet and pulled it off as she walked along the narrow track to the clearing. Her hair had come loose and tumbled down, hot in the stifling afternoon.

  “Piers,” she whispered. “Where are you?”

  She sat down on the cool grass under one of the trees and plucked some small yellow flowers. The jingle of his horse’s bridle sounded and the thud of its hooves on the hard earth. His voice spoke soothing words to the horse and then she caught sight of his tall frame moving between the tree trunks, hurrying to meet her, his love. She jumped to her feet and ran across the clearing to throw herself into his arms.

  “My darling,” he said.

  His lips moved against hers, his arms held her tightly against his body. This was where she was meant to be, here in his arms. Forever.

  “Mira, my life, my love,” he whispered.

  Nina pulled away. “I’m Nina,” she said. “Not Miranda, I’m Nina.”

  Piers dragged her back into his embrace and kissed her again so her body melted boneless against his. He began to undo the small buttons on her dress and slide the light cotton from her shoulders. He kissed the bare skin, heated now with desire. His lips caressed her neck and her throat and searched lower to her breasts where his gentle fingers were sending ripples of desire cascading through her body.

  “Piers, I love you,” she whispered.

  “You’re mine. I want you to come away with me. Be mine. We should be together. Mira, my darling,”

  “Nina!” The word shot from her lips like a whip crack. “I’m Nina.”

  She pushed Piers away but he smiled. “You’re Miranda and you’re mine. You love me with all your heart and with your soul and I love you. I won’t let you go. You belong with me. You know that. You feel it the way I do. You come to me.” He stepped closer and gazed into her eyes. Nina’s resolve faltered as a tidal wave of desire swept through her body. He slid his arms around her waist and kissed her gently, letting his lips toy with hers, gradually increasing the pressure as he felt her ardour grow and her resistance fade.

  Nina came awake with a start. The room was pitch black. She groped frantically with her left hand and felt Martin’s solid bulk beside her. He stirred and rolled over toward her to pull her against him. Nina snuggled into his chest with his arms wrapped securely around her body. Martin, not Piers. Martin was the man she loved.

  She had to fight. She was Nina. Piers knew she was Nina but he didn’t care. But she’d been dreaming and odd things happen in dreams. It was a dream. Wasn’t it? Nina lay awake until she heard Giles lumbering to the bathroom and then downstairs to get the breakfast tea underway. Then she slid out of bed.

  ****

  Jessica joined Nina and Giles in the kitchen.

  “It’s all fixed,” she said. “Rupert called Mrs. Turner and we can collect the painting whenever we like. He just wants us to take care of it and return it in one piece. He’s very attached to it he said.”

  “Miranda makes another conquest,” remarked Giles. “More tea, Nina?”

  “Thanks. What did you tell him we wanted it for?” she asked.

  “I’m afraid I told a little fib. I said I had a friend who thought she might be related to Miranda and wanted to take the painting to Plymouth to be professionally photographed for her family back in Australia. I told him you were researching your family history.”

  “And he didn’t mind?”

  “No. He thought it was fascinating that you were so similar in appearance, and Mrs. Turner will certainly back us up there. It’s not a valuable work at all. Only to us. So. When do we do the deed?” asked Jessica.

  “Wait till Martin gets back,” said Nina. “He’s gone for a walk. He’s worried about this. He doesn’t think it’ll work.”

  “He’s frightened for you but he’ll go through with it, I think,” said Jessica.

  “Yes, he will.”

  “He loves you. Love gives people amazing strength,” said Giles. “That and faith.”

  “I don’t have religious faith as such,” said Nina. “Will that matter?”

  “You might not have faith in the God Jessica and I have faith in but you have a good heart and you know what is the right thing to do. God rewards those things.”

  “Does that mean Piers will be damned for eternity?”

  “I think his soul has lost its way. If he has led a good life and his heart is true he will be given salvation.”

  “We don’t know what sort of life he led,” said Jessica. “But he loved truly and passionately. Love certainly gave him strength.”

  “I just want them to be together,” said Nina. “Then they will both be happy, regardless.”

  “Whatever happened to Tyler?” asked Jessica suddenly. “Do we know?”

  “Her brother?” said Giles. “He was arrested for the murder and convicted. He went to gaol but was released before he’d completed his sentence. He died as well, in Africa.”

  “In the Boer War?”

  “No, later. He left England as a migrant. Went to Kenya and died of some disease. Never married, poor man.”

  “So the Templeton family died out?” said Nina.

  “That branch did. Whether there were relatives or not I don’t know.”

  “What a sad, sad saga. And the poor father outlived them all,” said Jessica. “Such irony, his being a doctor and dedicating his life to helping others.”

  The back door opened and closed with a bang. A rush of cold air preceded Martin as he entered the kitchen. His nose and cheeks were red and he rubbed his hands together before pulling out a chair beside Nina.

  “What did you decide?” asked Jessica.

  Martin drew a deep breath. “I think we have to try. We have to make it as safe as we can but we have to give it a go. I can’t think of anything else even remotely likely to work, let alone better.”

  Nina sighed. Another voice breathed in her ear. “Yes.”

  “Piers wants us to do it,” she said softly.

  “Did he say so?” asked Martin. His eyes narrowed under a frowning brow. “Is he talking to you, now?”

  “No, not really. He’s pleased. I can tell.”

  “Only because we’re finally doing what he wants,” said Martin. “He’s a bully.”

  “Or it might be because he thinks it will be a solution,” said Giles.

  “How can he possibly know what we intend to do?” asked Nina. “He’s never suggested he wanted to marry Miranda. He’s never mentioned the word at all. He wants her to go away with him but he’s never said marry me.”

  “That’s because he was taking advantage of her, the poor innocent girl.”

  “Maybe he feels the change in attitude. That we’re not fighting against him anymore,” suggested Jessica.

  “Possibly,” admitted Martin. “I’m sorry. I’m just so sick of that bloody man and his broken heart running my life. It’s been nearly a year. I want it ended. I want my life back.”

  “It’s been well over a hundred years for him,” said Nina tartly.

  “Other people lose loved ones. Other people deal with it and keep going without creating chaos through the ages. He’d have no notion of time anyway. He’s got eternity to mess around in people’s heads.”

  “That’s why we have to do something. Now.” Why was he being so damned belligerent? This was their best chance. “They have to
be brought together. I want him out of my head too, Martin.” And her bed and her body.

  “Won’t we need rings?” asked Jessica into the tense silence.

  “One should be enough. Just one for Miranda,” said Giles calmly. How could he miss the force field crackling like lightning between herself and Martin?

  “I don’t have anything suitable,” she muttered.

  “We can use my wedding ring,” said Jessica.

  “Are you sure you want to take it off?” Martin’s voice was quieter, accepting of a decision taken.

  “I think it may be in a good cause.” Jessica smiled. “It slips off my finger so easily in this cold weather.” She stared at the slim gold band gleaming dully against her pale skin.

  “Thank you,” said Nina.

  “Anyway, it’s not as if I’m going to lose it, am I? It’ll be on your finger, won’t it?”

  “Will it? I suppose so.”

  “It can’t go on Miranda’s,” Jessica pointed out. “Here, see if it fits.”

  She slid the ring off and offered it across the table to Nina who studied it in her palm for a moment.

  “It’s rose gold,” said Jessica.

  “It’s lovely.” It went on to her third finger easily. “This is so weird,” murmured Nina. She handed the ring back to Jessica. “How exactly will we organise this wedding ceremony?”

  They sat and discussed and argued on and off for most of the morning. Giles eventually announced he had to prepare his sermon for Sunday.

  Nina asked, “What day is it, today?”

  “Friday.”

  “I had no idea. I’ve completely lost track.”

  “When will we do it?” asked Jessica. “I could collect Miranda this afternoon.”

  “I’ll drive you,” said Martin. “And you should come with us,” he said to Nina.

  “I don’t want to go into that house again.”

  “Wait in the car then or walk in the garden. I’m not leaving you here alone. Giles will be busy and I don’t expect him to keep an eye on you.”

  “We could do that and then spend the afternoon in Plymouth,” said Jessica.

  “We can take Miranda to Plymouth,” said Nina. “She might like an outing.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Martin. “It’s a large painting. I’m wondering if it will even fit in the car.”

  “I think it will although Nina may not fit in the backseat as well,” said Giles.

  “I’ll stay here with Giles. I’ll sit quietly in the corner of his study and read a book until you get back,” said Nina. “I promise.”

  “We won’t be long, Martin,” said Jessica. “Half an hour and then we can pop in to Plymouth for a late lunch and leave Giles in peace for the rest of the afternoon. There are some wonderful historical sites.”

  “Sir Francis Drake,” exclaimed Nina. “The Mayflower.”

  “Yes and lots of other things besides.”

  ****

  Martin and Jessica carefully stowed the painting of Miranda in the backseat of the Saab. Mrs. Turner had draped a large cloth over it and propped it against a wall in the foyer, waiting.

  “I won’t be sorry to see the back of that,” she said. “Mr. Turner said it gave him the creeps just touching it to bring it downstairs.”

  “We’ll bring it back safe and sound in a day or two,” said Jessica. “Thank you, Mrs. Turner.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Harrow.” She closed the door, not even waiting to see them to the car.

  Martin carried Miranda in to the vicarage and propped her against the dining room table. Jessica carefully removed the cloth.

  “She looks happier already,” said Giles.

  “Is Piers here?” asked Jessica.

  Nina frowned. “No. It’s funny, I thought he’d be terribly excited to see her. He may not have known there was a portrait of her and now she’s out of Broome Hall you’d think he’d be here.”

  “It’s just a painting,” said Martin. “It probably holds no spiritual link to the real Miranda.”

  “Well, if that’s the case what we want to do won’t work.” Nina’s heart plummeted.

  “No, but you do, you feel the link,” said Jessica and placed a reassuring hand on her arm. “And you both felt the sorrow emanating from it, so there is something there.”

  “Let’s go to Plymouth,” said Martin. “I’m hungry and I want to think about other, normal things for an afternoon.”

  When they returned to the vicarage after eating and sightseeing and generally trying to behave like tourists despite the miserable weather, Giles was out. He’d moved the painting to a place against the wall in the dining room.

  Nina stood in front of Miranda and studied her carefully. She recognised elements of her own face—the rounded cheeks and hint of Asian ancestry in the eyes and full-lipped mouth. But where they differed apart from the obviousness of clothing and hair style, was in the expression. Ethan had captured a certain light in her eyes and a downturn of the lips which, while not making Miranda actually frown or grimace, exuded a deep sorrow, a soul sickness, as if great sobbing, shattering tears might break free and flow down the painted cheeks.

  Martin came and stood beside her.

  “Her heart is broken,” Nina said softly.

  “Poor girl. She was beautiful. Just like you. No wonder he adored her. What a horrible way to go. I wonder if Piers found her before she died.”

  Nina paused before she answered. An image flashed before her mind’s eye.

  “Yes, he did. I saw it once. I was looking down at them. I think I was Miranda’s spirit leaving her body.” Nina shuddered and whispered, “Piers was kneeling in the mud and the rain, holding her in his arms and crying.” A tear trickled down her cheek.

  Soft music began floating about the room. The Shadow Music.

  “Martin? Do you hear it?” She gripped his fingers and looked around quickly, fearfully. The sounds faded. Mrs. Webb laughed in the kitchen.

  Martin said, “I think so. It was it, wasn’t it?” His voice was hoarse. “My hair’s standing on end.”

  “He’s here. Piers is here, waiting for her.”

  “Is he speaking to you?”

  “No, but I can feel him. He’s watching. Waiting.”

  The music came again, stronger this time. The violin soared above the other instruments; the temperature in the room rose. Voices chanted.

  The outer door slammed. Giles called, “Hello all, how was Plymouth?”

  The music and voices stopped instantly. Giles appeared in the doorway with a wide smile which faded immediately when he saw their faces. His gaze flicked behind them to the painting.

  “Good heavens.”

  Nina and Martin spun around. Miranda was glowing. Faint and rapidly dimming but a definite glow emanated from her skin. Her eyes almost sparkled with life.

  “It’ll work,” exclaimed Nina. “Martin, see? We must do it. Right now.”

  “What’s happened?” asked Giles.

  Nina gabbled, “We were looking at the painting and discussing Piers. I could feel his presence but he wasn’t talking to me.”

  Martin broke in. “And then the Shadow Music started playing. With all the instruments, and voices chanting.”

  Nina interrupted again. “Then you came home and it stopped. But it works.”

  Giles stared from one to the other. “Extraordinary,” he murmured. He rubbed his chin and studied the painting. “But what about the chant? That could be a crucial part. None of us know that.”

  “We could re-create it and you could listen and write down the words. It’s sure to be in Latin. You do speak Latin, don’t you?” demanded Nina.

  “It wasn’t my best subject at Theological College but yes, I do.”

  “It didn’t sound like Latin to me,” said Martin. “Isn’t it more likely to be an eastern chant?”

  “Om mani padme om?” suggested Giles.

  “Yes, but it’s not that.”

  Jessica came in carrying a tray with nuts,
cheese and crackers. “Hello, Giles.” She placed the tray on the coffee table. “What’s going on?”

  “Did you hear the music just now?” asked Martin.

  “Which music?”

  “The Shadow Music,” said Nina. “Piers played it to us a few minutes ago. With chanting. It made Miranda glow.”

  Jessica sat down abruptly. Her face went pale and she pressed a shaky hand to her mouth. “So that means he’s here? With us?”

  Nina nodded. “He’s waiting.”

  “Did you hear it in the kitchen?” asked Martin.

  Jessica shook her head. “Not a thing, although Mrs. Webb was going on about her son. He lives in Canada.”

  “We have to do the wedding tonight,” said Nina. “Giles? Can we?”

  “I have a meeting first. I have to go in to Plymouth.”

  “How long will it take?”

  Giles frowned, disconcerted by Nina’s peremptory manner. “I should be home by eleven.”

  “We’ll do it then,” she replied. “We can add the flute part to the tape tonight while you’re out.”

  “I’d better put the heating on in the church or we’ll freeze to death. It’s very hot in here, by the way.”

  Martin looked at Nina. “The temperature rose when the music played, I think.”

  She nodded. “Maybe we won’t need heating in the church after all.”

  “I need a sherry,” announced Jessica. “This is all getting to be rather disturbing.ˮ

  ****

  Giles returned at eleven fifteen. Rain poured down again.

  “Are you sure you want to go ahead with it tonight?” His hair dripped onto his collar and his damp face shone like a rising moon in the mist. He came farther into the room. The bottoms of his trousers were soaked, and his shoes left dark footprints on the carpet.

  “Yes,” said Nina firmly. “Yes, definitely.”

  “We can’t stand anymore,” said Martin quietly.

  “Not much point my changing then.” Giles smiled then straightened his lips into a thin line and raised his eyebrows. “We’d better cover Miranda. Don’t want her to run.”

  “We’ve done that already,” said Martin. “I’m afraid we raided your coat closet.”

  “In that case, let’s get on then, shall we?”