Nina clutched the handle of George’s violin case and tried not to let the insanity of what they were about to do take over her mind. Martin’s flute, in its case, was tucked inside her parka and Jessica splashed behind her carrying a tape player wrapped in plastic bags, and a large umbrella which she held partially over Nina as well as herself. Giles and Martin went ahead with the painting, their two umbrellas waving wildly about as they struggled between the branches hanging low and heavy with rain, over the path. Were the ancient pines trying to prevent them entering the church? The building loomed above them, dark and forbidding, darker and more threatening than the wretched night itself. Disapproving. Were they about to commit a sin against God? Against nature?
But Giles was with them. He was the custodian. Surely he gave sanctity to the whole affair?
He ushered them into the comparative warmth, turned on the lights and closed the solid old wooden door against the clawing wind. He’d turned the heating on before leaving for his meeting but their breath still rose in steamy vapours in the chill air. Martin carefully removed the sodden overcoats and carried Miranda to the altar rail where he removed her coverings and propped her facing the body of the church.
“Shouldn’t she face the altar?” asked Jessica.
“I don’t know.”
“Yes,” said Nina. “She should.”
****
Cutting Marsh, 1892
Hurrying to wait for Miranda in their special place, Piers was hampered by a sudden storm on the road from Plymouth where he had stayed for the weeks since the Summer Ball. Rain had fallen lightly in the town but passed on earlier, so the onslaught of drenching rain surprised him as he approached the village, the storm shocking in its violence. He sheltered in a barn in a fever of impatience, waiting for the worst to pass.
Then he was away, galloping in panic-stricken flight, urging his horse faster over the slippery, treacherous ground. Knowing deep in his soul something was wrong, something had happened to send a deathly chill through his body.
He reached the grove an hour after the passing of the storm. The clouds had parted and stars twinkled brightly, the fresh scent of moist grass and thirst-quenching rain taunted him as he rode toward the glowering trees. They huddled dark and mysterious, secretive, hiding he knew not what.
He tethered his panting, steaming horse and pushed through the trees, stumbled in the darkness over tree roots and fallen branches. The grove had suffered severely in the storm.
His heart rose into his mouth and he shouted, “Mira. Are you here?” He prayed that his desperate attempt to contact her by thought had failed and she had once more stayed home. He would rather she shunned meeting him yet again than venture out this foul night. He could never forgive himself if she were harmed.
The wind stirred the high branches overhead. Cold drops of water splashed onto his face and coat. The ground squelched soft underfoot and he forced his way forward until his path was blocked by a large fallen branch; a giant limb from one of the oaks sprawled wide and heavy. He picked his way around it, shaking with trepidation.
A pale patch amongst the dark caught his eye and he cried out in fear as he darted forward to find Miranda lying trapped, her beautiful body bloodied and crushed.
He knelt on the sodden damaged ground, cradled her head in his arms and her eyes opened. Her lips formed the word “Piers”. She smiled weakly as he pressed his lips on hers. He laid her down then set about freeing her broken body from the massive weight of the branch. She whimpered with pain as he struggled with all his might to drag the limb off her chest. Slowly, carefully, gently he pulled her clear and held her once more in his arms.
Then he sat crooning and whispering to her, sobbing as her life ebbed away.
Piers watched Mira die in his arms and as the last fluttering breath left her body he lifted his tear-stained face to the star-studded black velvet of the sky and vowed they would be together again. They would be together always. He would find a way, no matter how long it took, how far he travelled, what sacrifices needed to be made.
“I will be with you, my darling, my love, my life,” he cried to the wind and the stars and the moon shining swollen and full through the trees. “You will live again. We will be together.”
He bent and kissed her lips, those lips once so full of laughter and love now pale and chill in death. He stroked her silken locks and folded her soft white hands across her shattered breast. The breast upon which he had laid his head so many times and the hands whose fingers had caressed him so tenderly, now stiffening in the harshness of death.
“I will find you Mira. We will be together. I will find a way.”
****
Cutting Marsh, 1999
“How will we do this?” asked Martin. “Should we play the tape and see what happens, or should Giles begin the marriage service?” His voice sounded small and feeble in the cold, empty space.
“There’s not much point starting the service without the bride and groom,” pointed out Giles.
“I think we should play the tape and if that’s not strong enough you and I can play as well,” said Nina.
“I should meditate. That’s what summoned him up before. Physically.”
“He actually appeared? Oh, dear.” Jessica’s hand flew to her lips.
“I hope I can focus deeply enough.” Martin took a kneeler from a pew and sat on the far side of the altar next to the portrait, facing it. “The conditions aren’t ideal.”
Nina shivered. The heating didn’t have much effect on the cold air inside the church. Any warmth rose into the icy darkness of the vaulted ceiling and disappeared amongst the heavy wooden beams supporting the roof. The lights barely reached the far corners draped in mysterious shadow.
“I’ll stand on her other side, have her in the centre,” she said. “And I’ll make her responses for her.”
“Are we ready?” Giles took his place, bible in hand. “I’ve chosen the old traditional version they would have been familiar with but cut bits out to streamline the proceedings.”
Martin looked up at Nina. She smiled and bent to press a kiss on his mouth. “This is it,” she whispered then, “Ready,” to Giles.
She glanced down at her heavy winter clothing. She should have worn something more bridal—a skirt at least rather than thick woollen slacks. Would that make a difference? Would Piers care? Miranda would have been so excited to marry her man, she’d have dressed for the occasion. Too late now.
A sharp click broke the deep silence, a hiss of tape followed and then the sound of Nina’s violin poured into the still, cold air. The other instruments joined in. Martin’s eyes were closed, his face relaxed. How could he possibly meditate? Her own mind was a seething mass of questions and doubts and worries.
But the music surrounded her and invaded her body, poured into every cell, filled her soul, grew in volume and intensity. The violinist wasn’t Nina, he was far, far better and other musicians played the missing parts. Piers was playing. Piers and his group. Chanting began but so distant she wasn’t sure she heard it or imagined it. The voices grew stronger, much stronger. So loud and close they could have been in the church.
Suddenly he was there before her. Not completely solid, the image shimmered slightly, but dark eyes fixed on Nina with an intensity born of deep and endless passion. Jessica gasped behind her but stayed silent.
All the love she’d carried for this extraordinary man suffused her very being. His features were achingly familiar, the straight firm nose, full lips, dark hair. She knew his touch, his kiss, the feel of his body…honeyed warmth spread outward from her centre. She smiled. The image firmed.
Giles erupted into speech.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony.” Giles usual booming voice had faded to something barely audible, just above a whisper.
Miranda’s portrait began to glow with a subtle inner light. Her
skin took on a richer hue, her eyes came alive. The music filled the church now, rebounding from the ancient stones, echoing from the highest points, soaring heavenward.
Giles continued bravely with the service.
“I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgement when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye do now confess it. For be ye well assured, that so many as are coupled together otherwise than God’s Word doth allow are not joined together by God; neither is their Matrimony lawful.”
Piers stepped closer. “Is it you?” he whispered. “Is it really you?”
“Yes, my love.” Nina held out her hand, Miranda a palpable force urging her on. “Marry me, Piers.” He extended his hand and her fingers were enclosed by a strong warm grip. An electric pulse shot up her arm and she almost cried out. But Giles had forged ahead, his voice stronger now, anxious to get the service finished.
“Wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
She held Piers’ gaze for an eternity, waiting, praying he would respond. He’d never said he would marry her but she wanted more than anything in the world to be his wife. He must know that. He had to marry her, she’d given herself to him freely and never doubted his trustworthiness. If he didn’t, her future was ruined. Ethan would shun her and so would his family and friends. If Piers loved her as much as he said, how could he not?
“I will.” It came on a sigh, floating into the air and echoing around the stone walls.
Giles turned to her, his face an impervious mask although drops of perspiration beaded on his brow. The temperature had soared with the music.
“Wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will.” Her voice rang out strong and proud.
“Who giveth this Woman to be married to this Man?”
Giles paused.
“I do.” Jessica stepped forward.
Piers didn’t take his eyes from hers.
Giles nodded.
“Repeat after me. I, Piers de Crespigny take thee Miranda Templeton to my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”
He repeated the vow with Miranda then nodded to Jessica who pulled her wedding ring off and handed it to Piers with a shaking hand. He stared at the ring then he took it and slid it onto Nina’s finger.
Giles addressed Piers. “Repeat after me. With this Ring I thee wed, with my Body I thee worship, and with all my worldly Goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
Piers repeated every word.
“Let us pray.”
She sank to her knees and bowed her head, eyes closed, tears pricking at her lids. It was done. At last they were man and wife.
“Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.
“For as much as Piers and Miranda have consented together in holy Wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a Ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
Giles raised his hands.
“God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost, bless, preserve, and keep you; the Lord mercifully with his favour look upon you; and so fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace, that ye may so live together in this life, that in the world to come ye may have life everlasting. Amen.”
The thick intense music gradually faded until the only sound was the original recording, the instruments thin and toneless, the melody unremarkable.
Nina’s eyes opened slowly. She was Nina, not Miranda, the intense spirit of the other girl had left her. She wiped shaky fingers across cheeks wet with tears. Piers had gone. She stood on shaky legs and turned, searching the dim recesses of the church for a final glimpse of his dark and tragic figure, straining her ears for the sound of his voice. He was gone. Completely and utterly.
Jessica stopped the tape and the silence was complete. Martin opened his arms to Nina and she walked into his embrace.
“It’s over,” he whispered. “It’s finally over.”
She nodded, unable to speak, unable to express not only the relief but also the inexplicable sadness that went with it. Piers had been the most extraordinary man she would ever meet in her life. She would miss him and she would never ever forget him. Or Miranda. Both had become a part of her and always would be. On some level Piers was her husband.
“My goodness,” Giles declared.
“She’s changed completely,” Jessica said.
Nina spun about to look at Miranda. The supernatural glow suffused the whole painting and spilled over to the surroundings. Then, as they watched, it gradually dimmed. Miranda’s skin and clothing returned to the painted colour but it was her expression that commanded attention. Her eyes sparkled, a smile played on her lips—she was a carefree, happy girl.
“She looks like a girl on her wedding day,” said Jessica. “So very happy.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Isn’t she beautiful.”
“It is her wedding day,” said Giles.
“Look at her hand,” whispered Nina. A gold wedding band gleamed on the third finger left hand.
“Extraordinary,” said Giles. “Absolutely extraordinary.”
“I can’t believe we’ve done it. At last, we can have our lives back,” said Martin.
“I’ll miss Piers,” said Nina.
“No, you won’t.” Martin grabbed her and swung her off the ground. He put her down and kissed her soundly. “I’ll see to that.”
“Did you hear how the music had changed?” Nina asked.
Martin nodded. “Pretty ordinary piece really. Lovely melody but…”
“Nothing more,” Nina finished.
“I think it’s time for bed.” Jessica picked up the tape player. “I’m exhausted.”
Martin and Giles covered the painting with the coats while Nina collected the instruments and umbrellas. She followed the others as they went down the aisle, slowing her pace for a last silent farewell to the man who’d loved so much and been loved so much. She paused at the last row of pews ready to walk out into the night and into her future with the real man she loved with all her heart.
“Goodbye, Piers. May you rest in peace, now.”
She stepped through the door and as she did she heard what might have been the winter wind sighing in the trees but could have been Piers’ voice one last time.
“Thank you. My love. My life.”
A word about the author…
An Australian author, Elisabeth writes romance with an Aussie flavor. She lives in Canberra with her husband of many years. Shadow Music is her nineteenth romance but her first paranormal.
Find her at:
http://www.elisabethrose.com.au
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Shadow Music Page 30