Sea of Fire (24 page)

“I didn’t mean to alarm you.” Christian gingerly rubbed the middle of her back.

“What do you suggest?” She walked away from his ministrations to clear the dishes from the dining table and put them on the sideboard.

“Let me think on it. You may learn more after you meet with him the following eve.” He tugged out his pocket watch and checked the time. “It grows late. Get some rest. I’ll be back tomorrow at half past eleven to escort you to the building.”

She saw him to the door and watched as he boarded his carriage. He waved, and she returned the gesture before she closed the heavy entryway door.

Where would she be without Christian’s common sense? She was too close to the nightmare to think logically at times. Every encounter with Christian weakened her resolve. Perhaps another head concerning this entire affair would be wise. Perhaps, it was time to trust someone. Besides, it would be nice not to have to always be on the defensive.

Chapter Seventeen

Christian was barely seated before he began to disrobe. “How can you concentrate on
drawing, clothed in this friar’s garb?” He addressed Elizabeth, who sat opposite him. The offensive garment was partially over his head when the carriage moved forward with a jolt. He kept himself from tottering over into her lap. “I’m itchy and as uncomfortable as hell.”

Elizabeth smiled and waited until his face showed. “It does get a bit warm, especially with Roderick standing over me.”

“How did it go? You appear rather smug.”

“I am. Roderick was like a babe with sweets, he was so pleased with my accuracy. He was also in good cheer.” She folded her hands on her lap and took her time. Had he been the one with information to divulge, she would have urged him to hurry with it.

Instead, he watched and patiently waited for her to continue.

“He said his next assignments will enable me to work during the daylight hours.” She glanced at him for a reaction. He gave none. “He also said he would ask Adam if I may speak with him.”

That statement perked his interest. He scooted to the edge of the carriage seat. “This may be the opportunity we need. If I can talk to Adam, too, I’d be able to get to the bottom of all this. Tell me when. How soon?”

“He said he would ask, Christian. I’m not certain I’ll get to talk to him at all. Also, remember, my father’s life still depends on me.”

His eyes narrowed. For a fleeting moment, he looked pained. His earlier expression of enthusiasm changed to one of aggravation. “May I remind
you,
yet again, that I told you I would do nothing to jeopardize your father. May I also remind you that I have a brother who has been missing and is obviously in deep trouble. Do you think I have no feelings about this situation? One day you may be forced to trust me. I only hope your hesitation will not prove fatal.” He leaned back in his seat and stared out the carriage window into the night.

What could she say when she deserved every word of his scorn. The only people’s feelings she had considered were those of
her
family. He had demonstrated time and time again, that all he wanted was to find Adam, too, and resolve these mysterious actions of his. He had been patient with her, even trusted her.

“Christian?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

He glanced her way.

“I apologize.”

He returned his gaze to the window.

“I’ll try to do better.”

He ignored her.

“I truly am sorry. What more can I say?”

He sighed and faced her. “Nothing. Trust is not something you can say you will do and magically it’s there. It is a sentiment that must be earned and apparently one I haven’t earned with you.”

“I want ...”

“Say no more.” He waved her off. “We’ve arrived at your home.”

The carriage stopped. He stood and held the door for her. “I want you to contact me when Roderick gives you his next orders.”

“Aye. I will.”

He escorted her inside, bade her good-night and left her alone and overwhelmed with regret.

She listened a moment to the lonesome silence of an empty home before she trudged up the steps to her bedchamber.

* * * *

Christian clanked the door knocker, hoping Elizabeth would answer immediately. The cold gloomy day chilled him so that he wanted to be outdoors only as long as necessary. Thankfully, seconds later, she answered.

“I came as soon as I received your missive,” he said. It had been two days since Roderick had made any demands of her. Even so, dark circles shadowed her eyes. She was less than her sprightly self. “Have you been ill?”

“Nay. I haven’t had much rest.”

“Because of your father?” He disliked seeing her so lackluster.

“Nay.”

“Are you upset with me because I got angry with you the last time we were together?”

“Nay.”

“What then?”

“I’d rather ...” she hesitated as if she remembered something and said, “I had a nightmare last night. It woke me up, and I couldn’t fall back to sleep for some hours.”

“It sounds like it is still disturbing you.”

She nodded. “Somewhat.”

He guided her by the elbow to the staircase, which was fast becoming a favorite place of his to sit and talk. For some reason, the steps brought them closer together— made their conversation seem more intimate and more important.

When they were sitting hip to hip and leg to leg, he said, “Tell me about it.”

“I was down at the quay, paying off a debt of Roderick’s with a sack of bad coins. The woman he owed was an angel. When I handed her the sack, she smiled at me. Her mouth grew so large I could see inside.” She paused to watch his reaction—more than likely to see if he’d laugh.

He said, “Go on.”

“There was a red glow beckoning me to follow. I shook my head, nay. The angel became furious. Somehow she turned inside out and no longer was an angel, but a hangman. He slipped a noose over my head. I tried to run, but my feet were paralyzed. I could not. He tightened the noose. I cried out. The same instant I awoke.”

Christian held her in his arms and stroked her hair. “It certainly would have scared the breeches off me.”

“It would have?” She peeked up at him.

“Well, not literally.”

She smiled at him and relaxed in his arms.

“What do you suppose it means?”

“Anything is likely in a dream. There’s no rhyme or reason. I’ve been known to do some flying in mine.”

She giggled. “You have?”

He grinned and nodded.

She giggled some more and said, “Seriously, I could hang if I am caught counterfeiting, you know.” She squirmed from his embrace.

“You won’t get caught. I promise. Now, hurry and get changed into your robe, Brother John, so Brother Joseph may do so. We should leave if you are to be punctual.” He stood.

She did the same and said, “Thank you. I feel much better.”

He watched her bottom as she moved up the stairs from his sight. You’re a friar, he reminded himself and exited to the parlor to change.

They met at the entryway at the same time.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Aye.”

“Do you ever wonder what your neighbors must think?” Christian shut the door behind them.

“Nay. ‘Tis none of their affair. Besides we’re lucky in that way. Our neighbors keep to themselves. We don’t get nosy and neither do they.”

“Well, this might push them to inquire.”

She laughed, and once again, they plopped inside the waiting vehicle.

Twenty minutes later, Christian deposited her at a coffeehouse several blocks from St. Patrick’s Cathedral. He paid the driver and watched the shop entrance from several buildings down across the street. He felt far more conspicuous in the daylight. No doubt Elizabeth did too, despite her dislike for doing Roderick’s bidding at night.

Elizabeth had been commanded by Roderick to accept a pouch of coins from a ruddy-complexioned seaman and later, to bring the sack to Roderick. Consequently, Christian wasn’t surprised to see the man leave the coffeehouse so soon after Elizabeth arrived.

He waited until no pedestrians strolled the sidewalks before he crossed the street and entered the establishment. He took a chair next to Elizabeth.

“Do you have the ...” He cleared his throat.

“Aye. I’ve ordered you a pastry and coffee.”

“How considerate, Brother John,” he said and surveyed his surroundings. A small-statured, nervous man smiled at him. Christian returned the smile.

Elizabeth turned her attention to the jittery man. He smiled at her.

“That man is staring at us. Do you suppose he knows we’re not real friars?” she whispered to Christian.

“Nay.”

A serving lass brought his order. He chomped into the pastry and swallowed. “I’m hungry.”

Yet, before he could take another bite, the nervous little man showed up at their table.

“I didn’t know friars ate at coffeehouses.”

“We’re from a special order,” Elizabeth said in her friarly voice, trying hard not to giggle.

“My name is Tibbes. Do ye mind if I speak with ye?” the man asked. He was neatly dressed and reminded her of the clerks at the bank.

“Actually,” Christian began, but Elizabeth responded faster.

“We will be happy to talk with you,” she said. “Do you have a problem? Can we help you in some way?” She kept her hood and head down so the man could not get a clear view of her face.

“Aye. I’ve got a problem all right. May I be blunt?”

She noticed that Christian had decided to stay out of it. Very well. She’d help the man alone. “Absolutely,” Elizabeth assured Tibbes.

“Ye know I love me wife.” ‘ ‘Tis good in the Lord’s eyes.”

“But I can’t make her happy anymore,” he added. “If you know what I mean.”

“Brother John. I think it would be best if I ...”

“Brother Joseph. Please, do not refrain from gorging yourself,” she said a bit annoyed. Now, he decided to speak. Well, he could just wait. “I can help the man.”

“Tell me exactly what you mean,” she encouraged. ‘ ‘Tis my tallywhacker,” the man blurted out.

She was about to ask what a tallywhacker was when Christian spoke up. “Tibbes,” he cleared his throat. “Whatever is wrong with your ... you should speak to a doctor. We entertain the spiritual, not the physical need.”

She was beginning to understand what particular part of Tibbes they were discussing and grew increasingly warm. God in heaven. What would it be next?

As if on request, the coffeehouse door burst open, bringing with it a gusty breeze. Elizabeth nudged Christian who turned around to check the direction of her nod. Brother Patrick spotted them and gave a hearty wave.

Christian stood and told Tibbes, “We must be on our way. May God be with you and help you with your problem—whatever it may be. Let us take our leave, Brother John.” He grabbed her by the hand. Tibbes gasped. Christian instantly released her.

She suffered a pang of guilt. There was no time to explain to Tibbes. The poor man would have to wonder.

“We can’t avoid Brother Patrick,” Elizabeth whispered to Christian. Brother Patrick was almost upon them.

“Fellow brothers,” the overly friendly friar greeted them. “I happened to see you through the window as I walked past. It is unheard of for you to take your repast in a public domain.”

“We are a special order,” Elizabeth explained in her deepest most reverent of voices and added, “The Order of the Black Angel.”

“Nay. Nay. I don’t mean that, though I’ve never heard of your order.” He cocked his head and considered it. “I know some orders are quite different from others. The Order of the Holy Trinity, as part of their duty to our Lord, go out and mingle with society. What I mean to say is, you need to come to the church for your repast. The clergy always welcome the friars.”

The way they stood blocked the path to other tables. Christian excitedly waved his arms in the direction of the door and nudged her and Brother Patrick to move ahead. Elizabeth was about to ask what was wrong when she remembered she had told the friar that Christian didn’t speak. “Let’s talk outside,” she said.

She was careful to keep her head down in a most humble manner before she said, “It is most kind of you to bring this to our attention. We will remember the next time we are in Dublin; however, we were on our return to our monastery.”

“Do you speak of the one in Howth?”

“Aye. The same.”

“What a coincidence,” Brother Patrick said. He tried to remain calm. “I am going there myself.”

“When are you leaving?” Elizabeth asked.

“In several hours,” Brother Patrick replied. “And you?”

“Not until after high tea—possibly later this evening,” she hurriedly told the friar. “We’ll not detain you further. Good journey, Brother Patrick.” She started to walk away. Christian followed.

“Where are you going?” Brother Patrick called after them.

Next instant, the nearby church bells rang and Elizabeth responded. “Prayers.”

“Where’s that?” Brother Patrick repeated.

“Prayers,” she said, but continued to stroll down the street. Again, Christian followed.

Next moment, she heard footsteps behind her. She turned, as did Christian. Brother Patrick stood panting before them. He shoved his bulky body between them, placed his chunky arms on either of their shoulders and said, “Brothers, you’re going the wrong way. St. Patrick’s Cathedral is this way.”

What choice did Christian or she have? They were led back to church, where they found themselves in the first pew before the altar. Several other friars nodded at them in solemn greeting as they took their place. Apparently, the service was designated for the friars, as the church was filled with individuals dressed like themselves.

Brother Patrick bent over them and spoke in a quiet voice. “I prefer to sit nearer the rear. Bless thee, Brothers. I’ll let them know Brother Joseph doesn’t speak,” he said and was gone.

Elizabeth soon found the reason why Brother Patrick preferred the back of the church and made his other comment. The one she presumed to be the leader, or head friar, with several subordinates at his side appeared at the altar. They chanted in Latin. Next a friar in the first pew chanted, then the friar beside him, and the next. Each intonation was certainly different, too. “I’m going to be expected to follow suit,” she murmured to Christian. “What are we to do?”