The Journal of a Vicar's Wife (16 page)

I watched him at the window, in silence for a moment.

‘Understanding now as I do your connection with the Holy Words, would you allow me to read some verses of my own selection for you?’ I said after a moment, feeling absurdly nervous.

Frederick became very still, his gaze directed somewhere out in the garden. Daylight was still bright, though the room was dim. ‘Of course,’ he said, without turning around.

I felt a nervous hammering in my breast. I coughed once more. ‘It says in I Corinthians, “if I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or clanging cymbal.”

I hesitated as I saw him stiffen. ‘We have both been those clanging cymbals, haven’t we, Frederick?’

Again he remained silent.

‘I do not wish to be a clanging cymbal anymore, and nor do I wish it of you.’ I spoke with passion. Still, he did not turn.

I waited for a response. It did not come.

I looked again at my Bible, a feeling of dread tightening my belly. It did not seem that my carefully selected words were having the effect I had hoped.

There was nothing to do but forge forth. ‘It continues to say that “Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things … “’ My voice faded, and a sense of failure as acute as the interminable silence fell over us both.

The choking lump in my throat expanded. I looked up at my husband’s broad back, still unturned before the window. ‘Please, Frederick. Look at me.’

His head tilted, and I could see a muscle in his shaven cheek jump, but he still did not turn.

I was failing. Panic, horror and unutterable sadness replaced my nervousness.

‘I have made you endure difficulties many a husband would not tolerate, and I am so terribly sorry. There is no true excuse for my infidelity, whether you blame me or not. There is but one simple truth. Neither of us has been patient or kind with the other. But I wish to start, now, if you’ll let us. Together, in open conversation, we can mend what is broken. I’m sure of it.’

Finally, he turned. His dark brown eyes were dry, and deep with thought. For a moment I thought he might reject my offer. Then he spoke in a low rumble.

‘It also says in the Book of Luke, “Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned … “’

‘“Forgive, and you will be forgiven.”’ I finished for him.

Our eyes met in that instant and I held my breath.

‘You are forgiven, Maria,’ he said, and reached for my hand.

The thick lump swelled in my throat yet again. Did I need to say that I too forgave him? Suddenly, I wasn’t at all sure what I needed to forgive him for.

His hand was warm and comforting around mine, and I forgot whatever it was that I had meant to say, and slowly I moved towards him.

For the first time in our marriage, my husband wrapped his arms about me, and I sank into his comforting embrace.

I have never felt anything so wonderful and reassuring as that. My head rested against the broad plain of his jacket. I could hear his heartbeat thumping fast beneath the cloth, and I felt the stirrings of love swell in my breast as it never had done before.

I knew then, as I know now writing this account, that this marriage is a journey we travel together, not alone as I previously thought. It is with but the Grace of God that I have been joined with a man who can forgive me my sins, as bountiful as they are; and I can be the wife who understands and forgives him his foibles as he forgives mine.

I do not doubt that there will be difficulties and hardships to come. Frederick’s piety and righteousness may well be burden as much as blessing – but this time, as not before, I have faith that so long as we travel this path together with open hearts, and even more open minds, then our lives will be good ones, from this moment forth.

* * *

Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm, for love is strong as death, jealousy is fierce as the grave. Its flashes are flashes of fire, the very flame of the Lord. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it.

Song of Solomon 8:6–7

Thanks for reading
The Journal of a Vicar’s Wife
. I hope you enjoyed it.

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You’ve just read the fifth book in my series. The other books in this series are,
The Secret Diary of Lady Catherine Bexley, The Wicked Confessions of Lady Cecelia Stanton, The Private Affairs of Lady Jane Fielding
and
The Observations of Curious Governess.

If you liked this book, here are my other books:
Wicked Confessions (print edition)
and
Secret Confessions Sydney Housewives: Emma.
There is more info abuot all my books over the page.

This book was published by Escape Publishing. If you’d like to sample some more great books from my fellow Escape Artists, please turn the page.

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