Page 77 of A Lady in Name

CHAPTER TWELVE

St Bride’s Church, as the little building was designated, proved to be an ancient edifice in the Norman style. The door was open, and Lucy instinctively moved a little closer to Stefan as they crossed the threshold to enter the dark interior.

“Nervous?”

Lucy shivered uncontrollably. “A trifle. I don’t know why. The place is not much different from the others.”

“Older, perhaps.”

“Ghostlier, I think.”

He put an arm about her and drew her against him for a moment. “No ghost will harm you while I am by.”

Lucy gave a gurgle. “I thank you, my brave champion.”

He laughed. “That’s better.”

“May I help you?”

Lucy started and Stefan almost jumped himself. The feathery voice came from the other end of the aisle, where a semi-white shape could be discerned in the dimness.

“Yes, you can,” Stefan called out, “if you are the priest in charge of this church.”

The figure moved in their direction. As it shifted into the light, it materialised into the form of a frail-looking cleric of advanced years, dressed in a cassock with a surplice over all which had given him his ghostly air. Stefan found himself being inspected through a pair of thick spectacles.

“Whom have I the honour of addressing?” The voice was as gentle and airy as the man. Stefan made the introductions, and the cleric presented a dry lined hand to be shaken. “I am the Reverend Poslingford and very pleased to welcome you to our humble church. How may I help you?” His eye went from one to the other, and he emitted a kindly smile. “Is it a matter of banns, perhaps?”

“Not on this occasion,” Stefan said, “though our business is delicate.” He embarked upon his now practised explanation.

The Reverend Poslingford tutted in an ineffectual way. “A marriage, you say. Of course, I have performed a goodly number over the years. Do you know the year in question?”

“1781,” Stefan supplied. Then, reflecting the marriage might have taken place any time in the previous nine months, added, “Or it might be 1780.”

“Dear me, it is a long way back.”

“But you have the registers, have you not?”

“Yes, yes. They have been kept religiously, if you will pardon the pun.” A dry little cackle accompanied this mild joke. “We have a little time before the evening service. Let us repair to the vestry, and we will essay.”

Not much to Stefan’s surprise, it took a deal of tutting and puffing before the elderly cleric managed to locate the register they needed. Stefan could feel Lucy’s growing impatience beside him, but since Mr Poslingford had refused all offers of assistance, there was little to be done.

Stefan found her hand and squeezed it by way of encouragement. He noted its coldness, and looked more closely at her face. Lucy’s eyes were wide and dark, as if some unfathomable fear cut at her heart. Stefan could not help but wonder if she was driven by a sixth sense. No, absurd. If St Bride’s turned out to be the place, how could she possibly discern it?

“Aha, I think I have it.” The cleric rose from his knees where he had been systematically turning over as many tomes as had been discovered in Mr Graydene’s vestry. Except that all appeared to be devoted to marriages. Stefan reminded himself this was a very old church.

Lucy’s eyes were glued to the faded leather of the book in the cleric’s hands. Why she could not have said, but she was filled with a resurgence of the hollow sensation which had attacked her at sight of the entry of her birth. She was not faint, but gripped by an intense conviction of an unseen presence beside her. The wild notion entered her mind that her mother’s spirit had crossed from beyond the grave to invade this place. Or guided her steps to this very spot.

The book was laid upon a table, its pages spread open. Lucy watched the leaves turn over as the cleric searched carefully through the dates.

“This is the year.”

His voice seemed sepulchral in Lucy’s ears, as if she was hearing him through a veil of cloud. She saw Stefan move to a position beside him, leaning down to read the entries. When he paused, and put his finger out, Lucy felt she had known an instant before that he would do it.

“You have found it.”

Both Stefan and the Reverend Poslingford looked up. As if from a distance Lucy noted Stefan’s concerned frown. She made an effort.

“Read it, if you please.”