Page 60 of Bane Bloom

He nodded. “In the churchyard, along with everyone else who’s ever died in the valley.”

I was glad to hear they’d not been denied that, at least.

“Well, thank you. When should we set out?”

“Half past nine or so. Morning prayers are at ten.”

“Will you have some breakfast?” I said as he was opening the door. “I’m making coffee.”

He glanced back. “Thank you. I’ve broken my fast already.”

The door closed firmly behind him.

I sighed and poured water over the grounds.

At least he said thank you.

Thomas was even quieter than usual on the drive, which made it hard to fully appreciate the very fine day. Based on the things he had said before I left his room last night, I thought he was likely experiencing regret. Though I was confused and uncertain, I couldn’t feel regret over something I kept replaying in my mind, and his silence hurt.

We arrived at the picturesque church as the villagers had begun filing inside. It was a squarish but quaint stone chapel perched atop a rocky hill that overlooked lake and valley. Although rustic and charming, to my eye it wasn’t particularly old. Sheep grazed among some rubble on the grassy hillside that looked like it might have been left from an earlier structure. A rather steep stone stairway led up to the church porch.

“When the service is over,” said Thomas, handing me down, “find me in the churchyard around back.”

Before I could reply, someone called out a greeting, and I turned to find Annie, on the arm of a man about her own age, coming to join us. Thomas moved on up the hill before they could reach us, and the man’s eyes followed him.

“You have come,” said Annie, beaming. “This is my husband, Bill Foss. Bill, this is Miss Cricket Gray.”

Bill Foss was young, like his wife, with a sweep of dark hair that he pushed from his eyes. I bowed my head. “Good morning, Mr. Foss. I’m pleased to meet you.”

“Morning, Miss Gray.” His reply wasn’t exactly gruff, but it was shortish. I thought his face good natured enough, though.

“Shall we go in?” said Annie.

“Careful now, lass,” said her husband, tucking her hand securely into the crook of his arm before starting up the stairs. I decided I liked him.

I followed them, glancing out just before entering the building and glimpsing Thomas making his way down the sloping ground in back.

The church was as cozy inside as I would have expected from the exterior, with perhaps a dozen pews. Only one pew at the back still had room. Mr. Foss seated his wife and insisted I take the seat beside her while he stood behind us. I tried to refuse this courtesy, but he seemed quite shocked at the suggestion he would sit while “a lady” stood, especially one who was a stranger among them.

The pastor was softspoken and conducted an unfussy service, which made it easy enough to drift along on my own thought rivulets. With that said, the opening lines of prayer—“This is another day, O Lord. I know not what it will bring forth, but make me ready, Lord, for whatever it may be”—felt more apt than ever before.

Inevitably my thoughts returned to Thomas. Even church couldn’t stop me from feeling a pang that the moments of passion we’d shared were unlikely to be repeated. “Protecting you is the furthest thing from my mind right now,” he had said, and how I had burned to know what had been in his mind. But then he had sent me away.

And I was clearheaded enough now to be grateful. Carrying on like that jeopardized everything I’d come here to do. And what could it lead to? Nothing, he’d made that clear. Even had he been willing, the whole endeavor would have been fraught from top to bottom.

Yet I still couldn’t bring myself to regret what had happened.

My thoughts swirled around in similar unhelpful ways until at last the small congregation began to muster for an exit and the journey homeward for their day of rest—except for the wives, of course, because no heavenly host would appear to prepare the Sunday dinner their families would expect.

Annie turned to me as we were rising. “You’ll come then, Tuesday, won’t you? And Thomas, too?”

The people in the pews in front of us held back until Annie could maneuver herself into the aisle, though mostly their eyes were on me. A heavily pregnant woman in church didn’t seem to create the spectacle it would in London society.

“Thomas has agreed to bring me,” I told her, as her husband gave her his arm. “But I don’t think he will attend.”

Mr. Foss looked startled, and I guessed he was unaware his wife had extended an invitation to Thomas.

Annie frowned. “Well, that’s a shame, but I’m glad you’ll be there. Perhaps you’ll change his mind by then.”