of Belmont and Mrs. Kendrick sat in front of Mrs. Wilson and her daughter. Olivia came in at the last minute, trailing a scent of apples and cinnamon that made Jess hope there might be cake this evening. When she saw him sitting in the last row, she slid in next to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“I feel a fraud being here,” she whispered. “I barely knew the man, but hated him more than I hate yeast that fails.”
“Lollie,” Jess said, using a childhood nickname that still suited her, “there are times when I wonder how you can be married to a man of God.”
“I am just being honest, which Michael would applaud, and I assure you that I am going to pray for Crenshaw’s soul.”
“Don’t you think it’s too late to spare him the fires of hell?”
“Michael would say he may have repented at the last moment and no prayers are ever wasted.” She wrinkled her nose. “That has burdened me with an image of God, or maybe St. Peter, busy all the time routing prayers to where they are needed most.”
She settled herself, closing her eyes, her brow furrowed in concentration. Jess watched her, wishing that prayers were all that were needed to right his world.
Beatrice came in with her father and sister and they moved toward seats in the second row, directly behind the countess as Mervis directed. Beatrice lagged behind her family, turning to look at Jess. She seemed weighed down with a distress that he was sure had little to do with Crenshaw. He nodded to her. It was not pride or some high opinion of himself that convinced him that he was the cause of her upset. It was the ache in his own heart.
She neither turned away from him nor responded to his gesture, but continued to stare at him with a sadness that was painful to see.
He wished there was something he could do to make her curious again, to make her exclaim, “What fun!,” to make her understand that in another world he would have loved her forever. In this world, in the life he had created for himself, his love would corrupt her until she hated him and he hated himself even more.
Several of the senior staff and gentlemen of the house, like the curator, Mr. Hogarth, filled in the empty rows. The chapel was full when the Reverend Michael Garrett came into the sanctuary, dressed in a simple purple vestment perfectly suited to the occasion.
Jess watched Beatrice’s back. He loved reading her by the way she angled her head. At the moment it was bent low, most likely in prayer, and he could see the sweet curve of her neck, so vulnerable, so untouched.
“Not all of us here mourn the passing of Arthur Crenshaw.”
That drew everyone’s attention. Jess watched as Beatrice raised her head abruptly, angling it to one side as if she was not sure she had heard correctly.
“It’s as though he is speaking directly to me,” Olivia whispered. “I’m not sure if I hate or love the way he can do that.”
Jess nodded absently, well aware that Garrett was speaking directly to him. What did Olivia have to regret? Some unkind thoughts? Had any other person in this chapel wished Crenshaw dead? Thought killing him was the best possible solution? And though it was one more thing that would damn him to hell, Jess felt no remorse.
“We are each created in God’s image and likeness. That may become distorted as we age. But you and I, the living, should find joy in the chance we still have to rediscover that blessing of goodness. The blessing that came with us into the world and is with us always.”
Garrett paused as though he wanted everyone to think about his words. Jess watched Beatrice lean forward in her pew, seemingly engrossed in what Michael was saying.
“Arthur Crenshaw has no more time to prove himself. May God have mercy on his soul.”
Jess supposed that was as close as the Reverend Mr. Garrett would come to saying that Crenshaw deserved to burn in hell.
“But!” Garrett made the word an exclamation. “There is no rule that says we who are still embracing the joy of life must continue on the road we have chosen so far.”
Beatrice wiggled in her seat, and Jess understood the discomfort those words could arouse.
“We are free to choose another path at this moment, tomorrow, or at the moment of death.” He paused and added, “All those