No Graves as Yet_ A Novel - Anne Perry [49]
Because he was afraid of the encounter, he went straightaway, within minutes of their car pulling up at the front gate on St. John’s Street. He saw Mitchell taking them solemnly through the first quad and the second toward the master’s house. Joseph met them a dozen yards from the front door.
Mary was dressed in black, her skirt stained with dust at the hem, her hat wide, shading her veiled face. Beside her, Gerald looked like a man struggling to stand the morning after a drunken binge. His skin was pasty, his eyes bloodshot. He took a moment or two to recognize Joseph, then lurched toward him, momentarily seeming to forget his wife.
“Reavley! Thank God you’re here! What happened? I don’t understand—it doesn’t make sense! Nobody would . . .” He tailed off helplessly, not knowing what else he meant to say. He wanted help, anyone who would tell him it was not true and release him from a grief he could not bear.
Joseph gripped Gerald’s hand and steadied his other arm, taking some of his weight as he staggered. “We don’t know what happened,” he said firmly. “It seems to have been around half past five this morning, and the best thing I can say at the moment is that it was very quick, a couple of seconds, if that. He didn’t suffer.”
Mary was in front of him, her black eyes blazing even through her veil. “Is that supposed to comfort me?” she demanded, her voice hoarse. “He’s dead! Sebastian’s dead!”
Her passion was too fierce for Joseph to touch, and yet he was standing here in the middle of the quad in the July sun trying to find words that would be something more than a statement of his own futility. Where was the fire of his faith when he needed it? Anyone could believe on a calm Sunday in a church pew, when life was whole and safe. Faith is real only when there is nothing else between you and the abyss, an unseen thread strong enough to hold the world.
“I know he’s dead, Mary,” he answered her. “I can’t tell you why or how. I don’t know who did it, or whether they meant to or not. We may learn everything except the reason, but it will take time.”
“It’s the reason I want!” Her voice shook with fury. “Why Sebastian? He was . . . beautiful!”
He knew what she meant, not only his face but the brilliance of his mind, the strength of his dreams. “Yes, he was,” he agreed.
“So why has your God let some stupid, worthless . . .” She could not think of a word big enough to carry her hatred. “Destroy him?” she spat. “Tell me why, Reverend Reavley!”
“I don’t know. Did you think I would be able to tell you? I’m just as human as you are, just as much in need of learning faith, walking with trust, not—”
“Trust in what?” Her thin, black-gloved hand sliced the air. “A God who takes everything from me and lets evil destroy good?”
“Nothing destroys good,” he said, wondering if it was true. “If good were never threatened, and even beaten sometimes, then there would be no good, because it would eventually become no more than wisdom, self-interest. If—”
She turned away from him impatiently, snatching her arm back as if he had been holding her, and stalked over the grass toward Connie Thyer, standing at the doorway of the master’s house.
“I’m sorry,” Gerald muttered helplessly. “She’s taking it . . . I . . . I really . . .”
“It’s all right.” Joseph stopped his fumbling embarrassment. It was painful to see and he wanted it ended for both their sakes. “I understand. You had better go and be with her. She needs you.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Gerald said with an instant’s extraordinary bitterness. Then he caught himself, blushed, and walked away after her.
Joseph started back toward the first quad and was almost there when he saw the second woman, also veiled and in black. She was apparently lost, looking through the arch tentatively. She seemed young, from the grace of her posture, yet there was a dignity and natural assurance to her suggesting that in other circumstances she would have been very much in command of herself.
“May I help you?” Joseph asked, startled to see her. He could not imagine what she could be doing here in