The Scottish Bride - Catherine Coulter [130]
But when he spoke, his eyes were intense, his expression bleak. He became an avenging angel, here to warn the people of the consequences of their sins. He spoke at length of one’s duties to God, of not allowing worldly considerations to pull one away from one’s focus on God and his commandments. He spoke of God’s expectations of those who believed in him and devoted their lives to him and his teachings.
He spoke eloquently, intelligently, his words severe, stark, and, in truth, Mary Rose thought, many of his thoughts so intricate and complex that they seemed to her to be fitted more to a roomful of clergymen than to a church filled with laypeople here to worship.
She became very still as she listened to her husband speak to the nearly two hundred people packed into the church. There was not a hint of levity or laughter in his voice, no message of redemption or joy in any of his words, no assurances of God’s boundless love and compassion, no encouragement to marvel at the daily endless beauty of God’s bounty.
He was intelligent, she thought, so very austere and clever in his harshness. And he was very cold. Mary Rose realized that his brothers and their wives saw nothing amiss with what he was saying or how he spoke. That was what they were used to? No, that didn’t seem right. Her husband, the man who had enveloped her in his caring, his kindness, his immense ability to make her feel very good about herself, he wasn’t to be found in this vicar. This was a very different man, a man she didn’t know. How could it be? She realized suddenly, in a flash of insight, that his siblings looked disappointed. Was that possible?
She didn’t like that distant, harsh sermon or this stranger who spoke with such cold passion about God’s endless demands, His countless tasks for man to perform to earn His approval. This stranger was pious and hard and demanding on God’s behalf; he was ready to smite both the sins and the sinners into eternity.
Thankfully, the service finally ended. Mary Rose sat there, stunned. Mrs. Caddy began playing a loud, energetic recessional, and Mary Rose stood with everyone else.
Tysen, Samuel behind him, walked down the center aisle, past his family, not looking at them, or at her, not pausing to speak to them, or to her. He stationed himself just outside the great church doors, in the light of the early-afternoon sun, not smiling, seriously greeting each of his parishioners, shaking hands, bowing over others, speaking quietly, not even one stingy smile ever showing on his mouth.
When Mary Rose paused in front of him, he gave her only a curt nod, as he did his brothers and their wives. As he did his own children and nephews.
No one said a word to Mary Rose. Max, Leo, and Meggie stayed close to her, but they didn’t speak to her. They were talking low among themselves. She knew they could see that she was completely smashed down. She also knew they realized if they did try to comfort her, she would burst into tears. She couldn’t begin to imagine how Max and Leo would react to that.
28
TYSEN CAME THROUGH the narrow garden gate. He stood at the back of the garden, his palms pressed against the pale peach stone wall, the ivy touching his fingers. He pressed his forehead against the wall. The sun had disappeared behind wintry gray clouds. It was chilly, but still not all that cold. Nevertheless, he felt numb to his bones. He closed his eyes and wondered what he was going to do. He could, quite honestly, think of no more prayers, no more pleas to God to show him his duty, to give him guidance, to help him see what His plan was for this one simple man. Perhaps it was because he already had God’s plan, that he’d performed exactly as God wished him to as his chosen emissary. But it was cheerless, that plan. He felt deadened all the way to his soul, and surely that was blasphemy.
He had prayed himself out. Now he felt utterly alone, and he knew