by Sahara Kelly
“I meant you need to replenish your pantry.” She poured herself tea.
“There didn’t seem much point up until now. You weren’t here.”
“Ohhh…” she glanced at him, then took a piece of bread for herself. “Toast and guilt for breakfast.”
He grinned. “The jam is good.”
“Miss Smethurst?”
“Miss Tedworthy, I think.”
She laughed. “Simon, I had a thought this morning.”
“Me too.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “But you had already gotten out of bed.”
“Not that,” she blushed a little, charming Simon. “It’s about yesterday. In the church.”
“Yes?”
“If I recall correctly, just when we dodged the bullet, I thought I felt the floor move.”
He chewed thoughtfully. “You know, you may be right.”
“A loose slab?”
“I don’t know.” He finished his bread. “But I was thinking I should go over and take a quick look around, anyway. To make sure Godfrey finished everything up, and also to find where the bullet landed. It never occurred to me to see where it was.”
“There was a lot happening, so I think we can be pardoned on these matters,” she replied. “But I would like to come with you. My curiosity is piqued.”
Thus it was that Simon and his future bride let themselves in to St. Simon’s, to be greeted by the glorious sight of the sun illuminating half the church through the stained glass window.
“How lovely,” observed Tabby. “One can never get tired of seeing such a beautiful display.”
“Indeed. I have spent long minutes just sitting and marveling at it.”
“So,” Tabby walked up the nave and stopped before the altar, in the chancel area. “I believe we were about here…”
“A little more to the right, I think…” Simon moved her slightly.
She looked down.
The large slab upon which she stood had carvings incised upon its surface, similar to the others that graced the chancel. There were no steps or screens—the church really wasn’t large enough—so the carvings on the floor served as a separator, distinguishing the area from the nave.
“Yes, yes…you’re right. It was here.”
She tapped her shoe on the stone, and nothing happened. Then Simon joined her…and there was a definite shift beneath their feet.
“Oh, did you feel that?” She looked up at him. “It moved, didn’t it?”
“It did indeed.” Simon stepped away. “Let’s take a look at it.” They both stepped off the single slab and stared at it.
“I don’t see anything out of the ordinary.” Tabby bent down and carefully knelt on the next slab, running her fingers along the seam between them. “But…here…and here…” she leaned closer. “There’s definitely a gap.”
Simon walked to the opposite side, knelt, and put both hands on the corner of the stone. Then he pressed down, putting his full weight on it. They both gasped when his end sank and hers rose.
“Look…it’s loose.” She flashed Simon a quick glance. “And I think I can see something underneath. Can you push it down any more?”
He tried, but that seemed as far as it would go. “Damn. I cannot move it any further down, Tabs.” He released it and the stone slowly sank back into place. “But we must raise it more. I will not take the risk of any of my parishioners tripping over it and injuring themselves.” Rising to his feet he looked around, then walked into the sacristy, returning a few minutes later with what looked like a sturdy iron bar.
Tabby blinked. “Goodness me. Which service do you use that in?”
“I’m thinking it might be helpful if we start a Sunday service for children. Or Sunday school…” He thwacked it across his palm and grinned.
“Very funny. This is the Church, not the Inquisition.”
Simon walked to her side. “I’m going to see if I can pry up this side, if you’ll press down on the other side. If it comes up enough, I’ll wedge the bar beneath it to hold it in place.”
Tabby nodded and moved to the other side, doing as he suggested. And it was enough for him to wiggle the bar beneath the slab, and without much more effort on his part, to raise it several inches.
He sat back on his heels, a soft whistle emanating from between his lips. “Tabs? Come here and look at this.”
She hurried to his side, bent down and then grabbed his shoulder, as if to keep herself from falling.
“Good God.”
“He is indeed.”
With great care, Simon slid his hand beneath the stone and pulled out a slender but very heavy candlestick. There had once been wrappings, but now there were shreds of old fabric, linen and oilskin perhaps, dropping away from the piece.
“There’s a mate…here…” Tabby’s slender arm went further and she withdrew an identical piece.
“Simon,” she whispered. “What on earth have we found?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “My first thought is that this is church treasure, buried for safety.”
“There’s more inside. Can we lift the stone any further?” She squirmed around, trying to see into the little hidden hole.
“Wait…let me see what I can do.” He went back into the sacristy and looked out the window. Yes, there were a few bricks left from one of the restoration projects that had been done before he arrived. They would work perfectly.
It took a few minutes, but finally they had the stone propped as high as it would go, and the space beneath was revealed.
It was, or had been, a lidless box, the sides and base of which was some dark wood. More old musty fabric lined most of it, but along with the candlesticks, there was a goblet, a chalice, some kind of medallion, and a beautiful standing cross.
There was also a small wooden box with an intricate lock.
Tabby and Simon, satisfied that the cache was empty, replaced the slab carefully. Simon slid a piece of wood in with it, leveling it a little. “I’ll have to ask a stonemason to set it back permanently, I suppose,” he mused, while Tabby unwrapped their find.
“Probably,” she said absently.
“This is interesting.” He picked up the cross. “Fine workmanship, without a doubt.”
“Simon, these are all solid silver. They have an engraved hallmark.” She handled them with care, using a bit of her skirt to wipe away the dirt. As she did so, they began to shine, rivaling the sun outside. “And if they’re the property of the church…”
The magnitude of the find hit him all at once and he sat down on the nearest pew with a thud. “This could be worth a lot of money, couldn’t it?”
“Enough for a new roof at the least. Maybe even new pews, a new organ and enough left over for new hymnals as well.”
She picked up the little box and came to join him. “And we don’t yet know what’s in here.” She smiled up at him. “Do you have any guesses at all?”
“A big diamond.”
Tabby chuckled. “I doubt it, but one can dream.” She looked around…and her eye fell on the slab. She reached out and grabbed his arm, making him jump. “Simon.”
“What is it?”
“Look.” She pointed at the slab. “Look…the light through the window.”
Simon felt the hair on the back of his neck rise as the implications of what he was seeing dawned on him.
“Where the light of the Lord meets the cross…” Tabby’s whispered words echoed around the church like a song on a silent breeze.
Sunlight falling through the stained glass image of Christ was now touching the cross carved into the stone slab they’d just repositioned on the floor. The cross was blue, the blue of His robe, and above it was the golden flare of His halo.
“Old Sal knew. She knew this was here, Simon, and she told me. I’m not sure why she told me in particular, but there is the evidence. She definitely knew.”
He covered her hand with his. “I don’t know what to say. You’re right. And it is beyond belief
.”
They spent a moment or two just staring, until the moving sun shifted the blue away from the carved cross. Then Tabby sighed and looked at the box. “I have to wonder now, given what we’ve just seen, if this is something equally unexpected.”
She fiddled with the clasp under Simon’s watchful eye. There was a trick to it, and it took Tabby’s thumb and Simon’s finger to activate the release mechanism.
It popped up with a little snap, revealing…
“I can’t believe it. Look…” Tabby stared in disbelief.
Simon looked, looked again, and started to laugh. “It is, isn’t it? It’s St. Simon’s toe.”
EPILOGUE
Six weeks later
“Thank you for joining us, Mrs. Frost. Miss Frost.” Tabby shook hands with the departing parishioners at the end of the Sunday service.
“A pleasure, Lady Ellsmere. We’re so looking forward to your wedding,” smiled the older lady.
“Yes indeed,” said Miss Susan Frost, with little—if any—enthusiasm.
Tabby felt for her. “We are so glad you’ll both be able to attend. I’m looking forward to introducing you to some of my acquaintances from London who will be visiting for the ceremony. Several young gentlemen, who enjoy books as it happens, will appreciate the chance to learn more about the Ridlington area and converse with like-minded friends.”
Miss Susan looked a deal more enthusiastic as she curtseyed and moved away.
“That was nice of you,” said Simon softly.
“I’m learning how to be a good Vicar’s wife.” She grinned back. “Just brushing up on my tact.”
“Next Saturday, love. Next Sunday you will take your place here beside me once again, but it will be as my wife. And then on Monday we start our honeymoon.”
A little shiver of excitement passed over her as she saw the love in his eyes. “I know. I cannot wait.”
There were plenty of people in line, since word had spread about the discovery of what was becoming known as St. Simon’s treasure. The Diocese had been very supportive, offering financial recompense for the loan of the little cross, and the goblet. Apparently the cross was an extremely rare piece dating back to the Tudor period, and would make a great addition to their Ecclesiastical museum, while the goblet would join the collection of such items also curated by the Diocese.
Simon had agreed. The roof was well on the way to being tight as a drum.
The candlesticks graced St. Simon’s altar and the medallion, which nobody had yet identified, now rested on the desk of Bishop Miller-James.
The bullet, finally located by little Timmy Winslow underneath a pew, resided in Simon’s study—a reminder of how valuable life was. Timmy Winslow had been reminded by his mother of pretty much the same thing when she saw the state of his Sunday best breeches.
The “relic” itself was another matter. There was animated debate as to the best way to proceed with something that might easily be an old chicken bone rather than a saintly toe. So Simon had expressed the desire to retain it at St. Simon’s, since the local community had become much more engaged upon hearing of its discovery. His request was granted, and the relic now reposed in a lovely glass case next to the pulpit, where any visitor could see it and take whatever they wanted from the experience of looking at the alleged toe of a man who died hundreds of years before.
It had been a huge success. Simon had shrugged, Tabby had rolled her eyes, and both admitted they were glad they had it. After all, it had been part of their special miracle, so they were not about to argue against it being the real St. Simon’s toe.
Edmund and Rosaline came up to them. “Nice sermon, lad.”
Simon raised an eyebrow. “I’ll thank you for the compliment and express my feelings about being called lad later, when I beat you soundly at battledore.”
Rosaline and Tabby exchanged glances and sighed, knowing how fierce the combat was during what was supposed to be a simple child’s game.
“How are you feeling, Rosaline?” Tabby knew these were the last weeks of Rosaline’s pregnancy. And the most difficult.
“Large and uncomfortable. And the tadpole has now discovered the country dances. Or the waltz. I’m not sure.” She fanned herself. “I am looking forward to this all being done.”
“Me too,” said Edmund, one arm protectively around his wife. “She’s always asking for mincemeat. At this time of year. I ask you. Is that sensible at all?”
Simon chuckled. “Well I’m looking forward to being an uncle, so go home, Rosaline, and rest. Perhaps the babe will decide to come today.”
“Let’s hope you’re right,” answered Rosaline. “I’m ready.”
Right behind the Baron and his Lady were Letitia, escorted—as Tabby had come to expect—by James FitzArden.
“Next week. Next week I can truly call you sister.” Letitia embraced her, wreathed in smiles. “I’m so excited.”
“She is too,” said James wryly. “Thank you for letting her arrange the event, Tabby. Otherwise…she might well have exploded before the day arrived.”
“Oh, James,” Letitia rolled her eyes. “Gentlemen never quite understand the importance of such things.”
“Good thing too, if you ask me.” James muttered to Simon.
“Where are you two off to this afternoon?” Tabby intervened to ensure continued peace and tranquility.
“We’re going over to FitzArden Hall. The main living areas are almost completed, so I’m hoping to move in before September.” James looked pleased.
“So soon?” Simon raised his eyebrows. “That’s fast work.”
“And it’s lovely, too.” Letitia nodded. “You must come and see it soon.” She hugged Tabby once more. “Oh and Hecate is coming back with Richard and Kitty for the wedding. So is Paul, I believe, if he’s finished his work in London. They will be here in the middle of the week. We’ll have the whole extended family together.”
“The thought both gladdens my heart and terrifies me.” Tabby smiled.
More parishioners had lined up, so James moved them on with a smile and a nod, making way for the rest of the congregation to express their thankful sentiments to the Vicar and his future wife.
As the last one moved away, Tabby sighed. “It’s rather strange.”
“What is, love?” Simon led them back into the church and began collecting the tasteful new hymnals. “The thought of doing that every Sunday?”
“No, no, not that.” She collected some of the books from other pews. “Just that I’ve done a lot in my life. Most of it was acceptable, some of it not. It was risky and dangerous, yet none of it affected me the way standing next to you just now affected me.”
“I’m not sure I understand.” Simon put his pile of books neatly on the stand next to the organ. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
She let him take her books and add them to the pile. There had been over forty people at the service, lured by the news of their treasure and staying for the pleasure of a peaceful and worshipful hour with friends. Which was just as it should be.
“It’s a good thing.” Tabby looked up at Simon. “For the first time in my life, I really feel as if I belong. As if I can at last be me.”
He put his arms around her and kissed her soundly. “Enjoy it, my love. You are going to be you for the rest of your life. I am taking it upon myself to make sure that is so. Of course the you you’re going to be is my wife, but other than that, just keep on doing whatever it is that…er…I think I lost track of the conversation somewhere…” He looked puzzled.
She laughed. “Put your arms around me and kiss me again. That will make everything perfect.”
So he did.
And it did.
~The End ~
Watch for the next book in this series, WORD OF A LADY, coming this autumn. Will Letitia and James make a match? Or will capricious Lady Fate have other plans?
If you missed the first book in this series, The Landlocked Baron, here’s a short excerpt to whet your
appetite for the story of Edmund, Baron Ridlington. Take a peek at his first meeting with the woman who is about to change his life…
THE LANDLOCKED BARON
(excerpt © 2017, Sahara Kelly)
Light shone behind his eyelids, and unwillingly they parted, only to close again. Quickly and firmly. “I am dead.”
A low chuckle greeted his words. “No you’re not, Lord Ridlington.”
“Yes I am. I’m inside a hearse, therefore I am dead. I’d hoped that heaven would be a spry schooner on a perfect sea, but I suppose that was an absurd notion. Death is a hearse.” He risked a quick glance and then closed his eyes once more. “And an angel.”
The laugh turned husky, a sound that charmed Edmund, even in his deathly state.
“I can assure you, my Lord, nothing could be further than the truth. I’m no angel and you are certainly not dead, but conversing quite normally.”
“Inside a hearse.”
“Well, yes. After you were knocked unconscious, it made sense to transport you back to Ridlington Chase at the earliest possible moment. This conveyance was conveniently at hand.”
Edmund thought about that for a moment. Or took a brief nap. He wasn’t quite sure which, since things were still a bit fuzzy. He resurfaced. “Who are you? I don’t know you. Are you sure you’re not an angel? And I’m not dead?”
“Yes, I’m sure you are not dead. Yes, I’m sure I’m not an angel and no, you don’t know me. I am Lady Fincham’s companion. I have had that honor for almost a year, but you and I had not—up to this point—met.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“For what?”
“That you’re Lady Fincham’s companion. I’m told she’s not…er…convivial.”
“Now, now, my Lord. That’s neither here nor there. You must rest until we can get you into your own chambers and summon a physician.”
“Nonsense.” Edmund struggled to move, but found himself restrained by a firm hand placed against his chest. “I am quite well. It would take more than a hit on the head to render me incapable…”
