Page 201 of The Armor of Light

‘What happened to her?’

‘She was hanged.’

‘Dear God,’ said Spade. ‘Is that how Hornbeam got to be the way he is, I wonder?’

‘No doubt of it. We went to watch.’ The man’s eyes clouded over, and Spade knew he was seeing the execution all over again. ‘I stood beside Joey when his mother dropped. Some of ’em die easy, broken neck, but she wasn’t one of the lucky ones, and it took a few minutes for her to strangle. Horrible sight – mouth open, tongue out, pissed herself. Terrible thing, really, for a son to see at that age.’

Spade was chilled with horror. ‘It almost makes me feel sorry for him.’

‘Don’t bother,’ said the bargee. ‘He won’t thank you.’

31

THE MARRIAGE OFSPADEto Arabella Latimer was the nonconformist wedding of the year in Kingsbridge. The Methodist Hall was packed – a new hall, twice the size, was being built but was not yet finished – and there was a small crowd outside too. This was despite the air about the marriage, an air of unmentioned sin, of half-hidden shame. Or perhaps, Spade thought, people had flocked to the ceremony because of that air, so scandalous yet so exciting, both wicked and alluring. By now there could not be many people in town who had not heard the rumour that Arabella had been Spade’s mistress before her husband died – long before. Perhaps some came to the wedding to frown disapprovingly and tut to their friends; but as Spade looked around the congregation he felt that most people seemed genuinely to wish the couple well.

It was Monday, 30 September 1805.

Arabella wore a new dress of chestnut-brown silk – a colour, Spade had noticed, that made her complexion glow. He could not help thinking about the body under that dress, the body he knew so well. He had loved Betsy’s slender adolescent figure and perfect skin; and now he loved Arabella’s older body, with its soft roundness, its folds and wrinkles, the scattering of silver in her light-brown hair.

Spade himself had had his hair cut and wore a new coat in a bright shade of navy blue which, Arabella said, gave his blue eyes extra brilliance.

Kenelm Mackintosh was Arabella’s son-in-law and only malerelative, but he was Dean Mackintosh now and could not be part of a Methodist ceremony, so it was Elsie who walked Arabella down the aisle. She held the hand of five-year-old Abe, who had a new blue suit, a jacket and trousers that buttoned together, called a skeleton suit because it fitted so closely. It was the favoured outfit for small boys.

Pastor Charles Midwinter preached a short sermon on the topic of forgiveness. The text was from Matthew’s gospel: ‘Judge not, that ye be not judged.’ Forgiveness was essential in marriage, Charles said; it was virtually impossible for two people to live together for any length of time without offending one another occasionally, and sores must not be allowed to fester. He went on to say that the same principle applied to life in general – which Spade took to be a hint that people should forget his and Arabella’s sin now that they were getting married.

Spade kept looking at Arabella when he should have been concentrating on the sermon. Years ago they had told each other that they wanted to be a couple for ever, that their affair was a lifelong commitment; and the pledge had only strengthened over time. He felt sure of her, and he knew she felt the same about him. Yet he was surprisingly moved to have that promise sealed in church in front of his friends and neighbours. He had no anxieties to be soothed, no doubts to be rebutted; he needed no reassurance of her permanent love. All the same, tears came to his eyes when she agreed to have him as her husband until the moment when death came to part them at last.

They sang Psalm 23, ‘The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.’ Spade’s singing was so bad that he had sometimes been asked to do it quietly so as not to put others off, but today no one minded as he sang loudly and tunelessly.

When they left the hall the congregation followed. Everyone was invited to their new home. Food and drinks were laid out in the hall.Elsie had made the arrangements, and Spade had paid the bills. The house smelled of new paint and was full of furniture he and Arabella had chosen together. Spade ate nothing: everyone wanted to talk to him, and he had no time for food. Arabella was the same, he saw. He was pleased to receive everyone’s congratulations.

After two hours Elsie persuaded the guests to leave. She had put aside some of the food and she laid it out on a table in the drawing room, along with a bottle of wine, then she wished them goodnight and left. When at last the house was empty Spade and Arabella sat side by side on a sofa, each with a plate and a glass. The windows were open to the mild air of the September evening. Once they had eaten they sat holding hands as darkness stole slowly into the room, shadows pooling in the corners.

Spade said: ‘We’re about to do something we’ve never done before: sleep side by side and wake up together in the morning.’

‘Isn’t that wonderful?’ Arabella said.

Spade nodded. ‘Life doesn’t get any better than this,’ he said.

*

Amos came to the deanery carrying a ledger. He kept accounts for the Sunday school, and every three months he went over the numbers with Elsie. The teachers were volunteers and the food was provided by supporters, but the school still needed money for books and writing materials, and donors had the right to know how their gifts were spent.

Elsie was always glad to see Amos. He was thirty-two now, and handsomer than ever. In her dreams she was married to him, not Kenelm. But on this occasion she was nervous. She had something important to tell him. She would have preferred not to, but it was better he heard it from someone who loved him.

She offered him a glass of sherry and he accepted. They sat side by side at the dining-room table and looked at the ledger together.Her nostrils picked up a faint, pleasant aroma of sandalwood. There was nothing to worry about in the numbers: she could raise the money needed without difficulty.

When he closed the ledger she should have given him the news right away, but she was too tense, and instead she said: ‘How are you managing without Kit? He was your right-hand man.’

‘I miss him. Hamish Law is still with me, but I’m looking for someone who understands the machines.’

‘I can’t imagine that Kit likes the military life.’

‘I believe Colonel Northwood is very glad to have Kit.’

‘I’m sure.’ This was her chance, and she steeled her nerve. ‘Speaking of Northwood...’ With an effort she controlled the trembling in her voice. ‘Did you know that Jane is expecting a baby?’

There was a long moment of silence.