The Believing- Chapter 2

Chapter 2- Into Custody

As I approached, she barely acknowledged my presence, instead she preferred to look out of the window and seemed to be totally lost in the raging storm outside. Her breathing was noticeable rushed for one who was standing there so very still.

I felt almost hesitant to speak, for fear that my words would break her almost trance like state.

But duty compelled me to speak. "Countess" my voice faltered for a moment, but gripping harder the bible that I was clasping. I found renewed strength and continued with much more conviction "Countess Marina de Kauffman.....".

She turned towards me in one graceful movement, that hinted at something profound might just be about to happen. But instead she just simply smiled at me and her eyes seemed to look into the very depth of my jaded soul and in a soft voice she said: "Father Worcester, how good of you to visit me".

Her eyes momentarily bore into mine, then she looked downwards. One finger delicately tracing a line down her neck, around a breast that was tightly enclosed in a rich, velvet waistcoat, before finally coming to rest palm down on her stomach.

Then looking up she smiled once again with what seemed like a child like fascination at my obvious discomfort. Her lips glistened in the soft candlelight.

Looking at her he felt an intense physical longing rise up within him. It made him realised that he never understood how lust could ever be mistaken for love.

Lust is something physical, it fills one with a rampant hunger that demands to be satisfy. And once feed, it becomes dormant until next it appears, for it has a sort of blunt honesty about it.

Whereas as love was much more fickle, never satisfied and always demanding. It pretended to be a whole host emotions, but in reality it was just a seemingly sweet, yet cruel notion.

As he stood there in that study on that most stormy night and gazed with a frightening longing at the Countess who was bathed in a mixture of soft candle light and the gently glow of a full moon.

He was filled overwhelmingly with both lust and fear that made him clutch the bible in his trembling hands that much more tighter.

The Countess was indeed a sensual creature, her natural curves promising much, even her slightest moment enticed. His mouth was now dry, there was a trembling in his hands now that he could barely control or conceal. So much so that when his words finally came out, they were barely a whisper.

"Countess De Kauffman, under the powers vested in me by the Royal Court of her Majesty, Queen Victoria the first. I arrest you on the charge of murder and I am bound to take you into custody..."

His words unintentionally trailed off for he could not help but be transfixed by her. She seem to stifle a laugh and her words seemed almost mocking,

"I of course surrender myself to your authority"

She took a step forward.

"But would it not be prudent for you to stay the night and we head back into the city in the morning? The storm is heavy this night and all the roads are bound to be flooded by now "

Than as if to back up her words, the wind howled that much more fiercely outside, lashing the window pane with such fury, that for a moment it bowed and threatened to shatter.

He felt that any resolve he had was quickly ebbing away, an irrational fear gripped him and he struggled to keep control. He managed to regain some composure and with a authority in his words that he knew were lacking in his tone, he said.

"Countess I must insist that you accompany me to the Police station tonight. I have the Police and a carriage outside waiting for us"

He purposely emphasised the bit about the Policemen, so not to seem so vulnerable and alone.

In response she just stood there smiling, her eyes softly staring into his, transfixing him. It was like her emotions were taking a hold of him, her desires seem to swim around him and her thoughts felt their way into his mind and then down the many slender paths that were his memories that made him the man he was today.

......He was suddenly thirteen again, behind the family house in the apple orchard beneath a burgeoning tree, heavy with ripening fruit. His hands were inside a pretty classmate's blouse and as they lay there together with him fumbling clumsily around, the young girl looked up at him, as if wondering whether to be bewildered or excited at his raw, inexperienced show of affection.

......Then he was fifteen, his father was harshly shouting at his mother and belittling her at every turn as if she was one of his fresh recruits who he must first break before building up into first class soldiers. The only difference were their torture would last a mere 12 weeks, but his mother's had been going on for over 20 years and showed no sign of ending.

Next it was a couple of years later, the uncomfortable starched collar he was wearing constricted tightly around his taunt neck. The coffin in front of him was lowered down into the earth and rather than mourn the passing of his brother, he celebrated it quietly inside.

At twenty and with a failed academic career already behind him, he for reasons unknown to anyone else, including himself, had almost on a whim had joined the priesthood and thus embarked on a life in clergy.

Surly everyone must have thought that this fresh face and o'so selfish youth would surly fall at the very first hurdle and with sanity restored would then join his father's regiment and at last make his family proud. But this never was to be.

Instead he had excelled at his new career, it was as if he had at last found his true vocation. He mesmerised his congregations with his passionate sermons and won the admiration from his parishioners for his seemingly endless pursuits of worthy causes.

All he lacked was faith, but in the end it did not seem to matter much as his flock had faith in him and that was all they seemed to need in order to believe in what he felt was the unbelievable.

As for women, they seemed blinded by him and over looked his apparent need for carnal desire as part of his brilliance, rather than a character flaw.

.......The memories dissolved and once again he was in that candle lit study and despite it's roaring fire, there was a seemingly distinct chill in air.

The Countess did not object to him escorting her to the awaiting carriage, stopping only briefly so that one of the servants could wrap a thick fur coat about her.

Outside one of the Police officers went to handcuff the Countess. The Priest waved him away and said it would not be necessary. The fresh face officer looked at him in protest, but never the less carried out his instructions.

The Countess reaction was to look at him and ever so gently smile. Then the Policeman helped her into the carriage, looking as unsettled as he felt. Both of them seemed to know instinctively that no good would come of this night and he feared he had started a series of event he neither could control or wish to be a part of.