Page 44 of Black and Silver

She was able to do so many things before Lawrence awoke and rushed into the main room, as if he thought Minnie had fled, or possibly been kidnapped by pirates, that the expression that came over him when he saw she was well and breakfast was ready was one of amazement.

“You should not be out of bed yet,” he said, stepping farther into the room and looking around.

He had slept in his clothes from the day before, and looked much the worse for wear because of it. His hair stood out in all its silver glory, and his face was still pink and creased from where his cheek had been pressed against the pillow, but he was still the most beautiful thing Minnie had ever seen.

“Lord Lawrence!” she admonished him. “Do you not realize I am an invalid and should not be taken to bed in such a manner?”

Lawrence made a face at her, then they both fell into pure, affectionate laughter.

That laughter was stopped abruptly by a slam, a clattering, and a female scream that came from just outside, in the direction of the church.

Chapter Fifteen

The sheer gratitude toward every divine power that he felt, seeing that Minerva had been spared an untimely death, made Lawrence giddy. He was well aware that Minerva was toying with him, seeking to be closer to him and to draw him in to a degree of intimacy that he should not be considering in their current predicament, but he was helpless against her pull.

He wanted her. He needed her. And as he emerged from the bedroom to find her dressed and preparing toast, while the two of them jested with each other as though all were well in the world, he vowed that he would marry her, come what may. It was only a shame that the parson was away, because he would have insisted the man marry them at once, were he there.

He was scrambling for some way to express that sentiment in reply to Minerva’s impertinent question when a racket sounded from the direction of the church. Never one to ignore a woman’s screams, and despite his horrific state of dishabille, Lawrence marched straight for the door.

“Stay here,” he cautioned Minerva as he turned the handle and pulled the door open, letting the crisp, November air into the otherwise cozy cottage.

“Stay here?” Minerva yelped indignantly, grabbing her shawl and charging after him. “Are you mad?”

Yes. Lawrence was convinced that he had gone utterly mad to give his heart so thoroughly to a woman who would never let him have a moment’s peace for the rest of his life. In the best possible way.

“You are still recovering, Minerva,” he scolded her as they walked out into the frosty morning together. “You should stay secure in the cottage.”

“I am not the one who has just ventured out in stocking feet,” she fired back, as feisty as ever, despite the soggy congestion in her voice.

Lawrence glanced down with a sigh, feeling the cold, hard-packed dirt of the path that led from the parsonage to the church a bit too keenly. There was nothing to be done now, however. Minerva had become the embodiment of determination as she hugged her shawl tighter and inched ahead of them in their race to reach the church.

Lawrence had only just begun to imagine what might be the matter when they stepped into the sweet building to find a middle-aged, slightly tattered woman, with her arms wrapped around his statue. At first, Lawrence thought the woman was trying to embrace it, but he quickly realized the woman was trying to move it from the baptismal font.

“Oh, dear,” Minerva blurted at the sight, then clapped a hand over her mouth to prevent whatever other words or sounds wanted to escape from her at the sight.

Lawrence sent her an embarrassed, sideways look. He had not yet had the time to explain to Minerva how he and Silashad removed the statue from the carriage and put it inside the church for safekeeping.

He did not have time to explain to her now as the woman straightened with a jerk, her eyes going wide, and screamed so loudly at the sight of him that Lawrence was certain his ears would never recover.

For a heart-stopping moment, Lawrence was afraid his statue would shift off the font and crack on the church’s stone floor as the woman leapt back, removing her arms from his work. Lawrence only just managed to leap forward to steady the marble, using his entire body to hold the statue and the font in place.

His sharp movements only made the woman scream louder.

“Villains! Brigands!” she shouted, dashing into the closest pew. She came out again, brandishing a hymnal, which she used to attack Lawrence. “What devilry is this? What brand of witchcraft have you cursed this house of God with?”

Lawrence ducked his head as the woman rained thudding blows down on his head and shoulders. She did not have the strength to do any real damage, but that did not stop him from cowering…with laughter.

“Stop! Stop, please!” Minerva called out, stepping closer to the woman.

Lawrence did not think the woman would stop, if not for Minerva sneezing loudly at just that moment. The woman was so taken aback that she stumbled back several steps, then held the hymnal in front of her, as if it were a shield.

“You’re the plague-carrier,” she gasped, holding the hymnal, with its etched cross on the cover, toward Minerva, as if she were a vampire. “Old Lucy said you were here and that you’d brought your foul disease with you.”

“She said what?” Minerva balked, pulling herself up to her full height.

It did not help the situation at all that she sneezed and then coughed directly after. The village woman took another step back, her eyes wide with horror.

Satisfied that the statue would not tumble off the font, Lawrence stood and sighed.

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