“And don’t you think it is odd that you at some point lost the pocket watch?” I said. “How could I have found it in the parsonage?”
“Yes,” he said. “Let’s think that through. I remember that I had it the day that I proposed to you, because I checked it before coming down to see you, to see that it was about tea time, and I knew that you would be alone at that time and it would be a perfect time to propose.”
“And I remember you were fiddling with it as you were going on and on about how you wanted me against your own good sense.”
He winced. “That really was a dreadful marriage proposal, Elizabeth. Have I apologized for that?”
I waved this away. “Not only have you apologized, but you pointed out that you had apologized several times and that you were willing to keep apologizing. Granted, you said that in such a way as to make it impossible to forgive you, but this was so many Thursdays ago, I can’t even give a care about it now. Back to the watch. Did you set it down? Do you remember doing that?”
“Well, no, because you remember, when we were sitting outside, with the fire and the tea, you asked if I had it, and that was when I realized it was missing,” he said.
“That was days later,” I said. “It must have sat in the parsonage for what? Three Thursdays? Four?”
“Where did you find it?” he asked me. “Was it in the sitting room, where the proposal happened?”
“Yes,” I said. “And it was odd, too, because it was sitting out, clear as day, glimmering in a shaft of light from the window on a table. And I can’t think that a servant wouldn’t have seen it when they went in to open the draperies that morning. Or—if it had truly been there for that many Thursdays, it seems someone would have seen it while dusting or something and taken it, moved it, something. I got the odd sensation, when I saw it, that it was waiting for me.”
“You didn’t mention that?”
“Well, I picked it up and didn’t know what to do with it and then tucked it away,” I said. “And then when I gave it to you, I was so mortified that I had thoughtlessly plucked it out from my bosom and handed it over to you that I only wanted to change the subject immediately.”
“Yes, and that mortification has kept us from the subject entirely.” He eyed me. “You say you don’t usually tuck objects, erm, there.”
“No, of course not,” I said.
“So, why did you?”
“It just seemed… I had anurge,” I said, grimacing.
He reached into his waistcoat and drew out the watch. He held it in his palm. We both stared at it.
CHAPTER TEN
fitzwilliam
“Well, now,” said the Catholic father to the both of us, “I don’t think I believe in curses, truly, and not really cursedobjects.”
We were outside St. Mary’s, a small and somewhat ramshackle building, quite old, probably built in the twelfth century or some such. Many Catholic churches had been demolished back several hundred years ago when England went mad during the Reformation. For quite some time, it had been all but illegal to be Catholic in England, but that sort of ridiculousness had been mostly repealed and righted these days. This building, however, seemed to have survived all that.
The clergyman, however, seemed wary of us, but this was likely not because we were Protestants and more because we sounded mad, talking about living the same day over and over again and magical pocket watches.
“But it could be possible?” said Elizabeth. “Why, in the bible, there are stories about witches. The Witch of Endor even summoned the spirit of Samuel from the beyond, so we know that witches existed and they had power.”
The priest hemmed and hawed for a moment. “Yes, yes, but that was a different time. God appeared in burning bushes and parted the Red Sea and did all manner of signs and wonders that no longer happen in our time. At any rate, I don’t think there are any stories in the bible about objects having magical powers.”
“Certainly there are,” said Elizabeth, glaring at him. “Doesn’t Moses strike a rock in the wilderness to get water for the Israelites? Either the rock was magical or the rod he used to strike it was.”
“That was God, working through Moses,” said the clergyman.
Elizabeth’s face got a pinched expression.
I was holding out the pocket watch. I pushed it at the priest. Gingerly, he took it from me. He turned it over in his palm and then opened it. “I could… bless the pocket watch for you? With holy water?”
“Please, would you?” I said.
“With Latin,” said Elizabeth.
“Well,” said the priest, “actually, the water itself has already been blessed. With Latin. But byGod. It isn’t about the words one says. It’s not a spell. It’s just the way to focus oneself to…” He shook his head at both of us. “Oh, never mind. Come along then.”
