Aided by Thomas, who held the aspersorium, Joseph sprinkled Tessa with holy water. In the language of the Church, he declared: “This woman shall receive.” Joseph read the opening Psalm, then offered Tessa one end of his white stole. Humbly, she grasped it and rose. He led her into the cathedral. “Enter the temple of God,” Joseph commanded,“adore the Son of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Who hath given thee fruitfulness of offspring.”
Tessa obeyed. She knelt at the altar. Thomas followed, and Hélène sat with Clare in one of the back pews.
Joseph forced himself not to look at Tessa as he prayed through the tightness in his throat: “Lord, have mercy on us.”Joseph murmured the Pater Noster until he reached the end, when he pronounced forcefully: “And lead us not into temptation.”
Even in Latin, he knew Tessa understood. Her head bowed more deeply, as though beneath the weight of shame.
“Save thy handmaid, O Lord… Grant that after this life she together with her offspring may merit the joys of everlasting bliss…” Joseph sprinkled Tessa with holy water a final time and intoned as a farewell: “May the peace of almighty God come upon thee, and remain for all time.”
“Amen,” replied Thomas, oblivious.
Joseph could feel his sister scowling at him from the back pew.
PART VII
CONSUMMATION
1843
South Carolina
Each sought to allay, not his own sufferings,
but those of the one he loved.
— Pierre Abélard,
The Story of My Misfortunes(1132)
CHAPTER 44
She recognized all the intoxication and the anguishes of which she herself had nearly died. The voice of the woman singing seemed to be but the echo of her own consciousness…
— Gustave Flaubert,Madame Bovary(1856)
The eve of Hélène’s surgery finally arrived, the night they would attendLucia di Lammermoor. His sister pleaded with Joseph to accompany her, their father, and Liam to the opera—a tale of star-crossed lovers. “You can translate the Italian for us!”
“You’ve read Scott’s novel,” Joseph pointed out. “That’s in English.”
“The opera changes things!”
“And how would you know that?”
“I’ve read the English libretto,” Hélène admitted. “But we might lose our place!”
In truth, Joseph was eager to experience another opera. In the seven years of his Priesthood, Joseph’s superiors had permitted him a handful of concerts, so he’d heard a few precious arias. These merely whetted his appetite for feasts he would never enjoy.
Following her own theatrical adventures, Hélène would oftenpurchase the score, and she and Liam would attempt to recreate the duets at their father’s piano. Bellini, Rossini, and Mozart were not mangled; but Joseph knew these renditions were poor echoes of the original. His sister thought the more delight she took in an opera, the more likely he would be to join her the next time. Joseph knew better: the more he longed for this entertainment, the more of a sin it was.
The temptation was always there. The New Theatre was impossible to miss: it was on Meeting Street and twice the size of the cathedral. Joseph passed it often during parish calls. He would pause to read the playbills and sigh with envy. The theatre resembled a pagan temple: wide marble steps rose to an arcade, which supported a portico, four fluted Ionic columns, and a pediment.
Only ticket-holders could access the portico. Once, Hélène had been taking the air with Liam when she spotted Joseph lingering below. (He’d been trying to catch a few strains of music through the open windows.) His sister had hollered and waved at him, making Joseph go crimson. The uncertainty of her future had lowered Hélène’s inhibitions more than ever. His sister could never have endured marriage to a man like Edward; but Joseph had heard Liam laughing.
Surely, after so many years of denial, when this might be Joseph’s last chance to share an opera with his sister, he could make an exception. Donizetti had composed Joseph’s first opera; it seemed fitting that he should be the creator of Joseph’s final one. When Joseph asked Father Baker aboutLucia di Lammermoor, his pastor looked disappointed—he never allowed himself such pleasures—but he gave Joseph permission to go.
At the last minute,Liam sent a note that he was finishing a legal brief and would join them as soon as he could. The news did not dampen Hélène’s spirits for long. She’d been conserving her strength, and God was merciful: her pains were mild today. The mere thought of the opera was enough to rally her. May had helped Hélène fashion a new undergarment that was only a distant relationto a corset, and she would conceal her altered bodice with her cloak. His sister refused all talk of a carriage—the theatre was only three streets away.
Joseph tried not to gape as he, his sister, and their father passed up the marble stairs, through the arcade, and into the vestibule of the grand building. They had no need to pause at the ticket office, since their father had bartered a box from a wealthy patient.
