Page 13 of Unseen

The service was mercifully short, extended only by one of Acton’s business associates who had been welcomed to give a eulogy. There was precious little good to say of Acton, and the fact no one could even bring themselves to lie was almost a little pathetic.

What a sad life my husband had lived. Sad, and meaningless.

We were invited to follow the coffin to its final resting place. The rain continued to fall, and George walked tearfully alongside me, the black umbrella keeping me dry. Azriel had joined the pallbearers, carrying his father through the sodden church yard to the grand marble mausoleum at the edge of the cemetery.

“There are bars on the door,” I mused out loud, and George cleared his throat.

“Yes, madam. It had to be done after a horrid spate of grave robbing.” He exhaled heavily, shaking his head. “Disgusting. To disturb the dead in such a way that we must cage them in after they have gone to Glory. It is wicked.”

“We must be grateful that they do not know, I suppose.”

“Indeed, madam. Their souls are free in Heaven.”

Or Hell.The spiteful words did not fall from my lips. I found myself angry as I stared at that iron gate, as it creaked and shuddered its way open. A good Christian woman should be able to forgive her husband for what he had done while he was living, in fact, she should. But glaring at that iron gate, I felt a renewed sense of injustice, that he was nowat peace and I was now warring within myself against the guilt of what I had done, and the relief that I was now free of him.

I was far from good. And I had taken it upon myself to judge him for what he had done, and doled out a death sentence for it.

My thoughts of Hell and damnation faded away as Acton’s coffin was carried into the mausoleum, placed on the stone dais reserved for him. Here he lay, surrounded by wives and children, more than were owed any living man, surely. I stayed outside, not wanting to enter that place, my feet firmly rooted in the land of the living.

I would say my goodbyes from here.

Under the cold, grey sky, the congregation looked suitably mournful. Long faces, more concerned with their own mortality, but displaying all the necessary appearances all the same.

All except Azriel.

He appeared contemplative as he emerged from the crypt, his eyes downcast, his mouth set in a firm line. But as soon as his eyes lifted from the sodden ground and landed on me, that cold, calculating smirk returned. It was an indecent expression for his father’s funeral, and certainly not one to be casting upon his father’s widow.

He ambled to my side, taking the umbrella from George’s hand with a smile that bordered on sincere.

“Please, George, I know you wish to say your farewells.” He gave the man a nod, and George pressed a handkerchief to his eyes as he moved towards the mausoleum.

I did not look at Azriel as he shielded me from the rain.

“I admire your strength, Evie,” he said. “Other widows would be a wailing mess on the floor. But not you.”

“I am grateful for the time I had with him, how could I mourn that?”

“I know you will miss him.”

“More than words can say.” My tone was anything but sincere. “And you, Azriel? Do you feel rather an orphan now? Both parents, lying in that cold room?”

“I have always felt an orphan.” He let out a dark, low laugh. “My father was hardly loving, even when I was a boy.”

“You should not speak so of him here, when we are laying his soul to rest,” I snapped.

Azriel laughed again, a little louder this time. “Of course, let us not speak ill of the dead, Evie.”

“No indeed.”

He cocked his head, raising an eyebrow as he appraised my appearance. “It is almost as though you were born to be a widow. Your resilience, your quiet mourning. It suits you.”

“That is a wicked thing to say.” I refused to look at him, my voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “You think I wished for this?”

“Certainly not, Evie. What would that make you?”

I could not respond. Every word he spoke had me feeling more and more drawn out of my own skin, closer to the awful truth of what I had done. In private, I had allowed myself to fall apart plenty of times over the past few days. In the dead of night, all alone in my room, I had shed innumerable tears, but none has been wasted on Acton. They were all for myself. For the lost years, for my maidenhood, for all the tender touches and sweet kisses I had never been afforded.

It was upon that pain that I now drew, and with those same selfish tears in my eyes, that I now turned to Azriel, my lips trembling behind the veil.

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