Page 64 of Never Leave Me
Nicholas nodded and then faced Ellen, his gaze sweeping over her appreciatively. “My lady, I pray you fare well and have had a joyous reunion with your sister.”
“Very joyous. I helped her deliver her baby.”
“Then you are a midwife?” Nicholas’s brows shot up as though he hadn’t expected it, perhaps had believed it was only an excuse to get past the guard yesterday.
“I have some experience.”
“She is very knowledgeable.” Will shifted in his saddle, the movement causing the weapons upon his belt to clink together ominously. “If not for Lady Ellen’s skill, I fear what would have become of my wife and child. She arrived just in time.”
Ellen brushed away the praise. “We have Nicholas to thank for helping me away from Reider Castle and guiding me to Chesterfield Park. I couldn’t have done anything without him.”
“Then ’twould seem God ordained our meeting.” Nicholas watched her through lowered lashes, as though banking his attraction, not willing to allow it to fan into a flame.
She didn’t want to encourage his attraction, hoped she hadn’t done so.
“Perhaps you are right.” Will’s attention pinged back and forth between her and Nicholas. “I invite you to join us later for supper.”
She wanted to tell Will not to play matchmaker, that nothing could come of it. But before she could formulate a polite rejection, Nicholas spoke as he mounted. “I thank you, my lord. But I must be away to do my duty and ’twill take me long hours to travel into the Weald and spread the warning.”
“Very well.” Will nudged his horse forward. “Your skills as an archer in the Weald are legendary. And your bravery in defeating the French at Dover precedes you.”
The muscles in Nicholas’s jaw flexed. “I have heard tales of your skills and bravery as well.”
Will moved forward several paces. “If you have use of an ally, you need only send me word.”
“Likewise, my lord.”
They made their way out of the gate. Instead of taking the road, Nicholas veered toward the woods. Before he disappeared into the shadows of the thicket, he glanced over his shoulder at her a final time and gave a nod.
She nodded in response, though again an internal warning told her she needed to let Nicholas know she had no interest in him. She didn’t want to inadvertently lead him to believe she could ever like him. Not when Marian’s words about Harrison had been repeating in her head since yesterday:“You love him too...”
She might not be in love with Harrison the way Marian claimed, but it was becoming clear she’d never have feelings for any other man but him.
In the middle of the front hall in his wheelchair, Harrison held up the ampulla gingerly, allowing the daylight coming in from the large center dome overhead to give him a better look. The raised picture of an intricate flower on the front of the ampulla was faint, almost nonexistent. But it was there, nonetheless.
“It’s not the St. Thomas ampulla you wanted.” Mr. Smythe, the antiquarian, peered through his reading glasses at the worn pattern. “But theWon the back is the indication this could be an original Walsingham ampulla.”
Harrison turned over the flask and ran a finger over theW. Most of the Walsingham ampullae had been made during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries and contained a scallop pattern. Such ampullae were excavated all over Norfolk in the countryside where pilgrims had once used the holy water to bless their fields. Most likely they hadn’t contained healing water and therefore had been more prolific and more dispensable.
But this ampulla with a flower instead of scallop? It was different. Harrison swished it carefully, feeling the gentle sway of the water left undisturbed for hundreds of years.
After reading through more of Arthur’s extensive research and many books regarding Walsingham, Harrison had hoped for the slight possibility of finding holy water there, had been desperate to explore every option.
The Shrine of Our Lady in Walsingham had remained one of the most popular pilgrimage destinations throughout the Middle Ages and still drew in religious pilgrims. The miracles as recorded inThe Pynson Balladhad taken place early after Lady Richeldis de Faverches had her visions and built a chapel there in honor of the Virgin Mary in 1061.
In rumpled garments and his graying hair poking up on end,Mr. Smythe stood next to Harrison. The older man held an insulated coffee mug that was at least the size of a twelve-cup coffeepot.
A twinge of remorse pricked Harrison that he’d insisted Mr. Smythe drive through the night and all morning to reach Chesterfield Park. But after hearing the news of the discovery, Harrison had been too anxious to wait.
Especially after seeing Ellen last night...
After tasting the residue, he’d only slept for an hour or so before waking up and returning Mr. Smythe’s call. During the long hours of waiting for the antiquarian to arrive, Harrison had tried countless times to extract more grains from the two empty ampullae. But either he hadn’t been able to ingest enough, or he wasn’t able to cross over again. Whatever the case, he’d been desperate to connect with Ellen. He’d tried again all morning as well, until finally Mr. Smythe had arrived at Chesterfield Park.
Now, a tiny thrill raced through him. Was it possible Mr. Smyth had come across more holy water? An ampulla even Arthur Creighton hadn’t known existed? “How do you know this ampulla is an original?”
Mr. Smythe gulped several mouthfuls of his coffee before repositioning his reading glasses and bending in. The scent of coffee on his breath was so strong, Harrison could almost taste it. “This flower pattern is rare.” The antiquarian pulled a tiny brush out of the satchel slung crosswise over his shoulder. He used the fine tip to buff one of the flower petals. “From the few references I’ve uncovered, the flower pattern on the flask was used for water that came from a deeper wellspring.”
“Deeper wellspring?”
