God's Loving Embrace

Part Thirty-Six

'Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favour of the Lord.'

Proverbs 18:22

"And this is Lady Trevor, Mrs Craig's daughter, of course." Michael Winstanley said with a smile, indicating the mound of dark red velvet standing beside the rather plumper mountain of brown velvet Bishop Osborne already knew was Mrs Craig. He nodded to both of them and they curtseyed as Mr Craig shook his hand. "You must have met before, I am sure...but I invited her with Paul and Sheila...everyone is so keen to see the finished article!"

"Of course, Michael...I think I have bored Lady Trevor with my sermons many times...it is good to see you here, Madam...and out of mourning for my friend...I hope you will spend many happy hours here in the future." Osborne replied, bowing his head to Lady Trevor, who offered him the required obeisance.

"Such an amazing building Bishop...are you all ready for the grand opening?" Paul Craig asked, smiling warmly as he looked up at the towering vaulted ceilings and the intricate woodwork, framing the huge stained glass windows, indulging his old friend's enthusiasm for the project, even if Sebastian had taken it on to completion. He no longer had to pay for such things as the Church had new means of funding but he actually wished he had. The new Cathedral was something to be proud of.

"Oh we will be...it is a lot to organise...not only here, but the convent, the college and the hospital too. I want the Cathedral complex to be the pride of the Church, and my students, my own team and the nuns are all aware of that...everything about this place has to be perfect from day one." Osborne replied, his passion obvious to everyone. "Anyone coming here for the first time should be totally overwhelmed, as if God was standing right in front of them...as if this was heaven itself."

"Sebastian was the driving force behind this place." Winstanley told everyone for at least the hundredth time. "It was my original idea, but it became his dream, and he has nagged the architects about every tiny detail, and badgered me for more of just about everything!"

"Mrs Trevor's generous donation was much appreciated...perhaps I should take you to see the memorial now before everyone has finished chatting and the grand tour begins?" Osborne suggested, offering Brogan his arm. It was the polite thing to do. Not that he expected her to have had anything to do with the decision to make a donation. But he wanted to show her the results himself, and be the generous host. "I think you should see it before anyone else, Lady Trevor?"

"She would be delighted, Bishop...I am sure." Mr Craig responded, giving his adopted daughter a knowing glance. Brogan's sight was hardly unimpeded, but with a sinking feeling in her heart she got the message without needing to see her father's expression. Her period of mourning was over and if both interested parties, Mr Craig and the good bishop, could reach an agreement, she was about to be officially betrothed to the Bishop of Meadvale. It was so obvious they ought to have issued invitations to the event. She was still an asset to her adopted family and she needed to be married off, like any other dutiful Daughter of Eve. And he was going to be the next Archbishop of Meadvale, one day, if one believed the gossip around the village. She had first arrived in Meadvale to expose the truth about the Church of Christian Reform, and she was going to end up being the trophy wife of the man who would lead the Reformist movement into the second phase of its growth as the dominant force in world politics. It was so ironic she had to fight the urge to cry.

Bishop Osborne wanted to show her Harry's memorial, a huge marble edifice near the east door. It was impressive. She knelt before it and prayed, as the bishop expected, but not for the man she had lost, but for her own future. If she was right, it was not unexpected, but she had hoped for more time. She missed the connection she used to have with the world outside her gilded cage. She wanted to know what was going on, and maybe out of mourning she would see or hear more. She hoped so.