Webs

8

The evening was still young when the estate was packed with more faces Rennold didn't recognize. The new home was not enough to make him enjoy these events, but he found the company more tolerable this evening, not needing to hide in his study the whole time.

He spent time talking with Attwood and a few of his colleagues, discussing the Oxford Movement, which had been stirring up controversy and debate in the Anglican Church. Rennold had never met any of them before and felt no urge to join in the conversation; simply listened to the words.

"It is a movement that seeks to restore the Catholic heritage and practices of the Church of England," said a scholar of Hebrew and Arabic languages and literature. "I have read some of the Tracts for the Times that its leaders have published. They are very eloquent and persuasive, but also very provocative and radical. Some even advocate the reunion with Rome, which I find rather alarming."

"I must confess that I am not very familiar with the Oxford Movement of the Anglican Church," said a poet and bookseller with a passion for literature and philosophy. "I am more interested in the ancient and oriental religions; Judaism, Islam, Zoroastrianism, and Hinduism have much wisdom and beauty to offer to the modern world."

"Agreed," said Attwood. "We should learn from other cultures and religions, especially in this age of imperialism and colonialism. We should not impose our Western values and beliefs on other people, respect diversity and autonomy."

Another man beside the group shook his head at Attwood's words and began to butt into the conversation.

"But surely you do not mean to say that all religions are equally true and good?" the man exclaimed. "There must be some objective standard of truth and morality, which I believe can only be found in Christianity."

The scholar wrinkled his nose. "I would not expect anything less from an Anglican priest, Kasen Barnes. You always know the right moment to intervene in a conversation. The answer to this question is not so easy to find. How do we know what is true and good? How do we reconcile reason and faith? How do we balance tradition and progress? These are some questions that have occupied my mind for some time."

Rennold sat to the side, listening to the debate about right and wrong, something he had heard numerous times. They all thought they were original in this discussion, bringing in new facts and opinions that never changed the path of the conversation. People get locked into their views.

He was beginning to grow a distaste for the men, attention drifting away from their words. Women stood in flowing gowns and the men in dark suits. There was a woman with gold curly hair in a pink dress that sagged over her pale shoulders who stood with a plain-looking man admiring the art on the wall. The piece they were currently looking at was one of Rennold's that Catherine had hung, claiming it was a favorite of hers. It was done in the middle of the night when his dreams kept him from a restful sleep. A massive stag stood in the center of the canvas, antlers of obscene size planted atop its skull, standing in a shimmering lake that mirrored the dark colors smeared across the sky. Its eyes glowed a bright green color that popped against the backdrop. He blushed at the fact that other people—strangers—were looking at work he felt private. But Catherine had insisted on hanging it and the guests seemed impressed, showing smiles, and giving nods as they admired the painting with detail-oriented eyes.

As Rennold scanned the room his secret flattery rushed into anger as he saw the frame of Alysia Field in the hall by the parlor door. She was talking with another guest, her attire matching the trends with a crinoline that created a bell-shaped silhouette. Dark silk wrapped her bodice in a pointed waistline and her long hair fell loose over her shoulders with a crown of black roses atop her head.

Rennold tried to catch his breath, wondering why he was feeling this way. She was young and beautiful, but he had met many women that fit that category and none of them bothered him like Alysia Field did. Despite his analysis, he could not find a clear answer. He just had a feeling that he knew was right: she was dangerous.

Alysia turned around and saw him staring. She smiled and approached.

"So good to see you again, Lord Rennold. Hope this house has been treating you well. It was so kind of your wife to invite me. I thought I picked up some distaste from you the last time we met."

Rennold swallowed his insults and tried to form a smile. "Not at all, Ms. Field. I wanted to thank you for the housewarming gift."

A repulsive smile formed on her lips. "I hope you enjoyed them."

"I certainly did," said Rennold in a flat tone.

He stared at her with a look that revealed the thoughts in his mind, and she looked back at him in understanding. In his eyes her face suddenly became morbid, her form sinister, her eyes large and black and inhuman. Then his vision retreated to normal. Alysia Field gave a small laugh and walked off into the crowd. The men at his side continued their conversation and Rennold rose to find Catherine.

She was in the drawing room and he entered when she was in conversation with a few young ladies, laughing and sipping wine by the large window. He wanted to pull her away from the group, and let out his frustration at her, but held himself back.

He jumped when he felt a tap on the shoulder, turning around to see Norman standing behind him.

"My dear boy, you nearly scared me half to death!" Rennold said with a laugh. His anger drained. "I hope you're enjoying yourself."

"It's been a joyous evening," Norman said with a grin. "Such interesting colleagues! They all know how to keep a conversation going. That Lamont Beasley fellow sure does like to get wrapped up in heated debates."

"Yes, he can get overzealous at times. Best to let him run through his speeches as he will eventually wear himself out."

"He's a fine fellow to converse with. I just wanted to thank you for being a gracious host. I must be on my way but will be sure to visit you again before I leave Birmingham."

Rennold smiled and said farewell, smiling at the young man until he saw him leaving with Alysia Field.