Beneath the Porcelain Mask

32. Foolish To Think

Am I foolish to think I could ever be, 

will I never be more than I am today?
I can see me as a man of respect, 

You could never detect had once been
so heartlessly cast away.  

~ Monty D'ysquith Nevaro

A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder.

So here's the fun part: I edited this entire chapter and then Wattpad decided to have a wobbly (so much for continually saving work as it's being written, am I right?) Thanks to that, I lost an entire hour's worth of edits. I'm sorry that that means I'm lumping you with the first draft of it (of course, if I had stuck to my schedule and done this yesterday, we wouldn't be having this issue). If time allows during the week, I'll be back to re-edit it all, but for now I'm much too frustrated to do a proper job of it! So sorry! I hope it'll serve its purpose anyhow!

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With the dawn of the next day, I pulled my cloak hood further up and huddled into the warmest parts of the fabric, a thin defence against the biting cold wind that swept over Paris from the north today. The shadows of the towering church did nothing to warm me, and I hurried up its steps and across the mosaics in the floor to the doors, the Corinthian columns that guarded the entrance casting what little sunlight the January morning spared into more shadows. High above me, angels and saints, frozen forever in a picture of regal elegance, gazed proudly out at the city, which was already alive and thriving.

During one of his rambles, Jeremy had mentioned his devotion to the Catholic faith and had told me tales of listening to the kindly priest every Sunday at the Église de la Madeleine. It was not Sunday, but even so I stepped into the church and shucked off my cloak, not looking up until I had to.

The breath all but left my body.

As light and as cool as the Abbaye St Georges had been, that was how dark and exquisite L'Église de la Madeleine was. If it wasn't for the candles that shrouded the walls and columns, the winter morning would have plunged the church into darkness.

The long aisle that loomed before me, with rows upon rows of simple, wooden pews on either side, led to the statue of the Mary Magdelene, who guarded her altar with strength and grace, flanked by angels on either side. Hundreds of pious eyes watched her from above, and in the dome that almost reached the heavens, the Lord sat ruling his domain, seemingly awaiting her arrival.

I chewed at my lip, wandering up the aisle in my awe. Several people were already gathered, kneeling with heads bowed in prayer, not noticing my embarrassing display of amazement. Someone else left the confession box further along the wall and moved towards the pews at the front, where they knelt, head bowed like everyone else.

Deadening my footsteps, I slipped up the aisle until I reached the end of the pew where he sat. I set myself down quietly. Jeremy's eyes were closed, hands clasped so tight that I thought he'd cut himself with his dirty nails by mistake, and he mouthed the fervent words he was praying. It seemed so private that I bit my own lip, looking away as if he was undressing before me without knowing I was watching.

My gaze flitted around the church, always stopping at the same place each time. The Magdelene at the altar seemed so pure, so righteous and holy. Guilt settled at the bottom of my stomach, tighter than any corset I'd ever worn.

How had I slipped so far? And for what? To feel wretched now? It had worked.

Jeremy's hands went to his face, raking through his hair occasionally.