Chapter 1

Chapter

One

Nigel

London, 1820.

c hurchyard of St Maria. The yellow headstones looked grey today, for it was overcast and the rain lashed the stones persistently. Not once did the rain let up nor did the clouds part to greet the day with an ounce of sunshine.

"How apt," Nigel Beille muttered to himself as he stood beneath the yew tree, watching on from afar.

The angels in heaven are crying.

He couldn't be one of the mourners. He was not permitted, for he had no official association with the person laid out in that awful coffin. Yet he had to come. There was no chance that Nigel could stay at home and mourn alone, let his tears continue in the shadows. No. He had to come.

Standing beneath the boughs of a yew tree, the tree of new life and death, he stared at the churchyard, awaiting the arrival of the coffin. The rain made the ground sodden, the grass disappearing in vast puddles, as the rain dripped down the headstones like tears. In some parts of the cemetery, there were grander effigies and statues to commemorate the dead. One angle with white wings and a mournful face cast her eyes downward to the body beneath her, rather than the sky.

It was a dark place, one that made Nigel feel even worse than before. He screwed up the handkerchief in his hand and turned to face the open grave once more. It was a short distance up the hill from his position, so far that no one would notice where he stood hiding by the yew tree.

Adjusting his black frock coat and top hat that warded off the rain, Nigel stared at the cemetery gates open.

She's here.

The coffin was carried by four pall bearers, each one with their heads turned downward. Behind them, the vicar led the way, along with the mourners behind him. There was not a dry eye amongst them, for they were all distraught.

If things had been right, Nigel could have been with them, one of the mourners. Yet nothing official had ever been said or discussed. His place was not with them but in the shadows, doomed to watch and mourn from afar.

Pressing himself closer to the trunk of the tree of death to stay hidden, he watched the coffin being taken up the hill. It paused by the open grave as the vicar said a prayer. When it was time for the coffin to be lowered into the ground, the cries of the dead woman's mother grew louder. She wailed, inconsolable, and the sight of her made Nigel ache all the more.

He looked down at the ground, his vision blurring with tears, he fought hard not to let drop. The wet blades of glass before him were no longer in focus, and the sods of earth around his face grew distant.

I should have saved her. It was my task, was it not? The reason I am here is to save people.

Yet Nigel had been unable to save her.

Slowly, the coffin was lowered into the ground and the mother cried so much that her sister swept her up in her arms. The two clung onto one another, balling their eyes out as children, for they hardly cared who saw them now.

Nigel wiped his own cheeks, drying the few tears that had escaped after all. Taking off his top hat, he bowed his head, sending a prayer to God.

You have seen fit to take her. I beg of you, take care of her now in heaven, as she was never quite taken care of here. Amen.

He felt the drips of water soaking his light brown hair, making it curl in its damp state more than usual. He didn't care how wet he became, he didn't return his hat to his head, out of a mark of respect. Even when the rain mixed with the small mustache on his top lip, he refused to return the hat.

Slowly, the mourners left. One by one they threw sods of earth onto the casket, though it was damp and dropped onto the wood in heavy thuds. The mother struggled the most, and ended up flinging the soil down, her hand trembling so much. When the mother turned away, Nigel did too.

He planted his back to the tree trunk of the yew, desperate not to be seen. He closed his eyes and thought of the last time he had seen the woman in that casket, when she had breathed her last. To his last moments on this earth, he was certain he would be haunted by that image.

I failed her, but I will not fail another.

With this sudden determination in mind, he opened his eyes. He left hurriedly parting through the gravestones and choosing to head straight for the fence rather than the gate, so he would not bump into any of the other mourners and be seen. Clambering over the fence, he dropped down the other side, his boots falling ankle deep into a puddle. He looked down and cursed, but hardly cared enough to slow his pace as he marched on.

Now Nigel knew what to do. He might have failed that poor woman, but he would not disappoint another. There was much he had to do. He would improve his knowledge, seeking out new methods and ways as much as he could, sticking to the latest research in order to discover ways to help people with their health and wellbeing. There was something more he had to do too, another resolution that would keep him safe, so he would never have to feel this way again.

I shall not look at a woman in that manner. From now on, my heart will be closed off for good.

When he was a distance away from the graveyard, he placed the top hat on his head and sniffed. He wouldn't let the tears fall anymore.