Chapter 30 Jory loved Rose from the moment he first set eyes upon her.
A young girl,
Walking behind her father's hay cart in the summer sunshine.
He had been passing through a neighbouring village on his way to market and felt an overwhelming desire to protect her,
Rescue her from the life she led and make her his wife.
He loved her with a passion which,
Despite the years they had been married,
Never dimmed.
In the early days some might have called it lust,
But over time he was certain it had become pure love.
But he also loved the church and God with an equal intensity,
Which was the cause of all the problems.
Now,
As he worked in his vegetable patch,
Tending his best marrows in the hope he would produce the biggest for the harvest festival and make the most money for church funds in the auction afterwards,
His thoughts turned to Rose and he wondered where she had gone wrong.
Sometimes he felt a real flash of anger when he thought about it.
He had given her his best and a better life than she would have endured had she married his good for nothing brother,
Always out poaching and taking what did not belong to him.
Though Shalt Not Steal was a commandment Jory lived by every day of his life,
Along with the other nine,
Which he knew off by heart and never tired of reminding Rose and their daughter Rachel of over the years.
As for They Shalt Not Covet Thy Neighbour's Wife,
Jory knew well enough Davy's feelings for Rose.
He remembered clearly before they were married he had brought her to the village in the pony trap and on seeing Davy put his arm around Rose,
Showing Davy she belonged to him.
He felt a stab of pride at the time but if Jory was completely honest with himself a little ashamed of his actions afterwards.
He straightened up,
It would soon be time to change his clothes before making his way to church to set out the sacraments and then join the bell ringers in summoning the villagers.
Jory was churchwarden and captain of the tower,
Both jobs he took very seriously.
He only wished he could persuade Rose to accompany him but try as he might she would have nothing to do with it,
Only appearing by his side at Christmas,
Easter,
Weddings,
Christenings and funerals,
In a vague attempt to stop the villagers gossiping about her,
For at least some of the time.
Although he knew well enough they were glad to visit her for salves and potions,
Sometimes under cover of darkness.
Although Charles had lived in the village for a number of years he still felt one removed from the villagers.
It was all very well living in the manor house and the men touching their caps and muttering morning squire when they passed,
Some of the women even bobbed the remnant of a curtsy if he came upon them in the road when he was out riding.
His presence was required at church every Sunday to sit in the family pew and nod at everyone,
But truth be told he was lonely and had been for so long.
Charles had never married and after his parents died,
Leaving him the manor house and enough land to bring in a reasonable income,
Retreated into his writing and books,
Content with his own company.
And his books were all he needed.
Charles spent hours reading,
Thinking,
Reading some more and debating with himself the meaning of life,
Religion and which was the true path.
And although he had no one to share his thoughts with,
Had never missed the company of another person,
Never longed for the closeness of marriage or a woman to warm his bed,
Until he met Rose.
And once Rose came into his life he could think of nothing else.
For the first time his books lay unopened on the desk before him.
He longed for her arrival every day when she came to carry out her housekeeping duties,
Leaving instructions for the cook and the woman from the village who did the rough work,
Generally keeping an eye on the running of the place in her quiet,
Efficient way.
He knew that without her the house would be empty,
And he sometimes thought of telling her how he felt.
But how could he when she was married to the self-absorbed,
Self-righteous jury who believed God's word was law?
Charles sighed,
His papers once again forgotten.
Sometimes he was overcome with longing for Rose,
Albeit she was another man's wife,
But it was more than simply lust.
He was certain what he felt for her was pure,
Unadulterated,
Unrequited love.
He just wanted to protect and look after her.
Davy spent a lot of time thinking of Rose too,
When he was not busy being gamekeeper for Charles and bearing a grudge against jury for marrying her in the first place.
And Rose,
Unaware as she was of any of it,
Was much more inclined to spend her time thinking about her magic.
