Part One : Musings on the Threshold
I see your Palace Beautiful, my Lord,
But I cannot enter it, for I have no festive garments…
It was not, of course the first time he came here.
In fact, it was the very church where he and his lady were married 11 years ago, and where a year later their only daughter was baptized.
Moreover, every Sunday he drove them both here, mother and daughter, at the hour when the service was about to begin, and escorted them up to the church doors.
As for himself, however, he always waited for them outdoors.
Everything was too complicated, in his case…
Before the marriage took place, he, as required, had to go through the so called "general" confession – in fact, his first real confession after graduation from Eton – a crucible, which still made him feel shivers down the spine, for it was akin to a piece of metal being recast in the forge. Once finished, he felt it would be only fair if he was to be taken to purgatory right there and then. But nothing of the sort happened.
His sins were absolved.
Forgiven they had been, but not forgotten. Not at least by himself. Especially by himself.
To pretend he could ever turn a new leaf and tear out the numerous leaves in his biography that were anything but white, would be culpable negligence. Bad form, indeed.
It would make him similar to that wretched eternal boy, who always forgot everything that was not pleasant to him.
That Sunday morning he, as usual, accompanied Wendy and Jane to the church threshold, but didn't cross it himself.
As usual, his wife gave him a look which was by no means demanding or reproachful – only slightly inquisitive, gentle and a little sad, - and he lowered his eyes.
Why, in fact, could not he make an effort at least for her sake? For her, who had earlier changed the Anglican church for the Roman Catholic for his sake (though the Darlings never approved of it)?
Surely it was not his being stubborn or unwilling to change that deterred him so far.
Was it an incorrect sense of justice, or remains of false pride, or anything quite the contrary?
I'm afraid not even himself, James Matthew Stuart, the former captain of Jolly Roger, could at the moment find a proper answer.
The only thing he knew firmly – he didn't deserve to be fully forgiven.
Could forgiveness be bestowed and received that easily?
The wall between God and himself had been broken long ago, but still a stone, as huge and heavy as that had been laid against the cave tomb of Lazarus, was not gone yet.