“Visitors?” she stressed the plural. Jane glanced at her father who seemed so focused on his mission flipping the paper that he had no time for interruptions. She again put down her yarn. “I’ll see them in the hall to avoid bothering Father.”
Jane endured another dose of Mrs. Cummings’s wary gaze as she passed with a calm smile. As she turned from the parlor toward the front door, she received a shock. In the tiny foyer stood two men and a woman. Her eyes were immediately drawn to a large man in a long coat. He wasn’t fat, simply massive. If Mr. MacFarlane was a sleek black warhorse, this man was a powerful draft horse that exuded strength. His hair was long and stark white and he wore a full beard. It was odd to see a man with a beard in this day and age, but he wore it naturally, as if he was a relic of an earlier era. The man’s face was leathered dark, but his age was still indeterminable. He was like a mountain or a great tree, rather than a man.
The second visitor was a bit more normal, in a way, but more disturbing. His posture was less assured; he seemed to twitch even when still. His eyes were deep-set and his copper red hair was wild and unrestrained. Worn clothes draped on him, badly mismatched and fashionable a generation earlier at least. He had a look that Jane had seen many times, a man who felt begrudged by the world and could barely contain his outrage. That, or he was insane.
The woman wore a long cloak that covered her completely except for her head. She had a cold visage. She held herself aloof, as a noblewoman, but her peculiarity was more than that. She seemed to Jane to be more machine than person, built to observe rather than engage in the world around her. Her hair was silver although she was not elderly, and her eyes were ice blue and distant.
The woman visitor studied the house around her while both men regarded Jane as if they had heard of her and were trying to blend knowledge with truth.
The massive man bowed. “Miss Somerset, thank you for seeing me. I realize the hour is late.”
Jane stopped several feet from the trio. She was fascinated by the older man and distressed by the others. “Do I know you?”
“You do not. I am a doctor of geology and divinity, originally from Rome. And this is my colleague from Dublin, Mr. O’Malley, and my companion, the Baroness Conrad.”
Jane nodded to the Irishman and gave a poor curtsy to the baroness. “I would ask you in, but my father is not well.”
The white-haired doctor replied. “I will be brief, for now. I am forearmed with knowledge of you, Miss Somerset. I have taken the liberty of inquiring in the parish after you and your father.”
Jane tilted her head in suspicion. “Have you indeed?”
He continued, “I am a man of science and have come here to offer you an opportunity that is both rare and precious.”
“Yes?”
“All I spoke to in the parish claimed that you care deeply for others. You give of yourself totally. I am a man of means, Miss Somerset, yet I appreciate the work of those who feel suffering. I want to help you do that work in ways you never imagined possible.” The man stretched out his thick hands, which looked as if they could crush rock. “I want to make a substantial subscription to your soup kitchen so that you may expand its reach far beyond its current ability.”
“I thank you.” Jane’s heart began to beat at the thought of such a windfall. Certainly she had encountered men of charity who had come to faith late in life and needed to unburden themselves by giving to others. However, this white-haired man seemed different. He didn’t have the aura of a gouty lord or sickening squire trying to pay his way into heaven. “Perhaps you should speak to the parish officials who manage the kitchen rather than to me.”
“No. You are the one who matters. I admire you immensely. To that point, I intend to help you and your father so that you may do even more for those who need you. I know your family has fallen on difficult financial times, and the noble gentleman, your father, suffers from some mental ague. I will do all I can for him and, at the very least, I promise he will live in all the ease and comfort he deserves.”
Jane tried to suppress the elation she felt at his words. “Why, sir, are you making such promises, if I may ask?”
He stared at her as if he would burst into insulted outrage that his largesse was being questioned. Instead, he clasped his hands together. “I have a vision, Miss Somerset. I want to bring the power of Heaven to change the face of this world. I want to bring the hand of God to Earth. But, as you know, the Earth must be properly prepared to accept such power. I need you to seed this land so that the will of God can be well and truly felt. I know how to make this happen, but I need you.”
The thunder of his words rolled through Jane. Her knees grew weak and she had to take hold of the staircase banister. The doctor glowed like an Old Testament prophet. She recognized the fire of mission in the man. It was a fire she understood and respected.
Her other hand went to her gaping mouth. “I … I don’t know what to say, sir.”
The white-haired man’s eyes sparked like a storm on the desert. “Please, call me Gaios.”
Chapter Thirty