by April Munday
“I have also encountered friendship and good care.” Eleanor smiled up at Edward.
“Come, sit and warm yourselves.”
“I have brought Sister Margaret to talk with you and I will leave her with you if I may.”
“Of course. Will you take some wine, Sister?” Edward left them and Eleanor was alone with the priest.
“Thank you.”
Eleanor sat and looked at the man opposite her. He was in his early twenties and thin as if he did not eat enough. His eyes seemed older than the rest of him and it was these that persuaded her to trust him.
“You know something of my story?”
“I know that you arrived with Edward and his brother Henry from the west and that you are a nun.”
His keen eyes looked at her fashionable clothes and she told him about how Henry had taken her from the convent and brought her here. She did not give him all the details, but enough for him to understand why a nun was wearing such clothes.
“It is an interesting story and I thank you for it, but I do not believe you came here just to tell it to me.”
“No,” Eleanor paused. “I have spent most of my life in the convent and I find it hard here to find my way. There is so little peace and quiet.” She hesitated and the priest smiled encouragingly. “I do not know whether to stay here or to return to the convent and take my vows.”
The young man thought for a moment.
“Before you left the convent did you wish to leave the convent?”
“No, I never thought about it.”
“Why do you think about leaving now?”
Eleanor had her answer ready. “Because I believe Edward intends to marry me.”
“And that is enough to make you doubt your vocation?”
“Life here is so interesting and Edward would let me travel with him. I would see so many new things.”
“So you wish to be entertained.”
Now the priest looked stern and Eleanor knew that her argument was trivial. It had seemed so as she had rehearsed it to herself over the last few days.
“It is also a vocation to be a wife and mother.” This was the discussion she had had many times with Mother Abbess. The older woman had made it clear that she did not consider either vocation to be more pleasing to God then the other, the important thing was to discover the one that was real and then pursue it. A woman called to be a wife and mother should do that to the best of her ability and a woman called to be a nun should do that to the best of her ability. Then both would face God’s judgement with confidence.
“It was a vocation which you gave up when you declared yourself ready to take your vows. Sister Margaret, I do not blame you. You have lived a sheltered life and it is only to be expected that the adventure of coming here with Edward should seem exciting to you. And Edward is an attractive and wealthy man. But if God has called you to the convent, should you disobey him?”
“I am no longer sure that he has,” admitted Eleanor. “If I were certain, there could be no struggle.”
“Why do you wish to marry Edward?”
Eleanor had not thought about an answer to this question. She thought the priest had already answered it to his own satisfaction. And she had no wish to lie to him.
“I do not love him,” she began, “and I do not believe that he loves me. I do not need his wealth, I have enough of my own and it is at my disposal.”
Eleanor fell silent as she saw the scornful look on his face. Love was not important in a marriage, they both knew that. If she could not explain to herself why she wished to marry Edward, how could she expect to explain it to someone else? Sadly, she realised that the priest could not take the place of Mother Abbess; he had neither the experience nor the imagination.
“Sister Margaret, are you unwell?”
Eleanor was recalled from her reverie. “Sometimes I am dizzy because of the blow to my head.” It was the truth, but not the reason for her pallor or the shaking of her hands.
“Perhaps you should return when you are feeling better.”
Eleanor nodded and Father Timothy called for Sam to come and take her back to Edward’s house, but Eleanor went into the church first. It was cold and empty, but she knelt and prayed and lay prostrate on the tiles until Sam began to worry that she would die there. He touched her shoulder tentatively and she started.
“Oh, Sam, forgive me. I forgot you were here. Let us return.”
“You scared me, Sister Margaret.”
“Did I? I did not intend to. Have you never known the need to throw yourself on God’s mercy and beg for his help?”
The boy shook his head.
“Then pray that you never need to. It is a terrible thing to know that your only choice is between two sins.”
The boy frowned.
“But you are a nun. You can’t sin.”
“Of course I can sin; we all can. We all sin every day. Sam, you should pay more attention in church.”
The boy grinned at her. “Course I pay attention in church. I stand and look at the maid from two doors down.”
Despite herself Eleanor laughed.
“Come on, lead me back to your master’s house.”
Sam stayed by her side until they were inside the house and Edward came to greet her.
“Did Father Timothy help you?” Edward had excused himself from the shop, leaving Simon to attend to the customers. His smile faded as he looked into her face. “How sad you look, Eleanor, and cold, you’re so cold.” He had taken her hands in his. “Come into the hall and warm yourself. My parents and Isabelle are out with Robert so you can be alone if you wish.”
Grateful for his understanding Eleanor climbed the stairs. Sarah shortly brought her some beer and bread and cheese. Eleanor took it all and stared into the fire as she thought about what she must do. If no one would take her back to the convent, she must marry Edward.
Two days later Eleanor and Isabelle rode back to Sir John’s house with Sir John and Lady Mary. Edward didn’t accompany them, but sent Sam and Simon, both heavily armed. He wished to make sure that his business would be able to continue as he wished when they went to visit Henry and so had much to do. Robert also sent an armed servant with them; there had been reports of travellers being attacked on the roads. Eleanor remembered the men who had attacked her and Henry and was grateful that they were so well escorted.
Eleanor was glad that she and Edward would be apart for a few days. She had not been back to see Father Timothy, but she had taken Sam and gone to St Michael’s each morning. She had made her decision, but did not get much comfort from it. Isabelle complained about her restlessness at night and she was tired all day.
Robert had committed himself to visit Sir John in two days’ time and it was clear to everyone that he intended to ask for Isabelle’s hand. Eleanor hoped that this would not encourage Edward to do the same with her.
To her relief Robert came alone. He was greeted by a very breathless and excited Isabelle, then he went into Sir John’s solar. Eleanor sat sewing with Lady Mary and Philippa. Isabelle fidgeted and could not be trusted with any fine work. Lady Mary sighed.
“Isabelle, do you think Robert will want a wife who cannot be relied upon to be calm at important moments?”
“But mother...”
“Sit still and finish your embroidery. I should like to think I have raised a woman able to manage her husband’s household.”
Eleanor stopped sewing and stared at her hands. She had not thought of this. She had no idea what was required of a wife. Life in the convent had taught her to work hard in the fields and with horses. She could read and write, but she could not sew well and she did not know how to manage servants. She had visited merchants with Isabelle, but she did not know how to judge the quality of wool or cloth or even food. At the convent they had used mainly what they produced themselves. How could she be a wife without knowing these things? How could she have learnt them? Who would teach her to be a good wife to Edward?
Sir John
and Robert came into the hall. Both were smiling.
“Isabelle,” said Sir John, “Robert has asked to marry you and I have given permission. You will be married before Candlemas.”
“Thank you father,” said Isabelle demurely. Only Eleanor could see the little dance her feet did under her skirts.
“We will feast tonight,” said Lady Mary. “There is still some of that pig that we killed before it snowed and John will come from the village to play for us so that we can dance.”
Eleanor began to feel excited. She had never danced. She had never heard music, except as part of the nuns’ worship. Then she wondered how she would dance; she had never learned, since the nuns did not believe it to be part of a young woman’s education as did the rest of the world.
Isabelle caught her hand as her parents left to make ready for the feast. “How wonderful. I am to marry one of the richest men in Southampton.”
“I congratulate you,” said Eleanor formally. “This is a great achievement. You must be very happy.”
“I am. And all the more since I am very fond of Robert.”
Eleanor was glad of this. It was not necessary for there to be love between a man and wife, but she thought it must make things easier. She had seen her brother’s marriage from a distance and knew that he had had neither respect nor love for Anne. Edward respected her, she was certain of it. She thought it would not matter that they did not love one another.
Isabelle held out her hand to Robert, who approached her with a smile on his face. He bent over her hand and kissed it, then sat the other side of her. Eleanor made no move to leave them alone and it did not seem to be expected of her and neither of them seemed unhappy that she remained. She knew, somehow, that it would not be like this when Edward asked for her hand.
After Robert had been accepted as Isabelle’s betrothed it was only natural that she should want to spend more time with him. Eleanor was asked by Lady Mary to go back to Southampton as Isabelle’s chaperone. Eleanor knew that this wasn’t strictly necessary; Isabelle and Robert were betrothed, he could not now change his mind about marrying her. She admitted, however, that it would make Sir John and Lady Mary happy if she accompanied their daughter. It was arranged that they would go to Southampton for a week, but she knew that Isabelle hoped to stay longer and she herself would not object to spending more time with Edward, despite her earlier decision not to return to the town.
Edward arrived late in the afternoon of the day before they were to travel. It was only after the evening meal that he tried to speak to Eleanor alone.
“I’m glad that you’ve agreed to come back with Isabelle. I’ve arranged some entertainment for you.”
“Oh?” Eleanor smiled at his enthusiasm and she wondered what new entertainments he had arranged. She quickly put out of her head the idea that he cared more for entertaining her than he should. It was not as if she was an idle woman who sat waiting to be entertained; she would rather be doing something useful and she was not really able to do so at Edward’s house. Since she was not his wife she could not manage his servants or his kitchen, all she could do was sit and sew with Isabelle or be entertained. She managed to hide her thoughts from Edward and looked at him expectantly.
“During the winter, when ships don’t sail, the merchants dine together frequently. We will be out much.” Edward presented this as if it were a great treasure that he had purchased at great price just for her. Eleanor sighed; she had no wish to meet more strangers. Isabelle would be happy, though, she enjoyed meeting new people and showing off her beauty and her fine clothes.
“The thought makes you unhappy?” Edward’s face clouded with disappointment.
“Just uncomfortable, but Isabelle will be happy.”
“Yes, she will, but I care more about your happiness.” Edward caught her hand and squeezed it before letting it go. He seemed disappointed that he had not managed to please her.
Eleanor did not dare say that peace and quiet made her happy, that she would as soon spend an evening sitting quietly with him as with a roomful of noisy strangers. The thought that their tastes were so different worried her slightly. She knew little enough about marriage, but surely it would be better if they took pleasure in the same things.
“I won’t offer to take you sailing again. The weather is too bad and the days too short.” This was their shared pleasure, she realised, and he was disappointed that he could not please her in this way. She smiled; sailing had indeed been a great pleasure and she looked forward to the spring when she might join him on his ship again.
“You don’t need to entertain me. I will go to church in the morning and sew in the afternoon and meet your friends in the evening.” Eleanor doubted that he would understand what this had and would cost her.
Edward smiled. “I’m glad you are to come back with me.”
“I’m coming back with Isabelle,” she corrected him, not sure why she wanted to argue with him today. She tried to soften the comment with a smile, but Edward turned away. She watched him clench and unclench his fist before he turned back to her.
“I don’t care why you’re coming back, as long as you intend to spend some time with me.” His response was more passionate than she had expected; did he love her after all? If he did, why did he not say so? Eleanor bit back the response that sprang to her lips. If she was going to disagree with him every time they spoke their marriage would be unpleasant for both of them. She spread her hands demurely in her lap.
“Of course I shall spend some time with you.”
Now that her resolution to stay in Sir John’s house was destroyed, she wondered what else she would do against her own better judgement in the next few days. For the first time she began to fear that Edward might be able to seduce her into his bed, but there could be no giving way on that; the consequences were far too dangerous for her to give in to him.
The next morning the three of them and the servants set off in a biting wind. Eleanor had never known such cold as she knew here in Hampshire. The convent was in a sheltered valley and she had only seen snow twice before she had come here. It seemed as if it is was always snowing or raining or blowing a gale here. She had made sure that she was dressed well and her new gloves protected her hands, but her face stung so much that her eyes watered. Her feet in her stirrups were cold and the wind kept getting beneath her cloak.
After one particularly vicious gust of wind they sheltered briefly against the wall of a house in the hamlet they were passing through. Edward turned to her and sighed. “You are suffering a great deal, aren’t you?”
Eleanor nodded, too cold and weary to talk. He moved his horse close to hers and reached out to stroke her face tenderly. “We will soon be in my house and you will be warm. I will make you warm.” Then he helped her to adjust her hood so that less of her face was exposed and they set off again. Despite his attentions she was chilled to the bone by the time they arrived at his house. All three of them sat in front of the fire in the hall still wearing their cloaks while Sarah brought them warm spiced wine and hot bricks for their feet. Edward sat close to Eleanor and made sure that she was closest to the fire. When she shivered he put an arm round her and drew her against his body. He moved slightly on the bench so that their thighs were touching. Even as she grew warmer, Eleanor acknowledged that not all of the heat was coming from Edward. Somewhere deep within herself there seemed to be a smouldering fire that was growing in strength. Could it be that his touch was doing this? She shivered again and Edward squeezed her arm; he knew that this time it wasn’t the cold that made her shiver. He turned his face slightly and whispered into her ear, “If Isabelle can be made to leave us alone, I can make you warmer still.” His words achieved the same effect, for she blushed with a heat that she thought must rival that of the fire.
As if she had heard him, Isabelle shrugged of her cloak and stood. “I cannot get my feet warm in these boots. I shall go and change into my slippers.” She left them alone.
“She will be back soo
n,” said Edward as he placed a finger under Eleanor’s chin to turn her face to his. Almost before she had time to breathe his lips were on hers. She sighed in contentment as his arms slipped around her waist and she was pressed against him. There was a new tenderness in his kisses, as if their short separation had renewed his desire for her. It seemed that she desired him, for her kisses matched his. Edward must have been listening for Isabelle’s step in the passage, for he released Eleanor just as his sister entered the hall. Eleanor barely noticed the conversation that Isabelle started with Edward as she entered the room; she was too busy examining the nature of desire and what it really meant. It seemed that love had little to do with it. She was certain that she did not love Edward. She might be fond of him, but it was not love. She recognised desire, however, in him and in her. And she began to understand why it made women do stupid things. The thought of never feeling Edward’s fingers on her face again or of never being kissed by him again made her wonder what she would do if he threatened to withhold those pleasures. Would it drive her to his bed?
She shook her head as she realised that Isabelle was talking to her.
“Are you unwell, Eleanor? You look so distant.”
“No. I was just thinking of something pleasant.”
Isabelle glanced at her brother with a smile. Eleanor frowned. Was that all that Isabelle could think of? Then she was angry because Isabelle had been correct. Eleanor stretched out her hands towards the fire, but now the fire that burned within her was shame.
Sarah brought them some food and they ate. Later, when Isabelle and Eleanor went into their room to change out of their travelling clothes Eleanor found that she was cold again, since her clothes were cold. They took their sewing back to the hall and Edward had already gone into the shop to speak to Simon about what had happened in his absence.
Isabelle chattered about things that seemed inconsequential to Eleanor, but she knew that if she did not join in Isabelle would insist that she was ill and that would bring other cares. She longed for the quiet of her night-time prayers, but that was hours away. Her head began to ache with the effort of concentrating on her sewing and talking to Isabelle. It was a great relief when Robert came early for the evening meal and talked to Isabelle. Neither of them expected her to join in, so she was able to concentrate on her sewing and her own thoughts. Remembering how Edward had kissed her this morning as soon as they were alone, she considered leaving them alone, but she could not do so without being obvious about it, having no excuse to be elsewhere and they seemed happy to have her remain in the room, although not sharing in the conversation. Different couples must find different pleasures, she concluded.