Nunnery Brides

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  Andressa’s hands flew to her mouth as tears popped from her eyes. She was so grateful that she could hardly express herself.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. “It all seems like a dream… I cannot believe you should help me so.”

  Maxton’s expression was gentle, something completely out of character for him. But with her… it was easy. “You are unaccustomed to someone being kind to you,” he said. Then, he winked at her. “You had better get used to it.”

  Before she could reply, several servants appeared at the solar door bearing food and drink. There was also a servant bearing parchment and quill, and with the situation more or less settled, the knights began to disburse as the food was brought into the chamber and placed upon a table near the hearth. The knights broke into small groups, quiet conversation among them, as Maxton pulled Andressa to her feet and, collecting her chair, took it over to the table so she could sit.

  Now, it was just Maxton and Andressa at the table as the others wandered away. The servants had left behind boiled beef, boiled carrots and peas, a soft pottage of cheese and honey, bread, butter, and a steaming pitcher of hot milk with honey and cinnamon in it. Andressa picked up a spoon, her eyes big on everything in front of her, before she delved into the cheese pottage. Once she tasted it, she couldn’t shovel it into her mouth fast enough.

  “What do you plan to do once you are back at Chalford Hill?” Maxton asked, reaching over to pull the parchment and quill left on the table in his direction. “It has been four years since you have been there. Surely you have great plans.”

  Andressa’s mouth was full of more soft cheese. “I do not know,” she said honestly. “I never thought I would return, so I do not know what I will do.”

  “Well,” he said casually as he began to sketch out Andressa’s map in the ashes from memory. “The first thing to do is find someone to help you manage it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you are to deliver a child soon. The infant will take much of your time. What will you do with your empire?”

  She hadn’t thought of that and a hand moved to her belly, timidly touching it. She spent so much time avoiding touching it, avoiding acknowledging it, that it seemed strange to feel her belly, firm and rounded.

  “Everyone will wonder about the father of the child,” she said, swallowing the bite in her mouth. “How can they know the truth? I am sure they all know I have been at St. Blitha for the past four years. They will know that I have not married.”

  “Why not?” he asked, concentrating on drawing the chapel exactly the way she had. “Do you really think anyone at Chalford Hill has kept watch on you?”

  Andressa thought about that as she pushed the cheese away and moved to the beef. “Probably not,” she conceded. “In truth, I do not know anyone there any longer. I was gone for eight years and when my parents died… I am sure my aunt has brought in her own servants and maids. I am sure I do not know anyone there any longer.”

  “Then they would not know that you left St. Blitha, say, a year ago and married,” he said, scratching out the old abbey walls. “They would not know that it was your husband laying siege to Chalford Hill to regain it for you.”

  She stopped chewing. “Husband? But I have no husband.”

  He looked up from the parchment. “You have me.”

  “You are not my husband.”

  “I would like to be.”

  Andressa almost choked with what was left in her mouth. She had to quickly grab at the cup of hot milk Maxton pushed in her direction and slurp it to push the beef down. When she was finished coughing and sputtering, she looked at him with utter shock.

  “Maxton,” she hissed. “Are you mad? Why should you want to marry me?”

  He set the quill down, a smile tugging at his mouth. “Because you see me in a way no one else does,” he said quietly. “You have called me kind and generous from the start of our association. You see me through the eyes of someone who does not know of my past, or of the things I’ve done. No one has ever looked at me that way before, Andressa. I never thought to marry, but if I did take a wife, I would want her to look at me the way you do. You only see the good in me and that makes me want to be the best man I can possibly be. If you have such faith in me, then mayhap I should have faith in myself.”

  It was, perhaps, the sweetest thing Andressa had ever heard. Not only that, it solved her question of whether or not she was good enough for Maxton, something she’d been wrestling with from nearly the start of their association. But she was still overwhelmed with it all; everything was happening so quickly.

  “You are the kindest and most generous man I have ever met,” she murmured. “Oh, Maxton… you cannot know how happy your words make me but, clearly, you are a blind man. Can you not see what I am? I surrendered myself to a man who was not my husband and now I am paying the price. I have been a laundress at an abbey for four years, working my hands until they bleed, eating crusts and berries and anything else I can steal in order to survive. I live like an animal. Are you sure that is the kind of wife you want?”

  His smile broke through and he reached out, collecting her cold, slender hand. “If you are willing to see the best in me, then I am willing to see the best in you,” he said. “I told you that you are not the only sinner between us and, as for the rest, you did what you had to do to survive. That tells me that you are stronger than you know. I would be proud to have such a woman by my side.”

  “Even though you have only just met me?”

  “I do not need days or months or even years to tell me what my heart already knows.”

  Andressa stared at him a moment longer before tears of joy pooled in her eyes. “And you are certain of this?”

  “More certain than I have ever been.”

  She blinked and the tears spilled down her cheeks, which she quickly wiped away. “Then if you are certain, I would be honored,” she whispered. “More honored than you will ever know. But tell me one thing.”

  “Anything.”

  “You are not offering marriage simply because I am the rightful heiress to a rich fortress, are you?”

  He laughed softly, flashing is big, white teeth. “I can promise you that I am not,” he said. “In fact, I would take you with only the clothes on your back. Regaining Chalford Hill for you… it is yours, Andressa. It will always be yours.”

  She was enchanted by his smile, his words, feeling such hope and joy swell in her that she could hardly contain it. It seemed surreal, all of it. But in the same breath, nothing had ever seemed so right or so true. It was glory beyond imagination.

  It was to be hers.

  “And yours,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I will share all that I have with you, for always. But… will you do something for me?”

  “All you need do is ask.”

  She squeezed his hand again, that big and strong thing, trying to put her thoughts into words. “When I was young at Chalford Hill, and when I was fostering at Okehampton, no one called me Andressa,” she said. “My parents only named me Andressa because they hoped I would be a boy. They wanted to name him Andrew.”

  “You are most definitely not a boy.”

  She giggled. “Nay,” she agreed. “But because they wanted a boy, they called me Andie from birth. I was always known as Andie until I came to St. Blitha. It reminds me of better days. Days I never thought I’d see again.”

  He brought her hand to his lips, kissing it sweetly, and he didn’t care who saw him. “I am happy to call you Andie if it pleases you,” he said. “But know that I think your name is quite beautiful. Like you.”

  Andressa’s cheeks flushed a dull red, the most color Maxton had ever seen in them. It gave her such a glow, a hint of the true beauty this woman possessed. He was still holding her hand when she lowered her head and continued eating.

  All with one hand.

  It was the best moment of his life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  St. Blitha

  It was a cold, mi
sty morning, much colder and denser than the day before, but the Mother Abbess and her attendants were up before dawn, preparing for the day. With the feast day on the morrow, there was much for them to do.

  They had a traitor in their midst.

  “Is she awake yet, Sister Petronilla?” the Mother Abbess asked. “Is she at her duties?”

  Sister Petronilla was over near the windows that overlooked the garden. She peered out, trying to see through the mist that had settled. The sun was just rising, turning everything a lighter shade of gray, like a mystical land the color of silver.

  “Aye,” she said after a moment. “I see her and some other women over near the kitchens.”

  The Mother Abbess sighed faintly as Sister Agnes adjusted her wimple. “And you are sure what you saw last night, Sister?”

  Sister Petronilla turned away from the window. “I am certain,” she said. “I was watching the postern gate to ensure she returned from Lady Hinkley’s. There was a man with her. I could see him standing outside the gate when she came through.”

  “And she had no laundry from Lady Hinkley?”

  “None that I could see, Gracious Mother.”

  The Mother Abbess finished fussing with her wimple and made her away across the floor, looking from the windows just as Sister Petronilla was doing, seeing Andressa across the misty yard as she worked with the other nuns. Because she was so tall, it was easy to spot her among the other women.

  “So Andressa has a lover,” she said, but there was an icy edge to her tone. “A lover who must have killed Douglas when the man strayed too close to her. Do you suppose that is what happened, Sister? Mayhap Douglas stumbled onto something he should not have heard and was killed for it.”

  Sister Petronilla lifted her shoulders. “Andressa spends far too much time wandering the city,” she said, disgust in her voice. “She has more freedom than anyone else because of her duties as the laundress and she has taken a lover because of that freedom. She has taken advantage of your generosity, Gracious Mother. Something must be done.”

  The Mother Abbess was calm, unnaturally so, as she watched Andressa go about her tasks. “Something will be done,” she said as she turned away. “She will understand her place in all things or The Chaos will swallow her, too. It is something we must do. Bring her to me.”

  Sister Petronilla left her post at the window, a smug expression on her face because she was happy to summon Andressa to face the Mother Abbess’ punishment. She wasn’t happy about Andressa joining their exclusive group as it was, so the fact that the woman had proven herself unworthy was quite a joyful thing for Sister Petronilla. As she quickly left the Mother Abbess’ solar, the Mother Abbess turned to Sister Agnes and Sister Dymphna.

  “Bring my rod,” she said quietly. “And the bindings. We shall get to the bottom of this.”

  The two sisters fled the chamber to do the Mother Abbess’ bidding.

  The Mother Abbess was alone in her solar now, waiting for what was to come. She’d been at the helm of St. Blitha for many years, and she’d seen many women during that time. Scores of them. It was rare that a nun died of old age at St. Blitha, simply because the Mother Abbess liked to play God with the women under her care, but it was something they didn’t know until it was too late.

  For Andressa, she was about to receive a warning before it was too late.

  Or perhaps it already was.

  In any case, the girl had gone out, at least twice that day that she knew of, both times with the excuse of delivering or gathering laundry at Lady Hinkley’s fine manor home. But when she returned last night, it had been with no laundry and a male escort.

  A lover.

  The Mother Abbess had a lover, too, but she was well past the age of worrying over conceiving a child, so her activities were without fear. When the Bishop of Essex came to St. Blitha as he did several times a year, she would join him in the Abbot’s Lodge on the grounds, and they would fornicate most of the night. He chose her over younger women, because he’d had trouble in the past with nuns bearing his children. At least, they’d become pregnant, but the children were never born.

  He’d made certain of it.

  The Mother Abbess knew all about that, so their trysts were mutually beneficial – Aatto de Horndon, Bishop of Essex, was a tall, thin, and weak-looking man with a long tongue and a manhood that was nearly half the length of his thigh when it was aroused. He could bring a woman to her pleasure in mere seconds, and the Mother Abbess looked forward to his visits to St. Blitha. Rumor had it that he shared lovers with the king, though the Mother Abbess had never been part of that particular exchange. Not that she cared. Her life was such that she didn’t care, nor was she attached, to anyone or anything.

  Meaning she had little to no feelings towards Andressa and what was about to happen. If the girl wasn’t guilty, there would be no regret, but if she was guilty, then there would be some pleasure in punishing her.

  And then The Chaos could have her.

  The Mother Abbess moved away from the window, thoughts turning away from the bishop’s impending visit to Andressa. Her great Staff of Truth was propped against the wall over near the entry door and she went to collect it. In fact, she stood next to the doorway, just inside it, holding the staff, waiting for the door to open.

  It wasn’t long in coming.

  Sister Petronilla entered first, followed by Andressa. They entered the chamber, not seeing the Mother Abbess because she was standing back by the door, against the wall. They only noticed her when she shut the door behind them.

  “Andressa,” the Mother Abbess said. “I understand you came back late last night.”

  Andressa, who hasn’t been inordinately concerned when Sister Petronilla summoned her to the Mother Abbess’ private solar, was now filled with fear at the sight of the Mother Abbess standing by the door with her Staff of Truth in-hand.

  It was the staff that had her eye, because that was the Mother Abbess’ most fearsome weapon. When it was in her hand, there was always the chance that, somehow, she might use it.

  Andressa took a deep breath.

  “I did, Gracious Mother,” she said, trying not to sound terrified. “Is there a concern?”

  The Mother Abbess came away from the door, using the staff as a walking stick at this point. Her movements were casual, slow, but that was deceptive. It was like watching the lethargy of a serpent before it lashed out.

  “I would like for you to tell me if there is,” she said. “Where is the washing you said you would collect from Lady Hinkley?”

  Andressa faced her with as much courage as she could muster. There was no washing, even though she’d made a point of stopping by Lady Hinkley’s late in the night, with Maxton by her side. If Lady Hinkley was asked, she wanted the woman to confirm that she had, indeed, been there. It had been a carefully executed action to cover her tracks.

  “She gave me none, Gracious Mother,” she replied. “She did ask me to return, thinking her clothing from the day would need washing, but she decided not to give it to me.”

  “Did she say why?”

  “She wanted to wear the garments today for a visit.”

  The Mother Abbess came to stand next to her, the staff in her hand just a few inches away from Andressa.

  “I see,” she said. “And if I were to ask her if you had visited her, would she tell me you had?”

  Andressa nodded firmly. “I would encourage you to do so, Gracious Mother,” she said. Then, she glanced at Sister Petronilla before returning her attention to the Mother Abbess. “Is something wrong? Have I done something?”

  The Mother Abbess’ gaze lingered on her, the weight of her stare so very heavy, for a few moments before turning away.

  “I am not certain,” she said. “Do you have something to confess to me, child?”

  Now, they were getting to the meat of the situation. Andressa knew this moment would come at some point. She thought it would have come last night after she’d returned, but everything had bee
n dark and silent. She never asked Maxton what happened to Douglas, and he’d never told her, but surely the nuns would have been suspicious when he didn’t return to St. Blitha. They’d sent him out to follow her, after all.

  But Andressa had been the only one to return.

  Given what Douglas had said to her last night, Andressa knew that the Mother Abbess was aware the plans for the king were no longer secret. She’d known enough to send the man to follow Andressa when she left the abbey, presumably for Lady Hinkley’s. But it had been far more than that, and Lady Hinkley’s laundry had nothing to do with it.

  She knows yer guilt, Douglas had said.

  Now, the confrontation had come.

  As Andressa looked at the woman, it occurred to her that she was on trial. All of this; it was a trial. The Mother Abbess was the judge and her minions were the jury. They knew she had discussed their plans and were more than likely deciding what to do about it. How they knew of her guilt didn’t matter, only that they did. Someone had told them that Andressa had confessed their darkest plans to men loyal to the king.

  Oh, God…

  Fear surged through Andressa but she fought it. She had to stay calm if there was any hope of coming out of this alive. To pretend as if she had no idea what they were talking about was her only defense, but there was a distinct problem with that – she had never been very good at lying. Now, she had to lie as if her life depended on it, because it did. She knew it did.

  She was closer to death than she’d ever been in her life.

  God help me!

  “Confess?” she repeated, hoping she didn’t sound terrified and cornered. “I have not gone to confession today, but I shall confess to you if you wish.”

  The Mother Abbess ended up over by her windows, her favorite place to stand as she surveyed her empire beyond.

  “I have no time for foolishness,” the woman said patiently. “Tell me where you have gone and who you have spoken to. Tell me now.”