Claire glanced at Viola and smirked.
Isabella’s face flushed. “I... I...”
“There are many instances where you have been involved, but I had no proof to make an accusation. Since Viola’s arrival, many of the dresses our seamstress has mended were missing buttons, lace, and gold thread. You have a novice testing your food for poison. Then there is the matter of a dozen or more lay servants disappearing once they were placed in the infirmary.”
Isabella rolled her hands. “Sister Lucia is a witch; it is no wonder they ran away.”
Mother Superior sighed. “I have no choice but to request your removal from the Abby of Saint Namadia. We will have you transferred. Until then, you will be stripped of your duties and placed in the kitchens where Sister Judith can keep a close eye on you.” She turned to Claire and Viola. “Claire, think upon our request. And Viola, since you are no longer a novice, have a safe journey and may God be with you.”
Viola followed Claire out the door, her feet barely touching the floor. The abbess knew more than Viola realized. But it was the bishop’s letter that finally gave her the proof she had sought to bring Isabella down.
Claire set her hands on her hips. “Just as I arrive, you are now leaving?”
“I must go to Scotland and assist the true Queen.”
“Then I will pray for you. I believe that you will be safe, with that many men to guard you.” She giggled. “I am happy to know you, Novice Viola.”
Viola smiled. “I am no longer a novice. Only Viola. Will you take your vows?”
Claire tipped her head to the side. “I do not know. I will speak with Sister Anne and gain her advice.”
“She will want you to stay here.”
“I will stay, even if I do not take my vows. I fear lightning would strike me if I do.”
Claire hugged her. “I will be there in the morn when you leave. Do not walk through those gates without saying goodbye once more.”
“I will be leaving before first light.”
“Then I shall sleep in front of the gates to ensure I do not miss you. I must find Sister Anne and tell her the news.”
“Go now and let her know I wish to speak with her.”
Claire nodded and skipped down the corridor. Viola laughed. Surely lightning would strike if Claire were to take her vows.
Viola made it to her room as the bells tolled. She flinched, about to turn around, when she realized that she no longer needed to attend prayer. She opened the door to her cell and sat down on the straw bed, then broke the seal of the letter. Inside were two letters of passage for Dominic and Loys. The bishop told her of the letter that he’d written to the abbess, then explained the courier was given enough coin for her and her men for passage to Scotland. Dunbrek would present it to her once she was securely out of the convent. He explained he was working day and night to protect the Queen, but feared Brothwell had seduced the Queen with black magic. He wished her good health and a safe journey.
She set the letter on the bed and looked around the small room. Almost three years she’d spent sleeping in this room. If her brother had disposed of that pestering Rachel Drovere, Viola would have married Alexander Dohetry and would never have had to step foot within these confining walls. At the very least, she was now able to leave. The level of discomfort that she had had to endure was excruciating. With luck, the bishop would offer her a soft bed and clothing that did not itch.
The garments she wore were no longer necessary. They were hot and now were a heavy burden. She needed to strip them away from her body, but had nothing else to wear. Without waiting for prayer to be done, she walked quickly to the laundry in search of a new garment and a bag to carry her few belongings.
Viola stuffed the sewing kit and the carpet for her bed into the canvas bags she found in the laundry. Her brush and satin sheets she would pack in the morn before she left. She picked up her mother’s prayer book and caressed its cover. Her mother would have been proud of her efforts to keep a Catholic Queen on the throne of England—at all costs. And this would cost her dearly. She shuddered and pushed the thought from her mind.
Anne walked in the room, interrupting her thoughts. “It is true.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “You have changed your garments. I hoped it was a vile tell-tale.”
“Sister Anne. I fear I will miss you the most. You have been like a mother to me. Will you wish me well?”
Anne opened her arms. “Of course, my dear. I wish you all the happiness a mother could hope for a child.”
She wrapped her arms around Anne and a tear fell down her face. The last time she remembered crying was the day that they buried her mother. She wished her mother was still among the living. This woman possessed all of the purity and love of a good Catholic woman. Viola would truly miss her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Viola had a fitful sleep. The conversation that she had had with Dunbrek and that the words the bishop had written replayed in her mind. She constantly found herself opening her eyes and glancing out the small window. Her biggest fear was that she would not wake in time to meet her men and board the ship. The waking sisters would have heard of her departure, but she dared not count on them.
Finally, a hint of light penetrated the darkness; she rose from her bed, though she could barely see to dress herself. She should have kept the candle lit overnight. But by morn, it would have burned all the way down and she would be in the same predicament.
She felt for the brush on the small table and tied her hair, which had now grown well past her shoulders to the middle of her back. It had yet to reach its length when she had entered the convent. With a leather thong she tied her hair back, then slipped on her worn leather boots, and yanked the silk sheet from her bed, stuffing them all into the canvas bag. On top, she gently placed her mother’s prayer book, now inside its embroidered prayer bag, and then the letters from the bishop. She was now ready for her journey. With one last look around, she reached for the door handle and stopped. She’d take the remaining candle. One never knew if they would need such an item on a long journey.
Quietly, she closed the door to her cell and made her way to the front doors. Though she took soft steps, it wasn’t to keep the others from waking or to keep the watch sisters from hearing; it was to ensure no one would stop her from leaving with one last goodbye.
At the gates, Horace and Claire stood waiting for her.
Viola dropped her bag onto the ground. “Did you sleep here?”
“No. I awoke and rushed out here. Horace was waiting for you to arrive.”
“My thanks, Horace.”
He smiled and proceeded to unlatch the gates, then picked up the canvas bag and set it down on the other side.
Claire hugged her. “I bid you safe journey.”
“You have no words of wisdom as before?”
Claire laughed. “None. But if I hear anything through the walls, I will be sure to let you know.”
“Be happy, Claire.”
Viola stepped through the gates. When she turned back, Claire waved as Horace closed the gates.
The next chapter in her life begun. She took a deep breath, then noticed she was alone.
“Od’s Bodikin! They should be here by now,” she cursed under her breath. Just then, she heard the sound of hooves and men speaking to each other.
They best have brought me a horse, she thought to herself. I will be dammed if I walk to town. Minutes later, four men and five horses rode up.
Loys was the first to jump down. He gave a quick bow. “Lady Viola.”
At first it sounded odd. He’d always called her sister. She straightened her shoulders and tipped her chin. She was, after all, the daughter of an earl. And now the Bishop of Ross’s concubine. These men were hers. It was she who acquired their loyalty and letters of passage.
“Have you secured the ship?”
“Yes. The captain plans to travel to Cornwall before he makes his way to Dover, then Scotland.”
She didn’
t like the sound of that. If the bishop wanted them to arrive in Scotland, then that’s where they should travel without delay. “I will speak with the captain. What of my brother?”
Loys shook his head. “Your brother lives. He was spotted at the docks two days ago, and has secured passage to England.”
She gritted her teeth. “Why does he live?”
“The ship left only hours before I arrived. Then Frederick found Dunbrek and we made our way here.”
“He is a day ahead of us.” Her mind raced. James was close to being captured. “Dunbrek! Tell me again what efforts have been made to retrieve Baillie’s correspondence.”
“I was told that Earl Maycott denied an audience and that is the reason men have been sent to investigate. I know nothing more.”
She paced and rolled her hands. “My letter must be found. I must remain above suspicion.” She knew of Lord Maycott and his daughters. He was a spineless man who lived on the border. He refused to take sides for fear of an uprising. They could use that to their advantage, though it was said that his youngest daughter trained with his men. “Who has a quill, parchment?”
“I have,” a voice called out.
Viola turned. Little Frederick scurried down from his horse. She smiled. Of course Frederick would be here with the supplies she needed. He was, after all, learning to write.
He handed her what she needed and Viola began to write. When she finished, she wrote another letter, this time to the bishop. “Frederick, do you have the leather bag?”
“I do.” He untied it from his belt and handed it to her. She folded the first letter and placed it into the pouch. It was too light. Then she remembered: he always placed a small stone inside. She walked alongside the reddish-brown stone wall surrounding the convent and found a piece that had broken off. Fitting, she thought to herself, and slipped it into the pouch.
“Loys,” she called out. “You will return to England. Not Scotland. Find my brother and do as we discussed. Dominic. Take what men you need and go to the Maycott Estate and find my letter. If he refuses, take his daughter for ransom. Under no circumstance take the youngest, she is nothing but trouble. When you have completed your task, deliver this letter to the earl.”
“What of the bishop?” Dominic asked, crossing his arms. “Should we not do as he requested?”
She stepped but an inch away from his face. “I have acquired your services, not he. If you wish to crawl to the bishop rather than do what must be done, then go. Go ahead. But bear in mind, I have your letter and I have gold.”
“Of course, my lady.” Dominic took the leather pouch and drew its strings. “We will do what must be done.”
“Dunbrek, travel with them and deliver this letter to the bishop. Tell him if he wishes to meet with me, I will be in Plimmouth. While in London, locate an Italian investor named Robert Ridolfi and tell him I will be utilizing his property in Cornwall and he will be properly rewarded. Have care, he may be entertaining those who would be against our cause.” Once these tasks had been accomplished, she would journey to her father’s estate and take back what was rightfully hers—the riches, the land, and her title.
Dunbrek nodded.
She walked over to a horse. Frederick knelt down, forming a step to help her mount the horse. Once she secured herself, she called out. “Someone gather my belongings and let us ride. We have much to do.” They started out and Viola remembered, she needed them to do one more thing. “Loys, ride next to me.”
When he was close, she spoke in a low voice. “After you find my brother and my letters have been found, there will be one more thing I wish you to do. Go to the Forest of a Thousand Whispers. There you will find a cottage. The woman who resides there is a witch. She is in possession of the medallion that once belonged to the King. Do you remember the drawing?”
“I have committed it to memory. Finally, a simple task for a simpleton.” He smiled and winked.
“A simpleton would not have the courage to enter the forest,” she sneered. She kicked the horse and rode down the road to the city. The breeze felt good blowing against her face. Today was a good day. She was on her way home. Nothing would stand in the way of her destiny.
Look for The Next Piece of The Pearl Heirloom Collection
The Ending Begins
author notes
The Abbey of Saint Namadia is a fictional abbey placed in the time just after the First War in France.
In 1564, The Bishop of Ross, Henry Sinclair, traveled to Paris for an operation for stones. The operation was unsuccessful, and he died in Paris on January 2, 1565. He was succeeded by John Leslie in 1565. John Leslie didn’t have an affair with Viola Bryant, a fictional character; however, he did have a concubine in Scotland who bore him three daughters.
In the early morning on February 10, 1567, Mary Queen of Scots’ second husband Lord Darnley was found dead in a garden at Kirk o'Field in Edinburgh, with no visible marks of strangulation or violence on the body. The Queen, along with several others, was under suspicion. On May 15, 1567, Mary married James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, who, three weeks before, had been tried and acquitted of Lord Darnley’s death. Bishop of Ross feared Brothwell had seduced Mary Queen of Scots with black magic and held her prisoner.
Charlie Baillie was a papal courier and a servant of Mary, Queen of Scots.
Roberto di Ridolfi was a Florentine banker who settled in London in 1562. William Cecil, Robert Dudley, and other statesmen employed Ridolfi as a financial agent. This gave Ridolfi influence and credibility at the English court. In 1566 Ridolfi became a secret envoy for Pope Pius V.
During the 1560’s, market was held on Saturdays in Nantes. The cheapest bread, rye loaf, cost six deniers, which was a half a day’s pay for a poor laborer. Between 1565 and 1567, there was a shortage of grain which drove people to purchase it illegally. Unfortunately, there was no attempt to create a public granary in Nantes as in other cities.
Tenerife is the largest island of the seven Canary Islands located off the coast of Spain. In the 1520’s, the native pine forests were cleared to make way for the cultivation of sugarcane.
The old-world spelling of Plymouth is Plimmouth; it was the home port for successful maritime traders including John Hawkins.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I enjoyed writing A Perilous Beginning. As with every novel, individuals lent their expertise and advice. My deepest thanks to Julie Burdick who found Imagining Women’s Conventual Spaces in France, 1600-1800. It was a valuable resource that helped me to create the fictional Abbey of Saint Namadia. Nathan Mizell and the members of the Colorado Romance Writers for their continued support and encouragement. To my best friend and editor John Klocek, who has always shown infinite patience with my various drafts. Sue Gosman and Brackett Editing for proofreading and Alex Cooper, Ruby Rowe, and Mandy Cook for their suggestions and honest reviews. Mathew Ketterling and the “Tim’s” for their expertise on poisons and snakebites. Thank you to the Killion Group for the gorgeous cover. A heartfelt thank you to my all of my readers who have made this possible.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alyssa Dean Copeland credits Jude Deveraux for hooking her on historical romance. Years later, she opened her laptop and tried her hand at writing in the world she fell in love with.
Alyssa makes her home in Colorado, where she works in higher education by day and novelist by night--when she's not distracted by social media or Netflix.
She loves to write stories with imperfect, compelling heroes and heroines. When she's not writing, she enjoys theater, hole-in-the-wall museums, and anything Star Wars. Currently, she is working on the next piece of the Pearl Heirloom Collection.
Follow on Facebook: Facebook.com/AlyssaDeanCopeland
Visit her website: www.alyssadeancopeland.com
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Hollie
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A Perilous Beginning
A Perilous Beginning (The Pearl Heirloom Collection Book 4) Page 15