Lord of the Abbey

by K. R. Richards

  Harry listened to her explanation, asking questions for clarification when he felt the need.

  Frances also told him of Rowena’s brother and his wife’s treatment of Rowena, and her horrible experiences when Richard arranged the marriage between Lord Dalworth and her niece.

  “Thank you for telling me, Lady Sperring. I realize speaking of your sister must bring you sadness. I do appreciate your confiding such to me,” Harry said truthfully. Even with the snippets Rowena revealed to him about her brother and Dalworth, he’d no idea the true depth of her fears.

  “I used to be sad when I thought of Anne, Harry. But I tried to help her leave her situation many times. Of course I had no specific course of action to spring her from Edward’s clutches, but I always told her it was not impossible. That together we could formulate a plan. Anne hadn’t the courage to leave. She never wanted to talk of it. Rowena braved scandal and being ostracized by the ton to avoid ever even being put into a similar situation. Anne made her choice to stay in her misery. My dear brave Rowena, however, chose to never venture into such a horrible relationship.”

  “If you don’t mind my prying, Lady Sperring, how did you spring Rowena from the engagement to Dalworth? I must confess, I never remember hearing anything of it.”

  Frances grinned triumphantly. “I had a dear friend in Italy, Marchese Montecatini, a most adorable widower of eighty-seven he was then. He has since passed on, the dear, dear man. He thought very highly of Rowena, for they met several times when Rowena accompanied me to Italy before and after her mother’s death.

  I took Rowena traveling, even though we were in mourning, after Anne died. Sir John accompanied us. I did not like the thought of leaving Rowena with Richard and Almena while I was away. Anne’s death was hard on both of us. So I convinced Richard it would do her well to have a change of scenery. We just returned from Italy when Richard and Almena whisked her to London and within a month informed her she was to be wed to Dalworth. They forced it upon her. After Rowena sent word to me, I went immediately to Richard and informed him that he could not give her to anyone in marriage, for she married the Marchese Montecatini while in Italy and we were waiting for him to arrive in London before we made the announcement. I took her from that house with me that very day.

  I immediately sent a letter by special messenger to the Marchese. Within a week, the ‘fake’ marriage certificate was delivered into Richard’s hands. We never heard anymore from Richard after that. Rowena and I returned to Glastonbury. The week following, my friend the Marchese arrived, and met with Richard, while in the company of two very large Italian guards.”

  Frances continued, “He came to Glastonbury, to claim his bride. The gossip mongers in London made the most of everything, as you can well imagine. Of course none here in Glastonbury really knew anything of what transpired in London. So we never mentioned anything about the supposed ‘marriage’ here. There was talk of our esteemed visitor, for he visited the town often while here. If there were whispers, they stayed whispers. The Marchese visited us a few months and returned to Italy. Alone.”

  Frances sighed, “Of course there had been no marriage. The certificate was fake. I have a copy of that and the Marchese’s certificate of death. He was a brilliant man, thought of everything. He wanted to make certain Rowena was free to marry if she ever chose to. He adored her and would have done more to protect her if needed. It never came to that.”

  “That explains her distaste of London society as well,” Harry mused aloud. Deep in thought, he pulled on his chin.

  “It was brutal, really, as I’m sure you can guess. The audacity of Richard, Earl of Heathcote, to promise his sister in marriage to a man with a reputation like Dalworth’s was the first scandal. Then for Rowena to verbally refuse Dalworth and her brother, well that news circulated like wildfire. The crux was finding out that Lady Rowena Locke already married, without her brother’s consent to the eighty-seven year old Marchese Montecatini from Florence, who was at the time known to be nearly the richest man in Italy.

  Heavens, the gossip-mongers were not kind. The ton went from pitying her for being forced to marry Dalworth to condemning her for being a scheming fortune hunter in the span of a few weeks.”

  “But she was spared from a life, most likely a short one, of painful hell with Dalworth,” Harry pointed out. The thought of Dalworth laying a hand on Rowena made him angry. He realized then his hands were curled into tight fists at his sides.

  Frances shuddered at the revolting memory. “If the Marchese hadn’t come through, I was planning on Rowena and I just disappearing from England, moving as far away as Istanbul, or somewhere along the Rhine permanently, never to return, in order to escape such a fate for her. I would have helped her hide the rest of her life if need be.”

  Frances nervously cleared her throat and added, “Rowena never spoke of what truly happened at her brother’s house, but she was very withdrawn, distrustful and fearful of men after I brought her back to Glastonbury. I must speak frankly to you Harry, since you do have an interest in my Rowena, I fear my nephew Richard wanted Rowena to marry Dalworth so badly that he allowed the lecher to force himself upon her. To try and force her into marriage with him by the claim she was ruined. She suffered nightmares for a time…” Frances’ eyes misted slightly.

  “If Rowena were forced by Dalworth, that does not change any feelings on my part, save that I will proceed more cautiously, so as not to frighten her. I still intend to pursue her.” He thought a moment then said “Lady Sperring, I think Rowena must learn she can trust me, and that I mean her no harm before I can even think about convincing her to marry me.”

  “I agree, Harry. But in your favor, I must tell you this. She seems quite at ease with you and your friends. This is not a natural thing for her. Rowena is generally reserved and somewhat awkward in male company. Her general fear of men has subsided some over the years, yet she has, until meeting you and your friends of course, remained wary. This quest of the Abbey treasure is part of it. You all share a love for history and have common interests. Though she never tells me her feelings, for Rowena is very reserved about such things. She never told me all that happened with the Dalworth incident. John and I were left to put things together as it were. Both Sir John and I believe Rowena favors you. At the very least, she does not fear you. ‘Tis only been several days. Time will tell.”

  “And you have no objections to the match as long as Rowena chooses to have me of her own accord?”

  “I have no objections, Harry.” Frances beamed. “In fact, I must be honest for I have only one son from Lord Sperring, and no daughters. Rowena has always been like a daughter to me, and we spent a great deal of time together in her younger and adult years. Why, if you were to make a match with her, she would remain right here in Glastonbury. She has been such a large part of my life, I don’t know what I’d do if she was not near. I knew your family, and you’ve always been kind. I believe you will treat her very well. I would so like to see her happily married.” Frances’ eyes became misty again.

  “Do you have any advice for me then, Lady Sperring?”

  “Do not press her or overwhelm her. And never try to control her. She steers very clear of domineering men. To the point of avoiding them. That is the best I can give you, Harry. Otherwise, you seem to be doing a very good job so far.” Frances winked at him.

  “Well, we had best get to searching or the rest of our party will wonder what we are doing up here. Thank you, Lady Sperring for speaking so frankly with me.” Harry prepared to begin his search in Rowena’s chamber. Then as an afterthought he stopped and asked, “Lady Sperring?”

  “Yes, Harry?”

  “Might you and Sir John arrange from time to time to give me time alone with Rowena, in the proper setting, of course. I have no intention of taking advantage of her.” He raised his eyebrows and offered her a hopeful smile.

  Frances Phippen nodded and returned his conspiratorial smile. “Absolutely, Harry. This can definitely be ar
ranged.” Frances thought a moment. “Harry, I forgot, I must speak to one of the maids while I’m up here. I’ll be back in a moment, please continue your search.”

  Frances sought out Rowena’s maid. “Betsey dear?”

  “Yes ma’am?” The girl curtsied.

  “What gown has Lady Rowena chosen to wear for dinner this evening?”

  “The dark blue, ma’am.”

  “Oh.” Frances frowned. That gown was far too plain. Far too modest. Far too boring. It would not do. Now that Frances knew Harry’s intentions, there was no reason she couldn’t help his interest in Rowena along. “Will you get the new silver watered silk ready and substitute it for the dark blue. Without her knowing that you and I talked, of course. I’ll tell her the dark blue had a stain that you must get out, so I suggested the new silver evening gown. And take the blue one with you and have it laundered.”

  “Yes, mum. Of course.”

  Frances returned to see how Harry was progressing, wearing a very satisfied expression.

  Charlie and Sir John returned just in time for their late luncheon. Other than informing the party no secret chamber had been found, there was no talk of their quest at lunch.

  Stonedown’s gentlemen guests, in a jovial mood, were telling tales on one another. Sir John joined in their joyous humor. Rowena and Frances even relayed some amusing tales of their experiences on their travels.

  Harry filled in Sir John and Charlie regarding the discovery of another letter as the party made their way from the dining room to the library. “We found a letter written by William Dulac in the old wardrobe in Lady Rowena’s room. Micah and Lady Rowena just finished deciphering it before luncheon.”

  The party took their seats at the large library table.

  “What did you find out about St. Bridget’s at Beckery?” Harry questioned Charlie and Sir John.

  “The solicitor, Mr. Godfrey Dunster shall do some checking. No one seems to know who the land St. Bridget’s Chapel is on belongs to,” Sir John presented. “He hopes to get to us within the week.”

  “Mr. Dunster did say that it is highly likely you own the land at the Brides’ Harry. He mentioned that particular piece of land was for centuries, before even Domesday, connected to the Abbey Estate, and since no one about town knows who owns it, there is every chance it was never separated from the Abbey Estate. None of the holders of the manors or farms near to it own the land, he checked,” Charlie explained. He looked to Harry. “We stopped by the Grange on the way back. Everything is in order there.”

  “Good. Thank you, Charlie.” It was Charlie’s way of letting him know the necessary letters were sent.

  “Let’s get to the business of the letter, shall we? Lady Rowena will you do us the honor of reading?” Micah gave her a gracious smile while passing the foolscap upon which they deciphered the letter to her.

  “Thank you, Micah,” Rowena smiled sweetly. This is a short letter, scarcely one page.” Rowena exhaled and began reading.

  Dulac Manor, Stonedown, December 1600

  The Great Sapphire of Glastonbury was brought to Glastonbury Abbey by St. David of Menevia along with the Great Altare. It was said the Altare and Sapphire were carried by a contingent of angels from Jerusalem to the Abbey at Glaston to prevent any harm from coming to the fine relic made in honor of St. Mary. Though the altare was recorded as found and relinquished to Henry VIII’s coffers by the same men that condemned the most holy martyr, Abbot Whiting, to his death atop Torr Hill, the great sapphire did not meet the same fate. At least not the original Great Sapphire. For that beauteous stone, I saw removed with my own eyes and replaced with another blue carbuncle months before the King’s men laid siege to the Holy Abbey at Glaston.

  I watched myself as the sapphire was laid upon velvet in a box. That same box and another containing the sacred cruets brought by St. Joseph of Arimathea, which contained the blood and sweat of our Lord as he was crucified, were stored inside a larger leaden box and taken away from the abbey grounds. I saw them placed in an underground chamber housing the well of a great lady saint in ancient, sacred ground, as holy as that of the Abbey. The Abbot assured me the place was so sacred, that these relics will be protected by St. Mary, St. Bridget and other holy saints, and the great protector, St. Michael. He mentioned also that good King Arthur might wake from his slumber beneath the Torr and guard the treasure dedicated to the Virgin, as well as the sweat and blood of her son.

  In the name of St. Mary, and her son, Jesus, woe betide any attempt to remove these relics by persons of ill-intent. Such hypocrisy shall be thwarted by hosts of heavenly saints. So the Abbot told me. I knew no holier man than he. If you believe this to be a curse, then so be it.

  If your intent is to protect the holiest of relics and keep them safe you may well be spared. If you be a Dulac, you are expected to honor your hallowed family name and protect this Holy treasure. For the Dulacs have long been known as the guardians of the holy secrets of Glastonbury.

  William F. Dulac

  “That is all there is.” Rowena exhaled and rose from the table. “If you will excuse me?”

  “Where are you off to, dear?” Frances inquired curiously.

  “Well, Aunt Frances, as the afternoon is very fine, I thought perhaps I might change and ride out to the Brides at Beckery and look for the well Micah told us about. Since it appears our friend Harry owns that land, I doubt there will be anyone about to care that I was looking in St. Bridget’s Well,” Rowena said purposefully, her eyes shining with excitement. Concealing her mirth, she asked casually, “Would anyone care to join me?”

  The sound of chairs moving along the Turkish carpet beneath the library table and a chorus of agreements reached her ears as she hastened from the room, laughing as she went. Rowena lifted her skirts in very unladylike fashion and ran up the stairs, calling for Betsey as she did. She could barely contain her excitement. They might find the Great Sapphire of Glastonbury today! She changed into her riding habit and found herself hurrying back along the upstairs hallway in record time. Not even a quarter of an hour passed when she descended the stairs and found Harry waiting upon her.

  “Micah, Charlie, and Lyon will depart direct from the stables. They are loading up various tools we might need to aid in our search. Your aunt is changing and Sir John is seeing to the phaeton for them to come out in. We are to go on ahead, Lady Rowena. Our mounts are ready and await us outside.” Harry held out his hand to assist her from the last several steps. Then, without releasing her gloved hand, he tucked her fingers neatly into the crook of his arm. He was so happy to arrange a few minutes alone with Rowena he began to whistle a cheerful tune as they exited the front door.

  Harry assisted Rowena onto the mounting block. He lifted her light as a feather onto her dainty gray and white mare she called Stormy.

  He rode his own large, shiny black named, Templar.

  Together they rode down Stonedown Lane toward Chilkwell Street. Rowena knew they would head down Bere Lane then take the Roman Road to Beckery. She felt suddenly shy, being completely alone with Harry. Of course they were alone last night, and she had not been shy. But she had been tipsy. Again she remembered the kiss they shared. Her cheeks colored. That familiar tingling feeling she experienced every time she thought of Harry Bellingham returned. Beneath her lashes she looked his way. She found him studying her.

  Harry sensed her uneasiness and endeavored to make her feel more comfortable. “Do you think we’ll find it, Rowena? The sapphire I mean?”

  Her face radiated happiness and excitement as she smiled at him. “I do hope so, Harry! Truly I do. Wouldn’t it be wonderful?”

  Harry studied the picture of beauty riding beside him. Her riding habit of cornflower blue trimmed in royal was exquisitely cut and hugged her lush curves well. A smart dark royal riding hat perched atop her golden curls, a filmy cornflower colored veil trailed behind her as it was caught by the breeze. As they rode in a brisk trot toward Beckery the riot of curls framing her face were tousled a
bout.

  “And what will you do with the sapphire if it is found?” Harry propositioned her.

  “Me?” Rowena looked surprised.

  “This is your quest after all, Lady Rowena.”

  “But I brought you in, so therefore this is your quest as much as it is mine. I assumed you might wish to help decide what to do with such a treasure. At the very least we as a group should discuss it together and make our decision.”

  “This is your quest, Rowena. I am merely your knight, sworn to protect you and here to do your bidding,” Harry gently teased her.

  “William, or William’s ghost rather, did say that you and your fellows know best how to protect such holy secrets. I trust that you will know what is best, Harry. I know, like William, I do not wish anything we find to be used to fill someone’s coffers. These are relics, and should be treated as such. They belonged to the Abbey, and the Abbey is now yours. We can decide together what is to be done if we find our treasure.”