by Anne Herries
Sometimes she wished that she was not an heiress, for then she might have been allowed to live in obscurity and peace. However, her mother’s father had been the Earl of Somersham and his lands had been left in trust for her when he died earlier that year because he had no other heir. Melissa had begged to be allowed to retire to her lands, but her father had refused her. Until she married she was under his domain, and he meant to use her beauty and wealth to his advantage.
Melissa was sure that had he been able to snatch her lands from her—her father would have done so without compunction. However, the earl had made King Richard the steward of her fortune, and her death would have brought no gain to her father with the estate then becoming the property of the Crown. Even now, her father would have to gain the consent of the King to her marriage. Melissa was praying that if her aunt recovered her health, which she prayed she would, she might petition His Majesty to allow her to retire to the Abbey. She was recalled to the present, as she became aware that the nun was speaking.
‘It is good that you have come, my lady,’ the nun was saying. ‘Mother Abbess has asked for you many times.’
‘I would have come before if I could,’ Melissa said, and glanced at the men who were bringing Owain in. ‘But we were attacked and my kinsman has been injured. Will you tend him, sister? Forgive me, I do not know your name?’
‘I am Sister Cecile,’ the nun told her. ‘The monks will tend to your servant as in this order we are not allowed to care for men, only women, unless given special dispensation by the Bishop—but your kinsman may be admitted and taken to the infirmary. However, the rest of your men must stay outside the gates.’
‘They are the men of…a gallant knight who came to my rescue,’ Melissa said. ‘They will depart once they have done their duty—but I do not intend to leave just yet. How is the Abbess? It is some weeks since I had her letter, but I was not able to make the journey here until now.’
‘A little better this morning,’ Sister Cecile told her with a smile. She waited until Melissa’s women and the men carrying the injured Owain were inside the gates before addressing them. ‘You must take him to the infirmary and leave by that gate. The monks will attend you, good sirs.’
Rob’s men inclined their heads and went off in the direction of the outbuilding she had indicated. Cecile led the way towards the building used by the nuns. A high wall and another heavy gate separated the living quarters of the nuns and the monks, though the chapel was used by both for worship.
‘I thank God that He has spared her,’ Melissa said as Sister Cecile led the way. ‘I feared that I might be too late as she said that she had been gravely ill.’
‘Indeed, when you were sent for we thought she might not last the night,’ Sister Cecile said. ‘But come, lady. I shall take you to her quarters. Your women will be cared for by my sisters and you may see them later.’
Melissa turned to her women, telling them that she would see them in a little while, and then followed Sister Cecile inside the living quarters provided for the Sisters of Mercy. Although it was a warm day in June, Melissa shivered as she went inside the stone building. It had only tiny windows and the sun was shut out by the thickness of the walls. Even wearing her cloak over her silk tunic and surcote, she still felt chilled. Glancing at Sister Cecile, she saw that the nun did not seem to notice the cold, and realised that she was accustomed to the discomfort.
For a moment Melissa was discouraged. Did she truly wish to devote her life to God? Once she had thought that happiness, love and children were her future—but now she knew that all that was at an end. Melissa realised that she had secretly hoped to meet Rob again and that he would declare his love for her and beg her to ride off with him—and she would have gone. His coldness, the scorn in his eyes combined to tell her that he no longer loved her. It was foolish to dream though, because even if he had spirited her away, Lord Whitbread would have taken retribution. Melissa could not live with so many deaths on her conscience, knowing that it had been no idle threat.
The nun had stopped outside a closed door. She knocked and waited for a moment, then looked inside. Putting a finger to her lips, she beckoned Melissa to enter.
‘Are you sleeping, Mother?’ she said softly.
The Abbess opened her eyes, looking at Sister Cecile for a moment and then her gaze transferred to Melissa. Her lips moved and her hands fluttered as if she were in some distress.
‘Melissa, my child,’ she said. ‘I was not sure that your father would let you come.’
‘I could not stay away from you when I knew you were ill,’ Melissa said. ‘My dearest aunt. I have seen you all too seldom these past years, but you are often in my thoughts.’
‘My child…’ The Abbess held out her hand as Melissa approached. ‘I do not know how long I may be spared to this life and I wished to see you once more before I die.’
‘Please do not speak of dying, Aunt.’
‘If my time has come I must accept it,’ the Abbess said. ‘When I entered this place I put away worldly things, but I have loved you from afar, Melissa. I wished to tell you something…’ She glanced at the nun still standing near the door. ‘Thank you, Sister Cecile. You may leave us.’
‘Yes, Mother. You will ring when I am needed?’
‘Of course.’ The Abbess waited until the door closed behind Cecile and then reached beneath her pillow, taking out a paper sealed with wax. She put it into Melissa’s hands. ‘No, do not read it yet, child. It tells you a secret that I vowed never to reveal in life. When I am gone you may read it and take what action you will, but until then promise me that you will abide by my wishes in this matter.’
‘Yes, dearest aunt,’ Melissa said, taking the letter and placing it in the leather pouch that she wore attached to a braided belt at her waist. ‘I shall remember and respect your wish.’
‘I promised that I would never reveal the secret,’ the Abbess said, and her eyes held an expression of distress. ‘But I have feared for you, Melissa. I know…’ She drew in a sucking breath. ‘I must not reveal what I know while I live for I gave my sacred promise. Yet I would not have you at the mercy of that…’ She shook her head and fell back against the pillows, closing her eyes.
‘Aunt!’ Melissa cried, frightened that it was her aunt’s last moment, but after a few seconds the Abbess opened her eyes once more. ‘I love you, Aunt Beatrice.’
‘I am Mother Abbess,’ her aunt reminded her gently. ‘I am not allowed to care for you as I would wish—but I think God will forgive my final sin.’
Melissa looked at her, feeling bewildered and uncertain. If her aunt had guarded her secret for so long it must be important—and yet it seemed to concern her.
‘Is there something I may fetch for you?’ she asked. ‘Some water perhaps?’
‘Sister Cecile will return soon,’ the Abbess said. ‘She will give me my medicine which needs to be measured carefully. Though it heals, it also kills, as do many of the herbs we use in our cures. You have travelled a long way and should rest. Leave me now and we shall meet again tomorrow.’
‘I wish that I could do something for you,’ Melissa said, her throat catching with emotion. ‘But I shall leave you to rest, dearest aunt.’ She turned away from the bed. As she opened the door, she discovered Sister Cecile about to knock. ‘I believe that Mother Abbess wishes to rest,’ she said. ‘Perhaps you would show me to my cell and then return to her?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Sister Cecile said, glancing past her at her superior. ‘She seems to be resting now. I shall return and tend her later.’
Melissa nodded, following the nun from the room. She had not mentioned her mother, nor yet her wish to remain at the Abbey, to her aunt, and she was not sure why. Perhaps she had not wished to distress the sick woman at such a time, and yet she knew that she must do so unless she wished to return to her father’s house. Only the sanctuary of the Abbey could save her from the fate he was planning for her.
Reaching his home, Rob lost no time in en
tering the house. David, his father’s faithful steward, a man of advanced years, grey in his beard but honest and generous of nature, came hurriedly to greet him and the look in his eyes told him that he was too late.
‘My father?’
‘He died two days ago, Rob,’ David said. ‘Forgive me. I would have sent for you sooner, but he would have it that nothing was wrong.’
Rob felt an overwhelming surge of grief. ‘I should have been here! I should have been with him!’
‘He bid me give you his blessing,’ David said. ‘He told me that he was proud of you because he knew that you would choose the right path in life—and he asked your pardon.’
‘My pardon—for what?’
David’s eyes went to the scar on his face. ‘He blamed himself for what was done to you, because of the quarrel between him and Lord Whitbread.’
‘I have told him that it was none of his doing,’ Rob said. ‘What kind of a man would do this over a piece of land?’
‘I do not believe it was just the land,’ David said. ‘It began long ago, when they were both young…’
Rob frowned, his gaze narrowing. ‘What is this? I have heard nothing of it before. I believed it was that woodland Whitbread coveted?’
‘That came later,’ David said. ‘Do not ask me to tell you what was the source of their anger because I do not know but I believe it may have been a woman.’
‘My mother?’
David shook his head. ‘I can tell you no more. Will you go up and see your father now, Rob? Megan has cared for him, but we waited to bury him until you returned.’
‘You did as you ought,’ Rob said. ‘I shall go up to him now.’
He was thoughtful as he walked up the stairs. What was this quarrel that had led to such hatred between his father and Lord Whitbread? If his father had lived he might have told him. Rob had been young and foolish when he fell in love with the beautiful girl he had seen walking in the meadows by her home. For some weeks he had gone every day to meet her, and their courtship had been sweet—but he had been blinded by his passion and her beauty, for Melissa was obviously as cold and proud as her father.
He would put her from his mind…but what of his heart?
This was no time to be thinking of such things! Rob was angry at himself. He must keep a vigil by his father this night and in the morning Sir Oswald would be laid to rest with all the honour due to the honest, decent man he had been.
Melissa was thoughtful as she walked in the Abbey gardens that evening before it grew dark. It was peaceful here, with the birds singing from the branches of ancient apple trees and a scent of lavender on the air. She had requested another interview with her aunt, but had been told that the Abbess was sleeping.
Would she be content to spend her life here? Melissa wondered. It had been her intention to ask for a dispensation when she left her home that morning, but now she was uncertain. She did not wish to admit it but she had not been able to forget the sweet feeling that had swept through her as she rode through the forest with Robert of Melford’s arms about her. But that was foolish because he hated her! He had loved her once, but she had sent him away and her half brother had done terrible things to him. He must hate her very name!
She was a fool to think of him, but he would not be dismissed from her thoughts. She could not help wondering what he was doing now, and if he had been in time to see his father alive.
A hand shaking her shoulder awakened Melissa. She was deep in sleep, dreaming of a time when she had been happy, walking barefoot in a meadow, and she awoke with a smile on her lips, but the smile left her swiftly as she saw her serving woman’s expression.
‘What is it, Rhona?’
‘Sister Cecile told me to wake you,’ Rhona said. ‘She fears that your aunt has taken a turn for the worse and asks that you join her immediately. The priest has given her the last rites.’
Melissa needed no further bidding as she sprang up from her pallet. Her serving woman had her cloak waiting, slipping it about her shoulders over her flimsy shift. Melissa slid her feet into leather shoes and tossed her hair back from her face. It had tangled as she slept but there was no time to dress it. Her heart was thudding as she left the small cell where she had spent the past few hours in repose, knowing that the nun would not have sent for her if it were not urgent.
She prayed silently that her aunt would be spared as she hurried down the cold and narrow passage, which was only dimly lit by a torch at the far end. By the time she reached her aunt’s chamber, she was shivering, the fear striking deep into her heart. She hesitated outside the door for a moment, and then went in. Tallow candles were burning in their sconces, the smell pungent and adding to the unpleasant odour in the room. Melissa realised that her aunt must have been sick, and she saw Sister Cecile wiping vomit and blood from the lips of the Abbess.
‘Dearest Aunt Beatrice,’ Melissa said, going to her side. The stricken woman held out her hand and she grasped it, but she could see the colour fading from her aunt’s face. ‘God give you peace.…’
‘May God bless and keep you, child,’ the Abbess whispered, and then gave a little cry, her head falling back against the pillows. Her eyes were open and staring, and Sister Cecile closed them, making the sign of the cross on her forehead.
Melissa felt the tears welling inside her as she came forward and bent to kiss her aunt’s cheek. The stench of the vomit was vile and made her gasp and draw back swiftly.
‘What made her be sick like that?’ she asked the nun. ‘Has she done so before?’
‘No, my lady, she has not,’ Cecile said, and looked upset. ‘I had thought she was rallying before you arrived—but this came upon her suddenly. It is not natural…’
‘What do you mean?’ Melissa was startled. ‘Do you suspect…’ She lowered her voice to a hushed whisper. ‘It is not poison?’
‘I do not know,’ the nun said. ‘I say only that I think the manner of her death suspicious.’
‘But who would do such a thing and how?’ Melissa saw the nun’s look and shook her head. ‘You do not suspect me? I swear before God that I did no such thing. I loved her and wished her to live.’
‘I know that you loved her,’ Sister Cecile said. ‘She has spoken of you with fondness and I hold you blameless in this—but your women and you are the only strangers in our midst at this time. No one else has been admitted—and none of the sisters would harm one hair of Mother Abbess’s head for we all love her dearly.’
‘You think that one of my women…’ Melissa shook her head. ‘You must be wrong. Both Rhona and Agnes have served me faithfully all my life. Why would either of them betray me by taking her life? They knew that I hoped…’ Melissa sighed as she realised that she could not stay here now. She had hoped that the Abbess would petition for her inheritance to be released so that she might offer at least a part of it to the Abbey in return for sanctuary. She shook her head, because the idea no longer appealed now that her aunt was dead. ‘I do not believe that either of them would have done anything so wicked.’
‘Well, perhaps it was not poison,’ Sister Cecile said, clearly uncertain. ‘I must write a letter to the Bishop and he will send a brother versed in these things to investigate. I shall not lay the blame at your door whatever his decision—but do not trust Agnes.’
‘Why do you suspect her?’ Melissa asked, her fine brows raised.
‘I found her coming from Mother Abbess’s room not an hour ago. When I asked her why she was not in the cell she had been given, she said that she had gone out to the privy and lost her way—but that would be hard to do unless she is blind or a fool.’
‘Agnes is neither,’ Melissa said. ‘Say nothing of this to anyone but the Bishop and his representative when he comes. I shall watch Agnes and if she betrays herself in any way I shall send word to the Bishop myself.’
‘Then we are in agreement,’ the nun said. ‘I do not wish to distress my sisters at this time. Perhaps I am wrong to suspect foul play.’ She was thoughtful,
then said, ‘May I ask why the Abbess wished to speak to you in private? Did it concern matters here?’
‘No, it was merely a family matter,’ Melissa said. ‘I am sure that it had nothing to do with her death.’ And yet the letter she had given Melissa contained a secret that she had not wanted to reveal until after she was dead.
‘Very well,’ Cecile said. ‘Her body will be displayed in the chapel once I have made her clean and sweet. You may pay your respects to her in the morning before you leave.’
‘May I not stay until she is buried?’
‘You are not one of us. Unless you need nursing—or receive a dispensation from Mother Abbess or the Bishop—you may not stay here more than one night. I am sorry but I did not make the rules, though I must abide by them.’
‘Yes, I understand,’ Melissa said. She had hoped that her aunt would grant that dispensation, but it was too late.
‘What of my kinsman Owain?’
‘The monks care for him,’ the nun said. ‘I will inquire in the morning how he does—but if you wish to remain nearby you must find lodgings. I believe there is a decent hostel in the village of Melford, which is some five leagues distant.’
‘I thank you for your kindness—and your devotion to my aunt,’ Melissa said. ‘We shall leave you in the morning.’
‘Yes, you must go. We need to grieve for Mother,’ Cecile said, and her eyes were bright with unshed tears. ‘I am sorry that you must leave, but you may not remain at such a time—and I would remind you to be wary of the woman Agnes.’
‘Yes, I shall watch her,’ Melissa promised. ‘I can find my own way back to my cell, thank you.’
Sister Cecile inclined her head. Melissa walked to the door. There she glanced back and saw the nun on her knees beside the bed, her head bent in prayer. Closing the door softly behind her, Melissa was thoughtful as she walked back to her tiny cell. Was it possible that one of her women had administered a poison to the Abbess—and if so, why had she done it? She could hardly believe it was so for why would anyone wish to harm that good woman?
