by Rose Pearson
It did not quite work out as Deborah had intended. After seeing to Mr. Griggs, Mr. Hunter had complained of being terribly thirsty and so Deborah had fetched him something to drink, only to see that the wound to his side was oozing through the bandages. That had needed careful attention and she had been forced to stitch the wound closed. It was not the first time she had needed to do so, having become quite adept at closing wounds, but Mr. Hunter had grunted and groaned with every second of her stitching. It had taken longer than she had thought and, by the time she had finished, Mr. Hunter was grey-faced and sweating. She had needed to give him some laudanum in order to help him rest, to lose himself in a dreamless slumber away from the pain that was obviously lacing through him. One he had fallen into a restful sleep, she had made to walk back to her quarters, only for bread and soup to be brought in for the men. She had helped serve that and had needed to feed some of the weakest men, encouraging them to eat as much as they could. It was always difficult to see men in such pain and harder still to see some fade away until they took their last breath. Deborah tried not to allow her mind to settle on such things, however, recalling instead the many, many men who had recovered and had left the abbey, returning to their home and their families that they had left behind.
Her body was tired. Her legs were aching and still, Deborah knew that there was no time for resting. She needed to pray, needed to ask God to bring about the peace that would be such a blessing to the country. She wanted an end to the fighting, an end to the injured men that seemed to constantly stream into London. She wanted peace and restoration for the countries involved. Determined that she would pray as she had intended, Deborah made her way slowly up the long flight of stone stairs towards her room, which was both small and yet very personal. It had nothing of particular interest within, other than a small bed and small chest of drawers for her clothes, for she had been taught that things such as jewelry or the like were mere fripperies. They were adornments which she did not need, not if she was intending to take her orders. Deborah had never questioned her way of living since it was all she had ever known. Yes, her day to day life could be difficult and yes, she was often weary to the bone, but she knew that her work and her dedication came from a love for God, just as it did for the other nuns. She was happy here, all in all, although she wished she could tell what it was that held Mother Superior back from allowing her to take her vows.
“Deborah?”
She turned around with a smile, seeing Mother Superior standing at the bottom of the steps, her lined face holding the usual quiet expression that was so familiar to Deborah.
“Yes, Mother?”
“Might you come with me for a moment?” Mother Superior asked, gesturing towards her own small rooms. “I have something I need to speak to you about.”
Deborah nodded and turned around at once, her tiredness suddenly forgotten as a fresh hope began to beat in her chest. Was this to be the start of her life as a nun? Was Mother Superior about to tell her that she would be able to take her orders soon?
Her footsteps quickened on the staircase as she hurried down towards Mother Superior’s rooms. Mother Superior had a small room, in addition to her bedroom, that was used for letter writing and meetings. Private conversations took place within, correspondence was sent to her there and, on occasion, those wishing to become a nun were sent here to be questioned by Mother Superior. Mother Superior, whilst always kind and gentle in how she spoke, always spoke with a certainty and a sureness that told Deborah that there was never any possibility of questioning the authority that had been given to her. Deborah had to continually trust that Mother Superior knew what was best for Deborah and had, therefore, simply needed to accept that she would not be taking her holy orders any time soon.
“Although,” she murmured aloud, walking towards the small room where Mother Superior had just entered, “that might all be about to change.”
A knot of excitement settled in her stomach as she walked inside, feeling the sense of peace settle over her as she sat down. This room always felt so tranquil, which must be a reflection of Mother Superior herself. She waited patiently as Mother Superior sat down at the small, wooden desk, noticing the piece of paper that sat in front of her.
“Deborah,” Mother Superior began, clasping her hands in front of her. “We have heard the news that the war is soon to be at an end.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” Deborah replied, eagerly. “Martha said as much to me. I was just about to go to my rooms and pray that it would occur soon.”
Mother Superior nodded, a gentle smile on her face. “Your work here has been tireless,” she said, quietly. “I have seen the way you care for those injured men. You have been the light and the hope that they have needed, Deborah. You have cared for both their injuries and for their souls.” Her smile faded. “I have watched you hold the hand of a dying man and stay with him until his body is all that remains of him. You have prayed for them, watched over them, cared for them and given as much of yourself as you could for them.”
Deborah, unused to hearing such praise from Mother Superior, did not quite know what to do. Looking down at her hands, she closed her eyes and reminded herself not to become proud of what was being said. Silently, she prayed and thanked God that He had given her the desire to care for the sick and the injured, prayed that she would not grow weary of her work.
“I have had a letter this morning,” Mother Superior continued, as Deborah looked up at her. “I think, Deborah, that this is something that you need to do.”
“Do?” Deborah repeated, a slight frown forming between her brows. “What is it that I must do, Mother Superior?”
Mother Superior picked up the letter, read it again, sighed and set it back down on the desk between them. Deborah felt her fingers itch to reach across and pick it up so that she might read it for herself but wisely chose to fight the urge to do so.
“There is a gentleman,” Mother Superior began, her voice soft. “He has been terribly injured and requires care.”
“A gentleman,” Deborah repeated, her frown growing steadily. “That is unusual for him to request aid from the convent, is it not?”
Mother Superior nodded, although a slight twinkle caught her sharp blue eyes. “It is not the gentleman himself who has requested that someone here go to attend him,” she said, by way of explanation. “It is Lady Markham.”
“His wife?”
Mother Superior shook her head. “His sister,” she said, quietly. “Lord Abernathy is a Duke and insisted on going to war despite his title. He was injured, as I have said, losing a couple of fingers from one hand and his face badly disfigured on one side. But it is not simply his wounds that need tending, Deborah. Lady Markham writes that she barely knows her brother any longer and feels as though he is being pulled in by darkness. She requests our aid in pulling him from this malevolence.”
Deborah nodded, feeling her heart thumping furiously in her chest. She knew why Mother Superior was speaking to her of this, realizing that the lady thought that she would be best suited to leaving the abbey and going to live with Lord Abernathy’s staff for a time. However, the very idea of leaving the only home she’d ever really known and going somewhere entirely new frightened her terribly.
“Deborah,” Mother Superior continued, as though she could see into Deborah’s heart. “I know that this can be quite intimidating for someone who has never really lived away from the abbey, but I have the feeling that this is meant to be your path. After all, you have been very well educated and know how you are to speak to someone like the Duke. You will manage very well there, I am sure. Once you return, you can take your orders.”
Deborah licked her lips, not quite sure how to respond.
“You have such a brightness in your heart that it cannot fail to touch Lord Abernathy’s darkness,” Mother Superior finished, leaning towards Deborah a little. “I can see that within you, Deborah, even if you can not. Lord Abernathy needs someone such as you to help him see the joy of lif
e again, to remove the dark shades of the past from his eyes. You can do that, Deborah. You can give him the hope he needs to see life for what it is.” She sat back in her chair, her expression serious. “Although I will not pretend to you that it will be easy, nor that he will be glad of your presence. It may take a good deal of time for him to accept you within the house and only then will you be able to do what you can to help him.”
This did not sound like a particularly desirous situation and Deborah felt herself rebelling against it almost at once. A Duke, who had more money, wealth and influence than any other person in England, aside from the King, would not exactly be pleased to have a nun within his own house, especially if he was not expecting her! What would happen if he instructed her to leave? Was she to remain regardless, knowing that Lady Markham, his sister, had requested her to stay? Or would she have to do as the Duke asked and quit the house?
“I can tell that you have a good many thoughts on the matter,” Mother Superior said, softly, drawing Deborah’s attention. “I will not force you in this, Deborah. This is something I feel is being set out for you to do, but you must not allow yourself to be overwhelmed by it. Pray about it. Consider it. And then return to me with your answer.”
Nodding slowly, Deborah pushed herself out of her chair. “But I cannot take my orders until I return?” she asked, feeling herself rebelling against the idea. “You will not allow me to take them unless I go?”
Mother Superior looked surprised and Deborah immediately felt a flare of guilt in her chest, although she did not take back what she had said.
“I will pray about the matter,” Mother Superior replied, eventually. “I shall give the matter much thought and will allow you time to do the same.” Her expression softened, her eyes filled with understanding. “I know that you are eager to take your vows, Deborah, but I must know for certain that this is where you belong.”
A little hurt, Deborah lowered her head. “I did not think that I had ever given you reason to doubt me,” she replied.
Mother Superior walked around the desk and came towards Deborah, one hand resting lightly on her arm. “No, it has never been a question of that,” she said, encouragingly. “Think of it as a question in my own mind. A question that I have not yet been able to answer. I believe that there may be something different for you, Deborah, than what you yourself have planned.” She let go of Deborah’s arm. “But I will not prevent you from remaining here instead of going to Lord Abernathy’s if that is what you feel led to do. And, of course, your orders will always be on my mind. I will keep praying about the matter until an answer comes to me with clarity.”
Deborah let out a long breath, feeling as though she already knew the answer to the question as to whether or not she would leave the abbey. She wanted to pray about it, wanted to come to the conclusion that she was required here, but the weight of the letter and the desperation of Lady Markham had already begun to settle on her soul.
“When must I leave?” she asked, a little dully. “And for how long?”
Mother Superior smiled softly, as though she had been expecting this answer. “Tomorrow,” she said, gently. “And Lady Markham has requested that you remain for one month initially, no matter what the Duke himself says.” She smiled as Deborah nodded, obviously seeing the frustration and flickering uncertainty in Deborah’s eyes. “You have nothing to fear, Deborah. The Duke will not harm you, for he is not that sort of gentleman. He is a man lost in pain, lost in torment. Help him find his way back to the light, back to the hope and the joy that he once had and I am certain that he will be grateful for it.”
“I must hope so,” Deborah replied, her stomach twisting painfully as she walked away from Mother Superior and back towards the door. “I shall go and prepare myself for tomorrow’s departure, then.”
“Thank you, Deborah,” Mother Superior murmured, as Deborah pulled the door open. “I truly believe that this is the path you are meant to take. Do not shirk from it. Who knows what will come of your presence in Lord Abernathy’s home?”
Deborah could not find anything to say, nodding towards Mother Superior before closing the door and walking back towards the staircase and her own rooms. Deep within her, she felt a trembling take a hold of her, her heart beating so furiously that she became a little nauseous. To leave the abbey was one thing, but to go to the home of an injured gentleman who did not even want her to be in his house was quite another! What would she say if he demanded that she leave him? What would she do? Mother Superior might be convinced that this was what Deborah was meant to do but she herself felt no such certainty.
Settling her nerves with a sheer force of will, Deborah climbed the steps and hurried towards her own little room. The familiarity of it comforted Deborah’s heart, reminding her that she would be gone for only a month. She would return to this place after only a few weeks, glad to come back to the one place she thought of as home.
Besides, Lord Abernathy could not be too difficult now, could he?
Chapter Two
Harksbury Hall was a day’s travel away from London. Deborah had risen earlier than usual when the sky was still dark and the sun not even a thought in the sky. She had gone to pray for a good hour or so, having been so lost in anxiety that she had felt as though a cloud surrounded her, darkening her vision and rendering her almost useless.
The coach that was taking her to Lord Abernathy’s home was dark and cold, the chill wind seeming to come in every nook and cranny. Deborah had tried to sleep as it had rattled out of London, but her fears had been unwilling to let her rest, forcing her eyes open and her mind to tumble with thoughts. What would Lord Abernathy be like? Was his injury truly as serious as Mother Superior had said? Over and over, she came up with visions of what he might look like, wondering what it was that had hurt his face so terribly.
War was truly horrible. It took lives whenever it pleased, pulling life from both the poor and the rich without question. She hated the evilness of it, the cruelty that left such an ugly mark. Silently, she prayed for peace yet again, praying that the injured soldiers seeking aid would soon come to a stop. She prayed that the men would one day all be restored to their families, that those who had lost a husband or a father, brother or a son, would be comforted in their grief.
And then she prayed for herself. She prayed for strength and courage for what was to come, worrying that she wouldn’t be given a warm welcome by the Duke. Her hands twisted in her lap as she looked outside, seeing nothing but countryside for miles beyond. Just how far away was Harksbury Hall?
A sudden jerk had Deborah’s eyes flying open, her heart slamming into her chest as she looked all about her. They had arrived at the Duke’s residence, it seemed, as she was entirely unprepared. Only just realizing that she had fallen asleep, Deborah rubbed at her eyes frantically, praying that she did not appear too disheveled.
“The servant's entrance, Miss Harland, if you please.”
Deborah scrambled out of the coach as best as she could, seeing the two footmen waiting for her to accompany them. One of them had her single, small bag which he carried in for her. Deborah lifted her chin, checked that her bonnet ribbons were tied tightly and that her hair was not tumbling over her forehead and followed after them.
Harksbury Hall was one of the grandest, most imposing structures, that Deborah had ever laid eyes on. Even looking upward, she could not quite see the top. In the cold greyness of the day, the sun did not sparkle on the seemingly hundreds of windows, although that did not detract from the impressiveness of the house.
Quietly, Deborah wondered if Lord Abernathy was somewhere within, looking down at her and scrutinizing her carefully. A cold shiver ran down her spine and she turned her attention back towards the footmen, seeing one enter into a large red wooden door. The other waited for her to catch up and, hurrying, she stepped inside and immediately felt a rush of warmth hit her.
The kitchens were just to her left, with other rooms to her right. The servant's staircase was directly
in front of her.
“She’s here, Mr. Morris,” one of the footmen said, dropping Deborah’s bag at her feet. “That nun that Lady Markham said she’d fetch for his lordship.”
Deborah opened her mouth to say that she had not taken her vows yet, only for a large, broad-shouldered older man to fix her with a stern gaze, rendering her speechless as he came towards her.
“You are not a nun,” he said, frowning, his gaze running over her and sending a wave of heat up Deborah’s spine. “Lady Markham was most specific.”
“I – I have not yet taken my orders,” Deborah stammered, feeling intimidated by the butler’s presence. “But I will do so very soon. Here.” She dug about for a moment, before pulling out a small note from her bag. “Mother Superior has written a note to reassure you of my abilities.”
The frown did not leave Mr. Morris’ face but he took the letter from her, broke it open and began to read. As Deborah watched, she saw the frustration leave Mr. Morris’ expression which was quickly replaced with a look of relief.
“Very good,” he muttered, folding up the note and putting it in his pocket. “I am sorry, Miss Harland, but I was expecting someone in a habit. You understand, of course.”
“Of course,” she repeated, awash with relief. “And am I to meet Lord Abernathy?”
The butler hesitated, his grey eyes darting from place to place. “I think,” he said, slowly, “that you might want to put your things away first. We have a room for you, of course, but it is above stairs.” He smiled tightly. “You are to have the governess’s rooms, although they have not been used in some time. They have been aired and prepared for your arrival.”
Deborah smiled, feeling a little more at ease. “I thank you,” she said, inclining her head. “That is very kind of you.”
The butler nodded, although the air of tension had not quite dissipated. “I think I should be honest with you, Miss Harland. Lord Abernathy is not aware that you have been sent for and will not display any sort of gratitude at your arrival.”
