Chapter Sixteen #2
The abbess gazed at her a moment longer, scrutinizing features so fine she would have sworn that God himself had intended to have her.
A young lady she had been expecting for eighteen years, whose heritage and bloodlines were as powerful as England herself.
She recognized the features, as they were very similar to another woman she knew.
A woman she had met for the first time eighteen years ago, devastated and crushed by circumstances beyond her control.
A woman she had nurtured to a fragile emotional health that, to this day, was still not particularly robust. Gazing into the familiar features of the young woman before her, she hoped the sight of pale green eyes and raven-black hair would be enough to fortify the aching spirit housed within these old walls for the past eighteen years. The ache of a mother’s love.
“I am Mother Abbess Mary Deus,” she said after an eternal pause, dropping her hand from the lovely face.
“You are indeed early, as we were not expecting you until the week after Christmas. But your company is welcomed all the same and we will not question God’s wisdom in bringing you to us sooner than intended,” her intense gaze moved from Arissa to Emma, and she fixed her heady stare on the young blond girl.
“I am afraid servants are not allowed at Whitby, my lady. She must return to Lambourn.”
“She’s not my servant,” Arissa grabbed hold of Emma, pulling her forward for the abbess’ inspection. “This is the Lady Emma Trevor. She wishes to pledge servitude to God.”
The abbess cocked an eyebrow, indicating either disbelief or pleasure. “I see,” she replied non-committally. After a moment, the woman turned to the other nuns. “Where is Sister Repentia?”
“In the kitchens, Mother,” came a soft reply.
Mary Deus nodded briefly and Arissa swore she saw the woman’s jaw tick. “Seek her. Inform her that our new pledge has arrived.”
A nun broke off from the crowd, shuffling away on silent feet. When the woman disappeared into the depths of the sanctuary, the abbess refocused her attention on the two frightened young women before her. A weak smile creased her lips.
“You are undoubtedly tired. Follow me and you shall be refreshed.”
Still clutching one another as if permanently joined, Arissa and Emma did as they were told. As they moved down the ancient corridor, each lady found herself torn between great curiosity for her new surroundings and a deep concern for the raging skirmish in the moor.
Beckoned into the bowels of the musty abbey, they found themselves in a soaring gallery, rather small in size, but the ceilings overhead were of magnificent height. There were a few tables, scrubbed and worn, and little else. The entire place reeked of dampness, of age, and of a humble existence.
The mother abbess bade the ladies to sit.
“Sister Repentia will be with you shortly,” she said, watching as the young women silently took their seats.
“This is where we eat and pray, and sometimes it is used to house weary travelers who seek refuge for the night,” she indicated a slumped bundle against the far wall, hidden in the depths of the shadows.
“Alas, that man came to us recovering from a great injury. As we commonly do not accept men into our sanctuary, he was quite weak and we could not refuse him aid.”
Arissa and Emma turned to stare at the swathed figure. “Do you tend a lot of sickness?” Arissa asked softly. “I am aware that some abbeys dedicate themselves to healing, but I did not believe Whitby to be such an establishment.”
“It is not,” Mary Deus replied. “We prefer the isolated life, paying reverence to God and doing penitence for man’s evil nature. In fact, I harbor five recluse nuns within my abbey, women intent on maintaining the purest life possible.”
Arissa nodded in understanding, folding her hands and trying not to appear overly unnerved. Although her body was safely guarded within the confines of the gallery, her mind wandered outside the walls of the abbey, seeking Richmond as he waged battle in the moors beyond. She was horribly worried.
Tears sprang to her eyes and she lowered her head, desperately attempting to fend off the tide of emotions. The mother abbess excused herself without a word, leaving Arissa and Emma alone in the midst of their fear and disorientation.
Alone in a mysterious realm of holy penitence and literal scripture; alone without those they loved for the first time in their young lives.
Alone at Whitby.
*
Mary Deus moved into the lightless depths of the abbey’s kitchen, a large room filled with the sharp smells of smoke.
Her intense eyes searched for the familiar figure that inhabited this chamber most of the time, a woman who took delight in preparing God’s bountiful harvest. But the room was vacant and the mother abbess sighed slowly, wondering if the nun who had been sent to inform Sister Repentia of the newly arrived pledge had only succeeded in chasing the woman into hiding.
Her gaze lingered on the room a moment longer, attempting to ascertain where Sister Repentia might have disappeared to.
Just as she turned to quit the chamber, a slight figure dressed in yards of gray wool entered the room from the cellar, one arm laden with a basket of autumn fruits and the other holding her skirts so that she would not trip over their length.
“Sister,” the abbess hissed. “You are expected.”
Sister Repentia looked up from her basket as she came into the light. Pale green eyes gazed back at the mother abbess.
“I have been made aware, Mother,” she said softly. “I was preparing refreshments.”
The abbess stared at her a moment. It was obvious by her calm expression that she had not been informed of the arrival’s identity and the older woman sighed again, her manner softening. Unaware of the impending news, Sister Repentia moved to the stone counter and began to prepare the food.
Behind her, the older nun’s hesitant gaze lingered on the woolen-swathed head. There was simply no easy way to soften the blow.
“She’s here.”
Sister Repentia placed an apple into a wooden bowl before turning her confused expression to the mother abbess. “I…. I do not understand. Who is here?”
The abbess moved toward her, slowly. Her manner gentled dramatically. “Arissa, my child. She’s come early.”
Sister Repentia stared at the woman a moment, emotionlessly. After an eternal span of time in which she allowed the abbess’ words to settle, her only reaction was to lick the lips that had suddenly begun to quiver.
“My…. Arissa has arrived from Lambourn?”
The abbess nodded, unwilling to be party to the emotions Sister Repentia was feeling.
She would council, assist, and pray with her charges, but she was disinclined to experience the depths of the emotions that so often plagued them.
For a woman whose natural sympathies were endless and deep, she had found it painful and exhausting.
Even though she had allowed herself to become far more involved with Sister Repentia than was her usual practice due to the woman’s unusual circumstances, she realized she had to halt the progression at some point in time.
With the addition of the dark-haired woman in the gallery, she was aware that the time for separation had come.
Truthfully, there was nothing more she could do.
Sister Repentia would have to face her daughter alone.
“She’s waiting for her refreshments,” the abbess said quietly, turning for the door and away from the emotional turmoil that threatened to snare her. “You will greet her immediately, sister. Do you understand?”
Sister Repentia stared at the bowl of food before her, nodding after a moment. Even as she repeated the abbess’ words in her mind, over and over as if somehow afraid she had dreamt them, their meaning was still difficult to believe.
With shaking hands and a heart that screamed with joy, she fumbled with the apples before her. Although she had known this moment would eventually be upon her, still, she found herself emotionally unprepared for the reality of it.
Her baby had arrived.