Chapter 1 #2
I went to the cathedral to think and pray, then sought out one of the canons, a sweet-natured man who had shown himself friendly towards me, and poured out my doubts to him.
‘Give it time, my daughter,’ he counselled.
‘You will not be professed immediately, or be required to take vows until both you and the community are satisfied that you have a vocation and are suited to monastic life. Try it, and see what happens. You may come to embrace it. If not, you will be free to leave.’
His words made sense. But. . .
‘If I leave, will they return my dowry?’
‘Assuredly, if you have not taken final vows. Now, think on what I have said. And may God bless you, whatever you decide to do.’
It felt strange, preparing to leave the only home I had ever known.
I was still by no means certain that I wanted to go to Shaftesbury Abbey, yet I knew I could not stay here.
The word was that my real father was now under house arrest at his mansion in Hertfordshire.
I even thought of making my way there and asking for his help in finding me a better way in life, or even a husband (by now, I was ready to take anyone), but I feared that I might not be allowed in to see him.
Even if I did, the enormity of meeting him would be dauntingly overwhelming.
A nun would not be permitted worldly treasures.
It was hard, giving my lovely gowns to charity.
Anne gleefully took my jewels. Jack was delighted to receive my books.
Father handed me the bag of gold coins that made up my dowry, and I packed it with my few necessary belongings, then bade a sad farewell to my mother, who showed no sign of recognising who I was, but carried on holding an imaginary conversation with some long-dead relative.
Father sat listlessly beside her. He waved his hand in a sort of blessing then dissolved into sobs again.
Shaking my head, I looked desperately at Jack, who shrugged helplessly.
I kissed Mother one final time and hurried down the stairs, blinking back tears because I knew I would probably never see her again.
Shaftesbury Abbey was a marvel to behold. It was massive, much bigger than I had anticipated – an enclosed world in itself, with the town spread out beyond it. I could hardly believe that this mighty place was to be my home from now on.
Alighting from the litter, I bade farewell to Jack, who had insisted on escorting me the hundred-odd miles from Worcester, and resolutely turned away. I had made my choice, so I might as well make the best of it. What would be would be.
Taking a deep breath, clutching the bag that contained my dowry and my few possessions, I walked up to the door in the wall and rang the bell outside. A few moments later, the small grille in the door slid aside and a bewimpled, round face appeared. ‘Yes, my child?’
‘I am Dorothy Clausey, come to try my vocation,’ I told her. ‘I believe I am expected.’
‘You are indeed,’ she told me. ‘I am Dame Elizabeth Godwyn, the porteress. I will take you to Mother Abbess.’
She unlocked the door and I stepped inside. When it clanged shut behind me, I knew a moment of panic. Would I ever be allowed out again? Had that door shut on the world for ever?
Elizabeth Godwyn folded her hands under her long apron, which I later learned was called a scapular. She led me silently along a passage that led to a cloister and from there to a handsome house standing within a pretty garden.
‘This is Mother Abbess’s house,’ she told me. ‘Mother Elizabeth Zouche has been with us for over thirty years, but she was elected abbess only last year. She comes from a noble family.’
I was impressed. Even I had heard of the Zouches.
Elizabeth Godwyn knocked on the door, which was opened by a lay sister in a clean homespun gown and a white cap. ‘The new postulant is here, Nell. Pray take her to see Mother Abbess.’
The house was beautiful, furnished with tapestries and even a carpet.
My mother would have been proud of the neatly polished oak furniture.
There was no hint of poverty. I wondered hopefully how frugally the nuns really lived, but there was no time for speculation since Nell was opening a door and ushering me into a vaulted chamber where a nun sat writing at a desk.
Realising that I was in the presence of the Abbess, I dropped a curtsey.
Mother Elizabeth Zouche smiled. Her thin, fine-boned face bore the lines of age, but her eyes were warm and twinkling. ‘Welcome, Mistress Clausey. Here, we do not curtsey. When you enter my chamber, you will kneel beside me and kiss my ring, then wait for my blessing.’
She beckoned, and I did her bidding.
‘Benedicite,’ she said. ‘Now you may rise and be seated.’ She pointed to a stool. I sat.
‘So you wish to try your vocation?’
‘I do, Mother,’ I replied.
She regarded me earnestly. ‘I say this to all who come seeking a life of religion. It is not an easy one, or a natural one. You will have to strive to conquer yourself. If you think to escape the world by coming here, forget that. You will be tested many times, but, God willing, your faith and His love will sustain you.’
I bent my head, greatly dismayed.
‘You will remain a postulant for one month before you enter the novitiate. After a year, if all goes well, you will take simple vows. Your final vows, if you get that far, will be taken four years later. Until then, you are free to leave at any time.’
‘Will I vow myself to poverty, chastity and obedience, Mother?’
‘You will take vows of obedience, stability and conversion in the way of life. They are much the same thing, as you will learn.’ She smiled.
‘But we are getting way ahead of ourselves, Mistress Clausey, or Sister Dorothy, as you will henceforth be known. You have much to learn. It will seem strange and doubtless daunting at first, but we will all support you as you strive for perfect union with our Lord Jesus Christ, your Heavenly Bridegroom. Now, seeing that you have had a long journey, I will summon the mistress of postulants, who will show you to the dorter, where you can change before supper.’
Nell was sent to fetch my new mentor, Dame Elizabeth Brewer, a ruddy-cheeked, merry soul of enormous proportions.
The Abbess bade me kneel again for her blessing. ‘God bless you and sustain you on the journey ahead of you,’ she said.
‘Come, my duck,’ Dame Elizabeth commanded, sweeping me away to the convent enclosure.
The novices’ dorter was a long room lined with wooden beds separated by curtains of unbleached cloth.
I was allocated a bed near the far end, on which had been laid out a simple grey gown and a white linen veil.
Dame Elizabeth took my bag, went through my things and carried most of them away, including the bag of gold coins that constituted my dowry, which she said she would give to the treasuress.
‘We are not allowed personal possessions,’ she said, ‘but you may keep the missal.’ It had been a gift from my mother for my twelfth birthday. ‘Now change into your postulant’s clothes and put those you are wearing into the bag, to be given to the poor. I will wait for you without.’
Quickly, I shed my worldly clothes, stuffed them into the bag and pulled on the grey gown, which hung like a sack on my thin frame. I plaited and pinned up my long hair, then covered it with the veil.
Dame Elizabeth frowned at the bulging bag. ‘Here, we fold things neatly,’ she admonished, pulling out my dress and re-folding it.
I followed her to the lavatorium, where lots of nuns were washing their hands at the stone sinks along the wall, then followed them – at the end of the line because I was the youngest in religion – into the vast refectory.
There were no other postulants, so I was seated with the novices, who were distinguishable by their black habits and white veils; the professed nuns, of whom there were more than fifty, wore black veils and white wimples.
We ate in silence. The food was plenteous, but plain – a rabbit stew, chunks of brown bread, and fruit – all washed down with weak ale.
I soon learned that if you wanted something, like salt, you had to wait until someone passed it to you; you could not ask for it.
Later, the novice mistress told me that a nun should always be alert to the needs of her fellow diners.
The Abbess sat in a high-backed chair at the high table with the Prioress and Sub-Prioress and other high-ranking nuns – the obedientiaries.
They were served the same food as everyone else.
Throughout the meal, one of the sisters stood in a pulpit and read out passages from the Scriptures.
I wondered when she got to eat, and tried to catch the eye of one of my fellow novices to ask, but they were all looking down at their food.
The novice mistress, who was seated at the end of the table, frowned at me. ‘It is important to learn custody of the eyes, Sister Dorothy.’
Blushing, I stared hard at my plate. How many rules must I learn not to break?
During supper, I was startled when a nun entered the refectory, lay down on the floor with her arms stretched out before the Abbess, and said, ‘Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.’
‘What have you done, my child?’ the Abbess asked.
‘I have committed the sin of gluttony and must beg my bread.’
‘Go then and do so, in the name of Jesus Christ.’