Chapter 1 #2
As he stepped forward to greet her and the light fell on his face, she felt a pang of shock.
This could not be Sir William – this man was surely far too young, little more than thirty years of age.
He was tall and broad, fashionably dressed and handsome in the confident way of a man who knows that he is irresistible.
His smile was easy, his manners charming.
He bowed to her; took her hand. For a mad moment, Marris thought he might even go so far as to kiss it.
She met his eyes – brown, dancing with humour – and realised he had read her mind. He released her hand gently, un-kissed.
‘Reverend Mother…’ Never had her title sounded less pure and holy than when spoken in those mellow tones. ‘Thank you for sparing time for me from your devotions.’
‘Sir William,’ Marris said. She injected the words with a slight note of query. ‘You are Sir William Sharington?’
The laughter in his eyes deepened. ‘I am indeed. Did you think me an imposter come to steal your priory?’
‘I had heard Sir William was an older man,’ Marris said repressively, ‘that is all.’ She could feel herself responding to him like a flower to the sun, opening up, dazzled. It was no way for a nun to feel nor to behave.
His smile broadened at her refusal to bend to his charm. ‘That would have been my father,’ he said. ‘I fear he passed away a few months ago, so now you are dealing with me.’
‘I am sorry to hear of his death,’ Marris said, though she noted Sir William was not wearing a mourning ring, and nor did he seem afflicted by his loss. ‘My condolences to you and your family.’
He inclined his head in acknowledgement. ‘Thank you, though I fear few people grieve his death. He was not a pleasant man.’
‘But he was a very successful one,’ Marris said dryly. ‘That must be some comfort.’
Sir William gave a crack of laughter. ‘You are quite right, madam. Which brings me neatly to thanking you for such a thorough introduction to my new estate. The papers you sent my father were exemplary – your attention to detail and clear financial ability has made the transfer so much smoother than I had anticipated.’
‘I will pass on your compliments to my steward,’ Marris said coolly.
‘I would prefer you to take them for yourself,’ Sir William said.
His gaze appraised her closely. ‘I’ll wager those calculations and annotations I have just reviewed were all in your own hand.
From what I hear in the village, the Prioress of Winterhill is as shrewd in business as she is godly and generous in her person. ’
Once again Marris had to work hard not to feel flattered. Sir William was clearly a practised charmer, accustomed to women falling at his feet like witless fools. She was not going to be one of them.
‘No priory ever prospered with an abbess who did not understand both business and politics,’ Marris said. ‘Faith is a blessed gift but it will not fill the coffers if the land is neglected.’
‘God helps those who help themselves,’ Sir William agreed, smiling.
‘Precisely,’ Marris said. ‘Even if they are women, and nuns at that.’
‘Women can have as good a head for business as any man,’ Sir William said. ‘Better than many. But you know that.’ His gaze narrowed on her. ‘It will be hard for you to give up that independence, I imagine.’
Marris pressed her hands together tightly.
This was a conversation she was not prepared to have with him.
She doubted that he had any sympathy for her situation.
It seemed more likely that he was trying to provoke her.
She had seen the spark of interest in his eyes when she had batted back his courtly compliments.
To a man like this, her apparent indifference to him would be a challenge.
There was a knock at the door and Rose came in with two glasses of wine. Marris was glad to see that she had used the fine crystal. And probably the equally fine Spanish red, which she was less pleased about, being unsure as yet if it was wasted on Sir William.
Rose looked terrified, her hands shaking, the glasses rattling.
Marris watched Sir William’s reaction to her sister, whose prettiness frequently caused a second glance even when cloaked in a novice’s habit.
Yet his gaze moved to her – and past her – with supreme lack of interest. Marris felt a little of the tension leach from her; at least, it seemed, he did not have an eye for exploiting vulnerable young girls as well as a desire to take the roof from over their heads.
Then his eyes met hers again as he courteously gestured her to be seated ahead of him, and she realised that it was power that interested Sir William Sharington – the getting of it, the deploying of it and the recognition of it in others, which was why he was currently focusing so closely on her.
She held the authority in this community, at least for a little while longer, and that interested him. He was ambitious above all else.
He took the glass of wine she offered him without touching her this time. She dismissed Rose with a tilt of the head and her sister scuttered from the room.
‘It seems you have also been diligent in preparing your ground, Sir William,’ she said coolly, ‘if you have already been speaking to the villagers and tenants hereabouts. It is of course good to be on cordial terms with them given the unrest that the suppression of the monasteries had caused in some other places, but I would advise you not to believe everything that you are told. People will tell you what they think you want to hear.’
‘I am sure you are right.’ Whilst she sat upright on her hard wooden chair, Sir William had now sprawled back on the settle, entirely at ease.
‘My new tenants have every reason to want to keep on the right side of me, or perhaps even pull the wool over my eyes in some matters. The miller, for example, told me he needed fresh oak to fashion a new water wheel, whilst the current one seems perfectly sound to me. And the forester tells me there is only a herd of 200 deer in the upper wood whilst your estimates put it at closer to 400. So, I shall be on my guard.’ He smiled at her.
‘But in one thing I trust implicitly, and that is that their judgement of you is accurate.’ He raised his glass to her.
‘You are to be commended, Reverend Mother. Your presence will be sorely missed at Winterhill, I feel.’
He put his glass down on the table beside him and sat forward somewhat abruptly, resting his elbows on his knees. ‘What will you do when you leave, if you do not consider it impertinent of me to ask?’
‘I do consider it impertinent,’ Marris said, ‘or perhaps merely tactless, when you are taking my home.’
Sir William shrugged easily. ‘I mean no offence. I understand your two sisters are novices here and will remain in your care. Do you have the means to provide for them? A family who will take you in? Most abbesses are high-born, with noble relatives.’
‘Would it ease your conscience if I was?’ Marris snapped. ‘Would it compensate for having the roof taken from over our heads and my – small – degree of authority here destroyed?’
There was silence in the warming room. The fire had already fallen to glowing embers, unable to make an impression against the coldness of the room and the day.
Marris made an effort to regain her self-control, digging her fingers into the unyielding arms of the chair until the pattern in the wood scored her fingers.
She wished she had not allowed Sir William to get under her guard.
She should not display her bitterness so openly.
Like his father, he was the King’s man, and it was dangerous.
‘Your anger is understandable,’ Sir William said after a moment, echoing her thoughts, ‘but it is unwise to show it.’
‘I am aware of that,’ Marris said. She refused to apologise even though she knew it would be politic to do so.
These men had upturned so many lives, and so carelessly.
To have to accept it in silent obedience was too much.
Years of injustice and powerlessness had only served to light the flame of resistance to male privilege in her, rather than quench it.
She had achieved so much in her relatively short time at Winterhill and now it was all dashed.
‘I understand that you are related to the Howards.’ Sir William’s voice broke into her seething thoughts. ‘You are fortunate to have such powerful cousins. I wondered if perhaps they would give you a home now?’
‘It is a very distant connection,’ Marris said stiffly. ‘I would not wish to presume upon it.’
‘You should,’ Sir William said, ‘for the sake of your sisters.’
Marris gritted her teeth. She knew that from one perspective, he was right.
It would benefit Rose and Bridget a great deal more materially to be acknowledged as part of the Howard clan than it would for them to be obliged to live with her in the backstreets of a local town such as Wantage or Newbury.
It was a great, sprawling family but her distant cousin, the Duke of Norfolk, had wanted nothing to do with them when their parents had died of the plague when Marris was sixteen.
She was not inclined to beg them for succour now.
And there she went again, she thought, succumbing to the sin of pride.
Sir William shifted slightly. ‘If you were prepared to consider approaching them,’ he said, ‘I could put in a word for you at court.’ He straightened, placing his wine carefully on the oak table at his side.
‘You may know that there are plans for the King to re-marry. His new Queen will be a foreigner, someone who will need help in understanding our language and our customs. You are educated and of high moral character. Who would be better to guide her than the former Prioress of Winterhill?’