The Salbine Sisters (35 page)

Fortunately for Lillian, Dorothy had anticipated Meredith’s request. “I’ll bring you one tomorrow.”

“Oh, good. Well, I won’t get in the way.” She released their arms and carried on up the hall.

Lillian leaned closer to Maddy. “I bet she’ll tell me how much better it is than Dorothy’s, even though it’ll be Dorothy’s,” she murmured, then smiled when Maddy smiled. She pushed the door open. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

Maddy raised her brows. “Should I cover my eyes?”

“No, no.” Lillian entered her chambers and held her breath. “Wait a minute. Let me light the fire and a couple of lamps.” Her hands trembled as she knelt in front of the fireplace and struck the flint. She had butterflies! Fortunately the amadou caught the spark. Lillian blew carefully on the dry fungus and used it to light the lamps, then the fire. She straightened and faced the door. “Come in.”

Maddy stepped into the chambers and surveyed the room, her gaze homing in on the horse carving sitting on a shelf. “What’s that? Can I look at it?”

Her stomach churning, Lillian nodded.

Maddy crossed to the carving and lifted it. “It’s lovely,” she breathed. “Such detail. And there’s another one!” After carefully setting the horse down, she picked up the bird at the other end of the shelf. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s something to do when I’m sitting in front of the fire,” Lillian said quietly.

Maddy gaped at her. “You did them! Why haven’t you ever shown me one before? They’re gorgeous.”

Probably because she’d proudly given one to Caroline, a fox she’d lovingly slaved over until it was perfect, and received a disinterested “thank you.” She’d expected it to be on display in Caroline’s chambers, but had never seen it again. Caroline had probably tossed it down one of the latrines.

“And I can see you do this in front of the fire,” Maddy said, eyeing the dusty shavings around the chair, then smiling when she spotted her birthday gift. She looked at Lillian. “We’ll need another chair.”

Lillian’s throat tightened. “Yes, we will.”

“Are you working on one now?” Maddy gestured toward the bird carving.

“No, I wasn’t sure what to do next.”

Maddy raised her arms and covered her stump with her hand, something she did when she was excited. “Can I choose?”

“I suppose that would be fitting, since these will soon be your chambers too.” Something Lillian could hardly believe, though she seemed to be the only one who felt that way. Had everyone expected them to become consorts except her? Few eyebrows had risen when Maddy sat next to Lillian during evening prayers, and shocked gasps hadn’t filled the chapel when Sophia announced that Mistress Lillian and Sister Maddy would pledge.

“I’ll think about it,” Maddy said, breaking into Lillian’s thoughts. She swept her left arm through the air several times.

“What are you doing?”

“Wondering how effectively I can sweep. I wonder if a shorter handle would help. Another thing to discuss with the carpenters.” Maddy glanced around. “We’ll have to add a bit of colour.”

“Colour?”

“It’s a bit austere in here, isn’t it? A few hangings will help, and perhaps new cushions, to go with the one I gave you.”

She’d never thought of her chambers as drab.

“Let’s have a look at the bedchamber.”

“This would be yours.” Lillian pushed open one of the doors on the chamber’s east wall.

“Oh yes, I forgot that you mistresses have two bedchambers.”

“Most of us do take consorts,” Lillian mumbled.

Maddy peered into the gloomy room and sneezed. She carefully picked up one of the lamps and used it to illuminate the piles of tomes and scrolls covering every inch of the floor. “Lillian! Does Mistress Averill know you have half the library in here?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s half the library,” Lillian said faintly.

“I can see I’ll be busy,” Maddy said, her tone brisk. “Can I come in when you’re not here?”

“Why? What are you planning to do?”

“Sweep.” Maddy waved her hand into the room. “Take all this back to the library.”

“What? I need these.”

Maddy sighed. “Lillian, the tomes in the back are so covered in dust, it’s clear you haven’t touched them in years. If you do need them, they’ll be in the library. Or are you expecting me to sleep on them?”

“I’m hoping you’ll be with me in my bedchamber.” Lillian cleared her throat. “Most nights.”

“I’ll still want my own bedchamber.”

“I know,” she said, wincing at the resignation she heard in her voice.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Maddy asked.

“Yes! I’m just not used to someone else . . .” She searched for a way to express herself that would be less inflammatory than “taking over my chambers” and finished triumphantly with, “Organizing my chambers!”

“Soon to be
our
chambers.”

“I know, I know!”

Maddy’s forehead creased. “I’ll try not to charge in here like a bull. But I’d like to keep myself busy, especially after Emmey’s gone.”

It wouldn’t work. Lillian had done the same when Maddy was away. No matter how many chores Maddy found to distract herself, the second she had a quiet moment, her thoughts would turn to Emmey. But she wouldn’t be lonely. Lillian would see to that.

“What’s yours like?” Maddy asked, moving to the other door but waiting for Lillian to push it open. She peered inside and grunted. “Neater than I’d expected.”

“I don’t spend much time in there.”

Maddy waggled her eyebrows. “I wonder if that will change now.”

Lillian cursed her hot cheeks. “I wish you could stay tonight.”

“I don’t.”

“What?”

“That didn’t come out right,” Maddy said with a chuckle. “I do wish we could spend the night together, but not here. I want to save that until we’ve pledged.”

Lillian’s blood stopped pounding in her ears.

“I’d better get back, otherwise Mistress Elizabeth will have a fit.”

“We told her we’d come here after evening prayers,” Lillian reminded her.

“We said for a few minutes.”

Disappointed, Lillian nodded. “So we did.”

Maddy bit her lip. “Emmey was asking after you. I told her she’ll see you tomorrow. Will we?”

“Yes.” Going a day without seeing Maddy was now unimaginable.

“I know you’ll have things to do, but perhaps you’ll watch Emmey while I attend morning prayers, and then we can all go for a walk together.”

“All right. If you like, I’ll bring you breakfast after early morning prayers. You should be up by then, with Emmey around.”

Maddy set the lamp down and pinched Lillian’s cheek. “I’d like that very much.” She pressed her lips against Lillian’s, but pulled away when Lillian parted her lips. “No. If we start that, I won’t be able to tear myself away. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She darted into the hall before Lillian could respond.

Lillian shook her head and pushed the door shut. She swallowed at the sight of the one chair in front of the fire. Her chambers had never felt empty before, but Maddy’s absence was palpable. Lillian couldn’t wait for the colourful tapestries, the new cushions, and, most especially, the second chair by the fire.

Perhaps love wasn’t so bad after all.

*****

Maddy knocked at the abbess’s study door and opened it in response to the muffled, “Come in.”

“Please sit, Maddy.” The abbess looked more drawn than usual.

“No, thank you,” Maddy said when the abbess offered her a cup of tea. The air felt heavy; holding a cup might not be a good idea. She smoothed her robe and tried to relax as the abbess poured her own tea and blew on it. Her apprehension grew when the abbess gazed at her and sighed.

“I’ve summoned you here to tell you that I’ve found a home for Emmey,” the abbess said.

Already? It had only been four days.

“The Carmichaels are willing to take her.”

Maddy’s heart sank. She knew of the Carmichaels; a constant stream of children passed through their farm, helping with the harvests and livestock and sleeping in the barns. Still, it would be better than the alleys.

The abbess’s mouth pinched in sympathy. “She’ll have a full belly and a roof.”

But not love.

“It’s the best we can do. She’s not a babe.”

“I know.” Expecting a family to welcome Emmey as a daughter hadn’t been realistic, but Maddy had hoped for it anyway. Merrin was no different from any other town; orphans roamed its streets, searching for scraps and begging for coin. Few families could afford an extra mouth to feed, nor did they have the room for another bed and the time to nurture another tiny soul. Was it so bad that Emmey would spend her days in the fields and with farm animals? Maddy had grown up on a farm—but among those who loved and cherished her, not as someone akin to a hired farmhand. “She’ll have my visits.”

The abbess tensed. “No.”

Maddy’s breath caught in her throat. “What?”

“No, Maddy. Visiting Emmey wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“But . . .” Maddy pressed her lips together to stop their trembling.

“I know you care about her,” the abbess said gently, “but you’re a Salbine Sister. Your place is here, and you have much work to do regarding your spiritual life. I can’t have half of you here and half of you out there. When we join the Order, we don’t cut off our families, but we do leave them behind. You’re too involved with this girl, Maddy. You have to let go now.”

Knowing the abbess was right, Maddy didn’t protest, but tears spilled onto her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help but care for her,” she said tremulously.

The abbess rose and rounded the desk. “I’m not criticizing you,” she said, crouching next to Maddy and taking her hand. “Of course you couldn’t help but care. You went through a terrible ordeal together, and you were each other’s only friend for months. Only someone with a heart of stone wouldn’t have cared. And you always reach out, Maddy. It’s one of the things I admire about you. But you can’t continue your relationship with Emmey. You have to return to your calling, find that purpose you seek.” She let go of Maddy’s hand to return to her desk and pull a handkerchief from a drawer.

“Thank you,” Maddy murmured, accepting it and wiping her eyes. “When are the Carmichaels taking her?”

The abbess settled back into her chair. “Wednesday. I wanted to give you some time with her before she goes.”

Two days away. “Thank you.”

“Bring her here about eleven o’clock. I’ll have one of the defenders take her to the farm.”

“Yes, Abbess.” On the verge of losing her composure again, she pressed the handkerchief against her mouth.

The abbess swallowed. “I am sorry.”

“May I go now?” Maddy managed to say. “I’d like to tell Emmey.”

“Of course. Salbine go with you.”

She rose and bobbed, then fled the study. But she didn’t head to the Initiates Tower, where Emmey was helping Rose sew—or probably vice versa. Instead, she went to the chapel.

Two sisters sat praying to the left of the centre aisle. Maddy chose a bench on the right, lowered her head, and pressed her left hand against her heart, her way of praying, now that she didn’t have two hands to press together.

No words came, nor did she seek any. She wept, wanting to purge herself before she saw Emmey. Except for Lillian, everything was a mess. Maddy couldn’t seem to do anything right and didn’t know what Salbine wanted from her. She’d answered Salbine’s call, only to be denied Her gifts. She’d left the monastery to seek answers, only to be thrown into prison. And she’d been placed in a situation that could only ever have led to grief and a tremendous sense of loss. She’d even lost her hand! Was there a reason behind everything that had happened to her? Would she ever understand it? Was Salbine punishing her, trying to teach her, laughing at her? Did Salbine care?

“Are you all right, Sister?” someone asked softly.

Maddy raised her head.

Sister Elouise peered at her. “Would you like me to fetch Mistress Lillian?”

“No. I’m fine, thank you.” She didn’t want Lillian to see her like this. “It doesn’t have anything to do with the mistress,” Maddy quickly added, in case Sister Elouise jumped to the conclusion that she was having second thoughts about pledging. “Thank you for your concern.”

“May Salbine guide you.” Sister Elouise patted her shoulder and left her alone.

After dabbing at her eyes one last time, Maddy left the chapel and returned to her chambers, hoping her grief wasn’t apparent. Emmey and Rose were bent over a piece of cloth. Maddy stopped in the doorway to watch them, reluctant to spoil things with her news.

“Through there,” Rose said, watching Emmey. Her tongue stuck out in concentration, Emmey guided the needle through the cloth. “That’s it!” Rose said, clapping as Emmey lifted the needle back into the air. She raised her head and spotted Maddy. “Look who’s here!” When she saw Maddy’s face, her own fell. “Put the needle down for a minute, Emmey.”

Rose pushed back her chair and went to Maddy. “What’s the matter?” she said softly. “What did the abbess want?”

“She’s found a home for Emmey,” Maddy whispered.

Rose didn’t need further explanation. She hugged Maddy. “I’ll leave you be, then. If you want me to watch her again, just let me know. I’ll be in my chambers.”

Maddy squeezed Rose’s hand. “Thank you.”

“Look, Miss.” Excitement lit Emmey’s face as she held up the cloth. “I did these stitches!”

Maddy pushed the door shut and moved to peer at Emmey’s handiwork. “You did very well.”

Picking up on Maddy’s lack of enthusiasm, Emmey dropped the cloth to the table, her shoulders slumped. “They’re no good.”

“No, no, they’re fine.” Maddy sat in the chair Rose had left. “We need to have a little chat.”

“What’s wrong, Miss?”

She tried, really tried, but her voice sounded flat. “The abbess has found somewhere for you to live.”

Emmey’s face grew solemn. “Oh.”

“It’s on a farm. You’ll help with the harvest and get to be around animals, and there will be other children there too. You’ll sleep in a barn, but you’ll be outside all day and you’ll never go hungry.” It was all true, but she felt as if she were lying. “I grew up on a farm.” And had lived in the house with two parents who loved her.