Vow of Penance by Veronica Black Read Free Book Online Page B

lied, Sister Joan reflected, as she hurried down to the infirmary to relieve the two old ladies of their unpalatable drink. Not in a thousand years would Mother Agnes have inflicted such a grotesque penance on her community at Lent or at any other time. Mother Agnes had been novice mistress during her own postulancy and novitiate and been elected as prioress for the customary five years just after her final profession. Tall, slim, with a Gothic profile and a voice which still bore traces of the concert singer she had once been, Mother Agnes had been a wise and shrewd prioress who disliked excess in any form.
    Outside the infirmary door she paused, struck by a sudden thought. It was nearly two years since she had first come to the Cornwall house. When she had been embarking on her twelve months of seclusion Sister Jerome would have been beginning her training as a prospective lay sister. Yet she had never seen her before nor heard the name.
    ‘Are you going to stand there all day, child?’ Mother Gabrielle demanded from within, ‘or are you bringing some more poisonous stuff to upset our digestions?’
    ‘I’m sorry, Sister.’ Sister Joan hurried into the pleasant whitewashed room where a fire burned andcrocuses were spiking the bowls on the window sill. ‘There was a misunderstanding.’
    ‘Sugar instead of salt!’ Sister Gabrielle’s eagle-featured face expressed outrage.
    ‘I’m very sorry, Sisters. Shall I make you some fresh soup?’
    ‘Nothing at all,’ Sister Gabrielle said firmly. ‘I can’t speak for Sister Mary Concepta though.’
    ‘Sister?’ Sister Joan glanced over at the sweet-faced old nun who sat, delicate as an ageing flower, in her wheelchair.
    ‘Nothing, Sister. We’d not wish to be singular,’ Sister Mary Concepta said.
    ‘A dictum that the new lay sister might do well to observe,’ Sister Gabrielle said tartly. ‘What is the matter with that woman? I’d call her a long-faced saint if she hasn’t made it abundantly clear that she’s very far from being a normally polite human being!’
    ‘She has an unfortunate manner,’ Sister Mary Concepta said excusingly.
    ‘She comes from the London house. Did you know her?’ Sister Gabrielle asked.
    ‘No, not at all. It is one of the larger convents.’
    ‘Never more than fifteen sisters in one convent,’ Sister Gabrielle said. ‘Quality is better than quantity, I suppose. What’s all this about vandals getting in?’
    ‘Some damage was done to a tree,’ Sister Joan said reluctantly. ‘It really isn’t anything to worry about, Sister.’
    ‘In my mid-eighties I reserve the right to choose what to worry about,’ Sister Gabrielle said. ‘Lads from the town I daresay. No discipline these days. What’s the new priest like?’
    ‘You can ask Father Stephens about him,’ Sister Joan said, catching sight of the tall, fair-haired figure through the window, ‘for he’s on his way now. Excuse me.’
    She made her escape followed by Sister Gabrielle’s mocking, ‘Lost your taste for gossip, girl? I’m astonished!’
    She loved Sister Gabrielle dearly, but there were times when the latter traded on her age, and the little privileges that brought her, to be a thorn in the flesh, Sister Joan thought, hurrying through to the main hall to greet Father Stephens.
    ‘I came round from the postulancy,’ he said, entering with a nod. ‘Mother Dorothy telephoned me to inform me of the vandalism. Very disturbing indeed, Sister.’
    ‘Yes, Father. Yes, it is.’ Sister Joan, relieving him of his hat, found herself suddenly liking him a little better. Disturbing, she thought, was the right word to use, and there was something very human and fallible about the pained look on his handsome young face. Usually Father Stephens knew all the answers but this event had clearly puzzled and upset him.
    She led him to the antechamber, tapped on the door to signal his arrival, and then tactfully withdrew, knowing that Mother Dorothy would have informed