Love Above All (17 page)

She was just turning from the window when a
bit of raised decoration on the silver cup she was holding caught
the light. Her hand shook so badly from the surprise of recognition
that she spilled some of the cider.

“I should have noticed it at once,” she
muttered. “Royce would have noticed; he has trained himself not to
miss important little details.”

She held the cup higher, turning it around,
looking at it closely to be sure. She had seen the cup before,
during her childhood. It had arrived at Dungalash as part of the
dowry of Murdoch’s first wife, a sweet girl who had tried to be
kind to the motherless Fionna and Janet. She had lasted less than a
year before she died while delivering a stillborn child. Murdoch
had quickly remarried.

Fionna had forgotten about the cup until this
hour. Apparently, it had been donated to Abercorn, either by
Janet’s father, in partial compensation for her admission to the
abbey school, or later, as a gift from Murdoch, who wanted Janet
kept at the abbey until he was ready to use his sister for his own
purposes.

Her thoughts awhirl, Fionna regarded the cup,
seeing in it proof of a sinister connection between Dungalash and
Abercorn. When Murdoch lavished gifts, he expected an ample return.
With a barely repressed shiver Fionna set the half-full cup down on
the table. Mother Hroswitha had said Janet was to be removed from
Abercorn on the morrow and was to be married, presumably soon
thereafter. The abbess was clearly suspicious of “Lady Ursula,” as
if she knew and was trying to conceal something she assumed the
noble visitor did not know. And a man was being put ashore near
Abercorn. Fionna did not require any great skill as a spy to put
the facts together.

“We’ve come just in time,” she said to
herself. Her heart began to hammer hard and rapidly. It was
possible that Colum would come directly to Abercorn to claim Janet
as soon as he landed. Or Murdoch and Gillemore could change their
minds and arrive a day early. Either way, a prompt departure from
Abercorn was essential. No one knew better than Fionna how violent
Murdoch could become when he believed someone was trying to thwart
his schemes.

“Where is Janet?” Fionna paced back to the
window. The little boat was still being rowed toward shore. “We
only have half an hour, surely no more than that. Why doesn’t Janet
come?”

Then, abruptly, Janet was in the room. When
Fionna had last seen her, Janet was a little girl. Now she was
sixteen years old and much changed. Fionna’s heart lurched, then
steadied. She’d have recognized her sister anywhere.

Janet’s youthful figure was well hidden by
her shapeless grey robe. Her red hair, which was lighter and
brighter in color and much more curly than Fionna’s hair, was
uncovered and worn in twin braids. Janet’s face was cold with
anger, and so pale that the sprinkling of freckles across her nose
showed clearly. Both of her fists were tightly clenched. Mother
Hroswitha and Sister Mariad hovered just behind her.

“I have been told a scheming liar has come to
Abercorn, claiming to be my sister,” Janet said, addressing herself
to Fionna. “My sister is dead. How dare you pretend to be her?”

“I am not dead. Look at me, Janet.” Fionna
stepped closer, longing to embrace the girl but not daring to while
Janet and the two nuns were all glaring at her and looking as if
they were ready to call down the wrath of heaven on her head.
Fionna seized Janet’s hands in a tight grip and spoke with urgent
force. “Look into my face and my eyes and see your own, dear
sister. Yes, Janet, it is Ursula. It is!”

“What do you mean, Ursula? I don’t know—”
Suddenly, Janet was weaving on her feet, looking as if she was
about to faint. “Dear heaven, it is you! My sister is alive!
Murdoch told me you were dead.”

“Murdoch was mistaken,” Fionna said, not
asking how Murdoch had gained entrance where men were not allowed.
By another gift, no doubt. “I am very much alive, and I have come
to wish you happy in your marriage to Colum.”

“Marriage? To Colum?”

Janet’s complexion turned even more
waxy-pale, her reaction confirming Fionna’s suspicion that while
Murdoch had probably taken great delight in telling Janet of
Fionna’s supposed death, he was planning to wait until the last
moment to inform her of her impending wedding to a man she loathed
and feared. Being Murdoch, he’d most likely find great pleasure in
Janet’s panic-stricken reaction to the news.

Janet tore her hands from Fionna’s grasp and
fell forward, resting her head on Fionna’s shoulder. Fionna clasped
her close, the joyful tears flowing. With her lips against Fionna’s
ear, Janet whispered just two words.

“Help me.”

“I will,” Fionna whispered back under the
guise of a kiss to Janet’s cheek. Then she began to disengage
herself from Janet’s clinging embrace in preparation for what she
must do next.

“Mother Hroswitha,” Fionna said, “may I beg
for a short time alone with my sister? As you have just heard,
Janet believed me dead. We have so much to say to each other, so
many explanations to make, and I want her to go happily to her
wedding tomorrow.” She lifted wet eyes to look at the abbess.

“Tomorrow?” Janet’s voice was a terrified
whimper. “I am to marry Colum tomorrow?”

“Yes, and I have come to wish you joy.” As
Fionna spoke she caught Janet’s face between her hands, seeing the
hope and fear mingled in her sister’s blue gaze. She tried to
convey a silent message to the girl, wanting her to go along with
what she was about to do, and not make any protest. Before Fionna
could say anything more, the abbess spoke.

“In less than an hour the next prayer service
will begin,” Mother Hroswitha said. “The bell will ring when it is
time. You may have until then. If you wish, Lady Ursula, you may
join us at the service, but immediately afterward Janet must return
to her duties. From what you have told me, I understand your stay
here is to be a brief one.”

“A very brief stay, Mother Abbess. I must
depart for Carlisle. Thank you for the invitation. I will be happy
to join you at prayers before I leave. Janet can show me the way to
the church. Thank you again for your kindness.”

“Make the most of the time I have granted
you,” Mother Hroswitha said. “Come along, Sister Mariad.”

The instant the door closed on the two nuns,
Janet pulled out of Fionna’s restraining hands to face her in
unconcealed fury.

“What are you about?” Janet cried in a
ringing voice. “My sister, Ursula? You are not—”

She got no further before Fionna clapped one
hand over her mouth and wrapped a confining arm around Janet’s
shoulders. Holding her struggling sister tightly, Fionna dragged
her across the reception room, toward the outer door and away from
anyone listening behind the inner door.

“No, Janet dear, as you can see, I am not
dead,” Fionna said in her normal, clear voice for the benefit of
any eavesdropper. “It was all a dreadful mistake, which I intend to
explain to you.”

In a frantic whisper, Fionna added, “Unless
you want to marry Colum, be quiet and listen. Don’t say a word in
argument until I have finished, for we haven’t much time. I believe
Colum is at this moment landing from the ship that brought him back
from France. If he decides to come directly to the abbey instead of
meeting Murdoch first, he’ll be here shortly, probably before the
beginning of the prayer service we are supposed to attend. He’s on
the beach just below the abbey.”

Janet’s eyes went wide in horror. She nodded
and Fionna took her hand away from the girl’s mouth. At once Fionna
embarked on a hasty explanation.

“Murdoch told you I was dead because he
thinks he murdered me. I’ll tell you about that later, when we have
more time. All you need to know just now is that a band of honest
knights is with me. We’ll get you out of Abercorn and set you free
of Murdoch, and of Colum.” Fionna held up a hand to silence the
startled protest she saw forming on her sister’s lips. “Two armed
men are waiting in the entry hall. They will protect us. All we
have to do is open the door and walk out. If we go now, quietly and
without alarming the nuns, there’s a good chance we’ll have half an
hour, possibly longer, to get away before anyone notices we are
gone.”

“We cannot outwit Murdoch. It’s madness to
try,” Janet whispered.

“It’s the only chance you have,” Fionna
whispered back.

“No, it’s not,” Janet argued. “There is
another way. I can profess my vows as a nun.”

“Don’t imagine holy vows will stop Murdoch.
Even if they would, do you really want to become a nun?” Fionna
demanded. “I am deeply distressed that you would consider such a
step. I can tell you, Janet, there is a world beyond Dungalash or
Abercorn, a world in which men don’t continually abuse women in
order to gain their own pleasure, or force women and children to
live in dire poverty while the men have all the clothing and fine
armor, and all the food they want. I’ve seen a bit of that world,
and I want you to see it, too.”

“I need time to think.” Janet spoke much too
loudly.

“Hush! Hush, my dear. We don’t have time for
you to debate and argue. You must decide now, this moment. But I
warn you, if you remain here, the only vows you will be allowed to
profess will be your marriage vows to Colum.”

“Murdoch wouldn’t dare take a nun away from
an abbey!” Janet cried. “He knows if he did, he’d be guilty of a
terrible sin.”

“Murdoch dared to attempt to murder me,”
Fionna said. “Which is the greater sin? Your choice is simple,
Janet. Stay here and be married to Colum by force – and bedded by
force – or come away with me now.”

“Oh, Fionna.” Janet put out her hand to clasp
her sister’s fingers. “This is all so unexpected. How can I decide
something so important, so quickly?”

“Fionna?” The door to the entry hall opened
and Quentin appeared. “I heard raised voices and thought you might
need help. So, this is Janet? There can be little doubt you are
sisters.” He smiled at Janet, who shrank away from the tall man in
chainmail.

“Couldn’t you have waited a moment longer?”
Fionna cried, exasperated. “She was almost convinced, and now
you’ve frightened her.”

“I am not afraid!” Janet declared in a loud
voice. “I merely want to be certain of what I am doing, before I do
it. And I want to know with whom I am doing it. I have never seen
this man before. How do I know he’s a friend?”

“Because I say he is,” Fionna told her,
striving for patience. “This is Lord Quentin, who is pledged to
keep us safe. Please, Janet, come away now!”

But Janet had seen Cadwallon looming behind
Quentin. She pulled her hand out of Fionna’s grasp and headed for
the inner door.

“Janet, no! Wait!” Fionna cried, just as the
door swung open and Mother Hroswitha entered the room.

“What is the meaning of this noisy
intrusion?” Mother Hroswitha demanded. Catching sight of Quentin
and Cadwallon, she strode toward them with fire in her eyes. “Male
visitors are to remain in the entry hall. Get back there, both of
you!” She lifted her hand and pointed, clearly expecting to be
obeyed without question.

“Are you the Mother Abbess?” Quentin asked,
standing his ground.

“I am. And I insist that you leave Abercorn
at once. As for you,” Mother Hroswitha said, turning on Fionna,
“you ought to be ashamed of yourself for forcing your way in here
to disturb poor Janet.”

“Mother Abbess, can you read?” Quentin
asked.

“I can. What has that to do with your
presence where no man ought to be?”

“Please read these documents.” Quentin handed
two folded pieces of parchment to Mother Hroswitha. “I insist that
you read them immediately, for I am compelled to be elsewhere
within the hour, and I must take these two ladies with me.”

“You are welcome to remove this Ursula
person, but to take Janet away just before her brother is to
arrive? I won’t allow it.” Mother Hroswitha drew herself up in
obvious preparation for a battle of wills.

“What I do, I do on command of your king,”
Quentin told her. “Please, read those documents.”

With a deep frown, Mother Hroswitha unfolded
the first piece of parchment. Fionna began to question just how
well she could read, for she spent a long time staring at the
document. Meanwhile, conscious of the boat that surely had reached
shore by now and eager to be gone from the abbey, Fionna began to
fret. She cast a warning glance at Quentin, wishing he could guess
her thoughts.

“This says merely that you are the
representative of King Henry of England,” Mother Hroswitha
declared, handing the document back to Quentin.

“The other parchment bears the seal of the
king of the Scots,” Quentin said. “Shall I read it to you?” He held
out his hand.

“That won’t be necessary.” Mother Hroswitha
slapped the second parchment into Quentin’s palm. “Just how do you
expect me to deal with Janet’s brother when he arrives? Or with her
intended bridegroom?”

“Simply tell him his sister has no wish to
marry Colum,” Quentin said. “Come along, Janet.”

“No, I won’t go with you,” Janet declared,
facing Quentin with flashing eyes. “I don’t know you. How do I know
you aren’t forcing Fionna to obey you against her will? I’ll need a
better explanation for your unseemly haste before I will consent to
leave the safety of this abbey in your company.”

“Janet, I am at my wits’ end!” Fionna shouted
at her. “I keep telling you, we have no time for argument. Please,
I beg of you, just trust me, and I will explain everything
later.”

“Who is Fionna?” asked Mother Hroswitha.

“You are leaving right now,” Quentin told
Janet.

“I am not! If I decide to go, I will want to
bid farewell to the other girls in the school first. I’ll also want
to thank the nuns who have been so kind to me while my sister
stayed away and allowed me to believe she was dead!” Janet informed
them. “Then I’ll have to gather up my belongings and pack
them.”