The Vow (7 page)

Finally, I lifted my face. His sympathetic eyes met mine. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“I thought you knew,” he replied gently. “I assumed that your parents had spoken of the vow to you long ago. Only when you were in the church after the funeral, interacting with Lord Caldwell, did I realize that perhaps you didn’t know.”

Lord Caldwell. Thomas.
Just the mention of him sent an agonized ripple through me. Did the vow mean that I could no longer entertain thoughts of a future with him? Was I to be denied my growing feelings for him? Was I to forfeit a chance at experiencing love and marriage and a family of my own?

“I don’t understand.” My throat tightened painfully. “Why did Mother and Father keep this from me?”

The abbot settled back on his heels and tucked his hands into his sleeves. “I’m not sure why. But perhaps they wanted to give you as normal a childhood as they could. Perhaps they thought you would be able to accept the news with maturity if they waited to tell you until you were closer to eighteen years.”

The abbot’s reasoning made sense, except that it seemed a cruel joke to allow me to develop feelings for Thomas if I couldn’t pursue a relationship with him. Why encourage young love if it was only to end in heartache? The question begged for release, but I held it back, too embarrassed to admit to the abbot the depth of my attraction to Lord Caldwell.

“When your parents came to me years ago for the Tear of the Virgin Mary,” the abbot continued, “I believed — as I’m sure they did — that like Hannah, they would have other children to replace the one they must give up.”

“But I’m their only child and the heir to Ashby.” Panic mounted in my chest. “What will become of my people once I enter the convent? Will the lands be given away?” I could only think of the cruel Lord Witherton, who had no love for peasants, and what he would do to my people if he ruled them.

The abbot shook his head, his narrow face remaining placid as always. “Even when you come to live at the convent, you will retain your wealth and lands. As a woman, of course, you won’t join the monks inside the cloister. You’ll remain in the guesthouse until we can build an abbey for you. Nevertheless, just because you become a nun doesn’t mean you’ll have to stop ruling your people as wisely and justly as your parents before you. In fact, I expect that you’ll have more time and energy to devote to serving your people without the distractions of the world pulling your attention. One day, after the abbey is completed, you could even become the abbess.”

His words reassured me only a little. “But after I die? Then what will happen?”

He sighed then and hesitated. “We have no control over the future. We can only make the most of the present.”

I knew what he was saying without him having to spell it out. One day the Montfort rule would come to an end. “So this means that I cannot marry Lord Caldwell? That he and I will have no future together?”

Again the abbot hesitated, but then he nodded. “I’m sorry, my lady. Once you take your vows and become a nun, your only bridegroom will be God.”

A sharp intake of breath from the doorway drew my attention. There, next to my wizened, stoop-shouldered guard Bartholomew, stood Thomas, his face a deathly pale and his eyes wide.

“Thomas.” I scrambled to my feet. At the sting in his expression I wanted to race across the chamber, grasp his hands, and reassure him that everything would be all right. But suddenly I knew with certain clarity that nothing was all right. My world had just been turned upside down and Thomas had been dropped off it entirely.

“You didn’t make an appearance in the Great Hall,” he managed. “I was worried. I only thought to make sure you weren’t still suffering the torments from earlier.”

If only the earlier torments were my only suffering. But now my suffering was compounded, making everything else fade in comparison.

Thomas studied my face, reading the shock there that surely matched his own. I wasn’t sure how much of my conversation with the abbot he’d overheard, but it had apparently been enough to know that whatever love had begun to grow between us must now wither and die. I just prayed that he could see that I
hadn’t purposefully led him on or encouraged his affection when it was clearly not mine to gain.

“Her ladyship has just discovered her parents’ vow.” The abbot rose and straightened himself to his full, imposing height. Then he held the rolled parchment toward Thomas.

I wanted to grab the paper before Thomas could read it, and rip it to shreds. Perhaps without the evidence, I could continue on with my life as before. But even as I entertained the thought, my hopes were dashed with the abbot’s next words.

“The vow is unbreakable except by death,” he said. “If her ladyship doesn’t fulfill it, then she risks God’s swift judgment and wrath upon herself.”

Thomas took the parchment from the abbot. The chamber was eerily silent as he read the words that, in the blink of an eye, had changed the course of my destiny forever.

Finally, Thomas let his hand fall, the parchment dangling, his shoulders slumping, his head bowed. It was the posture of a man who knew he was defeated.

The abbot cleared his throat and then spoke softly. “If you care at all for Lady Rosemarie, then you must leave Montfort and never return.”

No!
I silently screamed.
Don’t go away. Don’t abandon me
now!

As though hearing my plea, Thomas lifted his eyes to mine. I could see directly to the anguish in his soul. The anguish said he was too honorable to do anything that might put my life in jeopardy. It said that although he cared for me more than words could express, he must protect my honor. He could do nothing less than leave Montfort and never return.

He reached into the inside pocket of his jerkin. When he pulled out his hand, he held a silver bracelet.

I didn’t need much light to know what it was. It was the rose cameo I’d given him as a token of my affection, the one
he’d kissed when he’d left Ashby, a kiss that had been so full of promise.

The mere remembrance of the kiss he’d pressed against it took away my breath as though someone had sliced out my lungs, leaving a gaping, painful hole in my chest. Sharp tears pricked my eyes and I had to swallow hard to keep them at bay.

He held out the cameo as though he abhorred losing it but was forcing himself to give it up nonetheless.

I shook my head. “No, my lord.” A whisper was all I could manage past the tightness of my throat. “Please, keep it. It’s yours.”

He hesitated for only a moment before slipping it back into his pocket, into the spot right above his heart. Even though he couldn’t have me, he surely had my affection. And would have it forever. For a long moment, he held my gaze, and I knew without a doubt he was saying good-bye.

Chapter
7

I pried my swollen eyes open and pressed a hand
over the hollow spot in my chest where my heart had once been, empty except for the pain that swelled there.

I rolled over on my feather mattress and slipped my fingers into my dog Pup’s long fur. His tongue lapped against my arm, his kiss a gentle reminder that I wasn’t alone, that my life hadn’t ended despite how I felt.

I hadn’t slept all night, tossing and turning as a million thoughts plagued me — thoughts of famished rats in bottomless cages, thoughts of my mother languishing on her deathbed, thoughts of the pain grooved into Thomas’s face when he’d held out the cameo bracelet.

I forced myself to hold back the emotion that resurfaced every time I thought of his unspoken good-bye, of him turning and leaving me in my mother’s chamber while the parchment burned in my lap and mocked me.

I’d been grateful that the abbot had stayed by my side for a while and had allowed me to cry on his shoulder. He hadn’t tried to convince me out of my sorrow, as though he knew that I had to grieve the loss of my future plans for love and marriage every bit as much as I had to grieve the loss of my parents.

Yes, I had to grieve. Grieving losses was normal and even healthy. But now, after crying off and on all night, my eyes were
dry. In the faint light of dawn creeping in from the window, I could make out Trudy sleeping on her pallet near my bed. She’d been just as shocked as I was about the news of the vow. Clearly, my parents hadn’t told her anything about it either. And while she’d sputtered over the news for some time, she’d finally seemed to resign herself to a future with me at the convent.

If only I could resign myself as easily.

I pushed myself up, realizing that I wanted to go to the chapel this morning, the small one that had been built into the castle’s structure long ago. I hadn’t visited it much during my life, but suddenly the abbot’s invitation to meet him there for Morning Prayer seemed like the most natural response in the world. In fact, I was suddenly pressed with the consuming desire to fall on my knees and pour out my heart to the One who would always be there to hear my sorrows and difficulties.

I had the feeling I’d have plenty of nights of anguish ahead of me, that I would struggle to accept my fate for many days to come. But I had to begin making the most of the life that had been set before me. I could start the day, and perhaps every day, in prayer.

After spending my early hours in the chapel with the abbot, I finally made my way outside to say good-bye to my guests.

My godfather — the Noblest Knight, the Duke of Rivenshire — bent his head and kissed my hand. The early morning sunlight glinted off the signature ring on his finger as well as against the armor he’d donned.

“I’m sorry you must leave so soon, your Grace,” I said, standing above him on the uncovered balcony that led into the Keep.

The duke smiled at me. “I wish I could stay longer, but my knights and I must ride out to the southern borderlands with all haste.” He cocked his head toward the knights, squires, and retinue of servants that accompanied him, who were now mounting
their horses and readying their baggage carts. With his motion, I noticed his silver eyes matched the silvery threads that had begun to make an appearance in his hair.

“I understand,” I said, returning his smile, even though it felt forced. I wasn’t in the mood for company anymore anyway. Not after the revelation of last night.

I was relieved that Lord Caldwell and his parents had left at dawn before breaking fast. I wasn’t sure how I could have faced Thomas again. It was difficult enough saying good-bye to the duke.

“Will you reconsider coming to live at Rivenshire?” he asked. “I hate to think of you being alone here. You’ll make fine company for my wife.”

I shook my head. “You’re too kind, your Grace. But I won’t be alone. Abbot Francis Michael has offered to provide his counsel and guidance.” The abbot stood inside the open door, in the shadows of the spacious entryway, giving me a moment to say my farewells.

As my godparent, the duke was the logical choice of a guardian until I turned eighteen. But since he was often gone fighting wars and defending the borders of the realm, it had been easy to agree to the abbot’s offer to lend his guidance. He’d already proven himself with his wise counsel. And I’d found comfort in his presence.

“Besides,” I said, “I think I’ll need the time to prepare myself for my life in the convent.”

The duke’s smile faded and the silver in his eyes turned to a dim gray. “Once I return home, I’ll further investigate the ancient vow.”

I’d been in too much shock last evening to join my guests in the Great Hall, so the abbot had made my excuses for me. Nevertheless, the duke had sought me out. And when I’d shared the news of the vow, he hadn’t been surprised. He’d known all
about it, had been present for my birth and baptism. But like the abbot, he’d assumed that my parents had told me long ago.

As much as I’d wanted to deny the validity of the vow, it was useless to try to change it. Not only had the duke’s knowledge validated it, but the abbot had also brought over his copy of the vow from the monastery, a replica of the paper that I’d found in my mother’s chest.

“I promise, this isn’t the end of this matter,” the duke said, squeezing my hand.

I didn’t have the heart to contradict him. Instead, I lifted my chin and straightened my shoulders trying to be much braver than I felt. “You don’t need to worry about me, your Grace. I’ll adjust.” I prayed I was right.

“You are strong, dear one.” His gaze was tender, reminding me altogether too much of my father. “You’re just as strong and compassionate as your parents. I have no doubt you’ll follow in their stead and make them proud.”

A moment later, as I stood on the balcony watching the Noblest Knight upon his warhorse lead his men out of the inner bailey and through the inner curtain gatehouse, it seemed as though he was taking the last ray of sunshine with him. A cloud passed in front of the sun and the dew of the early morning rose up to chill me.

I wasn’t sure that I was as strong as he believed I was, and certainly not as strong as my parents.

Boney fingers lightly touched my shoulder. The abbot stepped next to me, and the cloud passed so that sunshine once again poured down on my head. The abbot didn’t have to say anything. I drew comfort and strength from his presence.