Rose pleaded throughout the rest of the day in vain. “We could run away again,” said Daisy that evening.
“Where to? Harry, Captain Cathcart, would find us and drag us back. I hate that man. He sat there and did nothing. Not one word of protest.”
♦
Along the corridor, the earl walked into his wife’s bedroom. “Thank God, that’s settled,” he said, rubbing his chubby little hands. “We won’t need to worry about her for a year. We’ve been too soft on her.”
Lady Polly was seated at her dressing table creaming her face. “I was thinking, my dear, that’s it’s very cold in London, and with Rose gone and in safe hands, we really do not want to stay here. What about Monte Carlo?”
“Great idea. I’ll get Jarvis to make the arrangements.”
♦
Rose, being undressed for bed by her maid, stiffened as she heard her father’s voice raised in song echoing along the corridor outside.
As I walk along the Bois Bon-long,
With an independent air,
You can hear the girls declare,
“He must be a millionaire”
You can hear them sigh and wish to die,
You can see them wink the other eye
At the man who broke the Bank at Monte Carlo.
She had never felt so alone in all her life.
♦
Daisy read a great number of cheap romances. Unlike Rose, she had comforted herself with the thought that the captain would ride to the rescue. Even when their luggage was loaded into the carriage, even when the carriage moved off, she was sure they would be saved at the last minute.
It was only when the great iron gates of the convent were shut behind them and she saw the stern figure of the Mother Superior standing on the steps did she realize there was no hope at all and began to cry with noisy abandon.
“Pull yourself together,” hissed Rose.
“Welcome,” said the Mother Superior, Lady Janus. “What a great deal of luggage!”
Daisy scrubbed her eyes defiantly with a handkerchief and asked, “Will I have to dress like a bleedin’ penguin?”
“I will have to talk to you later, young lady, about your very bad manners. Follow me.”
The Mother Superior led the way along several dark corridors. It was evident to Rose, from what she could see of the architecture, that the convent had been built in the Gothic style in the middle of the last century. She remembered reading that there had been some opposition to Oxford Anglicanism, claiming it was too ‘high’ and drifting back to the Catholic Church.
“You will share a room,” said the Mother Superior, opening a heavy oak door. “As laywomen, you will not wear the habit, but you will select from your luggage your plainest clothes. I will leave you to unpack. Sister Agnes will be your mentor. She will be with you shortly to take you on a tour of the convent and explain your duties to you.”
She retreated. Rose and Daisy looked at each other and then around the narrow room. It was furnished with two hard narrow beds. Between the beds was a table on which lay a large Bible. The latticed window let in very little light. Against one wall was a tall narrow wardrobe. “No fireplace,” muttered Daisy miserably. “And it’s freezing.”
“We may as well sort out our clothes and pick out the warmest things we have,” said Rose. She looked gloomily at the trunks piled one on top of the other and the hatboxes lying on the floor.
The door opened and a nun stood surveying them. She was dressed in traditional robes. She had a long white face, pale eyes under heavy lids and her thin-lipped mouth was shadowed by a moustache.
“You have far too many clothes. I am Sister Agnes. I will fetch Sister Martha to help you.”
When she had closed the door behind her, Rose said urgently, “We must hurry. They may frown on furs, so we must take out two fur coats and hide them under our bedding. We will need them at night or we will freeze.”
Rose pulled out a sable coat and hid it under the thin blankets on one of the beds and Daisy put her precious squirrel coat under the blankets on the other one.
They had just finished when Sister Martha came in. She was small, plump and cheerful. She shook hands with both of them and then helped them pack away the fine dresses, blouses and hats that she considered unsuitable.
When they were finished at last, Sister Martha said, “We’ll drag the trunks outside and the oddman will take them down to the storage room in the cellar. We must hurry. We are to go along to dinner. You have missed Vespers but allowances must be made on your first day.” She looked uneasily at them. “Do you wish me to retire so that you may change into something more suitable?”
“We will wear what we have on,” said Rose firmly. “We are not yet accustomed to the cold of this place.”
Sister Agnes looked uneasily at Rose. Rose was wearing a coat trimmed with black Persian lamb and a black Persian lamb hat. Daisy had a frogged military-style coat also trimmed with fur and a sort of shako on her head.
“Very well. Follow me.”
♦
The dining room was blessed with a roaring fire. Rose and Daisy were told to take seats at the end of a long refectory table. Grace was said. The food was plain but with generous helpings. The nuns and novices ate in silence. Rose wondered whether they were usually silent or whether the presence of two strangers in their midst had made them shy.
After dinner, Sister Agnes came up to them and bent her head as a signal that they were to follow her. She led them to an austere office and sat down behind a huge desk, indicating two hard chairs in front of it.
“You have been sent here for correction,” she began. “You will attend all prayers. The convent owns six homes for fallen women. You will come with me tomorrow. Part of your duty will be to talk to these women and impress on them the folly of their ways.
“The order of your days will be as follows: You will rise at five. Five-twenty to six-fifteen, matins; six-fifteen to six forty-five, private devotions; six forty-five until seven, make beds and clean up rooms; seven to seven-thirty, prime; seven-thirty to eight-thirty, service in church; eight-thirty to eight fifty-five, breakfast; eight fifty-five to nine-ten, terce; nine-ten to twelve-thirty, visiting the poor…”
Rose had heard enough. She sat silently while the description of their daily programme went on and on. When Sister Agnes finished with a long lecture to which neither of them paid any attention, she then led them on a bewildering tour of the convent.
When they were finally left alone in their cell-like room, Daisy blurted out, “We’ll die here. Why didn’t the captain or Becket try to do something to stop this?”
“I don’t know,” said Rose. “Can you remember where the bathroom is?”
“About a mile to the left,” said Daisy and burst into noisy tears.
∨ Our Lady of Pain ∧
Four
If you become a nun, dear,
A friar I will be.
In any cell you run, dear,
Pray look behind for me.
– James Henry Leigh Hunt
Rose awoke with a start the next morning to the sound of a bell. Then she could hear a quick step coming along the corridor as someone knocked sharply at each cell door and called out, “Benedicamus Domino!” Sleepy voices called in return, “Deo gratias!”
When the sharp knocking came at their door and the voice called, “Benedicamus Domino,” Rose huddled farther down under the bedclothes and her fur coat covering and pretended not to be there.
“Rose,” the voice then called. “It’s time to get up.”
“Daisy,” hissed Rose, leaning across and shaking her. “It’s time to get up.”