‘Yes. That’s what I thought.’
‘You should have come to me,’ the Abbess said kindly. ‘I was only waiting for you to ask for my help. I would have given it wholeheartedly.’
There were tears in Meriel’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Abbess. It’s just that — just that Berthe and I aren’t used to trusting people.’ Her voice broke. Instantly, Jerome hugged her to him, stroking her hair and speaking soft, soothing words into her ear.
‘But you trust Jerome, here,’ Josse put in. Meriel nodded, disentangling herself. ‘So, when you knew he had come to find you, it was best, you thought, to run away from the Abbey and put your faith in him.’
‘Please, she’s been through enough!’ the young man protested. ‘You don’t know-’
But Meriel said, ‘It’s all right, Jerome.’ Then, turning back to Helewise and Josse, she said simply, ‘I thought he was dead. When I found that I had been wrong, how could I not come here to be with him?’
‘You thought he was dead?’ the Abbess repeated. ‘But why-’ Then, light dawning in her face, she breathed, ‘That was why you were so grief-stricken! Nothing to do with your father’s death, or having to leave your home, or Alba threatening to make you be a nun.’ She looked from Meriel to Jerome, and back again. ‘You believed your lover was dead.’
‘Yes. And I wanted to die, too.’
She spoke with such honesty that Josse, for one, entirely believed her.
‘I know something of your story,’ the Abbess was saying. ‘I have been to Sedgebeck, where Alba was briefly in the convent. I know, too, that she is no longer a nun. As I believe Berthe has reported to you, I shall have to ask Alba to leave Hawkenlye. As soon as arrangements can be made to find her a home, she will go.’
Meriel was shaking her head. ‘Abbess, you don’t know what you’re doing,’ she said. ‘Forgive me for being so blunt, but I must. Alba has — I fear that Alba may do untold harm, if she is free to pursue — if she is not controlled. She takes things upon herself that are not her responsibility, and she does not give up. Believe me!’
‘I am aware that she has assumed far too much control over you and Berthe,’ the Abbess said, ‘and, indeed, over your late mother. Berthe has revealed something of her background to Sir Josse and to me, and we sympathise deeply with what must have been a most difficult childhood.’
‘Difficult!’ Jerome said incredulously. ‘Clearly, Abbess Helewise, you have not heard everything. She used to-’
‘Jerome,’ Meriel said gently. Looking at her with impatience that was quickly replaced by a smile, he stopped. ‘Abbess, Alba is not sane,’ Meriel continued. ‘Her unreasoning insistence on maintaining the good name of our family led to the death of my mother. Having seen off the person she saw as her rival in my father’s affections, Alba decided it was safe to leave us all alone, and she went away to become a nun, by which she meant she was going to be an Abbess. Great Lord, she’d have aimed for Pope, if they allowed women to hold the post! Then, when word reached her of Father’s death and — and of what Berthe and I were planning to do, she came rushing back to Medely purely to stop us! She even-’
‘No, Meriel,’ Jerome said warningly. ‘Not that. Not until we know.’
She nodded. ‘Very well. But, Abbess’ — she turned back to face Helewise and Josse — ‘she was ruthless. Berthe and I were about to leave when she arrived at the farm, and she locked us both in the cellar overnight to prevent us going! We were there for the rest of that day and all of the night, and Berthe is afraid of the dark.’ She shuddered. ‘Then, the next morning, she let us out and told us Jerome was dead. She even showed me-’ Another, more violent shudder shook her, and she left the sentence unfinished. ‘As she had no doubt predicted, I went to pieces. Then it was quite easy for her to bundle us both up — Berthe and me — and take us away. I don’t think there was as much as a squeak out of either of us, the entire way from Medely to Hawkenlye.’
‘And you managed to pick up their trail?’ Josse asked Jerome.
‘Yes. It was not difficult. And I had-’ He broke off. ‘People seemed readily to remember a wild-looking nun and two girls with tears in their eyes,’ he said instead. There was a great deal of bitterness in his tone.
Josse felt a stab of sympathy. ‘So, once you realised they were here at Hawkenlye to stay, you set about making a camp, then you sought out Meriel?’
‘Yes.’ He glanced at Meriel, his face full of joy. ‘Our reunion was — well, it was a relief to find her.’
‘I imagine it was.’ Josse swallowed the lump in his throat. ‘And you, Meriel, informed Berthe of Jerome’s miraculous reappearance, swore her to secrecy, then slipped away to join him?’
‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘I know it wasn’t very fair on Berthe, making her live a lie and pretend she didn’t know where I was. If I was safe, even. But, honestly, I don’t think she really minded. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d thought it would make her suffer.’
‘No,’ Josse agreed. ‘I don’t imagine you would. And we can assure you, the Abbess and I, that Berthe has not been suffering. On the contrary.’
‘I agree,’ the Abbess said.
Josse was just thinking thankfully that her attitude to the young couple seemed to be softening, when suddenly she stood up. Folding her hands away in the opposite sleeves, she had, he observed, adopted her disciplinarian stance.
‘Abbess, don’t-’ he began.
But she took absolutely no notice.
‘I understand, Jerome,’ she said severely, ‘that there are particular circumstances governing your actions, and I also understand that, probably, you felt you had no choice. But, nevertheless, it remains the case that, for whatever reason, you have taken a young girl away from her family and her home, brought her out into the wildwood to make camp with you where, as Sir Josse and I could not help but witness, you have — you are-’
‘I have been making love to her,’ Jerome supplied. ‘Abbess, I cannot deny it.’ He glanced at Meriel, who appeared to be suppressing laughter. ‘We have been making love, as often as we have been able.’
‘Jerome,’ Josse said warningly. ‘Please remember to whom you speak. She is Abbess of Hawkenlye, and you must show her respect.’
‘I am sorry, Abbess.’ He bowed to her. Josse thought he saw a swift look of surprise cross her face as he did so but before she could speak, he went on, ‘I meant no disrespect. You are, of course, quite right. It would be most immoral — and it would in all likelihood also indicate a taking of advantage — for a man to spirit a girl away into the wildwood, as you so poetically call it, and seduce her.’
The Abbess was looking increasingly disapproving. ‘But that is what you have just done!’ she said, exasperation sharpening her tone. ‘Can you not perceive the sin in your actions?’
Jerome smiled at her. Then he took hold of Meriel’s hand, raising it for the Abbess and Josse to see. ‘No sin has taken place, Abbess.’ His face was ecstatic. Pointing to the brand-new, shiny gold band on her finger, he looked at the tousled young woman beside him and said, ‘Meriel is my wife.’
Chapter Seventeen
Helewise and Josse had stayed longer than they had planned out in the forest; Jerome’s revelation had been so startling — and, Helewise reflected, so moving — that it had given rise to a great deal of talk.
By the time she and Josse were back at the Abbey, dusk was well advanced. She was worried about Josse; he had been walking more and more slowly for the past half mile, and she was very afraid that the excursion had exhausted him. Not that he complained. She was very relieved when, back inside the calm, restful atmosphere of the infirmary, she was able to thank him, wish him good night, and hand him over to Sister Euphemia’s care.
Even had she been ready to discuss with him the implications of what they had just discovered, she reflected as she crossed over to the Abbey church, he was far too weary.