Her gaze lingered on the room a moment longer, attempting to ascertain where Sister Repentia might have disappeared to. Just as she turned to quit the chamber, a slight figure dressed in yards of gray wool entered the room from the cellar, one arm laden with a basket of autumn fruits and the other holding her skirts so that she would not trip over their length.
“Sister,” the abbess hissed. “You are expected.”
Sister Repentia looked up from her basket as she came into the light. Pale green eyes gazed back at the mother abbess.
“I have been made aware, Mother,” she said softly. “I was preparing refreshments.”
The abbess stared at her a moment. It was obvious by her calm expression that she had not been informed of the arrival’s identity and the older woman sighed again, her manner softening. Unaware of the impending news, Sister Repentia moved to the stone counter and began to prepare the food.
Behind her, the older nun’s hesitant gaze lingered on the woolen-swathed head. There was simply no easy way to soften the blow.
“She’s here.”
Sister Repentia placed an apple into a wooden bowl before turning her confused expression to the mother abbess. “I…. I do not understand.Whois here?”
The abbess moved toward her, slowly. Her manner gentled dramatically. “Arissa, my child. She’s come early.”
Sister Repentia stared at the woman a moment, emotionlessly. After an eternal span of time in which she allowed the abbess’ words to settle, her only reaction was to lick the lips that had suddenly begun to quiver.
“My…. Arissa has arrived from Lambourn?”
The abbess nodded, unwilling to be party to the emotions Sister Repentia was feeling. She would council, assist, and pray with her charges, but she was disinclined to experience the depths of the emotions that so often plagued them. For a woman whose natural sympathies were endless and deep, she had found it painful and exhausting.
Even though she had allowed herself to become far more involved with Sister Repentia than was her usual practice due to the woman’s unusual circumstances, she realized she had to halt the progression at some point in time. With the addition of the dark-haired woman in the gallery, she was aware that the time for separation had come. Truthfully, there was nothing more she could do. Sister Repentia would have to face her daughter alone.
“She’s waiting for her refreshments,” the abbess said quietly, turning for the door and away from the emotional turmoil that threatened to snare her. “You will greet her immediately, sister. Do you understand?”
Sister Repentia stared at the bowl of food before her, nodding after a moment. Even as she repeated the abbess’ wordsin her mind, over and over as if somehow afraid she had dreamt them, their meaning was still difficult to believe.
With shaking hands and a heart that screamed with joy, she fumbled with the apples before her. Although she had known this moment would eventually be upon her, still, she found herself emotionally unprepared for the reality of it.
Her baby had arrived.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Arissa was gladwhen the mother abbess left them alone; she had no desire to explain her tears to the old woman, for it would only serve to open the gateway for more explanations that would hardly be pleasant to a woman of the cloth. While Emma sat in brooding, perplexed silence over Gavan’s unexpected display of chivalry, Arissa struggled with a complete unwant to have come to Whitby at all. She hated the place already.
But she was distracted from her ponderings by softly approaching footfalls. A small wooden bowl of apples and bread was placed upon the table and Arissa quickly wiped at her eyes, preparing to thank the provider of the sustenance; even if she did not want to be at the old abbey, she would not be rude.
Lifting her gaze, she found herself staring into eyes of the most amazing nature and the words of gratitude died in her throat.
Pale green eyes stared back.
“My name is Sister Repentia,” the nun’s voice was strangely tight, as faint as baby’s breath. Arissa didn’t even notice the tremble to the woman’s hands. “Welcome to Whitby.”
Arissa forgot all about her tears as she continued to stare at the woman, feeling an odd curiosity. The longer she gazed at the woman, the stronger the feeling became.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
The nun’s response was a forced smile. But Arissa did not particularly notice; she was still staring into the woman’s strangely familiar eyes.
“I hope your journey was uneventful, my lady,” Sister Repentia sounded as if she were breathless. “’Tis a long trip from Lambourn.”
Arissa listened to the woman’s soft, beautiful voice. It occurred to her that the nun was vaguely familiar, as if an acquaintance of long past. But try as she might, Arissa could not remember where she had ever met the woman.
“Have…. have we met, sister?” Arissa asked, studying the woman closely as if to recollect what refused to come to mind. “You seem very familiar to me.”
Look in the mirror, my darling Arissa, and see me within your lovely features. The former Lady Ellyn Glendower de Worth gazed into an exact likeness of herself in days past, joy and sorrow such as she had never known threatening to destroy her composure.
