“Now what, lady?” he asked.
He was either very stupid or very annoyed. She guessed the latter. “A fire might be nice. And something to dry myself with, if it is not too much trouble.”
If he heard the sarcasm in her voice, he did not let on and motioned for her to follow. There was an alcove on the west end of the church that was apparently used for a common room of sorts. It was very small, with a table in the middle, a weak fire in the hearth, and clutter all around. The monk indicated for her to sit, which she did so gratefully, pulling the stool near the fire so that she could warm herself.
The monk just stood there, staring at her. Then he disappeared. Alixandrea coughed and shivered, relishing theblissful warmth from the blaze. She almost did not care where the monk went so long as she was out of the cold. He was a bit of a snip, but it was of no matter. Her harsh thoughts were quelled when he returned shortly with a massive pile of material, very course linen in a bunch. He held it out to her.
“You need to get out of those wet clothes, my lady, or you’ll catch your death,” he said. “You may wear this while your clothes dry.”
She wasn’t sure she wanted to take her clothes off, but upon reflection, decided he was correct. She was already coughing. She accepted the garment from him.
“Thank you for your kindness, Brother.”
She swore he blushed as he left the room, closing the heavy door behind him. The door groaned in protest, poorly hung, and jammed against the floor as he finally yanked it shut. When he was gone and she looked around to make sure there were no holes by which to watch her, she gingerly unrolled the garment he had handed her.
It was a robe like the monks wore with a hole for the head, long sleeves, and yards of course fabric. Very quickly, she stripped off her wet garments and practically jumped into the robe, more from modesty than from the chill of the room. The rough material scratched her skin, but it was warm and dry, and to the Devil with comfort. She hung her heavy surcoat and under-things around the hearth so that the warmth would soon dry them. Reclaiming her seat on the small stool, she huddled near the fire, continuing the process of drying herself out.
With the heat, her exhaustion magnified. Her eyelids began to droop, her head to bob. She did not want to fall asleep in this strange place, even if it was a church. She did not trust her surroundings. She wanted to dry off, reclaim her clothes, and press on. Where she was going, she hadn’t a clue yet. All she knew was that Matthew surely did not want her now and her lifewith him was ruined. Perhaps her only choice was a place like this, gloomy and depressing and dirty, as a servant of God. She could imagine no other option.
With the shock of the situation wearing off, depression began to set in. If only she had kept her mouth shut, if only she had done as Matthew had wished. She should not have interfered. But she was only trying to help. She and Matthew had been building such an amazing relationship, more than she had ever dared hope for. The White Lord of Wellesbourne had been hers, if only for a brief moment until she dashed everything to bits. She could not believe she had ruined it all because of her arrogance.
Her exhaustion and distress finally claimed her, for the next thing she realized, the door was opening and she was startled awake. The monk was standing just inside the doorway with a cloth in his hand, filled with something she could not quite see. Instead of handing it to her, he timidly placed it on the table near her as one would place food in the cage of a wild animal. He remained standing by the door just in case he needed to bolt.
“I thought you might need something to eat,” he said. “There is cheese and some bread. It isn’t much, but at least it is something.”
She gazed over at the yellow cheese and crumbling brown bread. “My thanks,” she said. “You have been very kind.”
He nodded his head, once, as if he did not wish to discuss his kindness. Something about it made him uncomfortable. He stood and fidgeted.
“What manner of trouble do you have?” he suddenly blurted.
His uncouth manner almost made her smile. He had changed from his earlier suspicious approach to something of curiosity. Alixandrea picked up the cheese and took a grateful bite.
“Family trouble,” she said, her mouth full.
The monk looked puzzled, uncertain. “What did you do?”
She lifted an eyebrow at him, insulted by his question, but that was until she realized that she really diddosomething. She shook her head, averting her gaze as she spoke. “Things I should be ashamed of. I… I need sanctuary. I have no place to go.”
The monk looked stricken. “You cannot stay here, my lady,” he said. “We cannot… that is to say, we do not have a place for you.”
“Then where should I go?”
He took a step inside the room, apparently not so concerned now that the lady was going to jump up and bite him. “There is an abbey in Twyford,” he said. “Perhaps the Sisters of St. Jerome would be able to help you.”
It sounded reasonable. “Where is Twyford?” she asked.
“A few miles to the west. If you take the road that cuts through this town, you will come upon it within a day.”
Alixandrea’s heart sank as she realized where her destiny lay. Clearly, she had no other choice and, quite clearly, she must spend the rest of her days doing penance for Adam Wellesbourne’s death. It was her fault as surely as she had murdered him with her own hands.
“Then to Twyford I will go,” she said, the slight cough that had been plaguing her for the better part of the morning again bubbling up. “When my clothes are dry, I shall depart.”
He nodded, still standing a few feet away from her. She resumed eating her cheese and bread, not looking at him, wondering what he was doing. She could feel his curious eyes on her, moving across her back, down to her feet, and sliding across her head. It was an eerie feeling, like unseen bugs about her. She almost scratched herself out of sheer discomfort.
“You can stay and rest if you wish,” he finally said. All of the suspicion was gone from his tone. “The day proves ugly. You should wait until the weather clears.”
“My thanks,” she said softly.
