“Forget the blasted sweets!” Aric snapped. “Men. Men are missing in convents.”
“Aye, well, but that is the very reason behind their existence and—-Oh!” A chagrined look on his face, he shook his head. “I think I see. You fear that having been deprived of the company of men all these years, your wife soon will find herself overly fond of their company.”
Aric muttered under his breath and turned away with mild disgust at the length of time it had taken to get his point across. Surely his friend had not always been so dense?
“Aric. Friend. Do not allow Delia’s behavior to color your views. She was raised by her uncle, Lord Stratham, the most notorious reprobate in the land.”
“Yet my mother was not.”
“Ah.” Robert sighed.
“She was raised most strictly.”
“Yes, but—-”
“And she could not contain her passions.”
Robert shook his head. “I can see you will not be easily reassured, but ’tis not as bad as all that. If you fear she will become overfond of the company of men, you merely have to keep her away from court. Keep her in the country, where the only men she may meet are peasants and serfs. Surely she was brought up with enough sense not to dally with one of them.” He clapped his friend on the back encouragingly.
“Oh, aye. The king would most likely be very pleased should he never see his daughter again,” Aric muttered. Robert frowned.
“Oh, there is that. He will most likely wish her at court on occasion.”
“Most likely,” Aric agreed dryly.
“He appears to hold great affection for her.” Robert’s frown deepened as he thought on that. “That could be a problem, could it not? Jesu! A king for a father--in--law,” he marveled in horror as he realized the full significance of it. “Should you not make her happy, he might have you drawn and quartered. What a spot to be in!”
“Robert.”
“Aye?”
“Stop trying to make me feel better.”
Rosamunde’s fretting ended abruptly at the opening of the door. Sighing, she pushed herself to a sitting position as Sister Eustice reentered with the gown she had fetched lying carefully over her arm.
“The creases are all gone, fortunately enough,” the nun informed her and started to push the cell door closed, but paused when the abbess’s voice sounded in the hallway. By the time Adela arrived at the door, both Rosamunde and Eustice were waiting curiously. Adela took one look at Rosamunde’s expression and hurried forward.
“Oh, my dear child,” she murmured soothingly, seating herself on the cot beside the girl. She embraced her briefly. “All will be well. You will see. God has a special path for you to follow and you must trust in him.”
“Aye, ’tis what Sister Eustice said,” Rosamunde whispered as tears welled in her eyes. Oddly enough, the small droplets of liquid had not threatened until the very moment that the abbess offered comfort. It had always been that way. While both Eustice and the abbess had taken the place of her mother on that beautiful woman’s death, it was the abbess to whom Rosamunde had turned to bandage her banged--up knees and soothe her hurts. And it never failed that Rosamunde could stand absolutely anything with a stiff upper lip and grim smile until the abbess came around; at the first sight of Adela’s kind face, though, she always broke down.
“Oh, now. Shh, my child. Do not cry. You must have faith in the Lord. He chose this path for you. Surely there is a reason.”
“I am not crying out of fear of what is to come. Well . . .” she corrected honestly, “mostly I am not. Mostly I am crying for what is ending.”
Bewildered, the abbess shook her head slightly. “What is ending?”
“I will have to leave you all, the only family I have ever known. Aside from my father,” she added loyally.
Eustice and Adela shared a dismayed look, their own eyes filling with tears at the realization. They had been too distracted to consider that truth.
“Well . . .” Sister Eustice glanced desperately around, everywhere but at the young woman who had been her student in the stables since being a small child—-young Rosamunde had latched onto Eustice’s voluminous skirts and trailed after her the moment she had gained her feet and been able to walk. The nun had taught her everything she knew, and the look on Eustice’s face conveyed her misery at their separation.