Free The Chalice by Nancy Bilyeau Page B

countryside. One dark, one fair. I may have seemed ill at ease, Joanna, because I feared that in a crowd of men who’d downed ale, I might not be able to defend you. Fortunately, no one meddled with us. But I wager that was part of the reason the town wanted to put you in the stocks today. Your looks can be . . . discomfiting.”
    “This is not true,” I said, my voice rising. “What you’re saying is distasteful. And absurd.”
    “Must I remind you under what circumstances we met?” he asked.
    I winced at the memory of the ruffian who’d attacked me at Smithfield. I said, “What does this have to do with the Courtenays?”
    “Nothing. But their home is not a safe place for you. Not now. It’s not anything that they’ve done—obviously they are noble people. But it is who they are .”
    I heard Arthur laugh in the other room. He’d come inside. I wanted to return to him, and to my relations.
    “I understand you have concerns for my welfare, Geoffrey,” I said. “But I must tell you that rarely has a man struck me as sounder than Henry Courtenay. I know I can trust him.”
    “As you knew you could trust Sister Christina?”
    I took a step back from him, then another, as regret filled hiseyes. The pain must have been written large on my face that he had said the name of the novice who had been my friend—and yet had murdered two people. He reached out, saying, “I meant only that—”
    I slapped his hand away and whirled round to the kitchen door. It was stuck. I had to get out of that room.
    “Joanna, I’m very sorry.” His voice was low and thick.
    “I want you to leave,” I said. Using the heels of both hands, I slammed against the door so hard that it burst open.
    Everyone stopped talking. I struggled to present a calm face. Arthur scrambled over to me and I ran my fingers through his silky tangled hair, felt for the top of his ears.
    “Are you well, Joanna?” asked Gertrude, her eyes shifting to the left of me. Geoffrey must have appeared there, just behind.
    “I am.” Thankfully, my voice had steadied. “And I wish to accept your kind offer of a visit.”
    The Courtenays rejoiced; Arthur jumped up and down. In moments, servants were dispatched to pack our things. Gertrude wouldn’t hear of waiting for a day.
    Sister Beatrice was halfway out the door when I caught her. She must have been trying to follow Geoffrey. He’d left my home, as I’d asked.
    “Would you help me upstairs, Sister Beatrice?” I asked. “A matter requires your attention.”
    In my room, she knelt next to me as I folded Arthur’s clothes. I said, “I understand now why you’ve remained in Dartford, so close to me—it was not for my friendship, I think. It has more to do with Geoffrey Scovill.”
    “Yes,” she said, “I have a certain feeling for him.”
    At least there would be no more deception.
    Sister Beatrice handed me a wool nightdress for Arthur. “Geoffrey does not feel the same,” she said. “I know that. But he may come to.”
    Such brazen calm frightened me. “What of our vows?” I asked. “We’re no longer inside priory walls, but the vows we swore to take as sisters still hold.”
    “Do you mean the vow of chastity ?” she spat.
    Sister Beatrice’s face puckered like a cornered cat’s. “You know my life. I was mistress to an evil man. My body thickened with a child whom God took away, in His mercy. I was abandoned by all—by my own mother. She cursed me as a whore and drove me into the forest.”
    I couldn’t help but be moved by her sufferings. “But you returned to the priory, as a lay sister,” I said. “You were brought back into the community.”
    “Because of Geoffrey.” She nodded, rapidly. “He found me and I told him everything. Everything. Geoffrey did not criticize me or judge me. The only person who never has.”
    And yet how Geoffrey criticized me . From the first, he’d argued with me, hectored me. Aloud, I said, “I do not judge you.”
    “You least of all