Free No Sweeter Heaven: The Pascal Trilogy - Book 2 by Katherine Kingsley Page A

sniff.
    Lily stared at him. “Oh … oh, no! But it wasn’t her fault, none of it was, it was all my doing!”
    “Miss McCofferty was dispatched the morning after your return, and high time. Your father and I felt that she has long been a poor influence on you.”
    Lily bent her head, trying not to let Father Mallet see her distress. She felt utterly helpless, as if the last person in the world who cared anything at all about her had gone away. Coffey had at least tried to protect her from Father Mallet. But now there was no one between Father Mallet and herself, and Lily couldn’t help cringing at the thought.
    “Now,” he said, his voice dry as dust, “I shall begin your instruction.”
    At first Lily tried to shut out Father Mallet’s monotone, for she wasn’t sure that she could bear the mortification, but for the first time ever she ended up listening to the priest with true fascination. It was impossible to understand half of what he was saying, for he spoke in an extraordinary combination of biblical references and euphemisms. When he started talking about rods and staffs and mighty fortresses she had an almost irresistible urge to burst into horrified laughter. She had long before grasped the basic essentials of human anatomy, but she wasn’t at all sure that Father Mallet had, given the way he was going about explaining things.
    “… And so your husband sows his seed upon your fertile soil, the, hahum … the earth that bears his fruit.” He cleared his throat again, looking flushed and agitated. “The seed—should God will it—produces a child. Not always, which is why your husband might often wish to, to … to sow with you. Do you understand?”
    She nodded mutely, not trusting herself to speak for fear of collapsing in hysteria. She wondered if she was not beginning to lose her mind.
    “That is good,” he said quickly. “Just remember to surrender to your husband in all things, and I am sure it will become very clear. I will leave you to ponder my words. You will say the Hail Mary one hundred times before dinner.
    “Father,” she said hesitantly, throwing her pride to the wind, for after dinner came the dark, and she really wasn’t sure if she could bear another night locked away. “I am truly sorry, I am, Father. Do you suppose I might sleep in my own room, if I come to the chapel at first light?”
    “Certainly not. You will serve your full punishment, alone where there is no one but God to see you in your shame.”
    He turned abruptly and left, and the key grated in the lock. Lily shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut, trying hard not to cry. She began saying her Hail Marys in earnest, just on the highly improbable chance that someone might be listening.
    Pascal sealed his letter to Dom Benetard, then put the writing materials away. He stood and handed the letter to the monk, who tucked it carefully into his leather scrip. “Thank you, Julien, for all your help,” he said, smiling down at the young man. “I wish you a safe journey home.” Pascal swallowed against the hoarseness in his throat.
    His eyes full of sympathy, Julien patted his arm.
    “I know,” Pascal said. “I wish myself luck as well. This was not the outcome I had hoped for, but as the abbot says, it is not our job to understand God’s will, only to follow it. I wish I felt that confidence in my heart, but I have tried to take comfort from the words.”
    Julien nodded vigorously, then pointed out the window toward the chapel with a questioning look on his face.
    “Lady Elizabeth? I don’t know if even a year of solid prayer would do any good, not if the prayers don’t come from her heart. But I must confess that I am appalled at the severity of the punishment.”
    Pascal watched carefully as Julien’s hands quickly and cleverly sketched in the air in his silent language. Pascal nodded. “Yes, you’re right. Father Mallet is a dangerous man. At times I find his theological opinions alarming. It’s a good thing