Page 29 of The Autumn Wife
“So disappointing.” The nun glanced at a teetering pile of folded parchment she’d dislodged from a satchel earlier and onto the desk. “At the post in Quebec, I picked up a letter for him among the others I gathered for Montreal. It’s from a little place called Guéret—I remember he said something about coming from there. Perhaps his parents are expecting him to return home.”
Cecile forced her eyes open and her chin up, forcibly crushing all her reckless flights of fancy as she changed the subject. “Mother, how do you know that he is a convict?”
“Goodness, I suspected from the first.” Mother Superior plucked a piece of straw off Mary’s halo. “A master mason is a skilled artisan. Such a man as our Monsieur Martin would have no reason to leave his home for this frontier—and certainly no reason to sign indentured-servant papers. Indentured servitude is for those too poor, or unskilled, to afford thejourney. More likely, his servitude had been thrust upon him for some transgression.”
The nun’s logic was impeccable.
“Cecile, my dear girl, I hope the overseer’s criminal past doesn’t distress you too much.” The nun tilted her head, sympathy softening her blue eyes. “We are all sinners, every one of us. By faith, I trusted Monsieur Martin to build that chapel while I was away. Just as, by faith, I trusted a curiously desperate laywoman to straighten out the accounts of our congregation in my absence.” The nun ducked her head, straining her head forward. “We all deserve a second chance, do we not?”
“Of course.” Cecile unknotted her hands, pushing all distressing thoughts of Theo out of her mind for now. She dropped her gaze to the papers and account books she’d put in neat piles on the nun’s desk. “Though you may not feel as strongly about second chances, Sister Martha, when you hear what I’ve discovered about the Montreal butcher.”
The nun frowned. “He’s overcharging me, is he?”
“By nearly double.”
“Shame on him.” The nun huffed a sigh. “When I go to Montreal to deliver the post, I’ll express my disappointment in the strongest terms.”
“Shall we go through the accounts now?” Cecile took a step closer to the desk and trailed a finger across the book’s cowhide cover. “I’m afraid they were a bit of a mess.”
Sister Martha glared at the book if it were a fly in her soup. “Very well, I suppose we must.”
Cecile came around to look over her shoulder as the nun sank onto the ladder-back chair with a sigh. Pulling the first paper off a pile, a summary of income and expenditures for the last few years, Cecile was keenly aware that her work would now be judged, but she was eager to lose herself and all these conflicted feelings in a blizzard of numbers.
Shaking off the sinking of her spirits, she began her presentation, focusing on the overall financial health of the congregation. Talking numbers and calculations slowed her spinning thoughts, at least for the moment. This congregation was barely breaking even, but there were several areas of expense that could be reduced to put the finances in better shape. In the end she read from a list of recommendations until the nun’s sigh drew her attention.
“This is all very dull, Sister Martha, I know.”
“Dull, yes, but important.” The nun patted Cecile’s hand. “You have an ease with numbers that I cannot even aspire to. I had despaired of these accounts altogether, yet you have corrected them cleanly in your elegant script. In only a few weeks.”
Then will you let me take the veil?
The question shot across her mind yet it halted behind her tongue. Standing in this room decorated with niche statues of teary icons and painted portraits of saints, she swayed with dangerous indecision. She’d never really wanted to join a convent. What she’dreally wanted wassanctuary,safety from the law. But months and months had already passed without a whisper of danger—and now Theo hadkissedher. Insidious thoughts slid into her mind, making her question whether such a drastic measure as becoming a nun was truly necessary.
But it was—because Theo was returning to France.
Leaving her behind.
“Sister Martha,” Cecile said, gathering her breath to push the words out, “I’m glad you’re pleased with my work. I’d be happy to take on the task fully…as a member of the congregation.”
“Ah, yes, about that matter.” Sister Martha nudged away from the desk. “While in the capital, I spoke to Intendant Talon on your behalf.”
“Talon?”
Cecile grew chilled, tryingnotto think of why the nun would speak about her to the most powerful man in the government.
“Talon is the king’s representative.” The nun tilted her head quizzically. “Surely you know that he’s in charge of you and all the King’s Girls, so I stole a moment to bring up your current troubles concerning your absent husband.”
Cecile flattened a palm on the desk to cover for her weakening knees. She knew Intendant Talon, with his luxurious wig of bronze curls. He had been at her Quebec wedding, a multi-couple affair that had lasted only as long as absolutely necessary for the sacrament.After, the couples had been given glasses of brandy. Talon had raised a toast, exhorting them all to go forth and multiply. New France, he’d said, needed large and fertile families.
Cecile swallowed a prickly lump of panic. “The trouble with my husband is an ecclesiastical issue, isn’t it? I thought you were planning to speak to the bishop about an annulment.”
“Oh, I’ll speak to him eventually—the bishop doesn’t like me much right now. He thinks I’m pushy.” The nun wrinkled her nose. “But, also, there can’t be a discussion of an annulment unless your husband’s death is confirmed. You are still bound by the old vows. You can be only a laywoman here until some greater proof comes to light.”
Cecile felt like a door to an ancient keep splintering under the heave-ho of a battering ram. It seemed Mother Superior didnothave independent power to invite her into the convent—and now the most powerful man in the settlements had been alerted to Cecile’s troubles.
How long before Talon unearthed her lies?
“You’ve gone white as a boiled sheet.” The nun bolted up from her desk to place a cool hand across Cecile’s forehead. “I assure you, this is the correct path forward. Talon will start an investigation to search for your husband. Once Talon determines that you are a widow, there’s no need for you to join our convent. Talon will see you married again.”
