Page 8 of The Cardinal's Daughter
‘I just don’t know,’ she said, looking distracted. ‘I wonder if I should try to negotiate in order to save us.’
She pondered the matter for several days, then sent a letter to Master Cromwell, offering him a hundred pounds and a further five hundred marks to the King, if they would permit her and her community to remain at Shaftesbury Abbey, even if it was not as nuns. To her great dismay, her offer was turned down and she was reproved for not willingly surrendering her house to King Henry.
We knew then that there was no hope. The Abbess sat down and wept. It was terrible to see such a dignified personage crumple.
Early the following year, we learned that Master Tregonwell was in the West Country and that he had already closed down over a score of religious houses. Sherborne and Montacute had gone, and now he was desecrating Wilton. We were all in dread, knowing that very soon we would be next. Where would we all go? England was full of dispossessed religious, many of them reduced to beggary. How would places be found for us?
I knew I would not be welcome at home in Worcester. My sister-in-law would now be entrenched there, and my father’s letter urging that I be professed had shed light on his own position. Yes, I would receive a pension, but would it be enough to support me?
The commissioners arrived in March, on a blustery cold day. As they were wandering around making notes, the Abbess summoned everyone to the Chapter House.
‘My children,’ she said, looking down on the sea of troubled faces, ‘it will not be long before we receive orders to leave, so we must be prepared. I have written to three abbeys in France, who have very kindly agreed to take in any of you who wish to travel there. Some of you, I know, have homes to go to, but I am painfully aware that others have none. However, the King will provide us all with pensions.’ She paused, quiteclearly struggling to control a rare show of emotion. ‘If you have nowhere to go, I suggest you look for service in some great household. The skills you have learned here will be to your advantage. But whatever you decide to do, remember that God is with you and that you walk in His love. You see, my children, we never come to the Kingdom of Heaven but by troubles; this trial has been sent to test our faith. I exhort you all to have patience and accept it without complaint.’
Some of my sisters looked anything but patient, and I heard one mutter that God moved in strange ways indeed and what in Heaven was He doing allowing the King to seize church property?
‘I release you all from your vows of obedience,’ the Abbess said. ‘You are no longer answerable to me, only to your consciences. But those who are professed must keep their vows of chastity. The law will not allow you to marry anyway. Now go in peace. We will observe our usual prayers and work until we leave this place, and we will leave it in good order for the King’s men.’
We filed out in appalled silence. I could hardly believe that our lives here were coming to an end. How would it feel to be cast out into the world? I was one of the luckier ones, for I had been here but seven years, yet many of the nuns had not left the abbey in decades. And what would become of the sick and halt who lay in the infirmary? Who would care for them?
Everyone went about with anxious faces that day. In recreation that evening, we tried to make plans. Dame Margaret Matthew and Dame Edith Magdalen already knew what they were going to do.
‘There is a tenement cottage next to the abbey cemetery available for rent,’ Dame Margaret told us. ‘We are going to combine our pensions and take it.’
‘Does anyone know of anywhere else to rent?’ I asked, wondering how much my pension would be and if I could even afford to rent a place.
‘The chantry priest at St Katherine’s altar told me that the chantry owns a small house with a garden,’ Dame Mary Cressett told me. ‘I was thinking of applying.’
‘There is room for you if you want to join us, Dame Dorothy,’ Dame Margaret offered.
‘I would be glad of the company,’ Dame Mary said quickly. I liked her. She was a cheery soul, kindly and meticulous, and I thought we would get along well together. I accepted her offer with great relief, having thanked Dame Margaret and Dame Edith for theirs. They had each other to rely on.
I was present when Master Tregonwell came to the Abbess’s house on Passion Sunday and politely asked her to surrender the keys to Shaftesbury Abbey.
‘You are all to vacate the premises by noon tomorrow,’ he said.
‘Good gracious!’ Mother Elizabeth exclaimed. ‘That barely gives us time to make ready.’
‘It is his Majesty’s wish,’ he said stiffly.
She fumbled to detach the keys from her belt. Master Tregonwell shifted on his feet, clearly impatient to have this awkward moment over with. By Our Lady, he must be used to it now, I thought sourly.
I watched, tears welling, as the Abbess signed the deed of surrender, ending six hundred and fifty years of prayer and dedication, and granting the abbey, with all its estates and wealth, to the King.
I was already packed. My few possessions were stuffed into my old bag, along with the first instalment of my pension andwith the parchment granting it. Thanks to the Abbess’s hard bargaining with Master Tregonwell, we fared better than most. I was to receive £4.12s.4d. annually. It was not much, barely enough to eke out a living, but it would suffice for my share of the rent if I lived frugally. As soon as I was free, I donned a green gown donated by a kind benefactor – we nuns who were leaving the religious life had all been given secular clothing – and put a white cap over my cropped hair. Then I went in search of Mary Cressett – I must not call her Dame Mary now – and together we went to the chantry priest’s house. An hour later, our tenancy was confirmed.
We returned to the enclosure to say farewell to our sisters. Some we knew we would never see again, for they were departing for far-flung destinations. Most were very distressed at having to leave. There were a lot of tears that day.
We then went to see the Abbess. She was composed, but I suspected that her calm demeanour hid deep emotion.
‘Where will you go, Mother?’ I asked.
‘Back to my family, Dorothy. But I shall endeavour to keep in touch with you all, for you have been as children to me. I am very pleased that you both have somewhere to go. Now let me bless you, my daughters, and be on your way.’
We knelt before her. I was feeling choked.
In some trepidation, we ventured forth from the abbey for the first time in years, amazed to see the great gates standing open. Already, a line of carts had formed, alongside a procession of workmen. The commissioners were wasting no time.
What struck me forcibly about the outside world was the noise. I was used to the convent, where quietness was enjoined upon us. But the bustle of Shaftesbury was overwhelming. It was market day: the town was full, people were chattering or shouting, stall-holders and street vendors crying their wares. Hurriedly, we pushed through the crowds and made our wayto the thatched cottage, which stood a stone’s throw from the abbey. Pushing open the low door, we smiled at each other as we saw the little parlour furnished with a table, stools and a cupboard, its walls whitewashed, its ceiling beamed. We ran through to the kitchen at the back, then up the twisting stair to the upper floor, where we found two bedchambers, each with a pallet bed. Outside, the little walled garden was large enough for a bench and a small table. It had been tended well, and there was a vegetable patch as well as what would be a wildflower area in a few weeks.
