Belladonna at Belstone by Michael Jecks Page A

the details.”
    “There is some difficulty at Crediton?” she asked quietly.
    “Not there, no. It is another ecclesiastical institution. I am afraid I shall have to leave home tomorrow for a few days.”
    She looked at him enquiringly, but he only grinned. Jeanne knew that sometimes her man could be called from their home and forced to travel abroad on business, but she was surprised that he would say nothing of the nature of his mission. Still, she reflected, it would give her time to get the manor into order. Jeanne was not concerned about being left alone, although she would miss her husband.
    As he stood and made to leave the hall, she asked where he must go; he said apologetically: “I am sorry, Jeanne, but I have been sworn to secrecy.“
    With that he left the room, leaving Jeanne sitting surprised, but as she stared at the doorway, a smile spread slowly over her face.
    While he was gone, she could execute her own plans.
    Chapter Four
    Looking out through the doorway from the frater, Margherita, like Constance, saw the lay sister fall in the muck. Although she couldn’t help but smile, she was shocked to hear the girl swear. There was no excuse for blasphemy. The treasurer noted which girl it was. She would be punished later.
    Margherita liked the view from here. She could see the whole of the courtyard behind the cloisters looking north, and that meant she could observe almost all of the activities of the lay sisters. Her only regret was that she couldn’t keep an eye on the men in the southern cloister, but that would be unthinkable, of course.
    Not that all the women were so scrupulous. Margherita knew that some of the nuns were better informed about the male body than they should be. She had heard men here in the cloister. That was why she walked about the place at night, to find out who the men were, and who the women were who dared invite them in.
    At least that slut Rose wasn’t a novice any more. The girl had been a source of shame to the whole place. Good riddance to her.
    Margherita recalled that it was from here that she had seen Moll walking about the garden in earnest discussion with Rose. As soon as a nun had appeared, both girls quickly separated, but Margherita saw them return to each other’s side when the nun had hurried past.
    A girl who was prepared to consort with Rose was not the sort to take up the veil; that was what Margherita believed, and she would defy anyone who tried to persuade her otherwise. Before that Moll had shown some promise, indeed she had given every appearance of piety; a rare attribute in most modern girls. But that was no excuse for going about with the likes of Rose. Someone like Joan was much better company for a young girl; she had experienced all the doubts, suspicions and fears that a young nun was likely to come across. Whatever happened, Joan had to be better than a common whore.
    Margherita set her pot on a table and made her way to the cloister. She herself needed no confidante. She could understand why other nuns might like sharing information, and even made use of their garrulity every now and again, but she was content with herself as sole custodian of her private thoughts. Her sisters were simply useful for disseminating the little snippets she occasionally wished to let slip. She smiled to herself as she sat at her desk, then sighed and gave the papers before her a small frown. It was hard to sit here when the sun shone, when the birds were singing in the orchard and the whole world appeared to be waking from the long, slow sleep of winter, but she must show her dedication and settle down to the accounts.
    Resignedly she picked up her quill, a small reed, dipping it in her ink, staring gloomily at the long columns. Running her finger down one of them, she came to the money brought in by the beadle: only a few pennies were recorded. With secret satisfaction, she recalled the heavy leather purse which the man had given her. That was safe in her personal