at her reflection, so she did—and gasped. Why, she looked like Audrey! Although God didn’t care what she looked like, and neither should she, Celeste couldn’t subdue a little thrill to discover that she resembled the sister everyone called a beauty more than she remembered.
Trying to dismiss such vain thoughts, she began to examine the contents of the largest wooden chest. It was full of clothes—costly gowns and fine linen shifts, silken stockings, veils and beaded caps. These things must have cost a great deal of money...
Audrey must have found their father’s treasure! How else would she have been able to afford all these clothes and run the household, too?
How much was left and where was it? There had to be a considerable amount still. Many times their father had bragged to their mother that he was rich as Croesus and if she left him, she would never see a penny of his wealth.
Rummaging again in the chest, Celeste found a carved wooden box and opened it to find a host of jewelry—rings and necklaces, as well as broaches and pins that glittered red and green and blue and white among their golden settings.
Trembling with excitement, she took the box to the window, setting it on the sill. The value of these things would surely be enough to bribe...encourage...the bishop to send the mother superior away from Saint Agatha’s, perhaps even to the far reaches of Scotland.
Celeste drew out a ruby necklace and held it up to the window to examine it closely.
Her stomach knotted.
The one lesson their father had purposefully taught them was how to tell the difference between real gems and fake, “so you won’t be cheated by charlatans, even if you’re only women and all women are mostly fools.”
The rubies were paste and a swift examination proved the other jewels were false, too, as well as the gold that bound them.
These couldn’t be part of the wealth her father had hidden.
Another moment’s reflection gave her some relief. Of course Audrey wouldn’t keep real jewels in so obvious a hiding place, even if she had a fierce Scot to guard the house. Any thief who managed to get in and overpower him would look in the chests. Audrey must have found a better hiding spot.
A loud series of knocks rattled the door at the front of the house.
She went to the window and opened the cloth shutters to look into the yard, trying to see who it might be. Unfortunately, she couldn’t. However, there was no white horse or group of soldiers outside her gates, so it couldn’t be Gerrard, not that there was any reason for him to come here. As for anyone else, she was in no mood to entertain inquisitive visitors.
Perhaps if she stayed upstairs and didn’t answer, whoever it was would go away.
The knocking commenced again, just as loud and persistent. If it
was
Gerrard, he was stubborn enough to knock for a very long time, especially if he was sure she was there.
Her lips pursed, Celeste adjusted her veil and wimple and went to deal with whoever was pounding so insistently on her door.
Chapter Five
I t was not Gerrard. A thin man wearing a dark brown cloak over a fawn-colored tunic cinched with a tooled leather belt stood on the threshold. There was something about his narrow face, pale blue eyes and long nose that nudged the edge of her memory, but she couldn’t come up with a name.
“Good day, Celeste! Or I suppose I should say, Sister! Welcome back to Dunborough.” A sorrowful frown came to the man’s homely face. “Although naturally we’re all upset at the reason why. Your dear sister will be much missed.”
His name came to her. “Norbert, isn’t it?”
“Indeed, indeed!” he cried with delight. “To think that you remember me!”
He wouldn’t have been so pleased if he knew that she remembered him as a skinny young man several years older than Roland and Gerrard, a nasty fellow Audrey called “Nosy Norbert.” Since he was the first of the villagers to come to call, she suspected that name would
Trying to dismiss such vain thoughts, she began to examine the contents of the largest wooden chest. It was full of clothes—costly gowns and fine linen shifts, silken stockings, veils and beaded caps. These things must have cost a great deal of money...
Audrey must have found their father’s treasure! How else would she have been able to afford all these clothes and run the household, too?
How much was left and where was it? There had to be a considerable amount still. Many times their father had bragged to their mother that he was rich as Croesus and if she left him, she would never see a penny of his wealth.
Rummaging again in the chest, Celeste found a carved wooden box and opened it to find a host of jewelry—rings and necklaces, as well as broaches and pins that glittered red and green and blue and white among their golden settings.
Trembling with excitement, she took the box to the window, setting it on the sill. The value of these things would surely be enough to bribe...encourage...the bishop to send the mother superior away from Saint Agatha’s, perhaps even to the far reaches of Scotland.
Celeste drew out a ruby necklace and held it up to the window to examine it closely.
Her stomach knotted.
The one lesson their father had purposefully taught them was how to tell the difference between real gems and fake, “so you won’t be cheated by charlatans, even if you’re only women and all women are mostly fools.”
The rubies were paste and a swift examination proved the other jewels were false, too, as well as the gold that bound them.
These couldn’t be part of the wealth her father had hidden.
Another moment’s reflection gave her some relief. Of course Audrey wouldn’t keep real jewels in so obvious a hiding place, even if she had a fierce Scot to guard the house. Any thief who managed to get in and overpower him would look in the chests. Audrey must have found a better hiding spot.
A loud series of knocks rattled the door at the front of the house.
She went to the window and opened the cloth shutters to look into the yard, trying to see who it might be. Unfortunately, she couldn’t. However, there was no white horse or group of soldiers outside her gates, so it couldn’t be Gerrard, not that there was any reason for him to come here. As for anyone else, she was in no mood to entertain inquisitive visitors.
Perhaps if she stayed upstairs and didn’t answer, whoever it was would go away.
The knocking commenced again, just as loud and persistent. If it
was
Gerrard, he was stubborn enough to knock for a very long time, especially if he was sure she was there.
Her lips pursed, Celeste adjusted her veil and wimple and went to deal with whoever was pounding so insistently on her door.
Chapter Five
I t was not Gerrard. A thin man wearing a dark brown cloak over a fawn-colored tunic cinched with a tooled leather belt stood on the threshold. There was something about his narrow face, pale blue eyes and long nose that nudged the edge of her memory, but she couldn’t come up with a name.
“Good day, Celeste! Or I suppose I should say, Sister! Welcome back to Dunborough.” A sorrowful frown came to the man’s homely face. “Although naturally we’re all upset at the reason why. Your dear sister will be much missed.”
His name came to her. “Norbert, isn’t it?”
“Indeed, indeed!” he cried with delight. “To think that you remember me!”
He wouldn’t have been so pleased if he knew that she remembered him as a skinny young man several years older than Roland and Gerrard, a nasty fellow Audrey called “Nosy Norbert.” Since he was the first of the villagers to come to call, she suspected that name would
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