The Fifth Knight(66)

“Theodosia Palmer.” Palmer answered for her.

“You are Mr. Palmer?” The nun lifted her eyebrows.

“Sir Palmer,” he said.

“Then you will be Lady Palmer?” said the Abbess to Theodosia.

Her shrewd look reminded Palmer of his squire master: years of experience of sorting out truth from lies.

Theodosia walked from her place before the fire to address the Abbess. She gave a deep bow, hands clasped, before she spoke. “He is not my husband, Reverend Mother.”

“Have you sought me out to play games?”

“No, Reverend Mother.” Theodosia bowed her head again and crossed herself. “We had to tell some untruths to get past the gatehouse. Please forgive us.”

“That depends.” Ursula folded her arms and shot a glance at Palmer. “I note this man does not ask for my pardon.”

Theodosia urged him with a glare and a nod.

Palmer gave a slight bow. “Forgive me, also,” he said through clenched teeth.

To his surprise, Ursula gave a rasp of laughter. “You’re doing well, madam,” she said. “I can’t imagine he’s easy to control, but you’re part there.”

“She doesn’t control — ” began Palmer.

The Abbess cut across him. “I received a message to say you wanted to see me regarding Amélie.” She looked from one to the other. “So, what is it?”

“Sir Palmer and I believe you have a sister within these walls by the name of Amélie,” said Theodosia. “She would have come here about ten years ago. She’d be well into her third decade by now.”

“Why do you enquire about her?” said Ursula.

“Because we have an important message to give her,” said Theodosia.

“We have no Amélie here,” said the Abbess, polite.

Too polite.

“But you did have?” Palmer challenged with his question.

Ursula hesitated for a heartbeat. “No.” A tiny muscle quivered at the edge of her jaw.

“You’re lying to us, Mother Abbess,” he said.

“Benedict!” Theodosia cringed at his rudeness. “Mother, please forgive him, he’s a ruffian, he knows no manners — ”

Palmer carried on. “Like you will lie to us if we ask you if Thomas Becket brought Amélie here.”

Red circles appeared on Ursula’s cheekbones. “You are no longer welcome under this roof. Good day, sir knight, and take your lady with you.” She waited for them to leave.

“But we cannot go. We have to find her.” Theodosia’s anguish broke from her, and she appealed to the Abbess. “Please, please tell us if you know of Amélie.”

“I have already given you my answer,” said Ursula. “Now, good day. To you both.”

“Oh, please don’t send us away,” said Theodosia. “We seek Amélie to warn her of great danger.”

Ursula frowned. “Danger? What danger?”

“That is for us to tell her,” said Theodosia.

The elderly nun looked from Theodosia to Palmer. “And who, with the greatest of respect, do you pair think you are? You land from the sky at my door and demand — ”

“I am her daughter.”

The Abbess stiffened but still didn’t relent. “Easy words. Like Saint Thomas the Doubter, I like to have proof.”

Theodosia shot a desperate glance at Palmer. “Do we have anything?”

The cross might have done it. But he’d sold it. He gave a helpless gesture with his hands. “Only you.”

Theodosia faced the nun again. “Mother Ursula, listen to what I say, I implore you. If you still do not believe me, then we will respect your wishes and leave.”

The Abbess hesitated for a long moment, then folded her hands beneath her sleeves. “Go on.”

“I was brought up at Canterbury. Mama was a vowess there,” said Theodosia. “She went away with Archbishop Becket one day, a summer’s day. I was ten years old. She told me she was giving me to the church. I overheard him say Mama would come here.”

“You do well to convince me,” said Ursula. “Except that your name is Theodosia. No daughter of Amélie’s has that name.”

Theodosia shook her head. “My christened name is Laeticia, Mother. Laeticia Bertrand.”

Ursula’s stony look broke with a huge smile. ““Laeticia? Can this be true?”

“It is, oh, it is,” said Theodosia.

To Palmer’s relief, Ursula held out her hands. “Oh, praise God and His blessed Mother.”

Theodosia stepped to her, and the nun hugged her hard. “Oh, my dear girl. Your mother spoke of you to me many, many times.” She loosed her hold and went to an embroidered linen bell pull next to the fireplace. “I’ll order us some dinner; we have much to discuss. Come, come.” Ursula went to the table and sat on one of the chairs, gesturing for Theodosia and Palmer to do the same. “I take it, then, that you are not Sir and Lady Palmer?” She rasped a husky laugh again. “Though from your warring ways, you might as well be wed.”