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Sister Bernard snorted. “You fall asleep in chapel on a regular basis, you have trouble memorizing the liturgy, you deliberately sing off-key—”
“I do not.” She sometimes just lost her place because her mind wandered.
“You frequently break the Great Silence,” Sister Bernard ruthlessly continued, “and you have a fatal tendency to interrupt your elders. That is most surprising, since we were assured by your family that you were an obedient, biddable girl.”
“That’s exactly what I am,” Donella countered. “Obedient and biddable.”
“If you were, you lost the knack of it.” Sister’s tone was as dry as a communion wafer.
That was probably true. But if they kicked her out now, it would prove to her family that they’d been right about what her great-uncle had called hermad schemeto run away from life.
Reverend Mother finally intervened. “My child, why do you wish to become a nun?”
Donella blinked. For several dreadful seconds, her mind went blank.
Think, you idiot.
“Because it’s so peaceful and quiet,” she finally blurted out. “And because I love God.”
When Mother grimaced, Donella couldn’t blame her.
“And I do like the music,” she lamely added.
Never before had Mother or any of the other sisters asked that simple but fateful question. Becoming a Catholic nun in Scotland was not for the faint of heart, so it had probably never occurred to them to question her vocation. Besides, her uncle had given the Carmelites an exceedingly generous dowry as payment for Donella’s entrance. No abbess in her right mind would have looked askance at the support of a powerful Scottish earl, even a non-Papist one.
“One does not enter a convent seeking to hide from problems,” Mother said. “It has been our experience that unresolved issues can loom even larger inside these walls, as I think you’re finding out.”
Donella pressed her hands onto Mother’s scarred oak desk and leaned forward to meet the older woman’s wise gaze. “I’ll try harder. I swear I will. Just give me another chance, please.”
Mother shook her head. “No, dear child. You have done as well as you can, but this is not the life for everyone.”
“Perhaps she could try the Franciscans,” Sister Bernard suggested. “They’re not as exacting as we are.”
In other words, that order might be inclined to overlook her many failings, especially if she brought along her substantial dowry.
Donella sank into the creaky chair in front of Mother’s desk. Since she was clearly going to get the boot, there was little point in standing on her best behavior.
“And of course we’ll be returning your dowry,” Mother said.
Since that would leave the convent in something of a bind, Donella would see to it that either Uncle Riddick or Alec made a generous donation to the convent to offset the financial blow.
At the thought of her cousin—the man who’d rejected her to marry another woman—Donella felt sick. More than anyone, Alec had supported her wish to enter the convent. He’d done it because he truly cared about her. He’d brought everyone else in the family around too, and now she’d failed them all yet again. Her family loved her, but they hadn’t a clue what to do with her.
And now, neither did she.
“I suppose I could try the Franciscans,” she said. “Are there branches of the order in Scotland?”
“There’s a convent house in Galway, Ireland,” replied Sister Bernard.
And wouldn’t that go down like a treat with her great-uncle? Scotland was one thing, but Ireland?
“Whether the Franciscans would accept you is beside the point,” Mother said. “As I said, you need to ascertain if you have a true vocation. The best way to do so is by returning to the outside world.”
Panic flared inside her body. Donella didn’t know if she’d ever be ready for the outside world, where she’d again face all the troubles she’d so gratefully left behind.
“Mother, I beg of you—”
The prioress rose to her feet. “My child, what is the fundamental principle of life within a religious order?”
