power to give, it shall be yours.”
Pia sat in the front waiting room of the convent. The small canvas bag at her feet held her meager possessions: a second dress, a night rail, a small locket with a faded drawing of her long-dead mother and father, and a well-loved, brown, leather-bound sketch pad. She felt the rumble of the carriage on the floorboards before she heard it. Six horses. Maybe eight. She had caught a few whispers among the nuns that Sebastian de Montizon was a very wealthy man. Upon the occasion of his betrothal to Anna, he had promised to donate a large sum to the convent in her honor.
Perhaps he was a debauched rake and would die quickly of some hideous disease, leaving a generous stipend for his widow and her quiet maid. The carriage came to a stop and still Pia kept her eyes downcast. The familiar shuffle of the abbess sounded outside the small waiting room. Would she ever again hear that particular mix of keys and fabric and purpose?
The front door was unlocked and a deep male voice spoke. Pia nearly wept when she heard Anna’s sweet tones a few moments later. She looked up to see the door to the small room fly open.
“There you are!” Anna cried, clasping her hands in front of her chest.
A tall, powerful man put one large hand on Anna’s shoulder. “Please remember we are in the convent, Anna. Lower your voice.”
Pia quickly looked back at the bare wood floor, hardly recognizing her former friend and lover in the elegant blonde woman dripping in emeralds.
“Yes, my lord.” Even Anna’s submissive tone was unrecognizable.
“And you must be Patrizia.” The male voice was now right above her. She squeezed her eyes shut and wished for nothing more than to be swallowed whole into the flames of Hell. It could be no worse than this.
“Pia!” the abbess scolded. “Stand up immediately and pay your respects to the gentleman. Where are your manners?”
She rose slowly, worried her legs would not support her. She didn’t know where to look. She couldn’t bear to see Anna, now the meek handmaiden to her new lord and master. She couldn’t bear to see the man who repressed Anna with a single hand on her shoulder. Instead, Pia firmed her lips and curtsied, a small perfunctory show of little respect.
“Pia!” The abbess was torn between embarrassment and fury. “I am so sorry, señor de Montizon. She has lived her whole life within the convent walls—another infant left in a basket, you see, with nothing but a locket. She has not spent any time in the world. Perhaps an older nun would be a better companion for doña Anna—”
“No!” Sebastian and Anna exclaimed in unison. The gentleman scowled at his wife, and something unspoken passed between them.
“You should not have spoken to the abbess thus,” he said to Anna. “Return to the carriage at once.”
Anna gasped, said, “Yes, my lord,” then curtsied and withdrew.
Sebastian reached for Pia, and she nearly recoiled in disgust at the contact. “And you will accompany your lady. I know we will have a period of adjustment.” He kept his hold on her upper arm. “But I also know we will have many years of devoted service from you, will we not?”
Pia despised this man and his arrogance. But Anna was alone in the carriage, and this same man was ordering her to accompany Anna there. She despised him less.
“Yes, my lord. I am sorry I was not properly respectful . . . my lord.”
“There’s a good girl.” He released his hold on her arm and smoothed the fabric of her shabby dress. “Now go attend to our lady.”
“Yes, my lord.” She bent to pick up her small bag and darted out of the room and then quickly beyond into the courtyard and the waiting carriage.
“I trust you will be pleased with my token of appreciation for the good works you are doing here at the convent,” Sebastian said as he handed the abbess a leather pouch heavy with gold escudos .
The abbess beamed as she took it. Sebastian suspected that she
Pia sat in the front waiting room of the convent. The small canvas bag at her feet held her meager possessions: a second dress, a night rail, a small locket with a faded drawing of her long-dead mother and father, and a well-loved, brown, leather-bound sketch pad. She felt the rumble of the carriage on the floorboards before she heard it. Six horses. Maybe eight. She had caught a few whispers among the nuns that Sebastian de Montizon was a very wealthy man. Upon the occasion of his betrothal to Anna, he had promised to donate a large sum to the convent in her honor.
Perhaps he was a debauched rake and would die quickly of some hideous disease, leaving a generous stipend for his widow and her quiet maid. The carriage came to a stop and still Pia kept her eyes downcast. The familiar shuffle of the abbess sounded outside the small waiting room. Would she ever again hear that particular mix of keys and fabric and purpose?
The front door was unlocked and a deep male voice spoke. Pia nearly wept when she heard Anna’s sweet tones a few moments later. She looked up to see the door to the small room fly open.
“There you are!” Anna cried, clasping her hands in front of her chest.
A tall, powerful man put one large hand on Anna’s shoulder. “Please remember we are in the convent, Anna. Lower your voice.”
Pia quickly looked back at the bare wood floor, hardly recognizing her former friend and lover in the elegant blonde woman dripping in emeralds.
“Yes, my lord.” Even Anna’s submissive tone was unrecognizable.
“And you must be Patrizia.” The male voice was now right above her. She squeezed her eyes shut and wished for nothing more than to be swallowed whole into the flames of Hell. It could be no worse than this.
“Pia!” the abbess scolded. “Stand up immediately and pay your respects to the gentleman. Where are your manners?”
She rose slowly, worried her legs would not support her. She didn’t know where to look. She couldn’t bear to see Anna, now the meek handmaiden to her new lord and master. She couldn’t bear to see the man who repressed Anna with a single hand on her shoulder. Instead, Pia firmed her lips and curtsied, a small perfunctory show of little respect.
“Pia!” The abbess was torn between embarrassment and fury. “I am so sorry, señor de Montizon. She has lived her whole life within the convent walls—another infant left in a basket, you see, with nothing but a locket. She has not spent any time in the world. Perhaps an older nun would be a better companion for doña Anna—”
“No!” Sebastian and Anna exclaimed in unison. The gentleman scowled at his wife, and something unspoken passed between them.
“You should not have spoken to the abbess thus,” he said to Anna. “Return to the carriage at once.”
Anna gasped, said, “Yes, my lord,” then curtsied and withdrew.
Sebastian reached for Pia, and she nearly recoiled in disgust at the contact. “And you will accompany your lady. I know we will have a period of adjustment.” He kept his hold on her upper arm. “But I also know we will have many years of devoted service from you, will we not?”
Pia despised this man and his arrogance. But Anna was alone in the carriage, and this same man was ordering her to accompany Anna there. She despised him less.
“Yes, my lord. I am sorry I was not properly respectful . . . my lord.”
“There’s a good girl.” He released his hold on her arm and smoothed the fabric of her shabby dress. “Now go attend to our lady.”
“Yes, my lord.” She bent to pick up her small bag and darted out of the room and then quickly beyond into the courtyard and the waiting carriage.
“I trust you will be pleased with my token of appreciation for the good works you are doing here at the convent,” Sebastian said as he handed the abbess a leather pouch heavy with gold escudos .
The abbess beamed as she took it. Sebastian suspected that she
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