God's Loving Embrace

Part Seventeen

'Heal me, oh Lord, and I shall be healed; save me, and I shall be saved: for thou art my praise.'

Jeremiah 17:14

Eloise Graham moved with surprising speed, bursting out of her chair and fighting against her tight corset and cumbersome gown to run as fast as she could towards the double doors leading to the outdoor terrace. No maiden or wife had ever moved quite so fast, certainly in Miss Howard's experience, and despite her mittens the girl managed to open the doors. Lady Trevor had tried to stop her but was brushed aside, and Miss Howard rushed to cut off her escape, but the child was quite distraught and evaded them both with frightening ease. As she ran, or attempted to run, she tried hard to rip off her gown and mittens. It was impossible. Her mittens rendered her hands next to useless. Her run was little more than an ungainly waddle and she more or less ran out of steam at the end of the decking, her screams dying unheard in her muzzle.

Her poor mother was dead. Five months after her father passed away, her mother had taken a massive and fatal overdose of her anti-depressants. Brogan had told them, explaining that Belinda had been left free of restrictions in her room, as always, and that the maid had left all the pills available by mistake. It was a simple but unfortunate tragedy Brogan said, but it was more than that to Eloise, coming only a month after Mrs Trevor, Harry's mother, had suffered a fatal stroke. It was an act of selfishness so base that she could not find words or emotions to describe it. Her mother had never tried to get over their loss. She had never been there for Eloise or Grace. She had just handed them over to their Uncle and surrendered to her grief like a coward, like no one else mattered to her.

Miss Howard was not a monster, despite Brogan's less than flattering opinion of her. She felt for both girls, and understood Eloise's reaction to the news. But that was still no excuse of course. She actually stopped Eloise before she left the terrace, and there was nowhere else she could go. The rear garden was perfectly secure. However, maidens had to learn, and she took her straight upstairs. She would comfort the poor child after the paddling which her disobedience so richly deserved, but first she had to punish her. Brogan found herself praying for guidance, almost despite herself. It was becoming automatic. She did not even know why she did it in all honesty, putting it down to habit, and she did not find any answers, but her feelings of total helplessness completely overwhelmed her once more. She sat on the sofa in the drawing room, knowing that Eloise was upstairs being punished, not comforted or even indulged, and she wondered what sort of God could possibly condone such things. But she still prayed, because it really was all she could do in the circumstances.

'Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead, cast out devils: freely ye have received, freely give.'

Matthew 10:8

"Quickly Sisters, no sister should ever be uncovered for more than five minutes." Sister Caris shouted, striking one of the new intake with her switch as the poor girl hurried past her in tears. No one could reply of course. Her blow left a red weal on the girl's naked rump but there was no sound, at all, from the muzzled novices. Naked, with their heads and groins shaved, they were running into the showers, desperate to avoid further punishments, at the end of a long and terrifying first day in Clitheroe. Sister Caris could not spare them, as she herself was being watched all the time. She had to teach them, she had to maintain discipline or be punished herself, probably more severely. The new recruits were a mixed bunch, typical of the rich diversity of Reformist control. Caris had seen many of the files. Some were the daughters of the poorer Reformists, more or less sold to the Church, like her Sammie. Some were girls who had fallen foul of the many new laws somehow, either a number of smaller infractions, or in some cases the ultimate modern sin of losing their virginity. Their parents or guardians would have been given the option of a criminal trial or an indeterminate period of national service, usually ten years, the same as the girls whose devoted parents had taken cash for the honour of a daughter living in God's love. It almost made Caris laugh, because a devout girl from a loyal family would be treated just the same as a girl who had broken their laws. Inside the convent there was absolutely no difference between them at all, living in God's love. Finally, they were also starting to get young girls signed up for National Service around the age of eighteen, for three years, to serve God and their country in the Order. These girls were neither devout nor law breakers. Their parents had either fallen for the idea of National Service, as an alternative to the university course they might once have expected for their daughters, or they could not find a way to defer the call up. Caris and all the other members of staff had seen the advertisements, and listened to the promotional broadcasts, as part of their training for their new roles. They were told who and what they would be receiving in detail, quite honestly and openly, because they could not exactly warn anyone else. She found herself praying for forgiveness, although she had no faith, out of habit she supposed, as she wielded her cruel switch to speed the girls up. God would apparently be offended if the nuns were uncovered for more than ten minutes, and they had no time to waste. She told them five to give herself some leeway.