The Lady in Yellow: A Victorian Gothic Paranormal Romance

Sixty-Two

The convent was swathed in heavy mists. A few days before Christmas, snow began to fall. Veronica kept to her tiny bedchamber where, exhausted by her work, she often fell asleep by the coal fire, the missal in her lap unopened.

During Advent, she'd been allowed to join the choir, singing Matins at dawn in a cathedral heated by hundreds of candles and the sweet, melodic breaths of the nuns. Veronica's voice was appraised beautiful enough to warrant special attention by the musical director, beautiful enough perhaps, to redeem her in the eyes of God.

It was a day of bleak skies and ice when Mother Superior summoned Veronica to her office.

"I have received a letter from your former employer, Mr. Rafe de Grimston. It seems he tracked you down through Crowe's Agency. They forwarded this on to us. He doesn't know where you are. It is up to you whether or not to answer. It will soon be time for you to decide your future, Sister Veronica."

Reverend Mother's gaze was steady, calm, as she handed the letter over. Veronica was relieved to find that it had not been opened. The forwarding address was written in Mr. Crowe's dark, spiky script, reminding her of the first letter she'd received from him, and the high hopes she'd once had. She felt her face flush. Afraid to cry in front of Reverend Mother, Veronica bowed her head.

"Go and read it and come back to me before Vespers," Mother Superior said. "You are dismissed."

Veronica teetered to her feet. "I'm horribly sorry, Reverend Mother. I'm very confused. I'm so sorry to appear uncertain of my calling."

"Don't be. God has His ways. Give your struggle over to Him and don't try to force the outcome. That is the only way."

With a racing heart, Veronica hurried out into the hall with its tall, wintry windows, and opened the envelope. Inside was Rafe's letter. The smell of the sealing wax as it broke; the whiff of good paper and ink reminded her painfully of Belden House. Had he written this in the little study under the stairs? Her hands shook so hard that she had to sit down in the rosewood-paneled hallway to steady herself.

Inside was a child's drawing of Father Christmas with a holly branch and sack with a small boy's head peeking out. It was signed Jack with a great flourish.

There was also a letter.

Dear Miss Everly,

I thought you might like news of us here at Belden House. Jacqueline quite misses you. I miss you. Together we are two fools reminiscing about the good old days. Mrs. Twig has recovered from her injuries and bustles about enough for both of you. Sadly we have lost one of the twins. He lies in the tomb, in a silver casket beside his older sister. Their mother is still at large. If only one could be freed of this evil! There is a remedy, but this I cannot disclose.

I wish you well in your new post. I am sure it is happier than here.

All the Best,

Rafe de Grimston

Scrawled below in the large, blocky penmanship of an eight-year-old were the words:

P.S.

We wish you a Happy Christmas!

(Please come back.)

Veronica glanced around helplessly. Jacqueline wanted her back. But how could she return? In the end, she might be called upon to destroy her father and her, or choose to become like them, and lose her soul entirely.

She went out into the garden. Snow was falling in heavy, wet flakes. The vista of white earth and bare trees seemed to go on forever. The crows hawking in the bare branches were like fragments of her personal darkness besmirching the purity of God's creation. The bells were ringing the Third Hour, reminding her of mysterious voices chanting, and the high, clear howling of the wolves.

***

Just before bed, she wrote a letter to Rafe. It was not an easy decision to respond, for though everything within her wanted to let Rafe know how to find her, she dreaded having to face him, to confront him about the way he'd burdened her unfairly, and defend her decision to abandon them like a thief in the night.

Dear Mr. de Grimston,

Thank you for thinking of me and sending your news from Belden House, both happy and sad. I miss you as well, and the twins. Both of them. It grieves me terribly that they are no longer a pair. I have news to share with you. I have decided to become a nun. To join the Order of Saint Mary's where I can continue in my teaching profession.

I shall keep you always in my prayers.

Sincerely Yours,

Sister Veronica Marie

P.S.

My lovely Jacqueline, Thank you for the drawing. I did have a happy Christmas, though I would have had a nicer one with you.

There!

Veronica sealed the envelope and stamped it with Saint Mary's seal. It was all decided. From that day forth she would be Sister Veronica Marie. She would clear her name with Reverend Mother and wear the novice's white habit and the heavy rosary beads. For excitement, she would sing in the choir. It wasn't such a bad life. At least it was secure.

Tears spilled on the envelope where it lay on her table. She ripped the wimple from her head, tore at the neckline of her habit that strangled her, stood up, pulled her hair and stamped her feet.

If she hadn't gotten so used to silence, she would have screamed.