Bertrice Small - Skye O'Malley

Skye’s face betrayed no emotion. “Will Molly be all right?”

“Her bruises will heal.”

‘Tell her if she chooses not to serve me anymore I’ll understand.
If that is her decision she may remain at the castle to serve my
stepmother. Tell the lady Anne that I will need a stout serving woman
of middle years and plain countenance. If I am forced to return to
him, I would not expose another young girl to O’Flaherty.”

The convent portal creaked open again and Eibhlin came forward,
escorted by two stout nuns. Skye bid Connor farewell, then followed
her sister through the door. Her trunk would be brought in by the
other nuns.

The two sisters walked silently through the long hallway until
they came to a heavy oak door. Eibhlin rapped on the door. A voice
bid them enter, and they obeyed.

Seated in a chair was one of the most beautiful women Skye had
ever seen. Her oval face was serene beneath the white wimple, with
its starched and pleated white wings. Her black habit was relieved
of its severity by a stiff white rectangle of a bib upon which rested
an ebony crucifix banded in silver, a silver lily on its face. Kneeling,
Eibhlin caught the aristocratic hand and kissed the silver-and-onyx
ring of office.

“Rise, my daughter,” came a cool, cultivated voice.

“Reverend Mother, may I present my sister, Skye. Skye, this is
the Reverend Mother Ethna.”

“Thank you, Sister Eibhlin. You may return to your duties now.
Mistress Monahan from our village went into labor this morning,
and you have our permission to attend her.”

Eibhlin bowed herself out, and the Reverend Mother Ethna waved
Skye to a chair. “Welcome to St. Bride’s of the Cliffs, Lady
O’Flaherty. Your father has already apprised us of the reason for
your visit. We will endeavor to make you as comfortable as pos-
sible.”

“Thank you,” Skye said tonelessly.

Quiet brown eyes surveyed Skye, and the nun appeared to be
debating with herself. Then she said, “I was Ethna O’Neill before
I took the veil. It was my niece to whom Lord Burke was betrothed.
She never knew him, but I did. He has a most winning way about
him.” A small smile played about the corners of her mouth.

“We met but a short time ago,” said Skye, softening somewhat.
”I don’t know what happened to us, but we are in love. Da simply
would not listen. Niall wants to have my marriage annulled so we
may wed.”

The nun shook her head. “Perhaps he can arrange it, or at least
get the proceedings started while you’re here.”

“You’re the first person who’s not told me that the MacWilliam won’t let his heir marry with an O’Malley of Innisfana.”

The Reverend Mother laughed. “Ah, these men and their pride!
Take heart, my daughter. The MacWilliam is a stern man, but he
loves his son. But tell me, child, have you no feeling for your young
husband?”

“I do not love Dom, nor did I ever wish to wed with him. I
begged my father not to force me to it, even before I met Niall
Burke. In fact, I did not wish to wed at all until I met Niall. I do
not believe a woman should have to spend her life with someone
she dislikes.”

“So,” chuckled the nun, “you’re a revolutionary like your sister,
Lady O’Flaherty.”

“No. And please, I beg of you, Reverend Mother, do not call me
Lady O’Flaherty. I shall never acknowledge Dom’s name as mine.
I am Skye O’Malley!”

“Very well, Skye O’Malley, we shall try to make your stay with
us as pleasant as possible.” The nun picked up a bell and rang it
sharply. It was instantly answered by a little novice. “Sister Feldelm,
this is Skye O’Malley, Sister Eibhlin’s sister. She is sheltering with
us for several weeks. The West Tower guest suite has been prepared
for her. Will you please escort her there?”

“Yes, Reverend Mother,” said the novice, bobbing a curtsey.
”If you’ll come along with me, Mistress O’Malley.”

“You are free to go wherever you chose on the grounds, Skye,
and the chapel and public rooms of the convent are open to you.
You need not keep to your rooms.”

“Thank you.” Skye turned to follow Sister Feldelm.

“My daughter, I shall pass on to you any information I receive.”

Skye flashed her a small smile, then followed the novice out.

How sad, thought the Reverend Mother. Another young woman
pushed into an unhappy marriage. She wondered what the Mac-
William would do. She knew what he would not do. He would not
let Niall have Skye, for he sought a better match for his heir. Damn
him and the others like him for the fools they were! Hadn’t they yet
learned that overbred wenches invariably proved to be bad breeders?
A good sturdy lass of less elegant lineage made a better wife.

The Reverend Mother Ethna realized that beneath the gallant
defiance, Skye O’Malley was a frightened and desperate girl. If the
child was to be disappointed, best she learn it now so she might face
her grief with the nuns. In the time she was with them, they could,
with the grace of God, help her make peace with herself.

Alone in her apartment Skye inspected her surroundings. There
were two rooms, a good-sized dayroom, and a small bedroom. Both had fireplaces. The bedroom fireplace was set into the corner. The
room held only a big oak bed with claret velvet hangings. There was
no room for any other furniture. The size of the bed amused and
puzzled Skye until it dawned on her that the convent probably relied
on the generosity of its friends to furnish its rooms. Giggling to
herself, she wondered what the nuns thought of the great bed. It
faced the one small window in the bedroom, and looked out over
the sea.

The dayroom was a bright, pleasant room with windows on two
sides. They faced north, giving a far view of her home on Innisfana
Island, and west across the open sea into the setting sun. On the
east wall of the room was a large stone fireplace flanked by two
great carved winged angels. To the north of the fireplace was the
stout oak door that served as an entry.

On the opposite side of the fireplace a small floor-to-ceiling book-
case had been built into the wall, matching a larger one that shared
the south wall with the paneled bedroom door. Before the lead paned
western windows was a polished oak refectory table with armchairs
at the head and foot. To one side of the fireplace was a settle and
on the other a comfortable chair. There was a large carved chest,
and in the space between the windows stood a little prie-dieu with
an embroidered cushion. Skye’s trunk had been placed in the bedroom, beneath the window.

The convent’s benefactors had been more than generous. Heavy
claret-red velvet draperies hung from all the windows, and a large
Turkey carpet in reds and blues was spread across the floor, matching
a smaller one in the bedroom. Skye later learned that the O’Neills
had furnished the West Tower’s guest quarters when their own Ethna
became the head of St. Bride’s of the Cliffs.

Skye’s days quickly took on a comfortable pattern. She rose early,
and attended mass in the convent’s chapel. She was not particularly
religious, but she prayed now that Niall would soon come for her.
Afterward she obtained her own breakfast from the kitchen and went
off by herself to walk across the convent grounds. A small sailboat
belonging to the order was placed at her disposal, and Skye spent
many hours sailing and fishing to pass the time. The convent soon
enjoyed a number of fresh seafood dinners courtesy of their young
guest.

The main meal of the day was served at two in the afternoon,
and Skye ate it alone in her dayroom. The evening meal was served
after vespers, and sometimes Eibhlin joined her young sister. Oth-
erwise Skye was again alone.