Читать книгу Lady Isobel's Champion - Carol Townend, Carol Townend - Страница 12

The next morning, with no word from Lucien about moving out of the convent, Isobel had to assume the palace was fully occupied. While she waited to hear from him, she used the embroidering of the altar cloth to distract herself from worrying that, once again, Lucien had abandoned her.

The wind had changed overnight, and a brisk easterly was gusting over Troyes. Instead of sewing in the stronger light of the courtyard, she and Elise took refuge half in and half out of a small storage room in a quiet corner of the cloisters. There was no window, so they sat by the doorway with their cloaks about their shoulders and the blue altar cloth stretched between them. If she leaned forwards, Isobel could see the sky. Clouds scudded past like flocks of sheep.

Isobel was glad of the chance to talk quietly to Elise—she had much to learn and she sensed that Elise could help her. However, a barrage of questions would not be welcome. She must tread carefully.

Elise, what brings you to this Abbey?

No, she could not ask that, that was far too probing.

As for the subject Isobel most burned to discuss—Elise, what is it like to bed with a man? It wouldn’t be easy working that into conversation—she had only met Elise a couple of days ago. Even Lady Anna, whom Isobel had known for years, had shown reluctance to discuss her discomfort at what happened when a man bedded his wife.

Details had been scant. Isobel needed to know more. What is it like? Does it hurt every time? She had no idea why she supposed Elise might know the answer to that last question, save instinct. Elise was no innocent.

The nuns at St Foye’s Convent, while elaborating on the wifely duties, had been silent on the more carnal aspects of marriage. It was not surprising. How could nuns who lived chastely know of such things? Carnal experiences were forbidden to them. The sisters had made up for their lack of experience in that area by speaking most eloquently on the importance of a wife denying herself. A wife must—they insisted—put her husband first in all things. Denial was their watchword.