Anonymous
The Nunnery Tales
Chapter One
“Good news, Augustus,” my mother exclaimed upon reading the message she'd just received from a friend in Dieppe. “Your father has escaped France in safety.” We hugged each other, overjoyed to know that he'd avoided the inevitable fate, which, as an aristocrat, would have befallen him at the hands of the purging Republicans. Then a look of distress crossed her face. “But until we get news from England to enable us to join him there, I hardly know where we can look for refuge. I suppose we're guaranteed a temporary home, for my younger sister, Agatha, is Abbess of the convent of St. Claire, but now there is talk of suppressing convents and priests altogether. My other fear pertains to you, my dear boy,” she said, wringing her hands. “Taking refuge and protecting you from danger is one thing; but how to smuggle you, a young boy of seventeen, into a convent full of young nuns is a perfect puzzle to me.”
“Nonsense, Mother!” I exclaimed. “Before the convents are suppressed, we'll be in safety in England, and as for getting me snugly into the convent, we're about the same height and resemble one another, so you must dress me up the best way you can and introduce me as your sister, or niece, or friend, or something or other.”
“You are impudent for imagining any such idea,” replied my mother, laughing, “but you forget one thing. It will be impossible to deceive my sister, Agatha.”
“Try, anyway,” I said, “and if the worst comes to the worst, we must let her into our secret and trust to her kindness.”
“Your plan is bold, if not rash, but as I can't think of anything else, we'll try it,” she agreed with some misgivings. “Let me see,” she continued in a musing tone, “I'll present you as the niece of your father's wife, but even then Agatha may have her suspicions, but we'll risk it.” She wagged a finger at me. “Mind you don't look so bold, and stride so wide in your walk as you usually do, and I'll dress you suitably tomorrow morning.”
I shook my head. “We don't know what may happen this afternoon or tomorrow morning. If we are discovered here, we shall never see the Convent of St. Claire, or any other place of refuge.” I gathered up my jacket and walked to the door. “There is plenty of time left today, so while I go and hire a coach, why don't you lay out suitable apparel for me.''
“You are right, Auguste, or rather Augustine, as I must now call you,” Mother said. “Go quickly.”
I lost no time in getting a conveyance, the driver of which I knew I could depend upon. And upon my return in twenty minutes with my mother's assistance, I was completely metamorphosed from a handsome youth into a tall, bold-looking, but still not unattractive girl. Of course, there remained one important physical difference. We packed up my mother's jewelry and some of our most valuable attire and prepared for the street. We had previously given my mother's chambermaid a holiday. When she returned and found us gone, the clothes and jewelry missing, she would take it for granted that we had either attempted to make our escape to join my father, or that we had been arrested and thrown into prison.
Our plan proceeded without difficulty, and before sundown, we arrived at the back gate of the convent of St. Claire. We were most cordially welcomed by my aunt, the Lady Abbess of St. Claire, who, however, could not help lamenting the necessity which there was for us to take refuge with her. I noticed that she stared at me with great curiosity and whispered apart to my mother. The answer that she received seemed to be only partly satisfactory. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled slightly as she glanced at me. “I do not doubt your step-daughter's discretion, but I hope that she will recollect that she is Mademoiselle d'Ermonville, and will behave as becomes her rank and sex.” This was addressed to me with very pointed emphasis. I remained silent; my only reply was a low, sweeping curtsey, at which feminine performance my mother could not repress her smiles.
“But my dear Henriette,” commented the Abbess, “I fear that I must now treat you inhospitably, and turn you out of the room. I am momentarily in expectation of the arrival of Father Eustace.”