and I are separated by over 600 years. It was impossible, but I did my best to recreate her and her vision. I chose you to do that. You failed me in this, but perhaps it was a noble failure.
I am fortunate in being a member of the universal Church. I did not take up my posting in Bolivia, and I will have left America before you receive this letter. There is much more to see of this world before I go to the next, whether Heaven or Hell. Who knows?
Christian love,
Michael Duval.
PS. Please look after Bobby. One day I may come back for him.
Epilogue
I received that letter thirty years ago. Whether it was a hoax or genuine I cannot know for sure, although the police questioned its authenticity. In my opinion, it may well have been genuine because of its peculiar tone. That Duval should have information about my new life was unsettling, and I wondered to what sort of international network he had access. Nevertheless, I tried to put it all behind me, and I am very pleased to say that I never saw him again. Although Duval was never caught, like Lord Lucan he became a famous untried murderer. Lucan killed one person; Duval was infamous as a serial killer, although serial killing has become more commonplace today.
I did see Professor Gould frequently; we became firm friends, and for a while even more than that. Just before Irvine died, at the tragically young age of forty-seven, he let me have his personal diary of the Shere events and copies of his academic work relating to Christine Carpenter. He explained that he had kept the diary secret for so long because it confessed his love for me. I knew how much he loved me, and I responded as passionately as I was able. We did discuss marriage, but eventually I decided that this was not the right path for me.
Irvine’s papers also gave me further insight into anchoresses in general, and of course Christine in particular. I have spent a lifetime wondering which biographical version was correct. Naturally, I trusted Irvine’s scholarship and integrity, and it is much easier to believe that Christine married Simon and brought up a family in France. This Hollywood version is certainly more acceptable in our modern era. Duval was criminally insane, and his historical gifts were questionable, but the essence of his description of Christine’s search for truth might, after all, be more in tune with the spirit of the medieval age. And the purer dimensions of that quest may also be of relevance today.
I tried to recreate the whole paradoxical story, years later it is true, from what I had read and what I remembered, assisted by Irvine’s scholarship, because it is my story as well as Christine’s. Perhaps I have allowed it to be told now for her sake as much as for my own.
After I wrote a very amateurish account of the Shere events, I locked the manuscript away for many years. Recently I was diagnosed as having a terminal illness; after much heart-searching, I thought again about my story. In 1968 I refused to be interviewed by the newspapers and, in those days, the media would respect such a request. No one, except the police, interviewed me.
Finally, I was persuaded by my cousin to talk to a writer whom she trusted. He has edited and fleshed out the story, partly from his own research and partly from extensive interviews with me, my family, ex-policemen and Church authorities.
It was agreed that, after my death, the book would be published in a popular form, provided I could disassociate myself from any parts that I thought were untrue. Although the core of the story is entirely accurate, I must insist that some of the passages relating to sexuality, as well as sections on the Catholic faith, do not reflect my views today. Most importantly, I do not believe that the Roman Catholic Church protected Duval; the police made extensive enquiries and found no evidence of this. It was on this understanding that I undertook legally to transfer my copyright.
Besides this book, the most evident legacy I have of that period is the small cross Duval branded on my cheek in the last stage of my captivity. When I was younger I intended to have it disguised by cosmetic surgery, but somehow I always managed to put off seeing a surgeon. In my vanity I grew to accept it as my own stigmata.
Duval was a truly evil man, and should stand utterly condemned by Church and state. Someone, such as myself, who actually suffered at his hands could never justify his actions, but I did learn one vital truth from my incarceration: sometimes good can emerge from evil. At the secular level of existence, I am pleased, for example, that Mark and Jenny have given me such charming nephews and nieces. At the more important spiritual level, Christ’s crucifixion was the most abominable event in history, but from it came the promised redemption of the whole world.
I close by giving my thanks to the sisters of the Convent of the Immaculate Conception, who have enabled me for over twenty-five years to devote my love to the glory of Our Lord. When this is published, I shall have died and God will be my judge.
Sister Agnes (Marda Stewart)
Convent of the Immaculate Conception
Ranmore, Sussex
November 1998
