A VOW OF CHASTITY
An utterly gripping crime mystery
VERONICA BLACK
Sister Joan Murder Mystery Book 2
Revised edition 2021
Joffe Books, London
www.joffebooks.com
First published in Great Britain in 1991
© Veronica Black 1991, 2021
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The spelling used is British English except where fidelity to the author’s rendering of accent or dialect supersedes this. The right of Veronica Black to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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ISBN: 978-1-78931-687-2
Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
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GLOSSARY OF ENGLISH USAGE FOR US READERS
One
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Sister Joan of the Order of the Daughters of Compassion sat bolt upright on her narrow bed and stared into the darkness. The dream had shocked her awake, something that rarely happened after six years in the religious life. During her novitiate there had been the occasional nightmare — usually about food, she remembered. Novices, while not kept on short commons, were fed on a diet of brown bread, vegetables, fruit and fish which was healthy but lacked the sensuality of cream cakes and the odd sherry. The food dreams had long gone and any kind of remembered dream was rare these days, which made this nightmare all the more unexpected and disturbing.
She had been standing on a railway platform, waiting — for what? for whom? In the dream she’d had no idea. She’d just been waiting as train after train roared through, not stopping, belching smoke and flame. The smoke had been so thick that it was impossible to see clearly the faces of the passengers who crowded at the windows and then the smoke had cleared and she had seen Jacob, laughing at her, beckoning her. She had gestured towards her habit and he’d laughed more immoderately, the endless train rushing through his face at every window. And then she’d glanced down and realized that she stood naked, white skin blotched with soot, outlined with fire. And Jacob had gone on laughing.
The darkness was disconcerting, images from her dream still hanging in it; Jacob with the lock of black hair falling over the high, clever brow; the long snake of iron; the windows with the black smoke billowing up from the wheels beneath. Usually after a gentler dream, when she tried to hold on to it after waking, it fell back into her mind in a tangle of grey cobweb, faint image, dying sound. This dream — nightmare — stayed vivid, disfiguring the dark.
It was forbidden to light the lamp save in cases of grave necessity. Sister Joan drew up her knees under the thin blanket and considered the matter. She wasn’t in any danger of death or seriously ill and her sharp ears had caught no sound of an intruder. On the other hand her mind was quite gravely discomposed. If she turned over and tried to sleep again she might slip back into the nightmare.
She decided upon a compromise, waiting until the shapes of the few pieces of furniture in the cell materialized dimly and then rose, slipping her bare feet into the pair of serviceable slippers at the side of the bed, reaching for the equally practical grey dressing-gown that hung next to her habit behind the door. Knotting the cord she was surprised to find that her hands were trembling.
The door opened without creaking and she stood for a moment in the corridor, grateful for the dim bulb that burned in the light socket. Down both sides were the closed doors of the other cells. Five on one side, four on the other as the Prioress had a larger space. Two of the cells were empty, the convent not having its full complement of sisters. It was a complaint echoed by other houses in other orders. Too few suitable young women coming into the religious life. Of course quality was what mattered, Reverend Mother Dorothy said. There had been a period not too long before when the quality in this particular convent had fallen short — but that period was never mentioned. During the past year one postulant had joined the main community as a sister, not yet fully fledged as she hadn’t taken her final vows, but to all intents and purposes a full member of the little group of women who lived, worked and prayed in this quiet corner of Cornwall. Sister Teresa slept noiselessly in the cell between Sister Katherine who took care of the linen and Sister Martha who did most of the gardening. A nice girl, Sister Joan thought, dragging her thoughts deliberately away from the dream. Sister Teresa helped out where she was needed during her final year of preparation. She had fine grey eyes and a pleasant manner and seemed genuinely to enjoy the religious life. Of the other three novices who had shared her time of testing Rose had decided to leave; Barbara had chosen another order in which to train; Veronica had married.
Thinking of Veronica helped to banish the nightmare. Veronica
