Against All Fierce Hostility (The Monastery Murders Book 6) by Donna Fletcher Crow

Author:Donna Fletcher Crow [Crow, Donna Fletcher]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Verity Press
Published: 2020-08-25T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Sunday morning, Felicity awoke to the sound of bells calling worshippers to Mass. At first the familiar sound made her smile, in spite of her slight headache, as she rushed to dress, but then the clanging irritated her. This wasn’t the carefully patterned change-ringing she was accustomed to in England, but rather the cacophony of bells rung in the continental style, each one clanging in her head.

The sound made Felicity think of the time in Oxford when she encountered muffled bells. Today’s were muffled simply by the walls of her room. Even so, she shivered, recalling the deaths Oxford’s muffled bells had heralded.

Still, the bright sunshine, birdsong and July flowers raised her spirits and helped clear her head as she dashed up the hill. The congregation was already standing when she slipped into a back pew beside Antony. Even though she stood on tip-toe and craned her neck, she couldn’t spot Père Denis among the monks in the choir. But then, they all looked pretty much alike from this distance.

Felicity was soon caught up in the familiar rhythms of the service, although her mind wandered occasionally to worries over the fact that she had slept too late to have her packing done, and that she hadn’t told Antony about their added responsibility of Cerise for the journey. At least, she managed to banish any of the disturbing images from the night before that threatened to cloud her worship.

After Mass, Felicity joined readily in the queue progressing toward the dining hall. At the foot of the stairs, however, Antony took her arm to direct their turning aside toward the bookstore and, beyond that, the lobby to the monks’ offices. “Père Denis said he’d meet us after Mass, remember?”

The reminder drove away all thoughts of food. “Yes. I can’t wait to find out if he’s learned anything.”

They sat on a bench and while they waited, Felicity told Antony about her reading on buried treasure the night before and her thoughts about the possibility of their document having been written on an older sheet. As they talked, the other retreatants and day guests filed into dîner, drawn by the delicious smells that were now making Felicity’s stomach growl.

When the line came to an end and their host still failed to appear, Felicity stood and looked down the small hallway he had led them along the day before. “He should be here by now. Do you suppose he meant for us to go directly to his room?”

“We might as well check.” Antony joined her.

A few moments later Felicity knocked on the door. When there was no answer she called, “Père Denis?” and knocked again, harder this time.

To her surprise, the door swung open. She led the way into the room. “Père Denis, you said to meet…”

She stopped so suddenly Antony stepped on her heel. She retreated hastily, one hand over her mouth, the other pointing to the dark-robed figure slumped over his desk.

Antony pushed Felicity aside and strode to the figure. “Père?” He touched the sagging shoulder, then felt below his throat for a pulse.

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