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The Act of Supremacy of 1534 had made King Henry VIII the Supreme Head of the Church and had removed England from papal authority.
Henry moved to disband monastic institutions and either gifted their holdings to those he wished to elevate or sold them off to fund his military campaigns.
As a clergyman, Jonah had been able to access information that wasn’t online and had helped me with my research for The Hanging Tree. I thought he might enjoy a new challenge.
mystery sells better than a tragedy.”
“It’s been nearly five hundred years since Isobel Devlin’s death. The trail is too cold to follow,”
Did he know anything about her beyond her impeccable lineage and the size of her dowry?
Anne was a poor relation, a cousin who was one small step above a servant, a woman who had nothing to her name save the shame of her parents’ scandalous marriage.
wraith caught between the two worlds with nothing to call her own.
His star is on the rise at court,
it when the Reformation came, and all Popish things were hidden or destroyed.
“My brother seems to be dumbstruck by your beauty, my lady,” William Devlin joked, and elbowed his brother in the ribs.
nor could he be held accountable for the actions of those who undertook the decisions that had led to the establishment of the new order.
Jonathan Devlin had been the essence of decorum.
suddenly wondering if it might be wiser to leave Anne behind.
few days away sound like heaven, and that’s coming from a vicar,” he added with a grin.
friend of mine from the seminary left the Church early on. Realized the life of a clergyman wasn’t for him. He’s now teaching history at Lancaster University, and as it happens, his area of expertise is the Tudor period.
“Welcome to Montrose Abbey, my lady,”
was inelegant and forbidding, the windows too small to allow in much
daylight. Isobel had never set foot inside a priory,
Anne looked tired and wan after the long journey, the dark smudges beneath her eyes a testament to a string of restless nights spent worrying about her decision to accompany Isobel to her new home.
Isobel could hear the unspoken question in her tone. Why had Jonathan Devlin isolated himself on this island that was so far removed from the society of his peers?
The first Lady Devlin,”
Isobel, it was like walking into the woods at night, knowing that unseen danger lurked in the darkness, and she would never be the same once she emerged on the other side.
intense she never wanted it to end. Something inside her uncoiled and her insides rippled, like water in a pond after she’d thrown in a large stone, leaving
“You are so beautiful like this, with your hair spread out on the pillow and your mouth rosy from my
his eyes that mesmerized her.
The only blight on Isobel’s orderly household was Master Knox, whom she saw almost daily and had taken an instant dislike to.
piercing dark stare
“All men are harsh when provoked,”
the hush was holy
Isobel knelt before the altar and said a silent prayer for the sisters, then thanked them for the use of their home.
trapdoor nearly hidden by a layer of broken twigs and dried leaves left from the past autumn.
revealing a stone staircase that descended into the darkness.
“You look sour as a lemon this morning, Annie.”
“I’m saying that something happened here in September, Izzie. Something dreadful.”
Anne’s eyes filled with tears, and she seemed to be struggling to find an explanation.
How callous men were, and how indifferent to the lives they ruined.
it was still their flesh and blood, their responsibility.
The child was
innocent of any wrongdoing but condemned to live out their life in disgrace because of their bastard status, or if they died, to spend etern...
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I had found myself on the receiving end of some hate mail recently because some readers did not approve of the extramarital affair my previous novel was based on.
people didn’t always do the right thing or uphold the values drummed into us as children.
“Many people opt to stay because they’re afraid of the unknown,”
“Men always want sons to carry on their legacy, don’t they?”
It would be a keepsake, an heirloom, something that would help Isobel feel close to the mother she’d lost.
the gray clouds thick and threatening, and the lake dark and rippling in the wind as if it were shivering with fear.
Her fear and anticipation made everything seem brighter and more beautiful, the things she’d taken for granted all her life suddenly precious and irreplaceable.
She wanted the fire to roar and devour everything Jonathan had built on the blood of those who’d done nothing but worship peacefully.
nuns were in possession of a gold cross that had belonged to St.
Etheldreda and had been gifted to her by her husband, King Egfrid.
