The girl in the chair didn't move, no matter how hard the rain fell outside or how cold the room was. She curled up miserably, the remains of the lily clasped in her hand. She counted the raindrops that trickled down the window pane and upon reaching forty, turned her eyes away with a sigh. She couldn't tell why she was so anxious today but the feeling that d'Artagnan wouldn't get to her fast enough intensified. She had been here two months and had awaited her time slightly impatiently but with her characteristic cheer. Recently she'd been feeling a little desolate and as the rain poured down, the grey gloom engulfed her and she buried her head in a cushion. The white lily he had sent her was wilting and the scent was fading. She brought it to her and tried to inhale the last of it before it was all gone and she would have nothing left to remind her of him. She hummed a snatch of song she remembered singing the day had met him. Barely noticing the door opening, only the quiet footsteps alerted her to another's presence.

She sat up and looked at her visitor. A tall woman wearing the dark habit of the order. Constance relaxed slightly, someone she felt she could trust. She greeted the sister politely and turned her head back to the window.

'Good afternoon' replied the nun back. She had a low lilting voice, pleasant to the ear. Following Constance's gaze, she raised an eyebrow and asked if she was waiting for something.

'Just my love' sighed Constance as she laid her aching head on the arm of the chair. The nun chuckled mystifyingly, a strange sound in this place of piety and solitude. Constance frowned as she thought this over. She looked at her visitor more carefully. This wasn't a sister she'd remember seeing before, noting that the nun didn't wear the wimple like the others but instead a white scarf wrapped loosely around her head. Constance could see a lock of fox red hair that had escaped its confinement of the scarf. The nun had a serene face with piercing blue eyes that observed Constance right through to her yearning heart.

'Love is a terrible thing to wait for' said she, shaking her head.

'He will come for me.'

The nun looked at her appraisingly. She saw a pretty girl, with amber eyes fringed with long lashes. 'I wouldn't wait around for him.'

'Have you ever waited around for love?' Questioned Constance. The nun looked surprised for a second and then smiled again. 'Not for years I waited for love.'

'You've never had a great love?'

'Once.' The nun looked out of the window for a second, considering a thought, perhaps of her former lover. 'But he has been gone to me for many years now and I'll never get him back.' Her eyes returned to the girl. 'How long have you been in this place?'

'Around two months' replied the girl. 'And you?' she dared to venture. The sister hesitated a few seconds before telling her, as if she had lost track of time.

'A few months also' was the answer. 'What was the song you were humming just now?' she enquired.

'Just something I remember from a while ago.' Constance invited the lady to sit by her and she perched on the arm of the chair. As she sat, Constance felt something cold and hard by her elbow. Withdrawing it with an exclamation, she looked up into her captors face. The nun realised which hidden object amongst her person was the cause for shock. Debating for a second about whether she should show her hand, she decided it wouldn't do much harm. After all, the girl wasn't to know much of afterwards. Swivelling her legs around the arm of the chair, she discreetly brushed her skirts aside and slipped the flask from her garter. Turning around and meeting Constance with a slight smile, she hoped that it would be a slight forgiven. She had after all, never actually told the girl if she was a nun or not. It had just been assumed. She offered her prisoner the first taste. Taken aback, Constance shook her head.

'No thank you.'

She was sure it was wine in that flask but it was prohibited in the convent. How could she have stolen that past the other sisters?