She had a voice that shimmered. Maria heard her before she saw her. She idled and listened to that marvellous voice, like velvet. Maria had only touched velvet once but she'd always remember it.
'Maria, are you quite well?'
Sister Margareta's quiet voice made her jump. Maria was one of life's whirlwinds, not made for keeping still. It was strange not to see her fidgeting.
'Yes Sister, I was…'
'Listening at doors is unbecoming. And intrusive. Come away from there.'
Sister Margareta was surprised at Maria's behaviour. She was too honest for her own good, loitering at doors was not something anyone could have accused her of.
Maria did not point out that the door was not entirely closed. She moved away and tried to remember that voice. Later that day, she'd heard the whispers. The Baroness was staying overnight for contemplation, peace and quiet. She had some sorrow in her heart that would not fade.
'If you hold onto grief too much, you are showing distrust in God. You distrust that He is taking care of them and you mustn't hold on' advised Reverend Mother.
The Baroness felt that it was time to explain. Guilt, sorrow, it was all wrapped up in a poisoned parcel. Reverend Mother asked her to spend the time trying to forgive herself. What was done, was done. And the Baroness had not done anything wrong, not really.
'It is not a sin, these thoughts of yours. Not everyone has the same destiny' Reverend Mother counselled. 'After you return back home, perhaps your heart will feel lighter and you will sleep better. Tears can be healing but too many of them can harm you, blind you to the wonders of this world. I think you have done the right thing coming here. Doctors and medicine are wonderful things but prayer and contemplation is balm for the soul and pills can only help so far with that.'
Elsa thought of her tears shed at midnight, ruining her silk pillow and dulling her eyes. She felt like the depression was seared on her forehead. Everyone must be able to see it.