by Mia Pride
“The Donald is expected to arrive with an army of over ten thousand men by mid-summer, Laird. He is accompanied by several Highland clans whom are all in aid with the English king. And, well… he has threatened to burn Aberdeenshire to the ground on several occasions.”
“Och, I ken this, Richard,” Alexander replied testily. There was no way to avoid war. If an army was marching toward them with intentions to burn down their lands, Alexander had to tell their commander, the Earl of Mar. They had just arrived back from France not so long ago, but the world seemed to be ever in a state of chaos. A man, a warrior, a laird, and a knight. Alex was all those things. Soon, he would be a husband and mayhap a father. But one thing was certain, he had a mighty load of shite to deal with and Robert did not envy him. Gone were his carefree days of frivolity. Aye, he had trained his entire life to be a laird, to fight, to protect his own. But it seemed to all be happening at once.
“Thank ye, Richard,” Robert said calmly, dismissing the messenger. “Please head to the great hall. Cook will have a meal awaiting ye.” Richard nodded and the other men in the room knew better than to speak. Robert knew Alexander was more than grateful for his help since their father passed a sennight past. It had been a most taxing time and their pa had been much loved and respected by all, especially his three sons.
“Alex, I am sorry to have to put this on ye now of all times,” Reginald, his youngest brother, chimed in from the corner of the room, facing a window that looked down on the courtyard. “But it appears yer young bride has arrived with a retinue of Keiths. I do hope ye plan to see this through, because we are surrounded by the enemy. They willnae stand silent if we break our oath.”
“I have nay intention of backing out, though I have sacrificed much.” The pained sound of his brother’s voice made Robert frown, patting Alex’s shoulder in comfort just before walking over to the window. Alex had a long-standing lover named Mary whom he had intended to wed one day. It was no wonder the lass had refused to speak with him since the day he signed the betrothal contract to Elizabeth Keith. She was heartbroken, as was Alex, but they both knew there was naught to be done.
Looking down into the courtyard, he saw a wee lass atop a horse surrounded by several Keith guards, all with their plaids draped over their shoulders and swords missing from their leather belts. Their men had done well, removing weapons from the enemy before they entered. Should something go awry, no Irvine blood would be spilled.
Wearing a black under tunic with long flowing sleeves and a matching black surcoat, the lass even wore a black kertch in her hair. At least she had the decency to pretend to mourn her deceased betrothed before being married to his son the following sennight, Robert thought wryly. In truth, he knew nothing about the lass, except for what he had seen of her four years past when she was only ten and four. She had appeared nervous being on her enemy’s land, unsure if it was a trap. He could not blame her then. However, this time, she appeared to hold her spine straight, shoulders back, and head held high. He smiled slightly, wondering why he felt a wee bit of pride for a lass he knew naught about, except that soon she would be his sister… which did seem more natural than her being his mother by marriage, considering she was five years his junior.
“She sure has grown!” Reginald said with a chuckle, and Robert scowled at his younger brother.
Alex still held his head in his hands at his desk, not showing any signs of interest or curiosity about his new bride, yet still being a gentleman enough to defend her honor. “I do hope ye arenae commenting on the size of my bride’s arse, for I would be forced to run ye through, wee brother,” he said with no amount of determination in his voice.
From Robert’s bird’s-eye view, he knew exactly which of the lass’ features Reginald was referring to, for it appeared her modest attempt to conceal her ample breasts was futile. Yet, she was their sister, or would be soon, and Reginald had better remember that. Robert shot Reginald a warning glance and his impetuous brother only shrugged.
“Charles, have a missive sent to the Earl of Mar immediately. Warn him of The Donald’s impending invasion. He likely kens already. Tell him he has the full support of the Irvine Clan. All he needs to do is sound the alarm.” Charles, one of Alex’s best warriors and companions nodded his head and went to do his laird’s bidding. “I suppose I must see to the comfort of my bride and prepare to bury Father.” There was no mistaking the repressed pain in his voice. He did not wish to marry Elizabeth, that was clear enough, and Mary had done as she should and walked away so Alex may fulfill his promise. Yet the loss of both his lover and father all within a sennight was clearly affecting Alex.
“What can I do to aid ye, Alex?” Robert walked over and slapped his brother on the shoulder. “Anything at all?”
“Anything?”
“Mostly…” Robert scowled at his brother.
“Marry the lass for me, so I may wed with Mary. Does it matter which Irvine brother she weds and beds, so long as it keeps the peace between the clans?”
Robert felt himself blanch. Alex was generally the merry sort, but this was no light matter and Robert was not certain if his brother was serious or not. “Surely ye jest.”
“Aye, I do. My name is already on the contract and her brother would see it as a slight against her honor and run us both through. I am unfortunately stuck with her.”
“Mayhap she isnae so bad.”
“Let us go find out, aye?” Alex shouldered Robert and forced a pained smile before exiting his solar. Following behind closely, Robert took a deep breath and prepared himself for perhaps the longest sennight of his life.
The inner bailey was filled with Irvine men and women wearing their light blue and green plaids as arisaids or over their shoulders. Elizabeth gripped the reins of her palfrey to prevent her hands from shaking. The afternoon sun beat down on her, and the thick black wool she was swathed in caused her to sweat and itch like a boar covered in ants. Not at all the best way to be formally introduced to her future husband, but one did not generally still become betrothed while in mourning. The old laird had not even been laid to rest yet, and it felt a wee bit disrespectful to have his funeral followed by her wedding to his son. But she understood the dire circumstances and need for peace on both sides.
The sooner the entire mess was over, she could settle in as Lady of Drum Castle and begin her new life. It had felt as if she were in purgatory for the past four years, wondering when she would be called upon to do her duty. The time had come. Clutching on to her pearl rosary as she often did, she said a quick prayer for strength as she saw two familiar faces approaching, followed by another man she had never seen, yet he had similar features as the others. Was he the third son?
The brother she recognized as her newly betrothed approached first and bent gracefully at the waist, bowing his head. “My Lady Elizabeth Keith, welcome to Drum Castle. My name is Alexander Irvine, third Laird of Drum. These are my brothers, Robert and Reginald.” The two men bent their heads and smiled warmly toward her, and she felt herself relax slightly. They seemed fine enough men and not at all like the monsters she had concocted in her head during her entire journey.
“Greetings, Laird. We are sorry for the loss of yer father. He was a kind man to me. Ye remember my brother, William Keith, Laid of Dunnottar Castle and Marischal of Scotland?”
“Indeed, I do.” Alex tilted his head respectfully to her brother. “We welcome the Keith Clan to our lands and look forward to a lifetime of peace and the blending of clans.” Putting his hands out, Alexander gently lifted her from the palfrey, his eyes going slightly wide when he placed her on her feet. She knew what had caught his attention but there was nothing she could do about the unusual size of her bosom. It was a burden to be sure and one men seemed unable not to gawk at. To his credit, he simply cleared his throat, sent a strange look to the brother he referred to as Reginald, who just smiled and shrugged before Robert elbowed him. She looked at the three brothers strangely, deciding she would rather not know what
they were communicating without words.
“Reginald, I am pleased to meet ye. Ye werenae in attendance at my previous betrothal, I believe.”
“Aye. I had the pox. The poultry kind – not the small kind.” Matilda laughed from her horse behind Elizabeth’s, but all she could do was nod her head and force a smile.
“I cannae tell if ye are jesting or not, but I am glad ye are hale. Robert, ’tis good to see ye once again. I suppose we shall all be seeing each other quite a bit from now on.” Her nerves were on edge, and she fought the urge to squirm or slouch, gripping her rosary once more.
“’Tis lovely to see ye again, as well. I wish it was under different circumstances.”
“Aye, as do I,” she said as she nodded, wanting more than anything for this public greeting to be done with so she could be out of the sweltering sun and find her new bedchamber.
As if reading her mind, Alexander stepped forward and took her hand in his. “Ye are most welcome. I have some private matters I wish to speak to yer brother about. Robert will show ye to yer new quarters.”
Stepping forward, Robert smiled and put out his arm. She accepted, looping her arm through his and smiled when she saw Reginald help Tilda down from her horse so they could follow. “My thanks,” she replied, observing the crowd and seeing a red-haired woman with tears in her eyes. When their eyes locked, the woman simply turned away and disappeared from the crowd. Elizabeth may be wee in size and sheltered, but she was no fool.
Alexander had another woman. He was reluctant to get too close to Elizabeth and had already pawned her off on his brother. The woman was quite bonnie, and Elizabeth felt sorry for the lass. Entering through the main entrance, Robert showed her the great hall with the trestle tables all set up as servants put out fresh linens, preparing for what must be a grand feast to welcome all the Keiths and celebrate the life of the lost laird.
Servants stopped for only a moment to stare at their new lady, and Elizabeth gave them all warm smiles, hoping they would welcome a Keith willingly into their clan. Too much blood had been spilled and she was certain a few people would give her trouble for deeds she had no fault in, but she must prepare for it, just the same.
A large hearth occupied the west wall, large enough to roast an ox if needed with its stone arch and granite sides. The north wall had a large head table dominating its length with a wooden screen just behind it, no doubt hiding the kitchens and buttery.
Tapestries with the Irvine crest decorated with holly leaves and their motto were on either side of the great hall, as well as tapestries depicting great war victories and chieftains long passed. Fresh rushes crunched beneath her riding boots and Elizabeth decided that at least the hall was well kept and clean. Her job as lady and chatelaine of Drum would be easy enough, though she wondered who had been running the keep with their mother gone and no wives yet in residence. “Who is in charge of running the castle? ’Tis quite well kept,” Elizabeth offered, breaking the silence between her and Robert.
“Mary has been since our mother passed. Her mother was our mother’s maid and, growing up alongside us, she had learned the ins and outs of running the castle. Our steward is my Uncle William. He has kept the books and managed the tenants for decades now and does quite well, though he is in his mid-fifties and has recently asked me to prepare to take over his duties, as he only had three daughters, whom have been married off to other clans by now.”
“Oh, I am sorry to hear that. ’Tis a hard time, watching those we love age. It has just been me and my brother running Dunnottar Castle for quite some time. Rest assured, I am competent at running a household. However, I respect that Drum is already well run and would soon like to meet the staff and establish myself as chatelaine.”
Robert stopped abruptly and she almost bumped into him before he grabbed her arm to steady her. Had she said something untoward? Clearing his throat, Robert looked at her with uncertainty in his eyes. “Of course. May I escort ye upstairs into the tower? Yer rooms have been readied and I hope ye approve of them. We can continue the tour on the morrow. I am certain ye are tired and would prefer a wee rest before my father’s funeral and then the great feast.”
“Aye, my thanks.” A sudden awkwardness lingered thickly in the air and she wondered what was so irregular about her wanting to meet with Mary and William to discuss her duties. It was like he was trying to get her out of the way, saving the tour for another time. But, there was no sense pushing the matter and Elizabeth was quite tired and would appreciate a bath before changing into her black demask mourning surcoat.
Falling silent once more, Elizabeth walked up the winding steps leading up to the tower, hearing Reginald and Matilda following closely behind, laughing about some shared conversation that Elizabeth suddenly wished she was a part of. She felt entirely out of place in this castle, the enemy who unwillingly tore apart true love – if such a thing existed. Alexander wanted nothing to do with her, that was as clear as the loch on a summer’s day. Robert was kind, but awkward, having no idea what to do with her and clearly hesitant to have her talk to some of the staff.
Arriving on the third floor of the tower, Robert threw open a thick wooden door and Elizabeth was relieved to see the hearth fire lit and the room warm with a bath awaiting her. Sighing, she stepped in and looked around the room. A four-poster bed with heavy curtains occupied the far-left corner of the room. A large oak cabinet was to its left with a desk on the other end. Just in front of the hearth were two plush red velvet seats. “This is truly lovely. My thanks, Robert. I really do require a bath before the ceremony.”
Nodding, he stepped up to the hearth and warmed his hands. “My thanks for wearing black. Nobody expected ye to be in mourning.”
Feeling slighted, Elizabeth furrowed her brow and stepped beside him. “Thomas was my betrothed for four years. Aye, he was three times my age and it was an alliance for peace, nay love was involved. But, we exchanged letters and he was kind to me. I cared about him. William and I truly do mourn his passing.”
Looking rather surprised by her honesty, Robert nodded once more and looked her in the eyes for the very first time. Her heart skipped a beat and she felt her stomach clench. He was a handsome man, there was no doubt of that. But so was Alexander, even if he was in love with another woman. And Robert would be her brother, so any attraction she should feel must remain on the surface. Besides, she knew nothing of the man. He could be as foul as the devil for all she knew.
“Reginald has seen yer maid to her quarters. She is just next door to ye, and a door behind that tapestry connects yer room to Alexander’s.”
Panic washed over her. Somehow, she had not even considered that within a sennight she would be expected to bed down with the man. She had hoped to get to know him better before they were wed. But if he continued to avoid her, that would be next to impossible. Although, she was aware that the man had lost his father, took on the lairdship, and had to take a new wife all at once. If she was overwhelmed, he must be barely hanging on. Perhaps she could be of help to him in his time of need and prove that, even if they never loved one another, she would be a dutiful wife. And she was rather good at chess and, between her and Tilda, she could drink whisky like a warrior. Aye. Elizabeth knew how to make merry just as much as anyone, and she had expected Alex to do the same, but mayhap she had been mistaken.
“Thank ye, Robert. That will do.”
“Mary will be up shortly to help ye bathe.”
“Oh… n-nay. Tilda can help me with such things.”
“It is customary for the lady of the house to bathe guests. I am certain ye follow the same code of conduct at Dunnottar. It would be a grand insult to turn her away. Once ye are lady, Tilda may bathe ye.”
Pursing her lips, Elizabeth nodded. She knew he was correct and offending anyone was not a good idea. It was the lady’s duty to make guests feel honored and see to their needs, after all. “Verra well, ye are right.”
Just then, a woman walked in carrying a handful of wash linens
and a bar of soap. “My lady,” she said quietly, looking down at the floor as she curtsied. Robert walked out of the room and shut the door behind him just as Elizabeth recognized the woman who had been crying in the courtyard earlier.
Stunned and gripped by a sudden palpitation in her chest, Elizabeth stood speechless before the woman. Mary was the beautiful red-haired woman and, if Elizabeth’s instincts were as refined as they usually were, she was in love with Alexander. The question remained… was her future husband in love with this woman and, if so, how was Elizabeth going to live knowing she was the cause of their suffering?
Words escaped her, which was a rare event, indeed. But if she was to make Drum her home, it was best not to make instant enemies. “Mary, is it?” she asked with a smile so forced, she feared she may look rather touched in the head. “Please, do call me Elizabeth.”
“As ye wish.” Mary bent over to place the linens on a table just as several young lads came through carrying a massive wooden bathtub, placing it on the floor of her new chamber before departing immediately.
Licking her lips, Elizabeth twisted her hands in the folds of her dress, standing awkwardly as another line of servants, this time a group of young lassies, came through with steaming buckets of water, praying at least one of them would stay in the room to break the awful tension that seemed to swell and surround her with every new breath.
When the last lass smiled and walked out of the room with an expedient curtsy before slamming the door behind her, Elizabeth sighed and looked at Mary. It seemed, however, Mary was determined to avoid eye contact, staring at the steam rising from the bath water.
“Turn around, my lady.” Elizabeth looked at Mary, who finally pulled her gaze away from the water long enough to glance at Elizabeth. “Ye need to disrobe before entering the bath.”
“What? Oh! Aye,” Elizabeth tittered nervously and turned around, feeling Mary begin to tug on the laces of her bodice. She was making a cursed fool of herself. Mary must believe her utterly lacking any senses. “’Tis been a long day, ye ken.”