Adventures of a Highlander

by Emilia Ferguson

  They're all stepping back now. Step back. Oh, no. You just stood on someone's dress. Never mind. Step forward again. No one'll notice.

  Francis could feel the heat of a blush rising in his cheeks and his heart was pounding in his chest. He made himself fudge his way through it slowly.

  Right. Now round again. Breathe, Francis. It's a ball, not an execution. Touch her hand; put your other hand on her waist. Oh, my goodness what a lovely waist.

  He winced as he touched her sweet body, and then stepped back shyly, following the lead of the other dancers. The dance led them in a graceful circle, and then they were bowing and curtsying to each other.

  They left the floor and Francis cleared his throat.

  “Um...thank you, milady. It was an honor to dance with you.”

  “Thank you, sir. You managed very well for a beginner.”

  She giggled, but the tone was not quite as friendly as it could have been and Francis felt cut.

  “Um...” he cleared his throat again, but Mirella was already gone, lost in the throng of nobles in the hall.

  Well, if that isn't a surprise.It wasn't a particularly nice feeling, having his dancing-skills insulted, even if the insult was framed as a joke. He sighed.

  Well, she's right in that I've never danced a quatrain before. But that was a bit unkind, really.

  He noticed that the mood in the hall was changing. He had arrived a little later than the rest and it seemed that a pause in the proceedings was in order. Guests who had been dancing were heading toward the tables to take their seats. Francis shrugged and followed them. He felt awkward and silly and as if he stood out from the rest.

  He followed the guests to the nearest table and sat down wearily, covering his eyes with his hand. What did he even think he was doing here? He wished he'd never come.

  Who do I think I am? I'm just a poor excuse for a French nobleman, a country bumpkin with no idea how to behave. Redcap. Fool.

  “Excuse me?” a sweet voice said in his ear.

  Francis dragged a weary hand down his face. “Yes?” he asked. Then he stared.

  It is her! The girl from the balcony! The one he had noticed yesterday. She was sitting beside him, dressed in a pink gown. She looked beautiful.

  “Sorry, sir,” she said. “I was just wondering if you had seen my uncle?”

  Francis opened his mouth. “Your uncle?” he asked.

  “Yes. Only...he usually sits in that place where you are.”

  “Oh!” Francis blushed red and leaped up. “I'm so sorry...I...I just can't get anything right here, can I?” She gave him a smile. Her blue eyes were sad. “I feel like that too, sometimes.”

  “You do?”

  She looked at her hands, embarrassed “Yes.”

  “Why?” Francis blurted. “I mean,” he added quickly, “why would someone like you feel like that? You seem like you fit in here – or at least, if you stand out, it's a good way.”

  Francis had the pleasure of seeing the girl blush. She went a sweet, soft shade of pink, the color of the rose petals that decorated the table. Francis felt his whole body tingle with desire. “I...” she sighed. “I'm not like everyone else. I can't walk very well, you see. Or dance.” Her sweet mouth turned down into a hard, sad line.

  “Oh!” Francis was surprised. “I see. That's...that must be hard.”

  She was still looking at her hands. She looked up shyly. “I am used to it,” she said, with that same twist of bitterness in her voice.

  “It must make it difficult to come to...such things,” Francis said.

  She chuckled. “Not really. I just sit and watch the others dance. Not hard at all.” Francis could hear the bitterness in her tone. It saddened her, he could tell, not to be able to walk and run and dance like the rest of them.

  “I'm so sorry to hear that,” he said gently.

  His hands touched hers before he'd thought about it.Smooth and soft, with skin like satin, Francis drew in a sharp breath and wished he could keep holding them. She was so lovely! He knew it was impolite, though, and withdrew his hand.

  She smiled.

  “I'm sorry, milady. I have no matters.” he grinned lopsidedly.

  She shook her head. “No, sir. You have manners. More than those who pretend to feel sorry for me and then whisper behind their hands.”

  Her voice was harsh and cold. Francis felt his own heart clench with empathy for her.

  “My lady,” he said gently. “There are some savage people out there. They might be all genteel on the outside, but inside they're full of bitterness.”

  The girl's blue eyes looked up into his face, wonderingly.

  “You think that?”

  “I know that,” Francis said boldly. “Fancy someone saying aught against you? You're ...lovely.”

  She stared at him, those moist lips parted in a sweet expression of surprise. His loins clenched. He realized he was staring at her and bit his lip, blushing bright red. “Sorry, milady,” he said quickly.

  The lady – he still didn't know her name, he realized shyly, shook her head. “Nothing to forgive,” she said softly. “And...Thank you. I will remember what you said about people and their unkindnesses.”

  Francis stared into her blue eyes. He didn't understand it, but he felt as if he was falling into their pale depths.

  “No,” he murmured, voice ragged with feeling. “There is nothing to forgive.”They were still looking at each other when someone cleared their throat behind them.

  “Excuse me,” a man's low, cultured voice said.Francis jumped with some surprise. The lady looked up, hands flying up to her face in shock.

  “Uncle! Oh, forgive me. This young man is sitting in your place”

  “Well, this is irregular,” her uncle said, frowning. Francis studied him quickly, taking in a compact, handsome man in mid-forties. “But I will sit here, then.”

  He seemed gracious, but Francis felt embarrassed. He half-stood, not wanting to cause a scene.

  “No, young manYou were there before me. No reason for me not to move elsewhere.” her uncle said it lightly, but Francis still felt uncomfortable, as if he didn't really mean what he said.

  “I'm sorry,” Francis murmured.

  “I'm not fixed to the floor,” her uncle said., “I can move as well as any man.”

  Francis saw a look of pain cross the young lady's face and realized the words must have hurt her. He felt an instant wariness against this uncle, polite and affable though he seemed. He couldn't have said why, but he disliked him.

  “My lord,” the young lady said, her cheeks red again, “I was remiss. I should have introduced my uncle, the Count of Corron.”

  “My lord,” Francis said, nodding coolly to the man.

  “Pleased to meet you, young sir,” her uncle said affably.

  “I'm Francis, son of the count of Annecy,” Francis said quickly. He saw the young lady's eyes widen in surprise and realized they hadn't got round to introducing each other. He had no idea what her name might be. Oddly it didn't matter – it felt as if he had known her always. Strange.

  “Ah. Annecy, eh? Not that far from Calais?” her uncle asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  “Just three days' ride,” Francis filled him in.

  “A small holding. Ample enough, though, I would imagine?”

  Francis swallowed. “Yes, my lord.”

  “And such interesting coloring! I think we have a Scotsman in our midst, eh?” he joked.

  Francis felt his heart go through the floor. Did the man have to point that out so explicitly?

  “Oh!” she looked interested. “Are you really from Scotland? That's far away.”

  “Yes,” Francis nodded. He was pleased – she hadn't suddenly changed. He was used to people who found that out treating him as if he were a barbarian from a distant world.

  “You must feel lonely here,” she said.“Well, my father the count is permanently at Annecy,,” Francis said. “And my mother. But yes. Yes, I do.”

  �
��I can imagine.”

  Again, their eyes met. Francis felt as if he was meeting someone who truly understood him. They were quite similar, though they could not have been more different.

  He felt he needed to say something, but didn't know what to say.

  “Thank you,” he said sincerely. It was all that came to mind.

  She blushed.

  It felt, in that moment, as though they had truly connected. Francis felt like he had found a friend.

  Later, the dinner was served and the volume of the conversation grew louder.Francis and the lady talked less, content just to steal glances at each other.

  He watched her delicately sampling a baked apple, wincing with pleasure as he watched her lips slide over the silver spoon.

  “Mm,” she said. “I do like baked apples. So sweet, are they not?”

  He felt his poor loins ache and desperately as she licked the spoon again. He sought to distract himself, watching the servitors enter and leave the hall.

  “You are staying in the capital long, sir?” her uncle asked politelyFrancis made himself tear his eyes away from the sweet sight of his niece eating her dessert.

  “Uh, a week, sir,” he responded.

  “Ah. Well, there's plenty to see. You won't have time to see it all even with one week,” he said lightly.

  “I believe it, sir,” Francis nodded. He had seen the construction of the great Cathedral on the east bank of the river Seine, and the magnificent vision and scope of that by itself was stunning. “I think I will never see the whole of this city.”

  The older man laughed. “That's the spirit. Know what you cannot do. A man is wise, I always think, to know his limits. It is important to knowwhat no man can have.”

  Francis smiled and nodded, but the comment struck him as rather odd. Is he trying to say his niece is for no man? He shook his head.

  Why would he? Stop thinking too much, Francis. You're just being silly now.

  “I hope you will enjoy your time here, Lord Francis,” the girl said softly.

  “I am sure I will,” Francis agreed.

  He spent the rest of the evening watching her, feeling as if he had entered some strange paradise hitherto unimagined. It was only when he left the ball, hours later, and walked, dazed and happy, to his chambers, that he realized he still did not know her name.

  I know she is the niece of the count of Corron, though. Which is more than I did yesterday.He was going to find out more of who she was. He had to know. He had never met someone he liked so much, so quickly, in his life before.

  MEMORIES AND PLANS

  Claudine sat up in bed the next morning. She felt a soft happiness she could not remember feeling before. She wondered why, and then smiled as the memory came back to her.

  Francis.In all her twenty years of life, Claudine could not remember having met someone with whom she had so much in common. He seemed to her to be someone like herself. Someone who could, with time, learn to understand her.

  She sighed. He had been so friendly the night before, but who knew if he would be again? She should not set such store by one conversation.

  Even so...

  No-one could say what the future held. And this morning, Claudine refused to be upset. She wouldn't think anything upsetting. Today is a day for happy thoughts!

  She sat up, smiling, and called her maid.

  “Bernadette?”

  “Milady!”

  “I think I will breakfast downstairs in the hall today. If you could help me dress?”

  “Of course, my lady. Which gown?”

  “The pink, please, Bernadette.”

  Bernadette smiled. “Very good, milady.”

  Claudinewas surprised at herself – the pink gown was one that suited her very well, bringing out the delicate color of her skin. She knew she had chosen it because the gentleman from the ball might be down at breakfast.

  Silly me!

  Still, she couldn't help it. She refused to let her spirits be quelled this morning. She sat up in bed and let Bernadette help her across the room.

  “There you are, milady...”

  Claudine looked in the mirror as Bernadette finished. She put her head on one side, eyeing the reflected image with reserved approval. Neither tall nor short, with a sweet hourglass waist and full, high breasts, the girl in the mirror was lovely. Was she pretty enough though, for someone to like her despite her sickness? Claudine felt a stab of nerves for the first time. She let Bernadette finish her hair and tried not to feel nervous.

  “You look beautiful, milady,” Bernadette assured her.

  She smiled at her maid and headed downstairs slowly.

  She let other courtiers drift past.

  “Morning, Claudine,” Jacintha called as she walked quickly past her on her way to the hall.

  “Good morning,” Claudine said. She was leaning on the hand rail for support, taking her time, listening to the voices below. This morning, she refused to feel inadequate simply because she couldn't keep pace with the rest. She heard a voice she recognized. .

  “And of course we will have to see if the road has been cleared up to that part of the forest...”

  It was her uncle.

  She felt her fingers fidget with her sleeves and wondered why she felt a little nervous of seeing Uncle Lucas this morning.

  He seemed a bit disapproving of my manners last night. I suppose I was out of turn with Lord Francis.

  She quelled her nerves and headed down the stairs.

  “Niece!” her uncle called out, catching sight of her. “A pleasure to see you. I trust you slept well? No aches of the joints or back?”

  Claudine shook her head. At that moment, she wished he wouldn't remind her of her debility. Sometimes she preferred to forget about it.

  “No, Uncle,” she said softly. “I slept very well.”

  “Good,” he said with a gentle smile. “I was just about to go in for some breakfast.”

  “Yes, me too,” Claudine said lightly.

  The hall was full of guests. The palace had two halls – one where the resident nobles ate, and another where the knights and men-at-arms would take their meals. The royal family themselves usually dined in the solar alone, unless it was a formal occasion. Claudine followed her uncle to a seat at one of the tables, sitting down demurely.

  “Ah, Lady Claudine,” one of her uncle's acquaintances greeted. “I trust you slept well after the ball. Myself I didn't...over at the eastern wing you hear all the din from in the courtyard...It's simply terrible.”

  Claudine smiled at him. The count of Arras, he was from the Northern part of the kingdom. She had known him since she was a small girl. He was a good friend – forthright and open. “I can imagine, sir,” she commented.

  “I wish I could have imagined!” he laughed, reaching for a slice of cheese from a central platter. “I would have asked for a room on the western side, then.”

  Claudine giggled.

  She noted her uncle look over in their direction with a mild look of approval. S Then his eyes narrowed slightly. She frowned.

  What bothered him?

  A moment later, she heard a low, familiar voice in her ear.

  “My lady? Is this place open for use?”

  “Oh!” Claudine felt color flood her cheeks. It was the man from the ball.

  “Of course,” she murmured.

  “Thank you,” he said. He slipped into the seat beside her. Her looked at Francis and give him a cold stare. Why?

  Claudine felt concerned. Then Francis turned to face her and she forgot all about her uncle.

  “You also rise early, it seems?” he asked. It was an ordinary question. The catch in his voice when he said it made her blush. It sounded intimate somehow.

  She nodded shyly. “Yes, I do. The mornings are so beautiful here.”

  “Yes. I saw the sunrise from my window...so beautiful.”

  “Indeed yes.Though I am in the western side of the castle. I don't see the sunrise from there.”


  “Oh.” Francis frowned. “A pity that.”

  “Not really,” Claudine giggled. “My lord the count of Arras tells me it was very noisy on your side.”“Not very,” he demurred. “Though yes, there were some rowdy folk out there. I think some men-at-arms had a little too much ale.”

  “Oh.” Claudine smiled. “I can imagine they made quite some noise.”

  “Indeed, milady.”

  She smiled at him and he smiled back. She blushed. Then she realized she was staring and tore her gaze to her hands. When she looked up again, her uncle was frowning at them.

  She felt herself frown. There it is again, that disapproval! Why would he be so? He should be glad I'm talking to someone, since he always tells me I have an awkward way with people.

  “My lady?” Francis was asking.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Forgive me but I wished to be introduced?” He was blushing desperately too now, she noticed. “I only just realized I do not know your name.”

  “Oh!” Claudine felt her cheeks color with embarrassment.. “Forgive me. I am Lady Claudine, daughter of the Duc du Pavot.”

  “Oh.”

  Was it her imagination, or did Francis' eyes widen, almost as if he were afraid? She shook her head. She was a duke's daughter, he a count's son. Yes, she ranked higher then him. But why did it matter?

  It's not as if anyone would want to wed me, is it?

  She wanted to laugh. Why would he? No one would. Uncle had said that so often. That it'll be difficult to find a husband who would take on a woman so frail.

  She didn't even know if she could bear a child in her present condition.

  “My lady?” Francis said, interrupting her thoughts for a second time.

  “Yes?”

  “You looked sad. Would you like to take a turn about the ramparts?”

  Claudine looked at her hands, considering her response. She found walking even a short distance exhausting.. Especially without the aid of a walking stick. However, she could not miss an opportunity to walk with Francis.

  “Yes,” she murmured. “I would like that. I do walk slowly, though.”

  Francis blushed. “Thank you for agreeing to accompany me, my lady. I'm honored.”