Adventures of a Highlander

by Emilia Ferguson

  “But?” Gaspard asked. “What's the problem, eh? Your family?”

  “No,” Francis said, surprised he'd suggest such a thing. “My family doesn't know yet and, in any case, even if they did, they'd approve of her. It's a lot of things. Her uncle, her family...” he trailed off, huffing out his cheeks in a long sigh.

  Gaspard laughed. “Sounds like you're in a tricky situation, friend.”

  “Uh huh,” Francis agreed dolorously.

  “Well,” Gaspard wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “When I'm in a tricky situation, what I usually do is work my way through one little piece at a time. So, what can you do first?”

  Francis frowned. “I...I guess I need to know if I'm right. About her being influenced negatively, I mean.”

  “This friend, you mentioned,” Gaspard asked. “They're influencing her against you, making her mistrust you?”

  “Not exactly,” Francis said. “It's more like they're making her think I'd never be interested.”

  Gaspard raised a brow. “That's quite a manipulating friend. Why would they?”

  “I don't know. I don't even know if I'm right about it” he said. He felt helpless.

  “If you think that, you wouldn't think it for no reason.”

  Francis let out a long breath. “Thanks,” he said.

  “Well, then,” Gaspard said, reaching forward. “Maybe you can think about something else. Give your brain a rest. Like how to teach me that wicked side-stroke tomorrow. And I'll see if I can talk to Eugenia. Maybe she can help. If I ask, she can mayhap find out about this lady of yours and her friend – if anyone knows the social goings-on around here, it's her.” “Thanks, Gaspard. That would help.”

  “Well, I'll certainly try,” Gaspard volunteered. “Though it might help if I knew who the lady was?”

  Francis bit his lip. He didn't want to compromise Claudine by telling anyone about their attraction. However, he could trust Gaspard. He'd known him since he was a teenager.

  “The lady Claudine,” he said softly.

  “Claudine Poitiers?”

  “Yes,” Francis said, surprised he knew immediately who she was. Perhaps she was the only Claudine, though that seemed unlikely. “Why?”

  “No reason,” Gaspard said mildly. “She's a great beauty.”

  “Yes,” Francis said, letting out a breath. He realized he'd been half-worried that Gaspard would comment on her disability. He would have been furious if he had! “She is.”

  “Well, then,” Gaspard said, standing up wearily. “I suppose I should go and wash and find my way to dinner. There's a big event tonight. Celebrating the naming of a newborn. Are you invited?”

  “I'm not acquainted with Lady Gertrude or her family,” Francis said quickly.

  “Well, then, you lucky fellow. You can sit here and drink ale and relax while I sit there and drink well-watered wine and be polite.”

  Francis gave a chuckle. “If you say so.”

  “I do. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Gaspard. And thanks for your help. Enjoy the banquet.”

  “I'll do my best. ”

  Francis chuckled and watched as Gaspard's big, solid form walked slowly out into the gathering dark.

  A MOMENT OF CONCERN

  “Bernadette?” Claudine said softly, calling for her friend's help. She'd been asleep, for her afternoon nap. She felt awake and restless now.

  “My lady? Are you well?”

  “I'm fine, Bernadette,” Claudine said, stifling a delicate yawn with soft fingers. “I feel restless. Could we go out onto the terrace a while? I'd like to feel the sunshine.”

  “Of course, milady. Shall I style your hair?” She was already walking over to the dressing table, reaching for the silver comb and brush.

  “Yes, please, Bernadette,” Claudine said, reaching up to the loose plait that hung by her face, arranged that way so she could sleep without tangling it. “Just something simple. My neck's too sore for a long, complex hairdo.”

  “Of course, milady.”

  As Bernadette worked brisklyClaudine found herself hoping she'd make her hair look pretty, and knew she was hoping Francis might be out in the courtyard. She was surprised at that.

  Watching him on the practice ground was something she found herself looking forward to. Just thinking about it sent a little frisson of delight through her. He was so handsome! With those big broad shoulders and his face sweating from exertion, his graceful moves. She could watch him all day.

  “Will my lady be out long? Bernadette asked neutrally.

  “Not long, I think, Bernadette,” Claudine said dutifully. She knew she was lying. She intended to stay there as long as Francis was practicing.

  “Well, all the same, I think you should take a cloak. You'll feel cold when the evening wind starts to blow again.”

  “Yes,” Claudine murmured, watching absently as Bernadette rummaged through the chest of clothes, finding a lace wrap for her.

  “Now, I take it we're going to the western courtyard?” Bernadette asked shrewdly.

  Claudine blushed. “Why?”

  “No reason,” Bernadette said mildly. “Just wondering if we would need a sunshade of some sort.”

  Claudine looked out of the narrow window, seeing a courtyard soaked in sunshine.

  “Mayhap,” she agreed.Bernadette wrapped a scarf around her own hair to protect it and her eyes from the sun. “Here you are, milady? The blue one, with the white train?”

  Claudine nodded and Bernadette gently settled the hat over her hair. It was more like a framework for a scarf, which floated over it almost like the wings of a big butterfly, framing the face.

  “I suppose I look reasonably well?” she asked.

  Bernadette chuckled. “Truly, my lady! You look very well. Very beautiful.” “You're too kind.”

  “No, I'm not,” Bernadette said succinctly. “Others are too critical.”

  Her kind words made Claudine smile. Bernadette was such a staunch friend. She slipped her arm through her friend's, and they walked onto the terrace together.

  The sound of swords clanging on swords struck her heart before she even reached the terrace. Her breath caught in her throat with excitement. She walked as fast as she could out to the terrace and took a seat on the bench in the shade. Her eyes went to the two figures in the courtyard immediately.

  One was tall and broad-shouldered, the other even taller but with a sinewy litheness about his body that made his motions fluid as a snake's might be.

  Gaspard and Francis.

  Despite herself, Claudine heard herself give a little gasp as she saw Francis – tall and broad – deliver a move with such easy grace that it made her heart thump.

  He is so beautiful.

  She could hear them talking to each other, shouting over the sound of the blows. Instinctively, she stood and walked to the rail, leaning on the stonework, absorbed in the fight below, as she watched what they were doing.

  “Now, you're going wide again.”

  “Shut it, Francis. You're trying to discourage me. I know you...”

  “Ha!”

  The clang of blades formed a counterpoint to the conversing. Claudine felt herself smile as she listened to their cheerful, derisive interchange.

  “I could do better than that when I was ten,” Gaspard taunted.

  “When I was ten I had outgrown moves like that one..!” Francis retorted quickly.

  “When I was ten, I was working on moves like this,” Gaspard said, slicing down in an arc toward Francis' head.

  Francis laughed. “Well, if you hadn't, then you might have been able to block this...”

  Francis dealt a side-stroke that made Claudine's eyes widen. Simple but incredibly effective, there was no way Gaspard would have been able to block it had he not almost guessed it before it occurred. As it was, blades rang sharply.

  “Ha!”

  “Well done.”

  “Show-off.”

  Claudine leaned on the wall, enjoying t
he scene. The sunlight was drowsy and the banter cheerful. Francis had exceptional skill, she thought fondly. He knew his thrusts and cuts and he could use them effectively. In a life where she had spent many hours had been spent watching such tournaments, Claudine knew more than many.

  I know just enough to know someone exceptionally talented when I see them.

  She leaned further over, raptly following the fight. The stone of the wall was warm under her folded arms and she could smell the sweet scent of moss, drying in the late afternoon heat.

  “Niece?”

  Claudine jumped. Drat! Why was he here? She put a hand on her chest, her heart suddenly thumping in a way that made her feel disorientated.

  “Uncle!”

  “Niece. I was looking for you. I wanted to invite you to join me for refreshments. The Duchess of Remy invited us both to partake of cordial in the upper turret.”

  “Oh.” Claudine frowned. “Now, Uncle?”

  “In about an hour,” her uncle demurred. “But I thought you might like to prepare. It does take you longer, and I know you like to be warned of an engagement in advance.”

  “Yes, Uncle.” Claudine said softly.

  “I think Claudine and I can make ready in half an hour,” Bernadette spoke up from along the terrace.

  Claudine and her uncle both looked round. Claudine's heart thumped. Bernadette! She should be careful. A maid should not speak out against a duke, even if she were the daughter of a knight. As she felt herself glow in gratitude, she also felt a momentary concern for her companion. She risked being sent away if she courted Uncle's ill-opinion.

  “I think your servant is wearier even than you, Claudine, and her weariness makes her forget her place.” Uncle said.

  Claudine felt her cheeks flare with heat.

  “Bernadette is tired from having to watch over me,” she murmured. “I suppose I am a burden.”

  Her uncle's tone immediately softened. “Why no, sweet niece. You are no burden to me. For those who really care about you, how could you be?”

  Claudine saw Uncle Lucas glare at Bernadette and she followed him in, eyes downcast.

  No point in making him vexed at her – if he was, he might choose to send away her companion.

  “I suppose it is tiring in the heat,” Claudine murmured sadly. Was it too much to ask, just to watch Francis practice in the courtyard? To want to be outside on the terrace and take the sunshine like other ladies could? She couldn't help feeling that her uncle had come out here just to bring her away from Francis.

  “You need all your energy for the party. It would be sad to disappoint Lady Irmgarde. If you rest now, you can stay up longer, you know.”

  “Yes, it would be sad to disappoint her,” Claudine said in a small voice. “But the other young ladies are still down in the gardens,” she added a little indignantly as they walked on down the terrace. “They will be there too, and they're still outside now.”

  “They are,” her uncle said softly. “But you are different, Claudine. Far too delicate.”

  Claudine felt rebellious, suddenly. “I hate this,” she said bitterly.

  Uncle Lucas shook his head.

  “I know, Niece. However, we mustn't rail against it. There is nothing to be gained by fighting the inevitable. It is foolish to rail against what can't be changed.”

  Claudine wanted to cry, but she must nodded. “You're right, uncle.”

  “That's more like it,” her uncle smiled. “My dear, stoic niece.”

  Claudine managed to smile at him. As she followed him inside it seemed to her that her legs grew even heavier, her body even more drained and painful.

  “I need to stop a moment,” she murmured, leaning against the wall.

  “Of course, dear child. Take all the time you need.”

  Claudine rested, then stood up slowly. “I'm feeling a little bit better,” she said. Again, it seemed to her almost as if this malady was getting worse. Just when she wanted to get better, it seemed that it decided to fasten its claws in her.

  “Good. Now off you go and dress. I'd better dress too. Heaven forbid that they see me in the same tunic and trousers as yesterday.”

  Claudine smiled weakly. She reached her bed and collapsed onto it, closing her eyes as uncle shut the door behind himself.

  “I don't know what gets into him,” Bernadette said tightly as she came in a moment afterward. Claudine could see the anger, held tight in every line of her body. “Saying such things like that...” She paused. “I know I shouldn't talk back to him like that – he is your uncle and I'm just your companion, but I can't help it. It isn't fair.”“I know Uncle is...pompous sometimes...” Claudine said and then she trailed off as Bernadette gave a despairing chuckle.

  “It's not why I'm angry, milady,” she said softly. “He can be as high-handed to me as he likes. He's a count, and most of them are arrogant, I find. It's the things he says to you, the things about being slow and burdensome. I don't know why he does that.”

  “Uncle cares for me. He wants me to take care of myself well. To accept things as they are, not as I want them to be.”Bernadette laughed.

  “That's what he says,” she said. “I don't know, though.”

  Claudine frowned. “Of course Uncle cares for me, Bernadette. He's taken care of me since I was nineteen. Since Father lost interest in me.”

  She forced herself to say it. The words grated on her throat and made her want to cry again. Her father wouldn't want a crippled girl in his household. That was what uncle had implied, when, all of a sudden, he had spirited her away to the countryside. He's said her father was preoccupied. That he needed no distractions – meaning her, she knew, and her illness – at that time. When he'd never summoned her back, Claudine had realized the bitter truth: he didn't want her...Why would he? What use was a sickly, ailing daughter? One who'd not wed. Not take care of the succession for him?

  “Oh, my lady,” Bernadette sighed, coming to sit opposite her. “Why would you say your father doesn't care for you? Come, now – let's make ready for this party he's so insistent you grace.”

  “Grace? Oh, Bernadette,” Claudine said, chuckling though she felt sad. “You are kind.”

  “No, I'm truthful,” Bernadette said gruffly, as she always did. .“The blue?” she added, holding up another dress. Like most of Claudine's gowns, it was blue. This time pale blue velvet, the sleeves trimmed with white linen cuffs.

  Claudine smiled sadly at her friend. She was so lucky to have Bernadette – firm, upstanding, trustworthy Bernadette – in her life. However, she wished she could at least allow herself to hope that Francis would truly show her interest. Not deference, not patience, but a true liking for who she was.

  She tried to get him out of her mind as Bernadette helped her get ready for the ball, but the harder she tried, the harder it became forget him. She snorted, thinking that it was silly that she spent time thinking of him when, she was sure, despite his attentiveness when they saw each other, he probably never thought of her at all.

  A PLAN UNDER DISCUSSION

  Francis sat in the hall, wishing he could stop thoughts of Claudine from tormenting him, drawing his mind away from simple tasks, whether they were grapples on the practice-ground or sharpening his blades.

  “That was her, yes?”

  Francis blinked as Gaspard asked him the question, breaking in on his thoughts. It was late and they were sitting in the hall, the fire almost banked to red coals in the hearth behind them.

  “At the practice ground? Yes. It was Claudine.”

  “Thought so.” Gaspard stretched languidly, long arms reaching in front of him across the wide wooden table. “She's a beauty.”

  “Yes.” Francis nodded

  “She watched for a bit, and then went off just before we really warmed up,” Gaspard chuckled. “Just as well, I s'pose though, or she'd have seen me have a whack at you.”

  Francis chuckled. “I'd rather she did,” he remarked. “If she'd have stuck around, then, she'd have se
en my best counter-thrust.”

  “Ha,” Gaspard laughed. He leaned back and turned towards Francis. “That her father?” he asked after a long moment.

  “No. Her uncle. Uncle Lucas.” Francis supplied.

  “Lucas. Count of Corron?”

  “Mm.” Francis nodded. “Why?”

  “Well, I did some asking around,” Gaspard said casually. “Interested? It is just my stumbling attempt to collect information...”

  “Stop it, Gaspard,” his friend chuckled. “Just tell me.”

  “Very well. As it happens, your lady friend is extremely noble. A relative of the King on her mother's side.”

  “Wonderful,” Francis said tightly. “If you wanted to make me realize how useless my pursuit is, you just succeeded entirely.”

  Gaspard chuckled. “I won't mention her noble birth, then. Fine. But she has some...interesting complications.”

  “She's sick, yes,” Francis snapped. How dare he make out as if there was something wrong with Lady Claudine? She was the most remarkable person.Gaspard sighed, shaking his head. “Very well. Yes, she's sick. Her uncle's been her guardian since she was nineteen. He seems very protective of her.”

  “Isn't he just.” Francis chuckled quietly.

  Gaspard laughed again. “He doesn't like you very much, yes? Francis?” he encouraged.

  “He doesn't like anyone,” Francis mused.

  Gaspard sighed. “I don't know. He seems a very affable sort. My dear lady, at least...she spoke highly of him. She said he'svery personable, to use her phrase. That's it. Most personable.”

  “I'm sure he is,” Francis said dejectedly. “But he hates me. He doesn't like it when I talk to Claudine. And that's part of the problem.”

  Gaspard frowned. “Well? My advice to you, if you want it? ”

  “Stop it, Gaspard,” Francis said dully. “Just tell me. I want to hear.”“Well, my advice to you is, ask the companion.”

  “The companion? The brunette woman who's always attendant on her?”

  “Exactly. She seems a nice sort. Claudine likes her anyhow. You can see.”

  “You can?”

  “Claudine is easy with her. And the companion doesn't like her uncle. When he's close-by, you must have noticed how stiff she gets?”