Adventures of a Highlander

by Emilia Ferguson

  Francis coughed. He felt quite upset by that. “Claudine! Why do you say that? What's wrong?”

  Claudine looked sad. She gently moved her hand out of his grasp. Looked up at him with those big eyes damp with sorrow.

  “Francis, I'm not well. You know that. I am much improved but, be that as it may. I am weak. I may never bear a child. You are the heir to Annecy. Your family would not wish you to choose...such a woman as a wife. I am no use to you.”

  Francis stared at her. “Claudine,” he breathed. Why did it feel like his heart was being crushed inside a fist? “Claudine, no! Why even think such a thing?”

  “Because...” she breathed out a big sigh. “Because it's true. You don't want a wife like me, do you?”

  Francis felt aghast. The feeling intensified when she started to cry, big tears tracing her soft pale cheeks.

  “Claudine,” he murmured. “No. My poor dear. How can you think such a thing?”

  Claudine took a long shaky breath in. “Well...it is true. My uncle...he always said that I would be a useless wife.”

  Francis stared at her. “That makes me angry, Claudine – but not with you. How can you even think it, though? That man is wicked!”

  Claudine shook her head insistently. “No. No, he isn't. He's a kind, supportive man. He saved me when my own father turned his back on me. How can you speak about him that way? I admit what he says hurts me sometimes, but he says it for my good.”

  Francis snorted. “No, Claudine,” he said softly. “Of that I am quite certain. Whatever you believe, do not believe that.”

  Claudine looked at him stonily. “I don't know what you're saying, Francis.”

  Francis closed his eyes. “Claudine, can't you see?” he asked gently. “Your uncle discourages you from everything. Is it just possible he wants you to be ill? Wants you to need him? Have you thought of that?”

  Claudine stared at him. “Francis, why?”

  “I don't know.” The instant he'd said it, Francis felt slightly stupid. Why would Claudine's uncle wish her ill? Of course he wouldn't.

  He and Claudine looked at each other. He sighed.

  “Claudine, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult your uncle. I know I spoke hastily. I trust you can forgive me for that. None of that matters to me. All that matters is that I love you.”

  The instant the words left his mouth, Francis blinked, surprised. He hadn't really thought about it before. He knew he felt delicious warmth melting his heart at the merest thought of Claudine. Knew that seeing her smile made him happy. That just one look into her eyes made his heart race. He did love her.

  She stared at him. Then, abruptly, started to cry. She leaned forward, their arms wrapped round each other, and they embraced. He drew her tightly to him, wanting to feel her against him as if he would draw her frail body into his own, unify his strength with hers. He stroked her hair.

  “Oh, Claudine,” he murmured. “I love you. My sweetling. I do.”

  She laughed and looked up into his face. “I love you, too, Francis. With every beat of my heart. Always.”

  Francis smiled and felt his own throat close with tears. He looked into her pale blue eyes and leaned forward. Gently, they kissed. He tasted the flavor of her tears.

  They were sitting with their hands clasped, grinning at each other a little foolishly when Bernadette appeared.

  “Come on, you two,” she whispered. “He's back. Quickly. Francis, best if you leave.”

  Francis nodded. He stood and headed out toward the door.

  “I'll see you soon, my sweetling.”

  Claudine's smile lit his heart. “I'll see you soon too, my Francis.”

  He smiled, bowed, and headed through the door. He almost collided with the physician in the hallway – a grave, haughty French monk.

  “Greetings, Brother,” he said. The monk's brow shot up.

  “Greetings,” he said. “May I ask what you are doing here?”

  “I'm treating the Lady Claudine,” he said quickly.

  “Ah. Well, that is my office.”

  “Oh.” Francis felt nervous. “Well, I was asked to apply my skills to the case, since I happened to be passing through the town. My reputation preceded me, prompting her maidservant to invite me along.”

  “Ah.” The monk looked, if anything, quite disgruntled. He sniffed. “Well, I trust you will not interfere with my prescription.”

  “I...only if it proves necessary,” Francis found himself replying before he'd really thought it through.

  The monk's brow shot up. He looked angry.

  “Well, then. Be assured the count will know of this.”

  “By all means,” Francis said gallantly. “I suspect the count himself will not object to my involvement in the case.”

  The man gave him a stone cold stare. “We shall see about that,” he said thinly.

  Francis bit his cheek to try not to reveal his smile. The man was jealous!

  “We shall indeed,” he said quietly.

  Before the physician could make any further comment he turned and walked briskly away. The encounter in itself was quite amusing, he thought as he hurried to his chamber in the attic. But in reality he should take note of it.

  If Claudine's uncle heard of the new physician, he would be bound to investigate him. It was only a matter of time before he would have to leave this place. Or risk discovery. All the same, the talk with Claudine that morning was worth every risk he took to be here beside her.

  She was beautiful. He was in love. Now she knew that as well.

  Francis retired to his chambers.

  He found himself feeling restless the instant he closed the door on the small monastic room at the top of the house. The thought of Claudine's uncle coming to interview him chafed badly on his nerves. What was he going to say to him?

  He headed into the relative peace and quiet of the garden.

  Outside, the sun had come out from between the clouds and the garden was gloriously warm. Francis sank down gratefully on a bench in the herb garden, sweat trickling down his face. He was hot in the worsted habit and he wiped his brow, wishing he could take it off.

  Imagine the scandal if I did! He chuckled. He felt himself drowse, and a moment or two later he realized with some shock that he must have nodded off to sleep in the sunshine.

  When he woke, he was no longer alone in the garden, he realized_ he could hear two people talking. Their voices drifted over to him and he found himself listening with vague interest to their words.

  “If we have enough time, we should ensure that we don't go too fast with this.”the speaker was male and Francis didn't recognize the sound. He found his attention drifting as he tried to place who the voice might belong to. The second voice brought his attention back again with horrified clarity.

  “I don't know if we have time. How long before that wretched fellow comes snooping here?”

  No need to think about that voice. He knew it directly. That was Claudine's uncle!

  He almost sat up, but stayed where he was, not wanting to draw undue attention to himself. The next words chilled him to the bone.

  “I'm sure we can take care of him.”

  Him. Did they mean the new physician? That was, Brother Alexandre? Himself?

  “Well, do your best,” Claudine's uncle said testily. “Heaven forbid if anyone find out.”

  The first voice chuckled harshly. “Never you fear, my lord. We would both be...most unhappy...were that to happen. I will ensure it does not.”

  “I'm sure of that,” Uncle Lucas replied crossly. “For your own safety, if nothing else.”

  “Indeed, my lord.”

  Francis shivered. There was something very unpleasant about that voice. He heard footsteps cross the lawn and stayed where he was, letting his lids droop over his eyes as if he was sleeping. He heard footsteps pause and then, after a long moment, continue away again.

  Someone was watching me.

  He shivered. If anything made him sure that the “him�
� was himself, that did. Why would the sinister-voiced man stand and watch him for that time? Someone had guessed he was not who he seemed. If that was the case, it was only a matter of time before they found out who he was. If they did? He shuddered again. They had a plan to take care of him. He was fairly sure that, whatever sense they meant that, it was not the way physicians usually used the term. They meant to remove him permanently.

  But why?

  He stood and walked briskly across the lawn to the gate. He needed to get out of this castle and think.

  “Where are you going, Brother?” one of the sentries called out in a challenge.

  “To the forest. I must collect wild herbs,” he murmured.

  He headed hurriedly to the woods, walking with his head down to avoid anyone noticing his eyes or the faint line of red hair that showed below the habit. In the cover of the woodland, he let his mind return to the matter at hand.

  “Why does the count want me gone? And why so soon?”

  It was the count and the physician that were plotting together. Why though?

  It's against Claudine that they plot, clearly. But why? Why would the count wish Claudine to be ill?

  It made no sense to Francis. Claudine was the only child of the duke – Yves had confirmed that fact for him when he asked. That meant there was only one hope for the house of du Pavot: that Claudine could have a child.

  It would be Claudine's son who would inherit the estate. However, if she couldn't have one...

  Francis felt as if someone had slapped him. His heart missed a beat and then started to pound again, rapidly. Of course! How could anyone have been so blind?

  If Claudine could produce no heir, then the estate – all of it – would pass to the duke's younger brother. Uncle Lucas.

  The thought horrified Francis. “How could I have been so stupid? They want her to die!”

  It didn't seem possible and yet he knew it was. Claudine's uncle had no reason to wish her well. He was trying to ensure her illness lasted as long as possible. That was why he wanted her to receive no new treatment. He wanted her to die from this strange malaise. Which meant he and Claudine were both in grave danger.

  They want Claudine to die. Would they try and make that happen faster?

  The words he'd overheard came back to him with sickening clarity.

  We don't have much time.

  Heart thudding in his chest, Francis gathered the robe up into his hand and started to run. Back toward the castle. He had this feeling something terrible was just about to occur here.

  DANGER AND DECISION

  Claudine and Bernadette were sitting on the terrace together in the sun, sewing their tapestry work. Claudine felt the wind ruffling her hair and realized something. She felt better today.

  “I feel so good, Bernadette,” she murmured. “I feel sure it's because...” She blushed, not wanting to say more. All day she had been able to think of nothing besides Francis.

  “It's the happiness of having him here that's doing you good, milady,” Bernadette agreed, without her needing to express that. “I've not seen you look so well in years.” “I know. I haven't felt so well in years.”

  Bernadette stretched extravagantly. “I suppose we should go inside, milady. You've been out in the sun for quite some time.”

  Claudine yawned and grinned at her. “I suppose. I do feel fatigued. But nothing like I usually do at this time.”

  “In that case, my lady, let us stay out awhile. I'm just going in to fetch more thread. Excuse me. I...oh!”

  Claudine frowned, hearing Bernadette give a frightened gasp. When she turned, she too gasped with surprise. It was her physician – the real one, Father Jeremy – and he was in the doorway.

  “My lady,” he said harshly. “Forgive me, but what on Earth are you doing out in the full sun? It's dangerous for your health. Your maid should know that,” he added, glaring at Bernadette.

  Claudine felt anger fill her and tried to stand. She managed to, slowly.

  “Forgive me, Father Jeremy,” she said tightly. “But Bernadette, who is my companion,” she added testily, “was only supporting me in what I wanted. I wished to stay here.”

  “Oh. As you say, milady. But come inside now. Your health will suffer for it.”

  “I don't wish to. I...oh!”

  Henri lumbered in. Jeremy nodded to him and he grabbed her, lifting her up in his arms as if she was weightless.

  “Father Jeremy!” Claudine said coldly. “I insist that you leave me here,” Claudine protested, but no one was listening to her. She looked imploringly at Bernadette, but she only looked back haplessly as Henri carried her inside. Claudine felt a first shiver of fear.

  How dare this man think he can order me about! He is the one in my uncle's employ! Not the other way around...

  She winced as Henri lowered her to the bed. Her joints were starting to ache again with the rough handling and she felt a pain where her heart beat overly fast.

  “There,” her physician said acidly. “Now. Miss Bernadette. Can you tell me when your charge last had her medicine?”

  Claudine felt desperate. She hadn't taken it yesterday or today. But that wasn't Bernadette's idea! She had insisted on not taking it – something to do with the growing conviction that it was making her worse.

  “I haven't taken it for two days,” she said rapidly. “But blame not my companion. She but followed my request in that. As Henri followed yours,” she added coldly. How dare Father Jeremy presume to direct Henri to carry her! He was their servant. Not his.

  “Indeed,” the man replied. His voice was mild. “Well, in that case, I suggest your companion overrides your preference in this regard. With all respect my lady, you do not know what ails you nor how best to treat it. I know both. And I insist you take the dose...”

  “You say you know what ails me,” Claudine said angrily. “And yet you have failed utterly to cure me for the last two years! I have felt better in this week than I can remember. I believe that is more important than your say-so.”

  She felt a squeezing pain in her chest, knowing she had over-exceeded her strength, become too agitated for one day. All the same, she knew she had to defy him. Something within her had taken wing since Francis told her he loved her. She was not a burden, not a wretch. These men had no right to treat her as if she didn't matter! She was strong enough to defy them and she would.

  “You have said enough, milady,” the physician said darkly.“I will brook no interference with my treatment, from you or another. You will be silent and do as I say. Or Henri will dose you himself. Yes? Henri?”

  The vast manservant looked at his hands miserably. However, he nodded. “Yes, Father Jeremy.”

  Claudine looked at him in horror. The idea was repulsive. If only Francis were here! Yet what would he be able to do? As Brother Alexandre, he too was in danger. If any discovered the ruse, he and she would both be thrown out of society for good.

  “Bernadette,” she whispered.

  Bernadette was crying. She shook her head mutely. “My lady, I can't,” she said. “If I defy your uncle in this, he'll throw me out. And I daren't leave you.”

  Claudine knew what she meant. If she lost her place in Claudine's home and never be there to protect her again. They had to do as this odious man said or her uncle would separate them.

  “I trust you will see sense,” the physician said smoothly. He reached for the goblet in which Claudine usually took her medicine. “Now. If you will take your medicine today? I trust it is not already too late to do you any good. You are a foolish girl sometimes, for all your apparent age and maturity.”

  Claudine felt her heart sink. She sighed. He was right. Why was she resisting this so hotly? It was medicine. He meant well.

  “Very well,” she said. “I'll take it.”

  She was surprised by how relieved he looked.

  “Good,” he said softly. “Well, then. Here. I will remain at your bedside until you have taken it all.”

  “Ther
e's no need,” Claudine protested quietly.

  “If you think I'm going to let you fool me, you have underestimated me,” he said quietly. “These womanish wiles have gone on too long,” he added sternly.

  Claudine felt miserable but she did as he suggested. She raised the cup and drank.

  The bitter undertone of the medicine caught her throat as always, and she wanted badly to be sick. She fought to keep it down, swallowing slowly, one mouthful at a time. It seemed, if anything, that after two days without it, the taste was more noxious than before.

  Choking bile, she swallowed the last drop.

  “There,” she said thinly. She handed him the empty goblet with the merest trace of powdery residue left within. Almost at once, she felt drowsy, like her strength was sapping away. She felt her fingers loosen on the pewter stem of the heavy goblet that she held.

  “Ah. Excellent,” he said. His voice came from far above her head and she knew herself falling into an oppressive sleep.

  When she woke, it was dark. Her head swam and her belly ached sourly. She turned over and fought the desire to vomit.

  “Bernadette?”

  When no one answered at first she felt a hot flood of foreboding. Where was she? Surely nothing had happened to Bernadette? Surely her uncle...

  “Here, milady,” the familiar voice whispered.

  “Bernadette! I...oh!” Claudine felt her stomach roil and gestured helplessly to Bernadette, trying valiantly not to be sick. When the nausea finally passed she looked up at her friend, her own vision blurry and hazed. “I'm sorry. I feel awful. What are we going to do?”

  Bernadette shook her head. “Milady, I don't know. I can do nothing. I know they're watching me. Your uncle had...words...with me while you were sleeping, milady. He said my days were numbered.” “They wouldn't. Why? You're my best friend. My only companion.” She wanted to cry.

  Bernadette was quiet

  “My lady,” she said at length, “I do not know. All I know is that something wicked is afoot. And you and I cannot right it. Not alone.”

  Claudine nodded. “No, we cannot. Especially not me. I feel so awful.” She shook her head sadly. She wanted to weep.