by Alisa Adams
“I’m sure he’ll calm down after a good night’s sleep. You know what he can be like. Speaking of marriage he could do with a good wife himself, but he seems opposed to the notion.”
“You know, I’m not sure that he’s entirely telling the truth about what happened today.”
“What do you mean?”
Catherine squirmed in her seat. “It’s just that…I’m not sure the attack was as unprovoked as Uncle suggested. I saw the way he was with those people and he was rather cruel. I think perhaps if he used a gentle hand—”
Thomas raised a hand to cut her off. “Now I won’t have any of that talk. Fancy siding with some Highlanders over your own flesh and blood. I know that you and your uncle do clash sometimes, but you have to remember he has played a very important role. After your mother’s death I wasn’t any good to anyone, and this estate could have dwindled if it wasn’t for Nathaniel. He may seem difficult at times, but he only ever wants what is best for this household, and we’d be in a much worse position without him.”
“Sorry Father. I was trying to look at the situation from every perspective.”
“As well you should, but that doesn’t mean you have to bring up every perspective.” Thomas grinned. Catherine nodded and finished her meal in silence. She was frustrated that her father had such an obvious blind spot for her uncle, which meant that Nathaniel could get away with many things that other people wouldn’t have been able to. It seemed to her that the virtue of helping her father outweighed any amount of sin that he could commit, and Thomas wouldn’t hear a bad word against him.
Catherine had the unsettling feeling that someone was watching her all through dinner. She brushed it off as a silly feeling, and was probably just nervous about her impending change in circumstances.
The following day, dawn appeared, fresh and rosy-fingered. Catherine shrugged off her slumber and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes as she drew the curtains back and looked out at the wonderful world awaiting her. She opened the wide doors and stood on the balcony, breathing in the fresh morning air. Betsy came in and the two of them skipped downstairs, passing the paintings of her mother as usual.
“You’re getting more and more like her every day,” Betsy remarked.
Catherine smiled politely, although she didn’t think she would ever be as beautiful as her mother. “Is it bad that sometimes I wish there were not so many hanging around this home? Sometimes I would rather not be reminded that she is gone,” Catherine said.
“You’ll have to ask your father if you can take some with you when you are married.”
“I suppose I will. Apparently Nathaniel is preparing the final list of choices. I may become aware of my new husband very soon.”
“Are you excited?”
Catherine shrugged.
“I’m sure you’ll be more excited when you find out who he is. I’m sure that it’s difficult to feel a thrill about a vague shape of a husband without form in your mind,” Betsy continued. “Or have you had something else in your mind?”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Perhaps you’re thinking of the mysterious Highland man again,” Betsy teased. Catherine looked around to make sure that nobody was in earshot and when she spoke it was in a harsh whisper.
“You should not mention that around here!”
“Oh who is going to know?”
“Uncle Nathaniel would not be pleased if he found out we lied to him.”
“He’s never going to find out. Besides, I’m only teasing a little. I just found it amusing how you seemed to be so taken with him. I saw the way the two of you looked at each other. It’s a shame that he was fleeing from your uncle, otherwise you two would have had a chance to talk to each other.”
“Yes, well, I suppose we’ll never find out what we might have said to each other.”
“Speaking of that, I heard that one of the new servants is a mute! How curious! Would you like to go and see him?”
“Why?”
“Well…it is something of a curiosity isn’t it? Imagine not being able to speak. I can’t believe anyone could go through life under such restriction. I wonder what goes through his mind…”
“Perhaps in some cases it’s more preferable than others,” Catherine said pointedly, although Betsy didn’t seem fazed by Catherine’s words. “But no, I do not wish to see him. He is just a man like any other and he is not some strange attraction. I’m sure it’s better for everyone if you simply allow him to continue with his work.”
Betsy pouted. Sometimes Catherine wondered what she was going to do with Betsy. In the capital there would be all manner of opportunities for Betsy to get herself into trouble. Catherine would have to keep a close eye on her, although she had to agree that she would find it difficult to go through life as a mute.
Since she knew her time at home was coming to an end, she decided that she wanted to enjoy as much of it as possible. She walked around the gardens and took in all the sights of her childhood home. She had heard stories that the palaces in England were even bigger than this, and she wondered how she would cope in an even bigger house. Frankly, it all seemed rather pointless to her. Nobody needed all this space and she would have been quite content with a quaint little cottage, much like the one the Highland farmers had had, in fact. There was much expectation placed upon her head and whenever she thought of what was needed from her she thought of people like Sarina, who had left their home and gone to live in the Highlands as brides to the lairds.
There was something exotic about it, but she wasn’t sure she could ever go through with such a thing. She owed much to her family, and wanted to make her father proud of her. She wanted to live up to her mother’s example as well. She knew that in many ways her father was right. Men and women had different duties, and this was hers. She just hoped that she would find the choice made for her agreeable, and perhaps in time she would forget about the Highland man she had met briefly in a stolen moment near a stream, or the memory might stay in her mind and stoke fires on a cold winter’s night. Either way, it would be something personal to her. She couldn’t imagine ever telling anyone about it.
While Catherine was at home she enjoyed a good amount of freedom, so she was able to avoid her uncle as much as possible. She was glad the Highlander had managed to escape and she hoped that her uncle would be lenient on the family of farmers the next time he went into the Highlands. She was disappointed that she would likely never cross the border again. It seemed as though the further south one went the more pragmatic and real the world became. Up in the north there was still a sense of ethereal mystery, as though fantasy and reality mixed together and blended to create a magical concoction where it was easy to believe that anything was possible.
Late in the afternoon, on the cusp of the evening, she was called in by her father for an audience with her uncle. Catherine insisted that Betsy should join them, and they met in one of the studies. Thomas was sitting in a high-backed chair behind a desk. Betsy and Catherine were sitting in other chairs, while Nathaniel preferred to stand. This was the moment she had been waiting for, Catherine suspected, when her fate would be chosen. Nathaniel’s wound had been stitched together again, and she noticed this time that he took great care when he was speaking so as not to aggravate the wound or the stitches. This gave his words and mannerisms quite a stilted look, and seemed unnatural, as though he was some automaton and not fully human.
“I have deliberated and researched this matter for many hours and many long nights. I know that you are eager to wed, Catherine, and I have tried to make a choice that will please both yourself and the family as a whole. This is an important time for the country, and if we wish to play a role in the future we must ensure that we make good relations now. As such I have drawn up a list of five candidates. All of them are distinguished men and are open to a marriage with us. They display a good aptitude for the political arena and while their houses may not be the most prominent at the moment, I feel that these men display suffic
ient prowess to offer us almost a guarantee that we shall prosper along with them. As to their personal qualities, I can safely say that they are all honorable men and they have assured me they will treat you as you deserve,” he said with a small smile, careful not to spread his grin too wide in case his wound should split.
Catherine’s heart raced in his chest as her father leaned forward, clasping his hands together.
“I’ve looked over the documents and reports that Nathaniel has delivered to me and I’ve come to be decision. You’re going to marry James Ralls of Roxbury. His lands have expanded a great deal since he has been in charge and he is said to be one of the most charismatic men at court, and he has the ear of many influential people. I have already sent word of the good news and he will be riding up to meet you in a few day’s time. I am sure you will make him as good a wife as you have made a daughter,” he said.
Catherine wasn’t sure about that.
“Thank you Father. Could you tell me any more about him?” she asked.
“What would you like to know?”
“His age for one thing, and is he handsome? What does he like?”
“He is forty-five,” Nathaniel said, “and he is a widower. He had one son who died in battle, but I am sure you can rectify that and bear him many strong children.”
Neither Nathaniel nor her father offered her anything else about him, and she was concerned about the age difference and the fact that her uncle only seemed to deem it important that she should bear him children. Was that all men cared about?
“Thank you Father, Uncle. I appreciate the efforts you have made in finding me a husband and I promise I shall not let you down.”
She curtsied and left the room with Betsy in tow.
“So, it seems like that was painless enough,” Betsy said.
“The painful part is yet to happen. I shall be meeting him in but a few days. What if I do not like him?”
“I suppose we can always flee as a last resort,” Betsy chuckled. Catherine didn’t think she was being very helpful. It all seemed so real now. It dawned on her that her life would never be the same and there was nothing she could do about it. She was going to be Catherine Ralls.
7
The road was long and winding, but thankfully the carriage never stopped, so Bryan didn’t have to stop either. Eventually they passed into England, and although the trees and flowers were just the same, Bryan couldn’t help but feel they lacked some of the beauty of the flowers in his homeland. Although, he supposed, English people probably thought that the Highlands lacked the beauty of their fair country.
He followed the carriage to a large estate and saw that it passed through guarded gates. He pulled his horse up and halted his approach, knowing that he would have to wait until nightfall before he could sneak into the estate. He drifted across to a grassy knoll that gave him a good view of the manor. The house was impressive, its wide grey stones a far cry from the small cottage that Hamish owned. Bryan knew the man who owned this was a powerful man, enjoying great wealth and riches and status among his peers. This kind of place was what his family had once owned, and being faced with such an impressive estate made him check his ambitions. He had no idea how he was ever going to have a place like this for himself.
But he watched as the carriage came to a halt and the people inside got out. The grey-haired man was the first. He stomped away, evidently still angry, and then the two girls followed. Bryan leaned forward with interest as he saw the girl, and he was filled with contentment upon seeing her again. He wanted to call out and get her attention, but he had to quell that desire and wait patiently.
She disappeared into the house, and she did not come out again.
He watched the people moving around the estate, the servants and the guards and the commoners who came to sell their wares. Bryan had a secluded spot and he enjoyed the food that Martha had made for him, and he relaxed with a full belly until the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars came into view. The world was all of a sudden bathed in moonlight, and the soft glow of lanterns was visible as people moved around. Bryan knew this was his chance.
He followed a path around the walls, crouching whenever he heard guards patrolling. The darkness was his ally, although he had had to leave his horse grazing where he had left. Eventually it would wander away and enjoy a life of freedom, but if Bryan needed the horse for a swift escape he was sure it would wait for him for a little while.
Eventually he came to a point in the wall that had crumbled, and he carefully climbed through, making sure not to disturb any of the rubble to draw attention. He kept to the walls of the house and made his way around, peering in windows as he did so. At one point he found a window that looked into a banqueting hall and he saw the girl there with the grey-haired man and what must have been her father. The two men were talking animatedly, but the girl sat there, looking serene and graceful. It seemed to be utter torture to be so close to her and yet have her be completely unaware of his presence. How he wished she would look his way, how he wished to hear her voice and learn her name and be in her presence once again.
Gazing upon her like this made him feel vindicated in his decision to come to England. There was something inside him that told him he had to be with her. It was some kind of natural instinct, some deep part of himself that was connected to the fabric of the world.
Then he heard a noise, and he was forced to leave the window and hide.
He found it easier to hide than he initially thought, mostly because there were so many people living on the estate that it was easy for him to blend in, and while the grey-haired man would have hunted him down in the Highlands, he would never have suspected that Bryan would appear in his home! Bryan kept to the shadows and made note of how people moved and sounded. When he was confident he was alone he tried to practice the English accent, but he wasn’t very good and he knew he wouldn’t be able to disguise himself for long if he was forced to speak to anyone.
But he had to find a way to stay here and make his way to the girl he had seen. He decided to go to the stables and spend the night with the horses, for as he moved around the estate he saw that every door was guarded, and the walls were too smooth for him to climb up. He hoped that an opportunity would arise for him to blend in with the morning crowd and enter the house. Only the grey-haired man and his two guards knew what he looked like, so as long as he avoided them he felt confident that he would be alright.
The horses stirred as he walked among them, but animals had always had a natural affinity for him, so they didn’t make any noise. He walked to the back and found a pile of straw, which he covered himself with and slept through the night.
The following morning, Bryan awoke early and was glad that he had awoken before anyone had come into the stables. He crept outside. The morning light was dim and there was a soft mist of dew. He kept to himself and hid near the stables until the stable-hands arrived. Bryan’s gaze was fixed on the entrance to the house, for he knew that at some point the guards were going to have to leave and allow servants and tradesmen to enter.
The more time passed, the more he grew anxious. Bryan wasn’t at all used to being in a place like this. He was a man of the natural world, of the land, and he was used to having the freedom to move about wherever he pleased. This sneaking about was good for a time, but the longer he spent in the estate without seeing the girl, the more agitated he became, and the more likely he knew it was that he would be caught. So far there hadn’t been an opportunity for him to sneak into the house, for the guards were looking carefully at everyone. He could take his chances and hope that they assumed he belonged there, but he didn’t want to risk it until he had at least had a chance to see the girl.
Thankfully, not long after dawn, a car trundled into the estate and men and women climbed down, looking tired after a long night’s ride. They stopped near where Bryan was standing and he was curious about who they were. The man driving the cart called out that these were a new batch of servants eager
to serve Lord Browne, and Bryan quickly rose and slipped in with the crowd. If any of them noticed his new presence they didn’t bother to say anything, but he could hear from their voices that they were all English, so he would stand out if he had to speak.
They were told to wait there. Bryan carefully made note of all the people around him, but if he could disguise himself as a servant then he could gain access to the inner house, and from there he could find the girl.
A heavyset woman approached wearing white, with her hair pulled back tightly. She had a wart on one cheek, and a stern gaze. When she spoke the words shot out of her mouth like arrows and her presence was much larger than her stature.
“I hope that you’re better than the last lot, bunch of useless whiners they were. Now then, let’s see what we’ve got. You’ll have to clean yourself up if you want to serve the household, but I think a few of you won’t even make it that far. I’m Elsa and if you ever want to get anything done around here, you come to me. I’ll make it happen, and if you follow my rules you’ll do just fine.”
She passed her inscrutable gaze over the group of servants and murmured to herself. She spoke to a few of them and seemed to be separating them into different groups. Bryan quickly realized that he might well have to speak, and he panicked. He pulled his billowing cloak around him to hide his sword, which was the only thing that might set him apart from these people, aside from his Scottish accent. Otherwise he looked as ragged and scruffy as any of them, and was about as far from nobility as he could possibly be.
He sidled and shifted away, trying to avoid her attention, but Elsa seemed to have a nose for people like him and she made a beeline towards him, her beady eyes staring at him.
“You’re a big one, I’m surprised you haven’t found work warring somewhere. Or maybe you have and you’re just not good at it.” She examined him and reached up to feel his muscles. “Well, aren’t you going to speak?” Bryan looked at her and kept his mouth firmly shut. He knew if he spoke, word would soon get around that a Highlander was in the court and it would garner too much attention, especially when his description reached the grey-haired man. He stared at her blankly, as she stared at him expectantly. The pressure almost became too much and he was about to try his English accent and concoct a story that she would believe, when she rolled her eyes.