Arabella realized she would have no choice except to find someone else and inquire further. It was clear that it wouldn’t happen this evening. No matter how badly she wanted to know, she could not force anybody to tell her what was going on with the laird and his son. It was sad, but that’s just how it was and she couldn’t do anything more about it.
Instead of being too concerned, Arabella decided she would make every effort just to enjoy the night.
She looked beautiful and she knew it. It certainly helped that she had men from all over the country eyeing her and she knew that she was being noticed. She also had the opportunity to meet a few of the other women and hoped she might make a couple friends who lived in places far from Dunmore, places she might be able to visit now that she had established herself as an adventuress.
As the night wore on, she had very little opportunity to speak with Francis again and she noticed that for a significant amount of time, he had gone. Arabella subtly tried to look for him, and she knew that Laurie was searching on her behalf even without having to be asked, but it didn’t change that Francis had simply vanished and had said nothing to her.
Arabella engaged in another conversation with the laird, but it was brief and, predictably, vague. He mentioned how the Laird of Dunmore had been an old friend and he hoped to visit again soon.
There was plenty more to do over the course of the evening, but finally Arabella found herself sneaking out and returning to her room just to catch a breath. Laurie decided she would go to bed early and gave Arabella permission to come and go as she pleased, as they were in the house of the laird, where she couldn’t very well get into too much trouble.
Arabella went to her window to inhale some of the clean air after having been in the stuffy party for so long. She looked out around the townhouse and saw in the courtyard a lone figure.
Her heart leapt a little. She knew exactly what she had to do next.
Chapter 12
Footsteps And A Secret To Be Hidden
Francis felt insecure. There had to be some shame about his strange affinity for courtyards. Why was it that he always seemed to find himself turning to them as places to hide his disgrace? He was constantly removing himself from other people to find a small spot he could rest in, knowing that no one would find him.
He had left the reception early in the hopes that he could avoid his uncle and faither. After all, neither of them were truly an uncle or a faither, so who would care that he was out here alone? Who would mind that a bastard son was hidden away in the empty courtyard?
Footsteps sounded behind him and Francis realized that it might be equally shameful for his supposed faither’s guests to see him out here, having abandoned the gathering. He would be deemed rude. He was not only lacking the lineage of a laird, but the manners as well.
Francis breathed in and turned around, prepared with an excuse about how he had wanted to say farewell to one of the guests and found himself caught up in staring at the sky.
However, when he turned, he saw her standing there, glowing beneath the light of the moon. The Lady Arabella.
She was always exquisite. To the point that he had begun to wonder why he had ever considered himself worthy of her. All those moments of wanting to kiss her, how foolish had he been?
The bastard son of an unfaithful woman could never be enough for a bonnie lass like Arabella, the lady of Dunmore. She deserved far beyond anything he could ever give to her, ever be for her. She was truly amazing.
When he had seen her earlier in the evening in that brocade gown, he had nearly lost himself. All through the evening it had been an impossible feat to tear his eyes away from her. She was a bright light in the dark of the evening. A hope against the shadow of his uncle and the shame of his faither.
“How are ye?” she greeted, rather informally.
It made him glad to hear her speak to him like that, so comfortably. “I’m doing grand, thank ye. And ye? How’s the evening? Is it everything ye hoped it might be?” he asked in reply.
“Oh, that and so much more. But I noticed ye had left and I became worried about ye…” she said, looking down.
“Dinnae be worried about me. I’m just out here enjoying the sky. It’s rather grand, dinnae ye think? And I was saying farewell to some other guests,” he said, remembering his lie at the last.
“Oh?” she asked, unconvinced. He wondered if she had known it was a lie, if she had caught him in his attempt to deceive her.
Maybe he was more like his mother than he had ever realized.
“And did ye enjoy the reception?” Arabella asked.
“Mm-hmm,” he replied quietly, not willing to say much more than that.
“What was yer favorite part?” she prodded.
“Coming out here and being alone,” he answered rudely, hinting that he didn’t feel like having company, no matter how stunning it might be.
Arabella looked at him with concern in her eyes. It was clear that she was worried about him and had wanted to check on him. His evident sadness was always a blight on his personality. Francis wanted to learn how to hide it better, but he didn’t think he’d ever really be able to do so. No matter how hard he tried, he would always be found out by a woman like Arabella.
“Right. Do ye mind having just a little company? I willnae bother ye,” she laughed nervously.
“It would seem that I’m always bothered,” he replied coldly.
“Oh. Okay then. I guess I just assumed ye wouldnae mind having a friend for a few minutes,” she said, clearly still hoping he would invite her to stay.
“I’ve got plenty of friends, but it doesnae mean I wish to be around them all the time. Sometimes people need to be alone for a bit,” he replied.
Arabella nodded cautiously. Francis tried to suppress his guilt.
“Listen, I didnae mean to upset ye earlier. I ken that ye arnae doing well this evening. I mean, I dinnae mean to push ye. But I’m…I’m just concerned, that’s all. I can tell ye’re upset and if I did anything, or if it’s yer faither and uncle, I dinnae ken…” Arabella said.
Francis realized that she had spoken without thinking it through first. She had no idea what it was she meant to communicate to him, but she needed him to know she was concerned about him, that she had noticed that he needed some form of comfort.
“Wh-what are ye on about?” Francis asked, wanting to push away her words. No matter what she was trying to say, or how uncomfortable she was in saying it, he appreciated her concern. Nevertheless, that didn’t mean he was ready to talk about it all.
“I just…I mean that I’m here if ye need someone to talk to. I dinnae want ye to be alone when ye’re so clearly upset about something. And again, I dinnae mean to push ye, but what’s it all about?” she finally asked.
And there it was. Arabella really did want to know exactly what was going on between Francis and his faither and uncle. She was being curious out of concern, but she was putting Francis in a position of having to tell her or push her away.
It had always been his nature to push others away. No matter how much he liked Arabella, no matter how beautiful she was or how kind he thought she was, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t tell her the truth about something like this. He couldn’t allow her to get close when it was something that pained him so badly.
“I dinnae ken what ye’re on about…” was all he said by way of reply. Francis sensed that his tone had been harsher than he’d meant. He couldn’t take it back now, though, and he didn’t think it was worth trying. He wanted Arabella to understand that this was an area he was not willing to discuss, not even with her.
“Oh come now, I can tell there’s something on yer mind, Francis,” she pushed.
Francis steadied his breathing again. He had overheard a momentary discussion earlier in the night about him and his own inheritance of the lairdship. He was angry again. He had flashing memories of the guard he had nearly beaten to death.
He couldn’t allow himself to make a scene her
e and now, he couldn’t allow Arabella to see him like that ever again. So he needed to push her away, to convince her to leave him alone. He had to be cold toward her.
“Listen, lass, it’s all nice and everything that ye’re being concerned, but please remember that this isnae any of yer concern. Ye’re here to act as me maid and in the meantime, when we’re in the house, ye can do as ye please, but dinnae expect me to cater to all yer wishes,” he told her harshly.
Francis knew he was being overly rude. In fact, he felt hurt just by uttering those words to a woman like Arabella, but he also knew that it was necessary for him in that moment.
The look on her face nearly broke his heart. Arabella’s eyes told him exactly how wounded she was by the things he had said to her. Francis suddenly wished he could take it all back, but that had always been his problem; he couldn’t take back his words. Or his actions.
He could beat a man senseless over a suggestion about his birthright and he could disrespect Arabella into acting like an injured lamb at the drop of a word.
Arabella opened her mouth to speak, but her pain was too great and she promptly closed it again, unwilling to say anything further. Francis couldn’t look at her so he looked away, willing himself not to feel guilt or pity or any of those awful things that would lead him to apologizing. He needed her to go.
Otherwise he would tell her everything. He couldn’t embarrass himself like that. He couldn’t confess to her the shame of his being.
Arabella continued to stand, waiting for something, anything. Francis felt awful that she had reduced herself to being a dog waiting for scraps from its master. She was still expecting him to tell her. Anything. An apology at the very least.
Francis turned away instead, giving her his back, and gazed at the sky once more.
After a few seconds of hopeless waiting, he heard Arabella’s footsteps retreat in the opposite direction, moving away from him and leaving him alone in the night.
The courtyard grew silent, save for the sounds of the insects that buzzed around and lived their short little lives without any sort of worry or anxiety.
How they could have but weeks to live and yet not feel a need to accomplish anything more than moving pollen from one flower to another, or buzzing incessantly to annoy humans, or whatever else they were meant for, Francis couldn’t understand.
He had been born for a reason, and he would like a life of inheritance as though it had been something he earned, when in reality it was a chance of a transgression that had fallen against the laird.
No, Francis deserved very little. Not only was he no inheritor, no matter how he might share an appearance with the laird, but he was also a fighter who had recklessly caused violence and injury. He was a cruel man who wounded the woman he cared about more than anything else. A woman he had just met. A woman who had become everything to him.
Francis wished he could rip out his hair and release the scream that had been building up inside of him ever since that day on the hill when his uncle had told him the truth. However, he was unable to do any of it. He could only sit here and wait for the guests to leave, one by one.
He could only sit and stew in his hatred for his heritage, and his hatred toward himself.
He thought about Arabella and where she might be now. She could be in her room, sleeping, she could be raging at the laird for having raised such a rude and horrible young man, or she could be packing to return home.
He didn’t know. He desperately wanted to know, but he could not now try to find out. He wished only that he hadn’t hurt her so deeply.
His thoughts were more with the sickening feeling he’d had ever since he’d heard his uncle earlier in the evening, drunkenly hinting at slurs to party-goers.
A comment here or there about the lad that lucked into a lairdship. A remark about a woman who had been unfaithful and her son got the chance of a lifetime as a result. He continued with all his rude rantings, just a little bit now and then throughout the evening, until it was of very little doubt that the guests would be able to put all the comments together and understand that Francis truly was nothing but the son of infidelity.
Alone in the courtyard, with the moon overhead, Francis felt that he was truly how he belonged.
Alone.
Chapter 13
A New Friend Amidst The Grief
Arabella sniffed quietly, trying not to draw attention to herself. She had been a mess since coming back inside the house, but couldn’t allow herself to be embarrassed in front of so many high-ranking people. The worst thing she could possibly do would be to shame herself around those who knew the man who had just completely wrenched out her heart.
She sniffed again and tried to steady her breathing, but the tears continued to flow. The room was empty and the door open, so she remained in the corner, hoping no one would detect her. It would have been difficult to get to the stairs and her room from here. For that reason, it was better to hide until she had composed herself and then, perhaps, say goodnight to the laird.
It would be horrible if she had been overly obtrusive to the guests, but it was certainly her own self that she was more concerned for now.
Why had Francis been so cruel? He could have spoken to her more kindly. He could have simply told her that he had no desire to speak at the time and that he was not able to discuss the matters at hand.
Oh, it was true that she had pushed, that she had tried to get more information from him than he was willing to tell, but it did not excuse his behavior toward her.
The sounds outside the room were still going strong and now and then people would walk past the room, barely noticing it and not bothering to look inside and see her. Arabella was relieved, but she was also terribly lonely. It was horrible to feel so alone.
She looked out the window, a distraction and an excuse to face away in case she was seen by anyone. She was also able to see the reflections of anyone who might notice her so that she could recover herself before speaking.
Outside the window was the same moon that Francis had been gazing at so intently. While she could not see the courtyard from where she stood, she knew that Francis had been watching the same sky with the same stars. It was too awful to think that they might be so close yet so far away.
Then Arabella saw a reflection in the window. An elderly woman with white hair came into the room with a soft click of her shoes.
“Me dear?” she asked quietly, compassionately.
Arabella swiped at her eyes and turned slowly to the woman, keeping her gaze fairly low and barely meeting the lady’s eyes.
“Oh, lass, what is it?” she asked.
Arabella looked up at the woman, tightened her lips, and felt her shoulders begin to shake all over again.
“Hush now, lass. It’s going to be alright,” the whispered, coming in and taking Arabella in her arms. “Dinnae worry. No matter what it is, I’m certain that everything will be alright.”
After a few moments in the comfort of the lady’s embrace, Arabella calmed herself enough to meet the woman face to face.
“Now, will ye tell me what it is that has ye so distraught?” the woman asked.
Arabella looked down again.
“It’s alright. Come, sit over here and we’ll get to know each other a little better,” the woman suggested, leading Arabella to a comfortable chair.
Arabella breathed deeply and finally allowed herself to tell the woman the truth. “Well, there is someone I ken. I ken that they’ve been lying to me, or at least not telling me everything. Tonight, they said some truly rude things to me,” Arabella said, trying to remain vague but feeling she couldn’t express the whole of it.
“Am I right in assuming it was a lad?” the woman asked.
Arabella nodded.
“Well, then, me dear. Me name is Lady Anisette. And I’d love it if ye’d spend some time with me this evening,” she said. The woman stroked Arabella along her back in a comforting, grandmotherly manner. It made her feel a renewed sense of c
alm.
“Thank ye, Lady Anisette. I so appreciate yer comforting me just now. I cannae tell ye how hard it’s been, truly. I’ve been trying to figure out exactly what I’m feeling. I mean, I suppose that I pushed when I shouldnae have. But I was terribly concerned. And he said everything he could think of to hurt me in return,” Arabella whimpered.
“Then he was a fool. Lads can be like that at times. They think too much about themselves and nowhere near enough about the lasses they affect. I’m guessing this lad probably cares about ye a great deal in return, but doesnae ken how to say it. And maybe he was just distracted by his own thoughts, whatever foolish nonsense they might have been,” Lady Anisette said, trying to bring Arabella a bit of peace.
Arabella nodded again, trying to hold back another onrush of tears.
“So do ye and the lad have something between ye? Are ye in love?” Lady Anisette asked.
Arabella paused in thought and looked up at the woman. “I dinnae ken, to be honest. But I can see where I could love him someday. It’s doubtful that he loves me. I feel as though he thinks of me as nothing but a nuisance, even though I’ve tried all I can to be a friend,” Arabella confessed.
“Some men are like that. It doesnae mean they dinnae care about ye, but sometimes the more ye push into their world, they more they’ll try and push ye right back out. They dinnae want to see ye making a fool of them if they show ye just how weak they are. They cannae allow ye to be the one to take hold of them and turn their world upside down, ye ken?” the woman asked.
“Aye. I suppose that’s true. Most men seemed determined to show their strength before they show their affection,” Arabella noted.
“Oh, aye. They do at that. It can be terribly disappointing for us, but it’s very much like them. I hate when a man does that to me. But at the same time, I understand it. It’s just their way, ye ken? They want to prove themselves. They think their affection means nothing if ye dinnae trust in their strength and their ability to take care of ye,” she explained.
Love Saves A Highland Spy: Ladies of Dunmore Series (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story) Page 9