by Ria Cantrell
Jenna had presently thwarted all attempts to marry any of the suitors her parents had encouraged her to consider. She liked her life perfectly as it was. She loved her parents. She truly did, but she wanted no part of that family lifestyle that all the other women of the clan seemed to aspire to. Nor was religious life her calling. Instead, Jenna thought that she wished to live her life of her own choosing and she could forego the trappings of marriage very happily. Jenna knew that her parents loved each other deeply and she admired their devotion to one another. She even found it quite endearing how they still had a strong physical attraction to each other and their affections were readily witnessed.
Jenna also knew, however, that her parents had not had an easy courtship. Aye, she knew the tale for it had been told to her since she was old enough to hear it. Old Morag seemed to delight in the telling of the story of how her father, Sir Drew was smitten with her Scottish mother, Bronwyn despite their cultural and political differences. Morag often told Jenna about the trials that her parents first faced and how her mother and Jenna shared a spirit of obstinate determination. Morag always ended the tale with these words, “When t’is written by the One Power, nay amount of will can prevent the True Path.”
Well, if Jenna had anything to say about it, she was going to prevent it! She did not believe in all the superstitious things her mother and Morag put their faith in. Most of all, Jenna Brandham did not see why a woman had to marry if she did not wish to.
Jenna knew she was beyond the marriageable age, but she did not care. While her parents had married for love, most marriages were nothing more than business contracts. Well, Jenna had no need for such a thing. She loved her home and would one day be the heiress of her parent’s holdings. She had no need of wealth brought about through a marriage nor did she wish to see her own properties fall into the hands of some greedy man who would care little for her well-being or her heart. Nay, Jenna had no stomach for such a thing.
Because her parents and all of her uncles had married for love, Jenna supposed that was one of the reasons that a union had not been forced upon her presently, but she also was not foolish enough to realize that it would only be a matter of time before her family would grow impatient with her choices to remain unwed. They would, no doubt, finally arrange for her to wed with or without love, as her prospects dwindled with the passing of time.
Perhaps, it had already begun with the Royal emissary’s visit. Jenna imagined that the “Royal prospect” should seem more appealing to her, but, in fact, the idea of it made her stomach lurch. Royal or no, Jenna would not be forced or coerced to marry. It was as simple as that!
Jenna knew that, while it appeared her stance on the matter could be considered childish, she felt it was rather progressive, really. After all, women were not given much choice in their lots. Even her own mother was used as a political pawn in the world where men made all of the decisions. Some would say that Jenna had been over-indulged by her parents and grandfather, for her father seemed to want his only daughter to be happy. As for her grandfather, Caleb, well he never forced the matter. He easily could do so by his rightful place as Laird of the Clan MacCollum, but he never did. Nowadays, Grandfather Caleb seemed to take comfort when his family drew to his home to be united as they had been in bygone days.
He still was strong for a man of his advanced age, but the once powerful warrior and leader of the clan was mellowing and slowing down. He was happiest when there was no strife in his family. Thus, he never voiced his opinion on the matter of Jenna’s marital rejections. Rather, her grandfather doted on both of his youngest granddaughters and he indulged Jenna and her cousin Brigid, seemingly mollifying their whims as if doing so could make them stay young rather than having his bairns forge ahead to adulthood. Jenna and Brigid Caitlyn were nearly the same age and they thought a lot alike.
Neither of the young women were children, though. Despite what Caleb wished for, there was no preventing the turning of time. Nay, Jenna was nearly two and twenty years and Brigid had just celebrated her twentieth birthday. They were well past the age to marry, they both knew that. Brigid Caitlyn was Jenna’s dearest friend and they shared many of their dreams and desires for lives of independence and adventure. Brigid was a little more daring when it came to the males who vied for their attention and Jenna was always amazed how easily her cousin could flirt, where she could not. Well, that mattered not, because if flirting lead to marriage proposals, Jenna would just as soon not ever try to become skilled at it.
If all else failed, Jenna would appeal to her grandfather to rule on the issue of the arranged marriage that was sure to be in Jenna’s future. She would beseech and cull the soft spot Caleb held for her so that he would argue on her side of the matter. But first, she would talk to her father. Perhaps he would see to reason and would agree that she should not be forced to wed if she did not want to. He would be back home the next day or so and Jenna would stay out of her mother’s way as best she could. In the meantime, she would work on her argument to present her plight to her father in the most convincing way.
~
Chapter Three ~
Jenna snuck into the kitchen and deposited her catch of fish onto a clean platter that Cook had left out for the preparation of the evening meal. Jenna was happy to not have run into her mother, Morag, or for that matter, the cook. So after leaving her afternoon catch, she thought to make herself scarce before her mother accosted her with the news of the latest marriage proposal.
Perhaps if she could keep out of the way, she could avoid the unpleasant discussion at least until her father arrived back from his business with the MacKays. She knew she could work her charms on her father and most times he relented. It wasn’t that she liked to manipulate him; it was just that sometimes he was easier to approach when it came to matters that troubled her heart. And this matter was about the most troublesome thing Jenna had yet to face. When Jenna thought about marriage, and it did not matter to whom, she felt sick to her stomach. The entire idea of it made bile rise in her throat. How she sometimes longed for the days of her childhood when the most important decision was to play a game of catch with some sort of ball.
The idea of giving up the life she led to be dominated by the whims of a controlling husband was something Jenna could not think too long upon. Couple that with a man she had not chosen in love, and she knew that these were thoughts that could not be tolerated for more than a brief passing in her mind. Jenna was certainly not a stupid girl. She knew that most women of her age were all wedded and settled into their roles within the clan. Why, even her brother Ian seemed to have found the mate of his own. Perhaps she was just different. Or mayhap there was something wrong with her.
Jenna knew she was a girl of good breeding; the granddaughter of the Laird of the clan and the daughter of an honorable English knight. Campbell keep had come into her family near the time when she had been born and while it would someday be rightfully her cousin Brigid Caitlin’s to claim, her own family had restored it, Her mother, Bronwyn, had lands that would someday be passed on to her. Jenna knew she was a very good prospect to marry and she was not foolish enough to think that her bride worth hadn’t brought marriage prospects to her door like vultures ready to descend and pick their take clean. Of course men wanted to marry her; but not for reasons that appealed to Jenna. Why, her standing in the clan alone was enough to have some of those swains sniffing after her like dogs on the scent of a ready bitch in heat.
Jenna shook herself out of such dire thoughts and made her way to the back stairs in the hope that no one would accost her. She hadn’t gotten but a few steps when her mother called, “Jenna! Wait! I have exciting news.”
Somehow the way her mother had spoken the words were less than convincing and when Jenna turned to face Bronwyn she saw strain etched in her mother’s beautiful face. Maybe the idea of bartering her only daughter did not sit well with her mother after all. With a heavy sigh, Jenna said, “I already know, mother. And there is nothing exciting a
bout it.”
Jenna saw her mother’s eyes glance down with the slightest bowing of her head. She raised her eyes to her daughter and in an even tone, she replied, “Well then, you must know that we have nay been given a choice. We must ready ourselves as quickly as we can. We dunna’ have a lot of time until we must accommodate…”
“The usurper of innocence,” Jenna bit out more harshly than she had intended.
“Jenna, I have no love for anything that comes from the English Court. Trust me when I say this. My own experience there was not the happiest time in my life. Nor was it your father’s. However, he is still a knight of the English realm and his obligations are greatly required.”
“I dunna’ see why I have to suffer for it. Ye’ have often spoke of how ye’ met da’ there and that t’was when ye’ fell in love.”
Bronwyn touched the arm of her daughter. She did not understand her reference to suffering and she guessed it was because Samhain would have to be celebrated more traditionally next year. Bronwyn supposed a young girl looks forward to these fetes, but it just could not be helped this time. It would be too risky to celebrate the feast out right in the pagan way now that the king would be arriving in its wake.
“Listen, daughter, there were things that happened when I was at the English court; things we have never told ye’; things I wish I could forget but alas, I can nay. Aye, I met your father there and knew instantly that I loved him, but…” Bronwyn’s voice drifted off. Some of those memories were too painful to call upon. “Anyway,” she continued. “This is the new King. I dunna’ know too much about him save that he is the grandson of the other and the son of the Black Prince. He is young, they say. Perhaps even too young to be a king. But he is to be our guest.”
Jenna fairly growled at the statement. He is young, she thought. As if that would make a difference.
Bronwyn continued, “He supposedly is suing for peace. He wishes to unify the discord among the English and Scots.”
“Ha! Indeed! When English pretend to seek peace, it is undoubtedly meant to enslave a Scot. Uncle Rory says….”
Bronwyn grabbed Jenna’s arm a little less gently than she had meant to. Her eyes flashed and she said, “Dunna’ forget yer’ father is English. That makes ye’ English as well. I am glad he has not returned to hear such venom come from the mouth of the child he loves so much.”
“I am not a child, mother. I am a grown woman. Da’ is Clan. More than some of the sons born into MacCollum.”
Bronwyn knew that was quite true in many respects. Why, he did not even have the English inflection any longer when speaking. He had embraced her clan and her way of life and had all but given up his heritage for her. But, nay, you could not change who you were born to be. Sir Andrew Brandham was as English as the king himself. Bronwyn said, “Make no mistake, my girl. My husband, your father, sacrificed much out of his love for me and though he has chosen to live in our land and keep our traditions and our ways, he is English. Our name alone marks us as such. Brandham is no Scottish name, to be certain. You would be wise to remember that for ye’ are part of him and what he is so, too, are ye’.”
Jenna knew there was truth in her mother’s words, but she felt more Scottish than English and she supposed she always would. Even so, as a matter of defiance, she snapped, “Well, then perhaps I should go to live in England if it will spare me from a life not of my own choosing. Perhaps I can go visit Ian and learn about the part of me that is English. I daresay Uncle Erik and Aunt Rhianna would welcome me.”
Bronwyn nodded. She was loath to send her daughter to England, but perhaps that was not such a bad idea after all. Perhaps away from Scotland and all the influences against her proper English upbringing would be just the thing Jenna needed to not only embrace her heritage but to tame her wild ways in the process.
Bronwyn did not falter, so she said, “Perhaps that would not be a bad idea after all. Still, ye’ can certainly nay mean to stay with Ian. He is newly appointed to the Guard and he is planning his own wedding soon. While auntie would love to see ye’, yer’ brother is too busy serving under Erik’s army. I believe, come the spring, perhaps a journey to yer’ grandparents manor would be a more suitable trip befitting a girl of yer’ standings. Yer’ English grandparents are quite on in years. A visit is long overdue.”
Jenna’s eyes widened in horror. She loved her Nana Elizabeth and her grandfather Geoffrey, but their manor was isolated in the English countryside and life there would be quite dull. Jenna knew that if she took such a trip, she would not be able to see her cousin Brigid, whom she adored, nor her dear MacCollum uncles who fostered her sense of adventure and probably spoiled her more than just a little. Jenna began to rethink her words and she backtracked wholeheartedly saying, “Mum, nay! Dunna’ send me to Nan’s. I did nay mean…”
Releasing Jenna’s arm, Bronwyn suddenly looked tired. She said, “We shall have to discuss it after the Royal envoy departs. There will be many tasks to prepare for the visit and who knows what opportunities shall come as a result of it.”
“Opportunities?”
At that word Jenna felt that sickening feeling wash over her again. “Mum, no!” Jenna knew just what those opportunities could be. It was what she dreaded most; a marriage arranged to a man she did not know and did not love.
“Jenna, it is nay yer choice to decide. The matter has been decided for us. We have nothing to say but to bow to the request of both King Richard and King Robert.”
“But, Mum…I am not meant for the nuances of Court. I am just a country girl really and you can nay mean for me to….”
“I thought ye’ just were shunning yer country upbringing. Now ye’ wish to claim that ye’ are a country girl when only moments ago ye’ held it in disdain.”
Jenna sometimes forgot that her mother had an uncanny sense to know what she was thinking. She tried to protest one more time, but her mother, who usually was quite even-tempered and sweet, barked, “Enough, Jenna! I have much to do. Ye’ will be gracious and ye’ will nay bring dishonor to yer’ father or to this clan. Please dunna’ make an already impossible situation more unbearable with these irrational moods.”
Bronwyn was starting to feel a dull pounding in her temples and she rubbed the offending spots on both sides of her head. She had not wanted to quarrel yet again with Jenna. It seemed that she and her daughter were always at odds lately. While she did not wish it to be so, there was little she could do about it now. The burden of the Royal visit weighed heavily upon her. Bronwyn hoped that the willfulness in Jenna would abate before the king arrived. With that, Bronwyn left Jenna in the kitchen staircase.
Jenna’s face flamed thinking that all the cooks and scullery had probably been privy to their quarrel and they would take the opportunity to gossip about it. Jenna felt herself stomping up the stairs, suddenly feeling every bit of the wayward child her mother said that she was.
~
Chapter Four ~
Thomas dropped his backpack and luggage in the foyer of his childhood home.His mother was in the kitchen preparing the evening meal and her eyes widened in happy surprise at seeing her son standing in the doorway. It had been months since he was able to visit. As a shout of happiness left her, she threw her arms around the now handsome man her son had become. Thomas hugged her and Deirdre Callum cried happily, “What are you doing home? I thought it wasn’t going to be until Thanksgiving for you to return.”
“That was the original plan, but I have an amazing opportunity that just fell into my lap, mom, so I thought I’d come home now since I have a few weeks off.”
Wiping her hands on her apron, Deirdre then took her son’s arm and led him to the family room, urging him to sit down. She said, “I can’t wait to hear all about it. Let me get you a snack and we will visit for a while.”
“Mom, I didn’t come home to be waited on hand and foot.”
“I know, Tommy, but I am just so glad to see you. Your dad will be thrilled to see you as well. He has an early shift at
the hospital today. Since I have the afternoon off, I thought I would make a nice sit-down dinner for us for a change. We always seem to be like ships passing each other at times. When I have the chance to make a nice meal for your dad, it’s like a gift from heaven. I had no idea it would turn into a regular party now that you’re home. Do you want a drink?”
“Sure, Mom. Just a Coke though. That would be fine for now.”
Thomas sat himself down on the comfortable couch in the family room. The smells from the kitchen and the sounds of his mom opening the refrigerator door brought a smile to his face. It was so good to be here. Even though he was living on his own in another part of the country, it felt comfortable to be back on the home front.
Deirdre brought the drinks into the room and she sat beside her son on the couch. Swirling the ice so that it clinked against the glass, Thomas took a gulp of the cold soda. Deirdre smiled and said, “Tell me about this exciting news.”
“Well I thought I’d wait until Dad got home so I could tell you both, but it is just too good to keep to myself.”
Thomas set his drink down on the coffee table and stretched his long legs out before him, slumping down a little against the plump pillows behind him. Deirdre nudged him and said, “Come on, Tom. You can’t just leave me hanging. What’s going on?”
“Well, you know how I have been singing at a local Irish pub near my apartment a couple of nights a week?”
“Sure. You always had such an amazing voice. I keep hoping to get out to the East Coast one of these days just so I can hear you sing on that stage.”