As to being called the Scottish hostage ... David refused to waste his time considering the priest's thoughts about him.
David had no need to look at Ellen to know she could answer the question the priest put to her, but Father Bernard's intimidation kept her silent. She kept her head down, her chestnut hair partially hiding her delicate features, and looked uncomfortable under the priest's scrutiny. Where was the willow switch the priest always carried? Crack. David's head snapped up at the sound, and he stared at Ellen in surprise. The short switch struck the table, sounding like a snapping whip. Ellen's hand jerked backward, just in time to avoid receiving a sharp sting. The willow switch was always kept close by as a threat. This was the first time it had been hidden, then struck without warning. David's anger rose as Ellen's eyes widened at the attempted discipline.
"It amazes me, my lady, that you are capable of getting through the day when it takes you so long to answer a simple question. It only proves my point; females are too slow, and do not possess the intelligence needed to be educated.” Father Bernard tucked his hands within his sleeves, hiding the short switch from view.
* * * *
Ellen bit her lip and fought back angry tears, refusing to give the priest further opportunity to gloat. She said a silent prayer of thanks that Gordon and David remained silent, but caught Nicholas’ smirk when she glanced up. Ellen felt her face flush with heated resentment as she stared him down. She smiled with satisfaction when Nicholas was the first to look away. A small battle won.
"We will continue the lessons tomorrow, and I expect you to be better prepared.” Father Bernard left with Nicholas following close on his heels. The three children watched them go, disgusted with Nicholas’ fawning attitude.
"How does a man of the cloth justify hitting a child? Or even issuing a threat? In my father's castle, a priest would not dare threaten to hit the lord's children, for any reason.” David rarely said anything, preferring to watch and learn, but his dislike of Father Bernard's treatment of Ellen made him speak up.
"Perhaps you should speak to Papa,” Gordon suggested when they left the drafty room. Gordon's anger simmered at a dangerous level. “There is no reason for Father Bernard to treat you as he does."
Ellen looked up at her brother, her eyes wide with horror. “Please, Gordon, do not say anything to Papa. I fear he will think I am not able to learn, and put an end to my lessons. Father Bernard does not scare me, not really. Promise you will not say a word.” She sensed Gordon's hesitation, saw the disbelief in his eyes. Ellen could only hope Gordon would agree not to say anything. She glanced at her brother's new best friend, whose slight nod showed he had made up his mind and would honor her wishes.
Gordon turned back to his sister, still looking a little doubtful, but accepted Ellen's plea. “If that is what you really want. I do not want to see you hurt."
"Listen to me, Sprite,” David added, “no one can hurt you if you do not let them. Father Bernard is arrogant and full of himself. He can not go to your father if he wants to hold on to his position in Ravencliff.” David glanced at Gordon. “We all know how much he enjoys his situation here.” He turned back to Ellen. “If you are having trouble with your lessons, I would help you."
Ellen sighed. “You are right, David. I will try to not let his words bother me anymore.” It was the closest she would come to admitting her real feelings. She sighed again as she watched the boys walk away. In the months David had been fostering with her family, Ellen knew he was always looking out for her. Despite her six short years, she understood what was expected of her, but she also knew her own mind, knew what she wanted. She smiled with the inner knowledge of a secret long kept. One day...
* * * *
Lady Margaret entered Ellen's bedchamber and quietly closed the door. Ellen appeared to be asleep, but Margaret heard the soft sniffling, confirming Gwennyth's report. “What is wrong, child?” she asked as she sat on the edge of the high bed. She gently removed strands of hair from her niece's puffy face. “Gwennyth tells me you have been weeping every night until you fall asleep. Who has hurt you?” Margaret's eyes narrowed. “Have Gordon and David gone too far with their teasing? If they have, I will see to it they are properly disciplined."
Ellen rubbed the sleeve of her nightgown across her nose and sniffed. “Oh, no, they have not been teasing, at least no more than usual,” she assured her aunt.
"Then why do you weep?"
Ellen was reluctant to say anything, but relented, knowing Margaret would understand. “Father Bernard is mean to me. I try not to let anyone see how much his words hurt, but he keeps telling me how stupid I am, that I am too dull witted to learn anything. He complains if I do not answer his questions, and when I do answer, he insists I do not know my place. I can not please the man."
"Did he now? Why did you not come to me, or your father?” Anger showed in Margaret's eyes.
"Please, do not tell Papa. I feared if Papa knew, he might change his mind and not allow me to learn with the boys."
"I see.” Margaret appeared to give the matter some thought. “Then what shall we do about it?"
Ellen shrugged her shoulders. “David says no one can hurt me unless I let them. He says words can be made to seem as nothing. I suppose I can ignore Father Bernard's words just as I often ignore much of what Gordon says when he complains about me.” Ellen gave her aunt a sly look after her admission, then continued. “David and Gordon want me to tell Papa, but I begged them not to say anything, and they promised they would not. I do want to learn, and I can learn. I am not dull witted, as Father Bernard insists.” For a moment, Ellen's voice was filled with determination, then her words softened, her gray eyes bright and pleading. “Will you promise the same? Please, aunt."
Margaret laughed and hugged her niece. “As you wish, my dear. But remember this, I will know what goes on, and if I believe the problem has gone too far, I will speak with your father. Do you understand?"
Ellen nodded with relief, threw her arms about Margaret's neck and gave her a smacking kiss. “Thank you, aunt. I promise I will never again weep over Father Bernard's dislike of me. You will have no regrets.” Margaret raised an eyebrow and stared down at the child. “What mischief do you plan?"
"No mischief.” Ellen raised her chin, adopting a determined expression. “Words can not hurt if they are ignored. I will remain silent and allow Father Bernard to believe I am dull witted, then he will forget about me.” Ellen shrugged. “Since he can not send me away, he can only pretend I am no longer there. There is nothing else he can do, but try to drive me out, and that has never worked. One day, he will learn differently about me.” She dropped the self-assured demeanor as quickly as she had taken it on. “He can not go to Papa, because Gordon and David would take my part."
Margaret laughed again and shook her head. “It seems you have had your answer right along.” Margaret brushed hair away from Ellen's face. “So much like your mother, and not just the look of you. How does one so young, become so wise?"
CHAPTER THREE
Six years later...
Ellen walked along the path toward the garden, remembering the day she had pleaded with Lady Margaret to keep her confidence, and how her aunt had praised her wisdom. Today, she did not feel very wise. At age twelve, she now joined the ranks of young ladies whose fathers would be seeking suitable husbands for their daughters. Ellen knew what she wanted, but had no idea how to approach her father, to make her feelings known. Then again, little doubts nibbled at the edges of her determination. She wished she understood why things had changed between her and David. How could she be sure of her feelings and toss away all the doubts and insecurities?
Ellen turned and carefully added a plant to the woven basket Muriel dutifully carried. Several plants had been gathered and lay within the container; lumps of dirt rolled around in it. Ellen's mind was not completely on the chore at hand, but considering a more personal problem. She did not mind that Muriel was only a few years older. Her aunt had chos
en Muriel to take Gwennyth's place as Ellen's maid and companion. Ellen liked talking with the girl, and was pleased with Muriel's willingness to keep confidences. “I do not understand it, Muriel. For weeks now, David and I can not look at one another without arguing. Gordon is constantly chasing me away. What have I done wrong to be treated so?"
Ellen had volunteered to go into the woods to find some herbs that could not be found growing in the kitchen's herb patch. Aunt Margaret had run out of foxglove and wild thyme. Ellen knelt down near a patch of dense growth and pushed plants aside, until she found what she was looking for. She stabbed her trowel into the soil, to bring up another plant. Missing the dirt, she severed the plant's stem instead, then sat back on her heels, upset with the damage she had caused. She threw the trowel down in frustration. “Now look what I have done."
Muriel helped Ellen to her feet. “Perhaps this was not a good idea, my lady. Your mind be too much on your problems to think about gathering herbs.” The servant brushed at Ellen's skirt, trying to shake off the worst of the dirt. Two stains of damp earth ground into the fabric of her gown, where Ellen had been kneeling. Muriel tsked at the stains. It was going to take much more than just a brief brushing to clean off this grime. “If I may speak, my lady?"
"Please do, Muriel."
"Things are not the same as they were. You were so proud of Lord David, the day your father made him and your brother knights, but David is not the boy you used to follow about. He is a man now, with a man's thoughts and feelings, a man's responsibilities, just as you are no longer the little girl who used to trail her brother and his friend about the bailey. We all grow up and give our attention over to new things.” Muriel picked up the large, almost flat basket and followed Ellen away from the herb patch.
"Does that mean I can no longer care for him?” Ellen asked, shuddering at the thought.
"Oh no, my lady. It means your feelings be changing. They may grow stronger, or they may fade away. What you thought of him when you were a child is different from what you think now. You see him differently, but only time can decide in which direction your feelings go."
Ellen thought about Muriel's words for a moment. “But he is always so angry with me.” She brushed roughly at the stains on her skirts and sighed. Aunt Margaret would not be pleased to see the mess she had made of yet another gown.
"Give him time, my lady. Young men suffer just as much confusion over their feelings as do young ladies. Only difference be, they can hide it much better.” Muriel smiled at the younger girl.
Ellen grinned, sure Muriel had experience in the matter, and was about to tease the maid, but thought better of it. Ellen pressed a finger across her lips, as she glanced at Muriel, then looked about either side of the stream, among the trees and shrub. She felt an eerie sensation, as if they were being watched, but could see nothing in the afternoon shadows. Ellen signaled Muriel to stay close. The servant quickly nodded and followed her mistress. The girls moved slowly along the stream, stepping carefully as their footsteps squelched in the mud near the water.
* * * *
Nicholas crouched behind a young tree, which stood sentinel by the stream. Several thick berry bushes hid him from view, and made it possible to watch the direction the girls’ voices came from. He picked a few of the ripe fruit and popped them into his mouth as he focused his attention on finding an opportunity to have a few minutes alone with Ellen. Despite his harsh remarks to her over the years, he believed he cared for her, in a strange sort of way—at least a little. It was enough, he thought, to approach her and make his feelings known. She was of marriageable age, and he wanted to court her. As a second son, an alliance between Fair Haven and Ravencliff would help his future plans. His concentration was broken when the neck of his tunic suddenly pulled tight against his throat and he choked on the berries he was swallowing. His slim body was forced backward, and he landed on his backside with a hard thud.
"What do you think you are doing, spying on Ellen and her maid?” David looked down at the red faced nobleman, whose eyes turned dark with anger. The Scotsman stepped back, keeping space between them as Nicholas got up.
Neither young man noticed the girls approaching cautiously, moving close enough to the stream to soak the hems of their gowns. “Stay away from Ellen,” Nicholas warned. “She belongs to me."
"I have never heard her father say any such thing,” David countered.
"He will soon enough. He would not be such a fool as to give his eldest daughter to a lowly Scotsman. You are still, and always will be a heathen, despite the knighthood Lord Hugh bestowed upon you. Can not fight properly, and you are not good enough for our women.” Nicholas carefully sidestepped, keeping David before him at all times. Each young man kept a wary eye on his opponent.
"At least I have earned my knighthood,” David remarked, his tone hinting at Nicholas’ lack.
Nicholas bristled at the insinuation, and kept his distance, but continued to circle David. “I do not need a knighthood to attract a woman. Ellen knows where her duty lies."
"Does Ellen not have anything to say in the matter?"
"Women have nothing to say, especially Ellen. She has proven too often, she cannot think. She must be told what to do."
"I grow tired of you belittling the lady. You are not good enough for her, despite the high opinion you have of yourself.” David's black eyes flashed with anger. “She is yet a child, too young to be influenced by someone like you. Stay away from her, Nicholas."
"I take no orders from a Scotsman."
Nicholas lunged at David, his head lowered like an angry bull. His attack knocked them both to the ground. They rolled about, each trying to gain an advantage over the other. Both fighters scrambled to their feet, but Nicholas was faster than David, and caught the Scotsman in a headlock. He heard David gasping for breath, and slowly squeezed tighter.
David's fingers caught under Nicholas’ arm, and Nicholas fought the pressure his opponent applied to win his freedom. Nicholas’ hold suddenly loosened, and he felt himself being flipped and tossed through the air, only to land hard on his back on the grassy bank. He had no time to roll away before David's flying leap landed the knight on him, knocking the wind from his lungs. Despite being pinned beneath David's weight, Nicholas refused to give up, and tried once more to free himself of the arrogant Scotsman.
* * * *
Ellen watched in disbelief, embarrassed and angry that anyone would fight over her. “Stop it!” she screamed at them, to no avail. She jumped back, as they rolled closer to her, unaware of her presence. Ellen yanked the large flat basket from Muriel's hand. What plants they had gathered flew from the container, spraying loose dirt about. She plunged into the stream and turned to face the combatants, a tight grasp on the basket. With the slightly curved sides facing away from her, she dunked one end of the basket into the stream. Using quick, smooth motions, she scooped up the cold water, and began flinging it toward the combatants. Her own anger fueled her actions.
Ellen paused and struggled to keep from bursting with laughter at the sight of the dripping boys. For a moment, their positions reversed and Nicholas had gained the advantage over David. He held David against the hard ground, giving himself the incentive to keep fighting, when he was suddenly wet with cold water. The shock sent him tumbling backward, instinctively trying to avoid a second dousing. Nicholas lost his balance and found himself sitting in the stream, completely soaked.
David caught the second round, and sputtered indignantly, as water dripped from his face. “What do you think you were doing?” he roared.
A third spray missed them both. Ellen lifted the hem of her skirt and stepped out of the stream, careful to keep her distance from both young men. Muriel stood partially in front of her, in a protective stance. “I will not have you fighting over me as if I was the last bit of meat on a plate and you were both starving.” Ellen moved to stand before her companion, hands firmly set on her slender hips. “Neither of you has anything to say of my choices. The
y are ‘mine’ to make, with my father's blessing.” She glanced at both warriors. “You both deserve a good soaking, and worse."
Nicholas managed to get up, and gingerly stepped out of the stream, pushing back sopping strands of wet hair from his face. Water sluiced off his clothes as he reached down for his dagger where it lay near his feet. The slim blade had been wrenched free during the last moments of the fight. “This is not over, Scotsman,” he growled as he sheathed the weapon at his waist. He glanced at Ellen and Muriel, then turned away, leaving a dripping trail in his wake.
"He could have turned on you for that stupid action. You should have stayed out of it, Ellen.” David was still furious. “He will not let it go. You were foolish, Sprite."
"And you are a stupid gypsy,” she fired back at him. “I should have let the two of you kill each other.” Her gray eyes remained dark with anger, and her hands clenched at her sides.
David thought Ellen was about to say something more, when she opened her mouth, but closed it again and stalked off, pulling her wet skirts away from her feet. Muriel glanced at him and shook her head, then quickened her pace and followed after her mistress. He wasn't sure, if Muriel pitied him after Ellen's angry words, or if she was as disgusted as her mistress. He watched both young ladies march away, their spines as rigid as any soldier's.
David ran his fingers through his wet hair, pushing it back. He wished he knew what was wrong with her. Too many times, of late, it seemed all they did was argue over the most insignificant things, and he wondered why he bothered to defend her honor. Conflicting emotions made him angry with himself. Ellen was becoming a nuisance, and yet, he still felt protective of her. It was a feeling he needed to get past because she was still a child, and he no longer had time for children.
To Every Love, There is a Season Page 3