The Maiden Switch

by Allie Borne

  “Oh, so it is ‘Mary’, now. And she belongs by your side? Ye can blow smoke about yer intentions all ye want, Laird, but I have known ye since ye was a lad. I know that ye are smitten. Just be careful. Do not do anything that will jeopardize yer ties with the South. I never was keen on this marriage, but now that ye have committed to it, ye must follow through. We cannot afford to make enemies of the Brits.”

  “In this we are agreed, Arthur. I will be careful. Mary is a diversion, but she will not cause me to forget my duty to the clan. I will do what I must to ensure the clan's safety, rest assured about that.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Merianne was beside herself with anxiety about Mary. “Where could she be? What must she be enduring at this very moment?” Blessedly, her headache had eased, thanks to the concoction of woodbine that Mrs. Fraser had forced down her throat. The woman was a healer of the first caliber. Despite her brisk bedside manner, she knew her herbs.

  Merianne was able to relax, now that the pain had eased in her head and shoulders. Unfortunately for her, this meant that she was also freed to place all of her focus and attention upon the problem at hand. Mary was in danger and she was the only witness that could lead to her friend's salvation.

  Part of her felt like going to Lord Redland immediately and revealing her true identity. Surely, together they could make a plan of freeing her dear Mary. But what would be the benefit? Surely, Lord Redland would not risk his bride or himself for the likes of a lowly servant. Surely his efforts would be reduced, were he to realize the truth of the situation.

  She would gladly risk the ire of her betrothed, even the dissolution of the marriage contract, if it meant freeing her friend. No life was worth risking over a pricked conscience. She would not tell Bryan Murray the truth. She could not. He would have to understand. If he did not, then he would simply do as she had wished all along and dissolve the agreement.

  A twinge of regret tweaked Merianne’s ear and she pulled at her lobe in a clear indication of guilt. She detested being dishonest. As of yet, she had not out and out lied about her identity. This, she knew was splitting hairs. A lie of omission was a lie all the same. “Ah, well,” she sighed. “I shall just have to enjoy Redland’s handsome visage while I might.”

  “Ah, so ye’ve met the Laird, I take it,” Aiden tipped his head in greeting as he meekly entered the bedroom. Merianne jumped a bit at her seated position in the bed then flushed scarlet at the mention of her overt confession.

  “I have,” she offered curtly.

  “I suppose I am not surprised that you are so taken with him,” Aiden noted, his narrow shoulders sagging in dejection.

  In her exhausted state, it took Merianne a moment to realize that Aiden seemed hurt by her interest in the Laird. “Oh, I admit that I find him handsome. It does not mean that I am smitten with the man. There is no hope for he and I ever being anything other than Lord and maid servant. The moment that changes is the moment I deny my loyalty to Mary.”

  “Yer right, Miss Luke. It does us common folk no good falling fer the gentry,” Aiden perked up visibly, shaking his thick brown hair back out of his face, he grinned admiringly at Merianne. “Are you up fer some stew? My ma makes the best. I caught a nice fat rabbit earlier, so it promises to be tasty.”

  “I would love some stew, Aiden, thank you.”

  As the young man rushed from the room to attend to her wishes, Merianne sighed. How was she going to discourage his affections without affecting his pride? “The same way I deal with the dandies of the ball room, I suppose,” Merianne murmured.

  Propped up comfortably within her nice warm bed, Merianne savored the thick stew under the scrutiny of her rescuer, Aiden.

  “How is it,” she pondered aloud, “that you speak the King’s English so well? I thought Highlanders all spoke Gaelic.”

  “Aye, we do. But those of us that work for the Laird, we travel. He sees to it that we can speak English and French. Some of ‘em in the keep even can read and write. They learn Latin, too.”

  Pushing her tray to the foot of her bed, Merianne sighed and smiled at Aiden. She felt safe for the first time since her attack. Yet, as drowsy as she was, Merianne dared not sleep without the assurance of his presence. “Will...will you stay awhile...while I sleep?” As much as she hated to ask, Merianne could not bear to be alone just now. The ever-present threat of nightmares seemed to be kept at bay when another sat near, ready to save her from their attacks.

  “Of course, Miss, I will stay,” Aiden whispered, seated in the corner of the room, he watched her drift off into sleep.

  It was there, an hour later, that his mother found him. Resting his head against the wall, he gazed at his damsel in distress with a love-sick expression his mother knew too well. “Ah, Aiden, tell me you 'aven’t gone and fallen for this one.”

  Looking up at the interruption to his reverie, Aiden turned and responded, “Would that be so bad, Mother? I may be young but it seems as if our meeting was fated. I saved her, Ma.”

  “You saved her, and now she will be going to stay in the Laird’s household. She will be his concern.”

  “As his servant-I have every chance of winning her mother...haven’t I?”

  “Aiden, thou art seventeen. A man of seventeen has little hope of winning a lass of one and twenty. As kind and capable as ye are, ye have little to offer her.

  “Ken this-The Laird left with the same look upon his face as ye have now. Do ye think that she will deny a baron for the likes of a trapper?”

  “She is a proper maid. She would never live in sin with the Laird. He would never marry her. She knows that. She told me as much herself.”

  “Verra well, Son. I just do not wish to see ye hurt. If she does not feel for thee as ye do fer her, ye must prepare yerself for the let down, Aye?”

  “Aye, Ma, I will,” Aiden turned back to face the topic of conversation, content to continue his sentry in silence.

  Chapter 2-The Keep

  Twas nye on dusk before she stirred. Had his conscience not screamed at him to stop pushing her past endurance, he would have woken her a dozen times over. He wanted to swat at the annoying presence of the boy, Aiden. True, the lad had discovered Mary and brought her here, but Aiden seemed to feel this gave him some kind of claim, or at least a lingering responsibility for the chit.

  Did he not realize that his Laird was here and could see to her keeping? He’s been bewitched, as I have, Bryan thought bitterly as Aiden poked his head into the chamber for the fifth time that hour. “She’s fine, seems to be stirring. Why don’t ye fetch her some fresh water?”

  With a brief look of longing at the subject in question, Aiden did as he was bid.

  “Aiden?” Merianne whispered.

  “No, tis I, Lord Redland. Fare ye well, Lass?”

  Sitting, Meri observed Bryan candidly. “I wish I could say I am well. I believe I will be, in time. For now, I am not myself. I jump at the slightest noise. I ache and wish to sleep, even though I am well rested. I am normally much braver. I have wasted so much time already... How long have you been here?”

  “Not long enough to mention. You have not kept me. It grows dark early here. We will not be able to pursue any leads until the morrow. In the mean time, I plan to move you to your rightful abode within the keep.”

  “Pardon?” Merianne's heart raced at the thought that she had already been found out.

  “As Merianne’s maid servant, I will be needing access to ye for questioning. To keep you here is inconvenient. I also wish to keep ye safe. If Miss Warren’s abductors discover ye have survived their assault, they may wish to rectify the situation. This will be implausible if ye are within my household.”

  Nodding, Merianne relaxed her white-knuckled grip on the blanket. “When you came before, I am ashamed to admit that my focus lay solely with my-for my mistress. How have the men fared? Did they survive the attack?”

  “I am afraid they did no’. This is why we must make every effort to recover Merianne quickly. These
men are ruthless and will stop at nothing to achieve their goal.”

  “I suppose they took the horses, then?” Merianne asked, her head dipped in a vain attempt to hide the wetness at the corners of her eyes.

  “They took them,” Bryan answered readily, “then let them loose, in an attempt to confuse our search. We were able to determine that they headed northwest, however. If you will return with me to the keep to look at the patterns, I will send riders to the most likely clans and seek information about Miss Warren’s whereabouts.”

  “And what of us? What will we do while they seek out Mary?”

  “We will consider the possible motives and our reactions to them. Perhaps ye will remember something over night that will be of help. Likely afore the day’s end, one of the riders will have a lead and I will follow it.”

  Nodding, Merianne interjected, “We will follow it.”

  “Of course ye will not accompany me, that will not be necessary,” Bryan dismissed, sneering at the maid’s haughty demand.

  “If you wish to confirm the identity of Mary’s kidnappers, you will need me to do so.”

  “Let us wait and see what tomorrow brings, shall we?” Bryan returned, content to put off the inevitable disagreement until he had safely sequestered the quarrelsome lass in the keep.

  “Yes,” Merianne agreed, desperately attempting to appear the obedient servant, in return for a bit more information. “If you will step from the room, I will get dressed and pack my trunk.”

  Bryan nodded and ducked to clear the doorway from the room. Quickly, Meri readied her belongings. Grabbing her saddle bag, she stepped from the small cottage. There, Mrs. Fraser and her son Aiden stood, waiting to see the pair off. Aiden hid a scowl beneath a thin veneer of stoic apathy. His eyes focused on nothing as he avoided those of Meri’s.

  “Thank you both for all you have done,” Merianne offered, quietly. “Without you, I might have suffered greatly. I hope to someday return the favor.” As Lord Redland lifted Meri’s tiny frame unto the grey mare he had brought for her, Meri waved regally and turned her mount to follow his.

  The sway of the horses hips and the movement of her own did not quite coincide. She missed her horse. They moved together as one. Each could anticipate the next move of the other. “Did Cinnamon return?” Meri asked aloud before she had realized it.

  “Cinnamon?” Bryan asked, unsure of what the maid referred. He turned his head to her, inquiringly and Merianne was again struck by the rugged beauty of his features. The near perfect symmetry, marred only by that intriguing scar, added a dimension to his beauty that caused her to catch her breath.

  “My horse,” Meri shook her head free of his enchantment, “she is the color of cinnamon. She is magnificent,” Meri continued as Bryan looked at her with an indication of interest. “Cinnamon can jump these stone fences,” Merianne indicated with a sweep of her hand, “as if she were going for an afternoon stroll. She has the build of many a stallion.”

  “I am sorry, Mary, but your mount has not been found. I will tell the riders to look out for her tomorrow.”

  Meri’s face fell in a delectable pout before she perked up to ask, “What of Mary’s brindle? Did you discover him?”

  “We discovered a brindle pony. He must be ten years old, at least... Miss Warren rides a plodding pony, while you ride a thorough bred?” Bryan asked incredulously.

  When they began this star-crossed trip to Scotland, Mary Luke had explained this inconsistency to their travel companions by stating that she was not a confident rider and Sir Daniel had gifted her with Cinnamon. She dared not leave the mount but did not wish to ride the spirited horse. They would not question the ways of the gentry. Lord Redland would. Besides, she had no wish to lie to her betrothed, any more than she had already.

  “Are you a wealthy man, Lord Redland?” Merianne peered up at her companion with sly grey eyes. When he made a very Scottish, noncommittal grunt, Meri grew contemplative. Her voice, set low, swung softly, in and out of the wind as she questioned Bryan coyly. “Who might risk the hangman’s noose for your bride? Do they wish to return her? You do not think they would have murdered her, do you?”

  Finally realizing that the vixen would not quiet herself for lack of a conversation partner, Bryan replied, “Nay good will come of ye torturing yerself with such questions, Lass. We will dine when we return to the keep. There, I will attempt to answer the questions I can. In return, ye will tell me of my betrothed, so that we can try to solve this mystery.”

  As they rode through the melancholy fog, Merianne couldn’t help but worry over her poor mare. It was easier than thinking about Mary. “Lord Redland, do you think that Cinnamon might be recovered?”

  “I have posted a man to keep watch, in the event that any one returns to that location. He will, no doubt capture the beast, if it comes within the scope of his view.”

  When again silence fell, Merianne felt the need to fill the space, to make a connection with her unsuspecting bride groom. “I suppose you must find me petty, focusing upon my horse and not my friend.”

  “On the contrary, I find your concern for the animal very revealing of yer character. You have already communicated a willingness to risk yourself for your mistress. I believe that your mistress must be an intriguing woman, indeed, to earn the loyalty of such as thee.”

  “Mary is my friend and confidant. I would risk much to ensure her safe recovery. The next few days will no doubt reveal the extent to which I am willing to go. Whatever you think of me, do not doubt that I am loyal to my friends, Sir, for I am loyal to a fault.”

  “That, I do not doubt. What surprises me is the way you refer to your mistress as 'Meri' or 'friend' and not in more reverential terms. Does she allow such conduct from her servants?”

  “Merianne Warren is a traditional mistress in some aspects. She demands utmost respect and unquestioning obeisance. From her companion, she demands honesty and loyalty. She does not expect that her friend, an impoverished gentlewoman, be treated as a common laborer.”

  “So ye are of the gentry?”

  “I have noble blood but no title and no funds,” Merianne was proud of herself for being able to answer the question truthfully for Mary and herself. Her small dowry was not within her possession. She may be the daughter of a baronet but she herself was simply ‘Miss Warren.’ “Mary and I are more companions than servant and mistress.”

  “I see. Does this mean that I will need to find another to serve for my wife’s personal needs?”

  “No. Merianne is not one to ask others to do for her what she can do for herself. She will make do. When she asks for other's assistance, she normally repays it with some aid of her own.”

  “What do ye mean?”

  “Merianne expects her servants to do the job for which they are paid. Once, when she wished to make alterations to a particular ball gown, she asked the down stairs maid for her help. The maid stayed up all night making the alterations. In return, Merianne stayed up all night caring for the maid’s sick brother the following week. She is no true healer, but she does what she can to help out those for whom she feels responsible.

  “I fear you may find her a trial, My Lord. Merianne has a mind of her own, and while she respects the men in her life, she does not always heed them.”

  “She will heed me. She has come to a place where her life may well depend upon it,” Bryan answered resolutely. The more he heard of his intended bride, the more intrigued he became. The physical pull he felt for the woman at his side was beginning to feel balanced with the idea of the woman Mary was describing. “Does Miss Warren hold a disdain for Highlanders, as ye do?”

  “I did not say I feel disdain for Highlanders. My image of the Highlands has been solely influenced by my grandmother. She was bold and brash. She embarrassed me in company with her course talk and bawdy stories. I am her namesake and have her same red hair. Others would call me 'Scottie' growing up and taunt me. My grandmother would always embrace me too tightly and kiss me too often in
the presence of others. I remember she had whiskers on her chin that would scratch my face.”

  “I suppose I have spent my life afraid that I would grow to be like her. I loved her, but I was ashamed of her. I did not wish to be so rough or so open. I did not wish to expose myself to such criticism.”

  Bryan nodded, although he was certain she could not see him in the dark. He was impressed with the reflective nature of this young girl. “I too have struggled with these feelings. My mother was a common woman. My father married her for love. She knew not how to run a keep. She was uneducated and ill-mannered. I loved my mother but often felt aghast at her inadequacies. It was for this reason that I agreed to marry Miss Warren. My father felt that a gently bred English woman would make an appropriate match for me. The political ties to England are also an important step in protecting this land.”

  “And how does your clan feel about having an English lady as their mistress?”

  “They know better than to say anything to me directly. They trust my judgment. I suppose they worry she will be ill adept to handle the demands of her position. They likely expect her to be prudish and spoiled. By what ye have said, she is neither. Will she treat my people with the respect she has given her own?”

  Merianne contemplated the question. Her spine tingled with an odd sensation. Being asked to reflect upon one’s own character, one’s own inadequacies left her feeling as if she was yet again having an out of body experience. It seemed as if she had floated away from herself and was watching someone who looked and moved like Merianne Warren, speak of 'Meri' in ways she had never before examined. She felt that she was an impostor, as, in truth, she was.

  How would she treat these people, who would tend to her and depend on her for their protection and support? She knew her answer. “Your people will be her people,” Meri responded with confidence. “She will respect them. Give her time. This is a big adjustment for Merianne.”

  Bryan did not respond. He found himself wishing that Mary was the mistress for the hundredth time that day. How could he maintain a working relationship with this woman when he really wished to develop a romance? How would Merianne’s return complicate things? He would no longer be able to talk with her paid companion in such an intimate manner. He allowed the conversation to lull into a comfortable silence. The 'swoosh' of the horses tails and the squeak of a lone grasshopper filled the clouded space between them. Bryan felt guilty for being so content when his betrothed was in such mortal danger.