The Lady's Blessing

by Liz Botts

  A stick broke just feet away. Someone spat, the loud, juicy glop landing on the ground nearby. I pulled the blanket tighter around my head, certain that I would be discovered at any moment. My heart beat faster than a hummingbird’s wings. Blood pounded in my ears, creating a roaring vacuum that made me dizzy.

  I imagined a large hand pulling me from my little hole by the scruff of my neck, like one would pull a baby rabbit from its den. Shudder upon shudder raced through my body, until I was trembling so violently my teeth chattered.

  Another burst of gunfire.

  My heart hammered harder until I thought I might faint.

  More yelling.

  More cursing.

  Then silence.

  Slowly my heart calmed and my breath evened out. More silence. The only thought that stood out in my mind was that the Americans could be lying in wait. Not for me but for an unsuspecting soldier from the fort to happen out into the woods.

  No matter what, I had to continue. I waited a few moments as the sounds of the American militiamen faded away, then I climbed to my knees. Assured that no one was around, I slipped out from my hiding spot.

  Keeping hidden in the shadows of the trees, I made my way to the creek that would lead me straight to the fort.

  I hastened my steps, alert to each twig snapping, each bird fluttering. My breath calmed finally, and I adjusted the quilt around my shoulders. A cold wind swirled around me. I hoped that a snowstorm was not brewing on the horizon. Even in May the winter could come back with a vengeance.

  James’s boots felt clunky as I moved forward. They slid back and forth. It was all I could do to keep them on. I should have taken longer to secure them with his laces. The rough strands of thin rope could have easily been wrapped around my ankle. The inane thoughts gave me a bit of relief from the crushing panic that propelled me forward. I got so caught up in berating myself about my foolishness that I missed the large tree root until I tripped over it and landed with a dull thud on the soft mud next to the stream. I pushed myself to my knees, grateful not to be hurt, but furious that I was wasting even more time.

  Streaks of mud sullied the front of my soft pink nightdress. The shade had been a source of contention between Father and Mama. Father had thought the pink indecent and frivolous, but Mama had said it was beautiful. She’d sewn the garment with small, perfectly even stitches. We had worked on the intricate embroidery together. I loved to look at the roses and birds along the hem.

  Now I had ruined it. And who knew where Mama was. Fear gripped my chest, making it hard to breathe. I broke into a run the best I could, stumbling over my brother’s boots.

  A sob broke loose from my throat. Grief and terror and exhaustion overwhelmed me. I could feel the tears spilling from my eyes, burning my cheeks. My vision blurred, but when I pushed my tangled hair from my face, relief rushed through me. The fort. I had finally reached the edge of the woods.

  Without pause now, I ran forward. The heavy log gate at the front of the fort was shut. I pulled on the rough wooden handle, but my fingers felt weak. With everything left in me, I let out a primal yell for help. No words formed as I screamed with all my might, but the sound conveyed exactly what I needed it to.

  A moment later the gate swung open, and I found myself staring up into the face of the most handsome man I had ever seen. He used one broad shoulder to open the heavy gate further. His dark brown hair trembled in the wind, setting the curls dancing. As I stared up into his dark blue eyes that seemed full of concern, I felt myself break.

  “What’s wrong, child?” His voice, warm and deep, wrapped around me. I had found safety.

  “They attacked us. Father sent me.” Could that hoarse whisper have been my voice?

  “Who is your father?”

  I could feel darkness descending on me. I tried to fight it off and focus on the man’s question. “General… General Lord Hawthorne.”

  The words slipped from my lips as my world went black.

  Chapter Two

  My head ached. As I cracked my eyes open, bright sunlight assailed my sight, causing more pain to shoot through me. Where was I? If I focused long enough and hard enough, something caught at the periphery of my mind.

  Low, deep voices rumbled in conversation somewhere nearby, but I couldn’t make out what was being said. I tensed and tried to move again. Every fiber of my being screamed that I needed to get away, but why?

  Then I lapsed into darkness again.

  When I finally opened my eyes again, night had fallen. My head did not hurt as badly, so I looked around the space. Moonlight spilled through an unadorned window. A roughly made wooden chair sat in one corner, and I was startled to find the slumped-over figure of a man reclining there.

  Stifling a gasp, I tried to sit up. I winced as pain shot through my left shoulder. My mind still felt fuzzy, and I had no idea where I was. All I knew was that I needed to get somewhere else. Somewhere… safe.

  The frame of the bed that I was resting on creaked as I struggled up. The ropes that held the straw ticking whined under my shifting weight. Every few moments I paused, waiting for the person on the chair to awaken. I held my breath, and when I detected no movement, I attempted to get up again.

  “You should not be moving.”

  The voice, while soothing like warm honey, definitely startled me, causing me to cry out. I fell back to the mattress, terror pulsing through my heart. With blood throbbing in my ears, I groped around blindly for anything to use to protect myself.

  The man in the chair did not move. Instead he said, “You bumped your shoulder rather hard when you fell. If I had not caught you, the damage certainly would have been worse.”

  I took a deep, calming breath. “Please tell me where I am.”

  “What do you remember about earlier today?”

  “First, tell me who you are.” I clutched the thin blanket to my chest. Somehow, I was inexplicably in my nightdress. The horror of the situation kept getting worse and worse.

  “I am Graham Blessington, Earlof Ebronmy.”

  “Lord Blessington?” My voice came out in a squeak.

  “Indeed.” He sounded amused. I heard the chair creak and tensed as I waited for him to stand. Instead he continued, “Your family was… attacked earlier today.”

  I gasped at his words as memories came rushing over me. The fate of my family. I did not know what had happened to my brother or my father or Mama. My heart ached at the thought of them. The words trembled on my lips, waiting to be spoken, but I could not find my voice. I knew that once the words were said aloud, once the question was asked, all of the horrid possibilities became real.

  Slumping back against the straw mattress, I felt around in the darkness until my fingers curled around my quilt. The well-worn material smelled of home, a sweet combination of wood smoke and the dried herbs Mama hung in bunches around the perimeter of the cabin. Almost against my will my eyes slipped shut as sleep overwhelmed me.

  ****

  Sunlight slanted across my face. I opened my eyes to a strange room. For a moment fear paralyzed me, and then I heard voices from outside the half-opened door. I recognized the man’s voice as Lord Blessington’s, and the other voice sounded like a woman.

  “See that Lady Felicity is comfortable,” Lord Blessington said. “I shall be by later to take the lady to her father.”

  “Very good, my lord,” the woman said.

  “And please do not say anything to the lady about the situation.”

  “Yes, Lord Blessington.”

  I watched as the rough-hewn door swung open. A young woman with dark brown, almost black hair, swept back in an austere bun, came bustling in. When she saw that I was awake, she gave me a small smile. She opened a pair of shutters, letting more bright sunlight in.

  When she turned toward me again, she gave me a small curtsy. The gesture seemed odd to me. I had seen serving girls curtsy to Father on the occasions when we were at the fort for large festivities. Mama would not have appreciated such a
thing, and she had always taught me that we were no better or worse than anyone else around us merely because Father was a general.

  “Good morning, Lady Felicity, I’m Mary. Can I help you out of bed?” Her voice struck me as cheerful, but I saw her trying to maintain a detached demeanor.

  I wondered why she seemed to be fighting herself so hard to… elevate me. Discomfort settled into the pit of my stomach. I hated the idea that someone would treat me as if I deserved to be waited on. Mama had taught me to be self-sufficient. Besides, how on earth could she believe she needed to help me when I was the farthest thing from a fine lady? My hand flew to my tangled, disheveled hair. A bit of embarrassment joined my discomfort. Under my quilt, I fidgeted with the frayed hem of my nightdress.

  “No, thank you,” I replied, pushing the edge of the quilt back. “I am sorry. I am not certain what I should do now. Or exactly where I am.”

  The last part of the statement was a lie, but I made no attempt to correct myself. Perhaps the faux confusion would distract the girl from trying to wait on me.

  The young woman pursed her lips as if she were trying to hide a smile. Instead of saying anything, she walked to a large wardrobe. Opening the door slightly, she gestured to the contents. “These have all been placed here at your disposal. Lord Blessington had several styles and sizes brought in from town. It took quite a bit of work to get them here. ”

  I stared at the bits of fabric peeking out from the wardrobe. My fingers ached to feel the material. I knew just from the sight of it that it was of a sumptuous quality. However, the fact that these dresses had appeared made me wonder how long I had been asleep. More unsettling feelings washed over me.

  “Pardon me,” I said, placing my bare feet on the cold floor. The jolt of ice up my legs grounded me as I fought for the right words to phrase my question. “Would you by chance know how long I have been here?”

  The girl’s eyes widened slightly. “Perhaps that would be a question to discuss with Lord Blessington, my lady.”

  I could feel my eyes narrow in suspicion. Something clearly did not add up. I decided to try again. “Please call me Felicity.”

  “I do not think that would be proper, Lady Felicity. Lord Blessington would certainly not approve of that, and I cannot lose my position.” The girl moved toward the wardrobe again to fuss with the clothing therein. She pulled out a beautiful deep emerald green gown. “Perhaps you would like to try this one. I think it would look lovely on you.”

  I knew she was trying to distract me, and while it made me feel nervous, part of me wanted to try on the dress. Never had I owned anything as beautiful. Nay, never had I dreamed of touching anything so lovely. Suddenly I felt disgusting in my tattered nightdress with my matted, dirty hair.

  “Would it be possible to get some water for washing?” I asked.

  Relief crossed the girl’s face. “Of course, Lady Felicity. I shall return promptly.”

  Guilt washed over me as I watched her close the door gently behind her. Mama would never approve. The thought hammered itself into my brain. Mama. What about Mama? I needed to find her. That was it. Where could she be?

  My memory felt foggy and bogged down. I squeezed my eyes shut as I tried to remember. Lord Blessington would have been at the fort, so logically that must be where I was currently. But why? The harder I tried to place the circumstances that had brought me here, the darker the hole of time became.

  A tap at the door drew me from my contemplation. The serving girl had returned with a pitcher of water, a washing bowl, and a length of cloth. She set them down on the side table, and from her apron pocket she drew a hard bristled brush.

  “Do you require anything else, Lady Felicity?”

  I shook my head. “No, thank you.”

  The girl curtsied. “If you should change your mind, I shall be outside the door. Call for me when you have finished.”

  The door clicked shut behind her.

  I stared at the thick piece of wood separating me from reality. The moment of hazy anguish stretched for an eternity before I moved toward the wash basin. Dipping the cloth into the cool water, I felt a rush of relief as the coolness brushed against my skin. I scrubbed hard until I felt clean. The brush came next, weighty in my hand, and though I winced as the bristles tugged at the tangles, it felt good to straighten my hair before twisting it into a braid. With no ribbon to tie the end, I had no way to put it up.

  Next I walked to the wardrobe where the beautiful gown hung on a hook. Tentatively I let my fingers slip along the folds of fabric. Never before had I felt anything so lush. I discarded the nightdress, momentarily ashamed of my simple and plain undergarments. Mama had taught me that simplicity and cleanliness were next to godliness. Mama. My hand dropped to my side. I had to find Mama. And Father. And James. My heart seized.

  I hurried toward the door before I realized that I was in my underthings. A flush of embarrassment washed over me. I went back to the wardrobe and pulled the dress over my head. Despite the fact that worry pressed upon my chest with an intensity I had never felt, a moment of swoony perfection descended on me as the fabric encased me in a cloud. I had never worn anything that felt so light but weighty all at the same time. The cut of the dress felt like it had been made for me. I wished that I had a mirror, but as soon as the thought entered my head I felt the shame of pride right on its heels. Mama had taught me…

  The thought of my mother made me rush to the door. The thick wood handle felt cold under my hand, and I wondered if I was exaggerating the sensation or if it did indeed feel that way. When it swung open the serving girl started in surprise. She had been staring out the window, but when I burst forth from the room she nearly jumped out of her skin, poor thing.

  “My lady! Lady Felicity, may I help you with something?” Her voice sounded tinny as she asked.

  I pressed a hand against my chest. My heart beat in a hurried rhythm, like a hummingbird’s wings. Though I still could not remember what I needed to know, the rush of fear goaded me onward. Somehow I brought myself up to the girl, close enough to grasp her arm.

  “Please, I need to see Lord Blessington. Immediately.”

  The narrow corridors of the fort blurred as I followed the fevered footsteps of the serving girl who still refused to tell me anything. Had I been in my right mind, perhaps I would have tried to make conversation. After all, she and I were certainly equals in our abilities. Never had I been Lady Felicity, despite the fact that it was indeed my title. If Father had not had his military post, we surely would have lived in England, not here in the colonies. And if that had been the case, I would have been at the age to start attending balls and the like. Mama had told me of such things during our long days canning late last fall.

  An image of barrels of brined fish on the bare root cellar shelves came back to me. What was the significance of those barrels of fish? A muffled scream of memory pierced my thoughts. Whose scream had that been? Why couldn’t I remember?

  The serving girl stopped in front of another imposing looking door. She knocked before cracking it open. “My Lord Blessington? Lady Felicity needs an audience with you.”

  Lord Blessington’s voice called for me to come in. I felt like a young girl, nervous about meeting the famed general.

  “Thank you, Caroline.” Lord Blessington rose from his seat as I entered, and dismissed the servant girl, and I felt a twinge of guilt for not trying harder to find out her name. When the door had clicked shut behind her, he motioned for me to take a seat on one of the straight-backed pine chairs.

  The colonel was seated at a large oak-topped writing desk in the corner of the room. He finished whatever he was working on before looking up at me. As I took a seat, I saw Lord Blessington’s eyes widen slightly, though I did not pretend to understand the expression. Perhaps it had to do with the difference in my appearance from the first time he had seen me.

  “Lady Felicity,” he said. “It is good to see you up and about. How are you feeling this day?”

 
I clutched my hands together in my lap. Not even the silky feel of the material under my fingers could calm the panic rising in my throat. “I need to see my family. Why am I here?”

  Lord Blessington steepled his fingers in front of his face as he gazed at me. “Do you remember anything at all?”

  Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. I closed them so that I could avoid having the tears spill over. I heard my voice tremble as I said, “I remember screams while I was in the root cellar. I do not remember why I was there.”

  When I opened my eyes, I saw Lord Blessington run a hand through his thick brown hair. He sighed heavily. The fear I had barely been holding at bay threatened to overwhelm me. From the look on his face, I knew that something was frightfully wrong. “Please,” I said, my voice pleading. “Please, let me see my family.”

  Lord Blessington stood. “Come,” he said. “Your father is in the infirmary. It seems the right time for you to speak.”

  Without another word, I accepted Lord Blessington’s arm as we exited his quarters and went back down the long corridor. As we twisted through the labyrinthine halls, I tried to think of some way to ask the questions that pressed against my tongue, but no words would form.

  The colonel spoke a few low words to a guard standing in front of the door. He nodded to Lord Blessington and allowed us to enter, straightening to attention as I passed. Had my mind not been so cloudy with fear, I might have thought to curtsy or some other nicety. Mama had always insisted that James and I learn manners and decorum, as she called it. I could almost hear her voice telling me that just because we lived in the wilderness was no reason why we should act like savages. Civilized people behaved accordingly no matter where they were.

  I followed Lord Blessington through the infirmary ward, where most of the beds were full of bandaged men. Most lay with their eyes closed as if sleep would drive away the pain they must feel. I could not imagine how the crudely fashioned wood planks covered in a loose pallet of straw could truly be considered a bed, especially as a place for these poor men to rest. As soon as the thought entered my head, I was ashamed. Mama would not have approved, and at the thought of my mother I hastened my footsteps toward my father.