Debra Kay Leland

by From Whence Came A Stranger. . .

  The man nodded solemnly. “Aye, I understand.”

  It was nigh evening when Miranda awoke in William’s room, in his bed, staring up at the ornate ceiling above her. She blinked away sleep for a moment not knowing where she was…and yet, even as she remembered somehow she felt as if she was meant to be here. She couldn’t explain it; it was just a feeling in the depths of her heart, as if William himself had bid her to come…

  The soft knock at the door brought her attention back again as she raised herself on an elbow and answered it quietly. The young maid peered in with a soft contented smile. “My lady, Lord Sheridan requests thy company at the high table this evening if ye are well enough to come down.”

  Miranda blushed and sat up hesitantly. “I—I am not sure...”

  Amelia carried a beautiful lavender dress in her arms and laid it next to her on the bed. “Lord Sheridan also sent this, and has instructed that new gowns be made for thee on the morrow. It was William’s mother’s gown…”

  Miranda blushed even harder at her words. “I—I cannot wear it…”

  The young maid just smiled and undid the small buttons that ran along the back of the gown. “Aye, I think his lordship would be most put out if ye refused… Come now, m’lady, I shall help ye with it.” She gently took Miranda’s hand, and then helped her into the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. She stood with her hands laid flat on the soft material of the skirt, and a soft blush on her cheeks as her maid brushed her long hair and placed a circlet of gold over it to hold it away from her pretty face. The young woman smiled and stepped back admiring her work. “There, I think ye are more than presentable now, come look, m’lady.”

  Miranda allowed herself to be led to the polished silver mirror and peered into the reflection with wide eyes; she’d never seen her refection in anything other than the waters at the edge of the stream that slowly meandered through the glen near her father’s farm. She stood for a long moment, and then dropped her eyes away uncertainly from the image of the beautiful woman before her that she hardly recognized…

  The young girl laughed softly. “Ye are most lovely, m’lady.”

  But then, she let her eyes move to the soft roundness of her abdomen that now lay beneath the rich lavender material and smiled as the child moved within her softly taking her mind off her wayward thoughts yet again…

  “Come now, my lady, Lord Sheridan must surely be waiting for thee.” Amelia said and gently took her elbow urging the young girl to come with her. Miranda hesitated but her maid urged her on with a gentle hand and reassuring words. She walked Miranda through the heavy doorway and down the hall to the large curved staircase and then stopped. “Go on now, ye are not a servant here.”

  Miranda glanced at her as she thought on her words and wondered if perhaps a servant would be less fearful going down the dine with the Earl than she was. She lifted a hand and noticed that it trembled; her maid saw it too and merely smiled and took her hand gently. “Come, m’lady, I shall walk with ye then…”

  Edmund lifted his eyes as the girl came down the stairs with the grace of a lady even if it be a hesitant one; he smiled and let his eyes linger on her softly for truly she did please him. William had chosen well—knowing somehow she held within her the grace of royalty even if there was none in her blood.

  The men at the table all turned at their lord’s lingering gaze, and Miranda blushed under their curious stares, and yet her timid steps never faltered. He stood and held out a hand to her. She lowered her gaze as she approached him and curtsied low, then lifted shy eyes and looked at his strong hand held out to her, then took it slowly. “…M’lord…”

  He smiled, raised her gently. “Come, my lady, sit beside me.”

  Her cheeks held a soft blush as she settled herself hesitantly to his right glancing around herself shyly as she did so, knowing all the while that she was not the lady he addressed her as. He smiled and then motioned to his men, wanting to make it clear from the start the position the girl now held in his home. “This—is the lady Miranda, William’s widow.”

  His men nodded in a cordial greeting, and with soft words they welcomed her.

  She blushed, and then looked up into the Earl smiling eyes. “I trust ye rested well?”

  She nodded softly and lowered her eyes again. “…I—I did, m’lord.”

  He smiled again at the lovely girl to his right. “Good. Did ye or the child suffer much on the journey?”

  She shook her head softly. “…The child is well, m’lord.”

  He took her thin hand and squeezed it gently before he released it again. “I would see that ye are both well taken care of here, Miranda.”

  She did not answer him as he lifted his cup and took a slow drink knowing he had unnerved the girl though he hadn’t meant to. Indeed, she was sweet and soft spoken, and exceptionally lovely; it wouldn’t be hard to find a man who would have her for his wife, regardless of the fact that she was a widow and with child by another—or that she was Welsh... He had no doubt she would win the affection of any suitor he brought.

  He glanced to John, the Captain of his guard again, and smiled. The man lifted his cup and glanced at the girl across the table from him with a discreet eye and then gave him a gentle nod.

  Edmund looked at her again, a plan in hand for his young daughter-in-law even before the meal was done.

  As they finished, the men wandered over to the hearth to talk and tell tales and amuse themselves. He stood and took her hand placing it on top of his own as a lady would do; she paused and looked at it, then at him and blushed as she lowered her head, her voice a mere whisper. “…My—m’lord… I—I am not a lady… Nor do I how to be so in front of yur men…”

  He placed a long tanned finger under her chin and lifted it, then smiled down into her lovely face. “No one asked ye to be something ye are not. William made a fine choice in thee—and I myself am pleased with thee also.”

  She gave him a tentative smile mixed with a soft frown as he drew her towards the stairs again. “It has been a long day for thee. Go to thy chambers, m’lady. Amelia shall be there waiting for thee.”

  She nodded wordlessly and then looked at him with weary eyes before she lifted her skirt and walked up the stair again. He knew she was worn and weary, he could see it in her face and the way she held herself, and knew she had been through enough for one day. He watched as she took the last step then turned and looked at him one last time, her hand on the slight swell of her stomach and tears lingering in her sad eye as she looked at the man who reminded her so of William that it made her heart break. He nodded to her again, and she lowered her eyes and turned towards William’s chamber once more.

  The girl was thin and frail and he worried after the child she carried, all his hopes rested on that one small babe and its mother... He motioned for his steward with a frown. “Nigel, tell Amelia that the girl is to be allowed to sleep in on the morrow. Have a tray of fresh fruit, cheese and bread taken to her room when she is awake.”

  The older man nodded. “Yes, m’lord. She is kindly sort, is she not?”

  “Aye, she is…”

  She glanced down the long candle lit hall as she walked towards the chamber that had once had been her husband’s. The tears she had held back throughout the long meal now tumbled down her flushed cheeks easily from sheer exhaustion and grief. She paused before the door, wishing to see him on the other side, his smile bright, his tall muscular frame leaning casually against the mantle, arms cross and one leg cocked like he always did… but instead when she opened the door he was not there…

  Then somehow Amelia was beside her, helping her into a chemise, and brushing her long hair before she braided it into a single braid down the middle of her back, murmuring to her gently if only to try to soothe away the hurt inside her. She took the girl’s hand and led her to the big ornate bed, noticing that she hadn’t spoken a word since she had come into the room, her face numb with weariness and loss as she sat staring ahead into the darkening nig
ht. She helped her into the bed, and the girl followed wordlessly. She pressed her down and drew the covers up over her gently; and yet, the girl still stared off as if she weren’t even there. It worried her as she touched her hand lightly, whispering to her gently. “All is well, m’lady, sleep now. I shall be in the antechambers through that small door just beyond, if ye need me during the night ye need only call my name.”

  She blew out the few candles that remained lit before she walked softly to the door and went through, hesitating a mere second before she closed it. It was quiet as she herself readied for bed and then lay down, and yet she could hear the faint voice of despair and the hushed sobs that now threaded through the darkness whispering the name that they all here held so dear. “…William…”

  She sighed knowing there was nothing anyone could do or say to take the grief and pain from the tender girl’s heart, only time would heal the wounds that sorrow had left behind; but being here would do her good, she was sure of it.

  Miranda woke in the night, the smell of wood and leather made her smile. …William… She felt his child stir again and laid her thin hand over it lovingly as she closed her eyes again and somewhere between sleep and wake she could almost hear him call her name…

  When she woke next it was not night, but midday, she opened her eyes and was met with the comforting scent of her husband… Wood and leather… And she smiled and raised herself on elbows peering around the chamber. William’s chamber… The sight of it made her feel warm and loved—and somehow as if all would be well.

  Amelia heard her stirring and came in with a soft smile. “Ah, m’lady, did ye sleep well?”

  Miranda blushed slightly and ran a thin hand through her tussled hair that had somehow lost its braid during the night. “Aye, but Amelia, I—I am not a lady. Ye—ye need not serve me.”

  The girl, not much older than she merely laughed and brought the tray of food that Lord Sheridan had ordered for her. “Ye may not have been a lady before, but ye most certainly are one now. Would ye rather I go and slop the hogs than be a ladies maid?”

  “…Well nay, but—truly, I am not used to such things.”

  The girl pulled back the soft linen napkin from the tray of food that now rested on her lap. “Lord Sheridan ordered this for thee himself. Come now, m’lady, enjoy.”

  She looked at the food on the tray and smiled softly, knowing how very hungry she was this day. “’Tis a feast.”

  “Aye, now eat, m’lady. I shall lay out thy gown, nothing as regal as what ye dined in and when ye are ready the seamstresses shall measure thee for thy new gowns.”

  Miranda took a bite of the small soft sweet apple in her hand and smiled shyly. “I—I have always helped sew my own dresses.”

  “Well—if ye would like to help ye may, but only if it pleases thee. Lord Sheridan would not have thee over taxed.”

  The five women sat in the comfortable sewing room before the large window stitching together the fabric for five new gowns for her, royal gowns, gowns that a lady would wear and not something she herself would have chosen. But despite her arguments, the seamstresses were adamant to do just as Lord Sheridan had ordered. And he, himself was more than pleased to see her putting her hand to something when he peaked in the door unannounced. Amelia nodded to him, knowing of his concern for the girl as he raised a finger to his lips and watched her work, then smiled and closed it quietly again not wanting his presence to be know.

  Edmund made his way back down to his solar pleased at what he saw. Truly, he had been worried that she would not adjust to life here, but he knew she felt as close to William here as he did. He took out parchment, quill and ink and paused only a moment before he laid it to paper, he had thought long and hard as to what he and John had talked about, and he believed he had come up with not only one but two acceptable suitors, both single and handsome and titled lords in their own right. And that in itself was foremost on his mind, the man he would pick for the girl would have to relinquish all claims to Whittington, though the man would be more than compensated for it all… He glanced at the missives in his hands and set his seal on them before he call for his messenger to deliver them. The future of Whittington had to be secured, as did the title of Earl; and God forgive him, but he would make sure it was done…

  It had been nearly a fortnight, and finally the girl had begun to adjust to life at Whittington and it did his heart good to see it. Despite all, he wanted her safe, but more than that he wanted to see her smile, a thing he had not seen much of since he’d brought her here. Edmund glanced up from the documents in front of him at the soft sound of her voice. He smiled and set it aside and leaned back in his chair. “Well now, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  She blushed and drew down in a reverent curtsy. “…M’lord, the woman have just finished my gown—and have bid me to show thee.”

  He laughed softly and motioned with his hand. “Then show me, m’lady.”

  She straightened and turned slowly, his eyes swept over her loveliness in the flaxen colored gown, ending at the swell of William’s child within her that gave him such pleasure. “Alas, ’tis fine, very fine, and it does thee justice. Are ye happy with it, Miranda?”

  She smiled as a soft blushed crept up her cheeks; and then suddenly, she brightened and dimples graced her fair cheeks as she swept her hand over the soft material. The sight of her almost took his breath away. It was the face of an angel and the kind of smile that made a man want to slay dragons just to see it again. “…I—I have never had such lovely things… but really they are not necessary, though I do thank ye for all the kindness ye have shown me.”

  He stood and touched her chin with a long tanned finger and studied her sincere eyes, and then he smiled and kissed her forehead softly before he sat back down again. “Ye are most welcome. A lady deserves her finery, and since ye have graced me with a bright smile, I feel I have been paid my due.”

  She smiled again and looked down. “They are busy sewing another—may I help them?”

  He smiled at her. “Aye, m’lady, ye may.”

  She went to the door and turned to grace him with one last smile before she went out again, and met with eyes that always reminded her of William’s. It had been difficult to leave Glenton Moor and all that was there that tied her to him; and yet, though it had been hard to leave, she knew that being here with his father had helped her to heal.

  The girl was nearing her seventh month now, and the pregnancy suited her well. She had been at his home for nigh a month and was finally hail and healthy. But most importantly, she seemed happy. She smiled and laughing and graced them all with her kindly disposition and her bright dimpled smiles. He looked down at the two missives he had gotten in reply to his request that his nephews attend him, both men he had contacted were set to arrive in the next day or two, and he was pleased that his plan to secure the castle for William’s child’s sake was finally under way. Now, all he could do was pray that one of them would be willing to take the girl for honor if for nothing else, and that perhaps she would even fall in love then.

  The two men, one of which was a closer relative than the other, would do fine as a husband for the girl. Lord Lydan Hastings was a good choice, young, unwed, with a substantial title of his own and he had always favored his own sister’s oldest son who was in and of himself the lord of Radcliff. And Lord Garrick Farrington, his wife’s eldest nephew, was equally charming and a titled lord as well, though a widower in his early thirties. He had no children of his own, and if Miranda chose to marry him she was certainly young enough to give him an heir of his own, though the man was almost twenty years her senior, he was still a good choice for her.

  Though neither man knew of his plans, he still hoped that one of them would fall in love with the girl; or if need be, he would just have to make them an offer that they couldn’t refuse… It would not be difficult to wed a lass as beautiful as his daughter-in-law; despite her upbringing, she was lovely and graceful, soft spoken and sweet, he noticed eve
n his own men gave her longing glances which did not suit him in the least. For the girl would have to marry one of the suitors he brought to her, and no other if he wanted to secure his families title on the land. But that was contingent on the fact that the lass would indeed have a son. A daughter would complicate matters considerably, but he had already set in order the document needed incase just that happened. If it did, the title would pass thru William’s daughter to her first born son. And her husband, who would also be chosen for her, would inherit the title of Earl; it was complicated and risky but it would work to keep these lands within his family, and away from his enemies. Or so he hoped…

  His men had heard rumors in the towns as news of William’s death spread, along with the fact that William had a wife come to Whittington with an heir. There was no way to keep the news from spreading, or even keeping it from his enemies, but with her here she was more than safe. What surprised him the most were all the women who came to the castle gate swearing they too were having William’s child, some bringing two or three children in tow asking to be compensated with gold; yet none could answer the questions put forth to them in truth. And a few even dared to say they were pregnant with James’ child, a thought that only managed to make him cringe. Whether their claims to an heir were true or not, it mattered nothing to him! For in truth, William had out lived his brother, and only William would be considered his rightful heir! And he would only recognize Miranda’s child as William’s for it was conceived in wedlock and he had no doubt of the girl’s loyalty to his son.