Chapter 6

There is no point in looking back to see if I could have found another way, or taken another course. All decisions led to sacrifice. Nervously I stared out the small window as dusk fell, the faintest hint of light fading from sight. Hearing a voice behind me, I froze, my body trembling. Looking out I could see the northern hills, with the outline of the forest still slightly visible. A slight breeze caused the trees to dance, beckoning me to come. If only you were there, right now. If only I could forsake this all, run as fast as my legs could carry me and swing across that brilliant chestnut mare of yours. But fantasizing will not make me stronger.

“One moment.” Distant, sad. I could not say it any other way. I clutched my chest, inside my heart pounded with a ferocity I could not describe. How is it that I could feel like death itself had swept me under its wing, yet my body wanted to fight? I refused to see the looking glass. I knew what I would find. It had taken the servant two hours to get my hair right, brushing and tying and brushing and tying until it felt glued to my head, no doubt in some intricate design meant to please. Powder had been sent as a gift from France, a substance that hides imperfections in the skin. The rouge probably made my lips plump and sensual.

Sighing deep, I closed my eyes. I must not forget why I am here. I am sworn to King Robert the Bruce, I am sworn to Scotland. I immediately remember a far deeper oath I took; God it seemed like centuries ago. I am sworn to defeat my father, and that ruthless king. For a moment, I see Patrick, abroad his mare, beckoning me. But I blink, and he is gone. All that remains is what I must do. I back away from the window as darkness fell, the last rays of light escaping to their hiding place. My left hand hurts; I had been clenching my fist. Opening it, I see once more where my actions have taken me, these long two months in England. It squeezes my finger; it was much too tight. For a moment I try to pull the newly placed ring off my finger, but stop. I have sworn many oaths this past year, and the most recent being earlier today. I turn around, and face him. My body is not my own. I give it in hope that one day, the Scots will win, and I can slit his bloody throat. Patrick, I whisper in my head, as I walk to my awaiting husband. I’m sorry.

2 months prior

We did not bother to stop at the drop off point. Instead, we traveled south. I feigned sleep and sickness, though my head barely hurt. After another few hours I realized my father never had any intention of accompanying the men. He was in London, pent up in his estate with his whores, waiting with indifference to hear whether I lived or died. Once comprehension dawned, my time spent unconscious needed to end. Soon after we arrived at an inn, and instantly the soldier helped me down, lifting me and practically running over others upstairs to a room.

I was done pretending to be ill, and as soon as my body hit the bed I lashed out.

“What in the name of-“

“Shh, milady. You’re safe now. We had to make sure we were not being followed; Indeed I am sorry for the…bumpy ride you had to endure.”

I sat up against the wooden bedpost, taking a good look at my captor. He could not have been older than three and twenty, but he wore the tags of a seasoned officer. His voice was calculating and official, there was no malice behind his apology.

Realizing I had struggled wildly with his soldiers just hours earlier, I looked down to see my dress half ripped, and instantly covered myself properly. He turned away without speaking.

“Where is my father?” I asked with authority. I could not play coy, nor could I appear spiteful. The English needed to see I was skeptical, yet glad to be rid of my captors.

He ordered a maid to bring fresh clothes and wash my face. As if an afterthought, he answered my question. “He graciously awaits your presence in London. He asked me to retrieve you from your captivity safely, and to return you home. I am Lieutenant Hawkins. Now I must ask before I leave, do you require medical attention…er….that is, have those filthy Scottish dogs…”

Finding his speechless phrasing quaint, I answered for him, trying my best not to smile. “I am perfectly whole, if that is what you mean. I require nothing save perhaps a spot of tea, and a well deserved bath. I had expected to be ransomed back to my father without all that bloody nonsense…” Playing the prissy Duke’s daughter was by best angle for now. Let him think me spoiled, rather than badger me with questions about my captivity. I instantly thought of Colum. I could not grieve.

Taken aback, he rolled his eyes, assessing me with disdain. “I suppose that means you’re alright then. If there is nothing else, I suggest you get some rest. We shall be riding straight to London.”

“I shall require a carriage.”

“I am afraid the inn is out of aristocratic fancies. Perhaps a wagon will suit you.”

He was sarcastic and obviously did not like being talked down to, especially from an impudent girl. Keeping up the same attitude, I announced I required a sufficient wardrobe for the journey. He was about to leave when I called out. Knowing this would be hard to say, and mean it, I sighed.

“I aspect my father will compensate you well. I wish to thank you, Lt. Hawkins, for your services.” I could not say “For killing and wounding my friends.” He nodded, and shut the door. I jumped out of the bed and found the nearest pale. I could only vomit a little, because I had barely eaten. All I could do now was pray. Oh Patrick, I thought. Be well. Do not come after me.

It took nearly a week to make the trek to London. I said little, and rode faster than most ladies would have allowed. If she was alive, my mother would have been constantly nagging me to slow down. The soldiers said little in return, though I expected they appreciated the fact I could ride for hours without stopping, which made the journey go by faster.

I tried my best not to think about Patrick, and Colum, and everyone back in Scotland. When we reached the estate, located just outside the southeast castle walls, all the peasants came out to greet us, nodding as I rode past. My father stood at the doorway, with no trace of a smile on his old, weathered face.

Lt. Hawkins took my hand, helping me down from my horse. I curtsied to him, then to my father. It was as if I was returning from a long vacation with the cousins, not a greeting after having been kidnapped by so called vicious Scotsmen for months. He embraced me; it was cold and stiff. “Daughter.”

“Father” I said, in equal tone.

Lt. Hawkins appeared stunned by our reunion, but simply had his hands folded behind his back, awaiting the Duke to speak.

“I had a dress from France sent over; a gift from the king for your safe return”.

Two servants, ones I did not recognize, brought out the emerald color robe. It was of lace and satin, with gold trimming along the sleeves. How was I supposed to react?

“It’s lovely father. I shall wear it for you tonight”.

“Yes, yes. I have arranged a dinner in your honor a few days from now. Some most special guests will be there”. I attempted a smile, but it was forced.

“I must go rest, it has been a most trying experience. Good day, Lt. Hawkins, thank you once again for your escort. Father”. I curtsied once more, and was taken into the house. Upon entering my bedchambers, I shut the door, my strength leaving me as I slid my back down until my bottom rested on the ground. Taking my arms, I wrapped them around my legs and bent my head, shutting out the world. “Lord give me strength, for I feel beaten and alone. Keep him safe,” I whispered.

I had been given a new servant; father did not enquire into the whereabouts of Branwain. He had not asked me anything at all; he only mumbled that they had kept me well fed. Her name was Sarah, and she loved to talk. I had barely spoken three words to her, and already I was sucked into an hour’s worth of court gossip as she braided my hair.

“And of course you’ll be meeting Mr. Jepsom, along with his three bratty daughters…” Sarah had begun. Within the first thirty minutes I had learned to tune her out, but her next words caught my attention. “And I believe Mr. Talbot will be in attendance”. She had been talking about the dinner party that was occurring tonight. The past few days I had spent perusing the estate, meeting the servants and trying my best to stay out of father’s way….for now at least. Sarah was attempting to push as hard as she could against the bloody corset, much to my dismay. Upon hearing the name Talbot, I took her arm, and pulled her off her task.

“Talbot you say? What does he do?”

A brush magically appeared in her hand and she stroked my hair, untangling the heavily contorted strands with little sympathy for the pain it caused to both me and my locks. “He’s one of those middling sorts…he sold your father the estate, and I believe he deals with the legalities.”

“A lawyer?”

“Mmphmm.”

Mmphmm, indeed. I recalled one of my meetings with the Bruce, he had said someone by the name of Talbot would contact me, though I had no notion of how we would meet. Sarah now began to pull down the emerald dress over my arms. Looking in the mirror after the ensemble was complete, I had to agree with her; I did look rather fetching.

The party began with a feast, in my honor, followed by dancing and a comedic play. My father kept me close to him, introducing me to the many courtiers. I had been wrong to assume this to be a small dinner; it was an all out affair of the season, marked with such dignitaries as the Duke of Buckingham, the Duke of Albany, and several French ambassadors. If only the king was here, and a real assassination plot could begin, I told myself, trying to suppress a smile.

Many of the same faces I had seen at the ball in Perth were there, and the flashbacks to that night made me cringe. The ladies had all bustled around me, wanting to know the details of my captivity. They giggled when I described the Scotsmen with their kilts and beards; one lady dared ask if the Highlanders were larger…ahem….down there. To much laughter, I replied that one needn’t sleep with a Scot to realize his size, all you had to do was smile at one and you’d see right away how big they are sticking out from their kilt. Stephen would approve, I mused as an afterthought.

It wasn’t until after the dancing and the play began that I could steal myself away from the crowds, and luckily bumped into Mr. Talbot, talking to a young gentleman.

“Lady Tailur” he said, bowing slightly. He was in his mid- thirties, and towered over the English aristocrats in height. He was broad chested and bald, hardly the middling sort to be kept inconspicuous. Hardly the type of chap to be taken seriously as a spy or a lawyer; rather he had the look of a warrior. His companion fit the lawyer type; small and wiry, with brown hair pulled back in a dignified ponytail.

“I am Albus Talbot, your father’s property lawyer. This is my assistant, John McKinley. I am ever so happy to hear of your safe return.” He took my hand and shook it. Immediately I felt the paper in my hand, and without suspect put my hands behind my back and curtsied.

“Pleasure to meet you. I trust you are having a splendid time?” They nodded. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I have other guests waiting.”

Walking down one of the vacant corridors, I paused when I found a dark corner and opened the note. Stables, ten minutes.

“Not too subtle, are you?” I remarked to myself, and hurried back to the main hall where the play was still going on.

“Father, the excitement of all this has famished me. Might I retire for a while?” I whispered as he sat in his chair. He had been sitting next to the Duke of Albany, who gave me a wink.

“Yes, yes, but make sure you are back in time for the midnight celebration. I imported a special surprise all the way from the East Asian civilization.” He was looking to the Duke, not at me.

“Of course…”

Walking swiftly, I feigned going around the corridor and waited until two of our guards passed, and then changed directions to the kitchen, where I could escape out into the stable yard.

I approached the darkly lit stables slowly. The door creaked as I made my way inside, shutting it tight behind me. Immediately a hand covered my mouth, and I fought the urge to scream. He let go and turned me around. “Were you followed?”

“I don’t believe so”.

“Good”, he stated, and began walking toward the tack room. “We only have a few moments. You will want to get back to the party as soon as you can.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” I blurted out.

He grinned. “I don’t s’pose ye can. But then again, I had a hard time believin’ the Bruce when he said I would be contacting a young English lady for information.” His accent had changed, revealing his deep Scottish burr. His past pronunciation had been quite good, almost as good as Patrick’s.

“And you chose to be a lawyer of all things…” I mumbled.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing. I’m afraid I’ve only just settled into my new estate, and have barely seen my father, so I’m not sure what I should be-“

He rolled his eyes. “How about I be the brains, and you be the eyes and ears, hmm? Here’s what I need to know- “

He went down a list of things, some easy to answer, some I had no idea. He made me repeat these things until it was engrained in my head. “I dinna care if it takes time to find the answers…only for heavens sake, be discreet and don’t get caught. I’ll find ye in a week’s time.”

“What if I have to contact you? What if I find vital information…or if I run into trouble?” I said that last part softly, in hopes that it would not come to that. I was nervous.

“Only…and I repeat, ONLY in the event of an emergency, ye can get me through contacting one of the kitchen servants; Maura is her name. Letters can be intercepted, so ye can only tell her through word of mouth to reach me. But do not use it lightly; her life, and mine, depend on it.” He looked me dead in the eye, plainly not trusting me to get the job done. I nodded, breathing hard. He turned to go.

“Wait!” I called. “One more thing…my companions, the ones who were to take me to the drop off point…” I trailed off, not knowing how to finish.

He did not look back. “The last I heard, Lord Campbell will be fine…he’s suffered worse wounds then that. They buried Colum next to his brothers; all five Macguires died for the rebellion.” He spoke softly now, and turned back to face me.

“I told him I wouldn’t do it; it would cause speculation, but he made me promise.” Opening his hand was a ring band, simple and cheap, but I knew what it meant. I would be his when I returned. I took it, and placed it inside one of my dress pockets.

He turned to walk out, but stopped once more. “And for God’s sake woman, keep it hidden. The both of ye make the hairs on my chest rise with your sillyness.” As he left, I stood in the tack room for a few moments, placing the ring on my finger. A perfect fit. I smiled, and placed it back in my pocket, hidden away. I will be yours.