by Fiona Faris
“While I am sorry for the suffering you have endured. Do you not think your sentence was proportionate for your…er…activities with the Jacobite rebels?”
“I dinnae think that Christopher losing his life, was proportionate tae any mischief we encountered in our youth, nay my lord.”
“No, no, I guess not. Yet still, we have more guests arriving this night. I would hate to have any trouble at dinner.” Westing’s tone became dark. Alice looked up, clearly unaware that more people would be arriving at the manor house.
“Ye’ll nay have any trouble from me.” Aithe mostly meant it. He planned to play the part of a sweet and quiet friend who could be trusted, even if he felt like an animal on high alert the entirety of this visit.
“What guests?” Aithe and Alice spoke in unison, and Westing looking between them, his gaze guarded.
“Ah yes, well, my dear, the Earl of Treadmont will be arriving this afternoon along with his mother and sister. We'll have a splendid meal and in the following days, the Earl and I will work out the particulars of our arrangement. Alice, my dear, you will be preparing to leave with them in a week.”
Alice leaving? Arrangement? Aithe looked back and forth between the Earl and Alice. What was the old man talking about? Why would Alice be going anywhere? He wanted to rush to her side then and ask her… to understand how he could be losing her so soon when they had just met.
“Uncle, please—” Her voice was a mere whisper… eyes rimmed with red, and Aithe knew she was trying desperately not to cry. He felt her pain and longed to reach out to her. His stomach sinking as the realization hit.
“You cannae mean that Lady Alice is tae marry this Earl against her will?”
“You forget yourself, lad!” The Earl’s voice boomed, and Aithe had to try not to flinch. “Lady Alice is my ward; therefore, she is mine to do with as I see fit. It is no concern of yours.”
So, it was true. The poor lass had only recently found out her brother was dead, and now this man meant to marry her off to a stranger. Alice stood and ran from the room, and Aithe immediately moved to follow.
“I warn you, boy,” Westing said.
“Someone needs tae see tae th’ lass.”
There would be a price to pay for his insolence, Aithe was sure, but at the moment, the only thing that mattered was that the lass did not try and throw herself from the cliffs again. He could see how heartbroken she was, and it bothered Aithe that her uncle, her only family, seemed to care little that she was hurting.
Aithe found her sitting on the same log in the green where they had first sat. She was turned away from him, looking at the cliffs and the vast sea beyond. The wind whipped at the tendrils of hair that had fallen out of her perfect braids. He could hear gulls in the distance and the clouds showed a storm but many hours away. His leg ached in tune with the weather as he took a moment to appreciate the quiet beauty of the lass against nature.
“You may sit if you wish.” Alice’s sweet, tortured voice broke Aithe from his thoughts.
“I only came tae see if ye were alright, lass.”
“Do you suppose Sussex will be quite different from Northumberland?”
“I dinnae ken. I’ve nay been far intae England, nay more than this land. Why do ye ask?”
“Sussex is where the Earl of Treadmont lives. My uncle expects that to be my new home.”
“You dinnae sound like ye want that?”
“I would die before submitting to my uncle’s will.” She turned to face him, and Aithe could see the dried tracks of tears streaked across her cheeks.
“Lass, ’tis foreign tae me, the idea of ye being forced intae anything ye dinnae ask for. Where I come from, people make their own choices.”
“What I would give to call a place such as that a home..”
“I would take ye there if it was what ye wished.” Aithe did not want to frighten the lass but needed her to know that her fate was not sealed.
“It’s not that I fear leaving this place. I don’t.” Alice sighed. “Christopher promised that when he returned, there would be money enough for us to pay back our uncle and make our own way in this world.”
“Aye, he spoke of it often. But what he never said was why ye need tae repay kin for takin’ ye in during a time of need. Ye were both so young and orphaned. I dinnae ken.”
“You and my brother spoke of my uncle then?”
“We did, though nay often. More we spoke of you.”
“Of me?”
“Aye, lass. Yer brother spoke of ye often and well. When our nights were long and darkest, Christopher would speak of yer youth, how happy ye were with yer Ma and Da, and how happy ye would be again. He missed ye fiercely and wanted nothin’ more than tae come home tae ye. Bade me promise that I would come as well, that, should anything befall him, I would look after ye as me own kin. That’s why I’m here.” He reached for her hand, and she allowed him to take it.
“If only he spoke more than mere stories told for comfort in the dark,” she replied turning back to look at the sea. Aithe’s heart broke all over again.
“What will ye do, lass?”
“I don’t quite know. May I ask you a question of a personal nature, Mr. MacGille?”
“Aye, anything lass.” He wished they could quickly move past the formalities. All his years with Christopher and his stories made Aithe feel familiar with Alice, but he knew it was not the case. He hoped that in time, she would be willing to open up to him.
“What happened to your leg? I couldn't help notice you favor the left side when you walk.” She looked down as she asked the question, partially ashamed by her own curiosity. Aithe remained quiet. He did not want to upset the lass further, yet he knew he could not lie about his injury. He looked out to the sea that transfixed her. The clouds were rolling in darker and the water was restless.
“Forgive me,” she said. “That was too personal a question.”
“Nay, lass. Ye are welcome tae ask me anything ye like. I willnae lie tae ye, but nor do I want tae cause ye pain.”
“Did it happen in the accident that killed my brother?” Aithe turned to Alice and was surprised at her perceptiveness.
“Aye, it was the accident that mangled my leg.”
Aithe did not know if it was the coming storm or Alice’s intense need to know about her brother that caused the fierce throb in his leg to increase. He rubbed at it, trying to think of the right words. That day had plagued his memory every moment since. He did not want to hurt the lass more, but the accident was not delicate. If he told her all, she may think he should have done more to save Christopher. Crushed by the weight of his own guilt, he reached for her hand. The soft warmth of her trust, giving him the courage needed to tell her that if he had not been injured himself—knocked unconscious by the falling rocks—perhaps he could have.
“What happened, please tell me?” she whispered.
“Ah, lass, it isnae a pleasant story.” He turned her hand over in his own, tracing the delicate lines of her palm with his finger, cursing to himself the burns and calluses against her perfect skin. “I dinnae want ye tae think I do nae want tae tell ye. I do. But ’tisnae pleasant at all.”
“I can handle it, Mr. MacGille, for the sake of my brother.”
“Will ye call me Aithe.” If he were to tell her of that day, even a little of the horror of the mine, being in the dark, without being able to breathe, and only the comfort of his friend, he needed to hear his name from her lips.
“Aithe, please tell me about the accident.”
“Och, lass. The mines were a dangerous place. Christopher and I had seen no less than five-rock slides in our time. It wasnae a good thing tae witness. The sound was deafening. The dust created as the rocks from the hills hit the ground below would get intae yer lungs making it impossible tae breathe.” He removed his hand from hers and ran it through his hair, letting out a deep breath. “Yer brother hated the mines as did I, but Christopher had lost something in the end. The light in his eyes faded, and I feared he w
as in the throes of terrible sadness. On that day, I tried tae cheer him, lass. I asked him over and over tae talk about ye. It had always worked in the past.”
He looked and saw her rapt with attention, compelling him to go on.
“That day was different though, Christopher was melancholy filled with regret. We were chained together by more than just iron. He worried that any kindness yer uncle may have had for ye, had run out, and he feared he was too late in returning tae ye.”
“Oh, how I hate that he worried. He didn't need to. We would have figured everything out,” a tear slipped from the corner of her eye.
“Aye, lass. Indeed ye would have, and I told him as much. I think he may have even started tae believe it. I heard th’ whistle blow. Suddenly I was verra eager tae get us outta that damned hole. I started tae tug on our chain, telling Christopher tae hurry so as we could get some much needed fresh air.” Aithe paused and tried to push himself to tell the rest, she needed to hear it. ”Christopher heard it first, that tell-tale hiss. I smelled it, a horrible stench of rotting eggs, and I ken it would be bad... and then…”
A shudder raced down his back and his leg throbbed.
“And then what?”
“Och, lass. Then all went black, and when I woke, my leg was mangled, and yer Christopher was gone.”
The two sat in silence for a short while, Aithe recalling the tragedy, while Alice tried to understand the gruesome details.
“I dinnae mean tae alarm ye, lass, but it appears someone is watching us from the window.” The drapery on the window of Westing’s study that faced the garden fluttered unnaturally as Aithe and Alice stood and slowly walked back to the manor house. She tucked her hand securely into the crook of Aithe’s arm as he smiled down at her.
“No doubt, my uncle is worried about his investment.”
As they approached the door, they were met by one of Westing’s servants.
“His lordship wishes to speak with the Scot.”
Alice turned to Aithe, “I fear I may have caused you trouble as a way to repay your kindness.”
“Och, lass. Dinnae fret, I can hold me own with th’ Earl. Ye should go upstairs, get some rest."
As he entered the study, Aithe found Westing sitting behind his desk much as he left him hours earlier, a freshly powdered wig upon his head, and wearing what looked to Aithe as a freshly brushed greatcoat.
“Ye requested tae see me, my lord?”
“Yes, Mr. MacGille, please have a seat.” The older man extended his hand as Aithe sat, noticing a change in his demeanor from earlier. Slight as it was, Westing’s jaw was tight, and his eyes dark. “You are a guest here, are you not, lad?”
“Aye, my lord. And grateful tae ye for yer hospitality, tae be sure.” Aithe spoke carefully, measuring his tone and words.
“And as my guest, you would not wish to upset me, is that correct.” Aithe wished he had his sword. As civil as the conversation seemed on the outside. He knew the English were quick to temper and had already witnessed Westing’s own angry outburst. He knew this tightly controlled voice could turn at any moment. Having a weapon would go a long way to helping Aithe feel more comfortable.
“My lord, I wouldnae wish tae offend in any way. I appreciate yer hospitality greatly.”
“And why is it you have come here?” He ignored the gratitude Aithe threw his way.
“As I’ve said, I made a promise tae yer nephew tae see after the well-being of his sister, Lady Alice.”
“Yes, of course, you’ve said. Yet, I cannot help but wonder if you have not already succeeded in keeping your promise. As you see, Alice is quite well, and, as she is soon to be married, will be well cared for.”
Aithe knew where the conversation was going. He would be asked to leave before the Earl of Treadmont arrived. However, Alice was anything but settled. He would not leave her to the twin wolves of her uncle and his choice of husband.
“Aye, with all due respect, my lord, I am nay convinced th’ match is best fer Lady Alice. I cannae leave th’ lass until I see her settled and happy fer a long while. Tis what Christopher woulda wanted.”
“Christopher is dead. Do you have any idea the cost of keeping and raising a child that's not one’s own? Do you have any idea how difficult it was to secure a match for such a girl? No, you do not! You see a pretty face, a sad young woman, and your over romantic Scottish heart wants to take her for your own with no thought to her value, the money that has to change hands for her. She belongs to another.”
Anger began to bubble up from Aithe’s center. He disliked being categorized by his heritage but hated how Westing spoke of Alice as property and coin even more. Aithe stood placing both hands on either side of Westing’s desk.
“As a romantic Scot, as ye say, I have a fierce notion that Lady Alice is nay property in th’ way ye treat her.” Aithe picked up a crystal paperweight from the desk and fondled it as he maintained a steady gaze on the Earl. “She deserves a say in her future. I’ll nay leave until she asks me tae dae so.”
“And how do you figure that will happen?” Westing did not seem bothered by the change in Aithe’s tone or position. He was a hard man to figure out. Aithe had been exposed to all manner of English men during his time of rebellion and in the prison mines. Yet Westing was difficult to fathom.
“If marriage is what is best for the lass, then a marriage she shall have,” he replied, still bouncing the weight in his hand.
Chapter Five
Alice couldn’t leave Aithe on his own to face her uncle. At first, she went upstairs as he asked, but thought better of it. Creeping down toward the study, the loud voices could already be heard.
The door to the study was open slightly, just a crack and Alice peeped in. She couldn’t see her uncle, but Aithe stood with his hands on her uncle’s desk… his golden hair loose from the black ribbon that normally held it in check. She had done her best to avoid him after their initial meeting when she had foolishly kissed him but now feared that with her uncle’s feigned hospitality, Aithe would be unable to see the cruelty and greed that lay beneath, and she feared he would think her foolish or worse, a liar.
When her uncle had announced that the Earl of Treadmont was arriving, Alice had felt her world coming to an end. How could she avoid the unwanted marriage? Aithe had followed her to the willow tree, had told of her brother, and his own injury. It wasn't much, but enough to build trust in her. If he truly was Christopher’s trusted friend, and he was here to see her safe and settled, he would never side with her uncle in this scheme. Not after what he had shared with her. He had to see that she was honest, to understand all that was at stake with this marriage.
“And how do you figure that will happen?” Her uncle sounded as if he had been angry, yet was no longer. God, how she wished she had heard the beginning of their conversation.
“If marriage is what is best for the lass, then a marriage she shall have.”
No, he couldn't mean it? Alice took in a sharp breath, covering her mouth with her hand to stifle the sob that threatened to escape. Uncle Felix had won over Aithe? They had only been near each other for such a short time. How could he believe her uncle over her? Had she not heard it with her own ears, Alice would not believe it. His eyes flicked over to the door meeting her gaze.
“Did you hear something, lad?” Felix demanded. Alice heard the scrape of his chair legs on the floor as he rose from his desk.
“I heard nothing, my lord.” Aithe gave a slight turn of his head, his eyes urging her to go. “If we are done here, perhaps I shall ready myself to depart.”
“Yes, well, I too must go see to the dinner preparations. I trust our conversation is settled then.” Her uncle sounded self-congratulatory. He believed he had won the conversation.
She forced herself to breathe. Men ruled her life, and as always, Alice had no say. She turned rapidly, if caught listening, she would end up spending the evening in the cellar for sure, and that she could not bear.
The servants were
all in the main dining room preparing for the dinner, and exactly where her uncle would be heading. She needed not to be seen. To the right was the morning parlor, and she quickly slipped into the room. If she grabbed a book from the side table and sat in the window seat, she could pretend to be so engrossed in her book that she had not heard a thing. Except there was no book on the side table, or anywhere to be seen. Footsteps approached the parlor as she frantically looked for a place to hide, but could find none.
“Blast it,” she cried aloud. “Where is a book when I need it?”
“Perhaps I can be of some assistance,” Aithe walked into the room, quickly closing the door behind him and locking it with a quiet click. “But first, let us be silent lass, lest yer uncle hear.”
She nodded, turning her fingers in her hand, over and over. It was a nervous habit she wished she had not acquired, as it revealed her real emotions much too readily, but the thought of being caught and sent to the cellars made her palms damp, and her heart speed up. This was the only way she knew to calm herself. She moved to sit on the lounge, not taking her eyes off the Scot who kept his ear to the door. Only moments ago, he agreed with her uncle, and yet now was helping her avoid him. Why?
