by Fiona Faris
“A wee bit?” the Earl said, before turning to her uncle with a smile. “I see this far north there is a touch of the Scottish brogue in the lady’s speech. Not to worry when we relocate her to Sussex, her accent will surely fade.” the Earl added.
Oh no, she had been thinking of Aithe, and the word had slipped out. She had never spoken with any Scots dialect. What had she been thinking? Even as a child playing with the village children, coming back with any hint of an accent, her uncle had made sure she knew it was unacceptable. She had spent time in the cellars for such slip-ups. The table was silent for far too long before her uncle spoke.
“Ah, well, we are very close to the border. The girl spent her life here; it’s bound to happen time and again, but have faith dear Treadmont. The girl is as English as they come.” He slapped his hand on the table in mock good cheer. Alice flinched; she knew it was anger. “When you are wed, you will beat it out of her.”
Alice shuddered as both men laughed. Finding her eventual abuse at the hands of her future husband, not at all funny, Alice tried to catch the eye of the Earl’s mother. Surely such a lady would not stand for such ill-guided attempts at humor? Lady Childwood would be of no help and seemed to be asleep in her soup. The lady was oblivious to the happenings around her, and Alice would find no support in the woman. It was a nightmare. Oh, how she wished Aithe had been permitted to stay. At least dinners with him had not been so taxing. She hated hearing her uncle talk of his business pursuits and hated the way Aithe had agreed with the man, even though she knew it was out of courtesy and nothing more. But during those meals, she had not been put on display. Her eventual abuse was never a topic of conversation. Aithe, no matter how displeased, would never strike a woman, and neither would he jest of such an offense.
“Speaking of Scots,” Treadmont said, between excessive slurps of his soup. “The servants informed me you had another guest, an actual Scot, a Highlander, no doubt, by the way they described the man. It is a shame he took his leave before we had a chance to speak. I would very much have enjoyed some lively conversation.”
“Yes, well, he was a rather morose sort, I’m afraid. He was a friend of my dear, late nephew… come to check on the family. But he had to be on his way, back to whatever rock he crawled out from. I was surprised when he left so willingly, thought I would have to call in the magistrate. You know how difficult those Scots can be.” Alice clutched her spoon. The mention of Aithe with such disdain and untruths, speaking of him as if he were no better than a caged animal, to be paraded about for entertainment, caused her knuckles to turn white.
“And how is it your nephew became associated with a Scot, Westing. He wasn’t a traitor to the crown, was he?” The Earl laughed at his own humor. He had no way of knowing how close to the truth he actually was. Alice watched as her uncle turned a ghastly shade of pale, dropping his own spoon into his bowl with a clank loud enough to wake Lady Childwood.
“Huh! Oh, dear me, did I fall asleep, dears?” The old woman woke up and managed to distract attention away from Christopher and Aithe. And for that, Alice was grateful.
Whatever her uncle was scheming seemed to hinge on the fact that Treadmont did not know and could not find out about her brother’s allegiances. Alice made a note to store that bit of information should she need it later. Not that she would be in England much longer. When would this desperate dinner end?
Chapter Seven
Aithe paced behind the stables. After leaving Alice with a plan fully intact, he had returned to the village to elicit help from Fergus in securing a horse and travel. He knew enough to know that stealing from Westing would not be wise. Aithe knew Westing would not take kindly to his stealing of Alice, but stealing a horse was a hanging offense.
“Are ye sure this is what’s best for th’ lass, Aithe?” Fergus asked in a hushed whisper.
“I’m not, but ’tis th’ best we could come up with. I was going to ask Alice tae take my hand anyway, but the brave lass beat me tae it. I’ll nay let her down now. Fergus, I appreciate yer help in this. I dinnae ken how I can repay ye. Ye’ve been a good friend.” Maybe it was the waiting, mayhap it was the darkness, but Aithe had lost one good friend, and he wanted to make sure his new friend understood how much his help meant.
“Och, think nothin’ of it. Besides, Meg has romantic notions regarding ye and Lady Alice. I promised her I’d help ye run away. Makes me look good for th’ wife.” He pointed his head in the direction of the house and chuckled.
Aithe shook his head and let out a light laugh… romantic notions indeed! A marriage of convenience and a hope that his family would take th’ lass in while he leaves them again to go off and find adventure. “I dinnae ken about romance, but I appreciate yer help just th’ same.”
“But ye cannae say ye dinnae love th’ lass. Have heart, lad, love isnae always so quick and heated.” Fergus was sincere in his statement as he longingly thought of his own wife.
But Aithe couldn’t help but think that perhaps love was for other men, not for him. He would not be content to stay near home and hearth watching his wife grow old, with a ton of bairns running around this way and that. It was not a life he had envisioned himself wanting. But why was it… since he came to this place, it was the vision that kept appearing? He shook his head violently, as much answering Fergus as clearing the image of a multitude of brunette daughters with his own green eyes, clinging to their mother’s legs as he taught small blonde boys how to shoot.
“Nay, not love. Love and marriage were never in th’ cards for me. I need my freedom. Especially after being sentenced to the mines. I cannae be tied down. ‘Twould be a death sentence.”
“Then do ye mind if I ask ye a question?” Fergus rubbed his chin. It was infuriating to Aithe how much time it was taking the man to ask a question.
“Get out with it then,” he replied. Blast Fergus, was he going to stall all night long?
“Why are ye wound so tight?”
So much could go wrong… Westing could find out about their plan… the lass could have changed her mind? What if the Earl of Treadmont was a charming, handsome man and her head was turned? Perhaps she would think marriage in Sussex would not be so bad. A million things could cause their plan to upend. Not the least of which was the lass changing her mind.
“Och, man, I dinnae ken. I want tae see the lass free from her uncle. My mind keeps running through everything that can go wrong.”
“Aye, I see. That’s all then? The plan?” Fergus smiled. If the two men had not become such fast friends, he would have wanted to give the man a fist to erase the grin. What else would it be, aside from the plan?
“Aye, the plan, that’s all.” He thought back to their first meeting. She had kissed him. He knew it was grief that made her momentarily lose her senses, but in all his years, he had never been affected by such an innocent and honest kiss. Her lips soft, tasting of fresh outdoors and something else… something feminine, sweet, and uniquely Alice. He could have gotten lost in her embrace for a very long time indeed. Aithe was sure his reaction to their kiss was only due to being without the comfort of a woman for so long.
Aithe distracted himself by checking the horses. He needed to make sure that their tools for the first part of their new life were ready for the journey. He checked the satchels -prepared with a few small bits of cheese, bread, and an apple. He slipped in a blanket Fergus had lent him, wanting to make sure Alice would be warm in the cold night breeze. He knew riding a horse so fast would be difficult for his leg, but Aithe tried to push that from his mind. Even if his leg ached with a fury that caused him to wail, he would not stop until he had guaranteed the escape she so desperately wanted.
“I think ye have all th’ two of ye will be needin’. Tis nothin’ more we can dae now but wait.” Fergus watched Aithe’s nervous movements in and out of the stables as if he was a wild dog about to leave the scene. He could sense the fear in his new friend’s heart.
“Aye, tis all we can dae.” Aithe responded af
ter a few silent moments. He cinched the belt of the satchel he had wrapped around the horse. There was no more he could do to prepare; either their plan would work or it wouldn’t. Aithe knew, regardless of the outcome, he would stop at nothing to protect Alice. He not only owed it to Christopher, but he owed it to himself. He was a man of his word and a man of honor. He needed to save Alice from her dreadful fate even if he had made no promises. It was what a true and noble man would do.
He and Fergus watched as each of the candlelit windows of the manor house went dark. Aithe knew his jittery nerves would not be settled until the lass emerged from the servants’ entrance in the kitchen gardens.
* * *
The dinner seemed never-ending. By the time her uncle announced that they should retire to his study for further discussions, Alice was ready to scream. She was crawling out of her skin waiting for the night to end. The Earl of Treadmont rarely took his eyes from Alice as they entered the library. Pretending to be engrossed in the titles on shipping and agriculture, he fondled the spines of the books, giving Alice what she thought he meant to be seductive, knowing glances but instead made him look as if he were about to suffer apoplexy.
“Uncle, if there's no objection, I wish to retire for the evening. I feel a headache coming on and would like to go to bed.” She could wait no longer… the earlier she retired, the earlier the rest of the party might do the same.
“Well, I agree with the child,” Lady Childwood stood up from the leather chair in which she had been dozing. Alice could hear the creaking of her old bones as she stood and felt a sense of pity for the woman who seemed nothing more than an accessory to the Earl. For someone to be so oblivious or uncaring of who her son marries, even if so different from him, she must live a false life. “I think I shall retire, if you wouldn’t mind ringing for my maid, Westing.” Without sparing Alice even a glance, the woman left the study.
“Are you sure you wish to retire so early, my lady?” Felix looked Alice up and down, worry etched on his brow. Alice knew it was not concern for her, but rather for the impression she was making on the Earl of Treadmont.
“Yes, Uncle, please. I’m afraid my head is pounding. I don’t feel well, and fear my staying up will only put a damper on your cigars and port.”
“Let the girl go, Westing. I cannot have my soon-to-be bride taking ill. It won’t bode well for the wedding night. The matters we shall be discussing are nothing for a future wife to hear. Shall I accompany you to your chambers, my lady?” Treadmont smiled at her, but instead of finding warmth in his kindness, Alice felt a chill. A shiver ran down her spine, and she could not wait any longer to be away from this monster.
“No, thank you, my lord."
“Very well. Besides, your uncle and I have business to discuss and travel arrangements to make. Sleep well.” He turned away from her without further interest. Alice thought of Aithe, out there somewhere preparing for their own travel, and conjured a smile. She gave the Earl a light curtsey before quickly heading from the library. The last thing she wanted was for the lecherous Treadmont to think better of her refusal and follow her.
Taking the stairs two at a time, she almost collided with Rebecca.
“Oh, my lady, I heard you were not feeling well.” Alice put on a pained expression and brought her hand up to her head, rubbing her temples, hoping her maid did not see her sprinting excitedly up the stairs.
“Yes, Rebecca, I’m most unwell. Do you mind helping me from my gown and readying me for bed?”
“You don’t look poorly, my lady.” Rebecca gave her a pointed look. Alice hated lying to the maid and made a quick decision to trust the girl. “Rebecca, can you keep a secret?”
The maid’s eyes lit up in anticipation.
“Oh, yes, my lady. Indeed, I can.” Surely of all the servants in the household, she could be trusted? Rebecca had been with her since her arrival at Terwick. She needed to confide in someone, and why not her ladies maid? Alice quickly ushered her into the bedchamber and began to tell her the plan to escape with Aithe. She recounted the way she had felt recently, not only when placed in the dungeon, but the nuisance her uncle seemed to think her. Alice told how she longed for a life where she was allowed to mourn her brother, to be free of a man who saw her as nothing more than a pawn or property.
When all was said and done, she stared at Rebecca through the mirror, feeling a small pang of guilt over the tears she saw in the maid’s eyes. Rebecca’s reaction was different than she had hoped for. She could see the disappointment make its way across her face, the fear in her eyes. She hadn’t yet told the woman that the plan would commence after the house slept this very night, and now seeing her maid’s reaction, she thought better of it and left that detail out. She regretted telling her. Spilling the secret had felt good for a moment before realizing she hadn’t thought of the plague it would bring to Rebecca. The poor woman was so accustomed to living as staff for Felix that she could not bear the thought of aiding in Alice’s escape by keeping a secret.
“Forgive me for being so forward, my lady. But surely, you can’t mean it. Surely, you would rather marry a fine English gentleman like the Earl of Treadmont.” Rebecca pleaded with Alice, the tone of her voice both forward and fearful, even as she tried to restrain it.
“No, Rebecca, I would not.”Alice regretted sharing the plan with her maid and hated that she needed to be so direct with her. Why could Rebecca not see the pain living with her uncle had caused? The woman knew of her uncle’s cruelty but could not see how Alice marrying the Earl of Treadmont would be a prison. Rebecca could not see how Alice would be forced to submit to her uncle’s will, even after marriage, not to mention the general feeling of ill-ease Alice had around the Earl even after only one evening of his company. “Can you not see, this is my only option for a happy and peaceful life. I thought you would be happy for me.”
Rebecca shook her head. “I cannot my lady. You cannot think running off to that place, with that man, would be better for a lady of your standing?” Alice was exhausted with the idea of “standing”. What good would it be to live a life as a tool for her uncle to use as he pleased? She would exchange everything she had in a heartbeat to bring back Christopher, to have the freedom to grieve, to be able to express her heart and mind without risk of being thrown in a damp and dark space.
“Let us not speak on it further, Rebecca. Please help me ready for bed.”
“So, you will abandon this radical idea?” Rebecca pleaded with Alice.
“For now, Rebecca, for now.” She wished she did not need to say this to Rebecca. In truth, she should have lied, pretended to abandon the idea the minute Rebecca showed any sign of fear, but after a whole evening with her uncle and the earl, she was tired of pretending she did not dread every minute. She turned to Rebecca and patted her on the hand, thanking her and bidding her a good night. Pretending to abandon the idea would be the last lie she ever told Rebecca, and in that, she would take some comfort. Alice let out an exasperated sigh. In a few short hours, she would be gone from this place. Hopefully, in Cadney, she would find some friends… true friends that she could confide in, and not feel so alone. It was rather disheartening to know that after thinking she could trust Rebecca, she could not. As kind as her maid was, she lived a life of fear and did not really care what Alice wanted. Like many people around her, Rebecca was concerned with ‘what was best’ even if it meant selling away a part of herself that she longed to let free for once in her life.
After spending so much time afraid in the last few years, Alice realized she was ready to release her fear. If only Christopher could see me now, he might be proud of me.
Alice lay in bed, pretending to sleep, counting down the moments until she could prove
just how courageous she was willing to be.
Chapter Eight
“Do ye see that?” Fergus pointed toward the back garden, and Aithe let out the breath he had been holding for what seemed like an eternity. In the shadows, a body moved steadily towards t
hem.
“Aye, it's her,” Aithe replied. He knew it was Alice… her form hidden in a dark black traveling cloak. She rushed toward them, moving in small quick steps. Aithe could sense her nervousness. In her hand, she carried a small suitcase, and the image of it caused Aithe’s heart to skip. He appreciated her ability to leave her world behind, with only the bare necessities.
“And th’ lass travels light.”
“Smart. Just like her father before her, I gather,” Fergus added
“And her brother,” Aithe agreed. It was not the first time in the last week he wished Christopher was still alive to see the resilient young woman his sister had become.
She walked across the garden in the darkness, and only briefly did Aithe see her pause and turn, making sure she was not being followed.
“Lass,” he whispered into the night, guiding her toward where he and Fergus hid behind the stables.
“I’m quite sure everyone is asleep,” she quickly pulled off her hood as she arrived, and Aithe was stunned into silence. Her hair was loosely braided and glowed in the waning moonlight. He had never seen a lass as bonny as Alice was at that moment. She had struck him speechless. “I checked, and it doesn’t appear I have been followed, but just to be—”
