by Fiona Faris
* * *
It had been a dreadfully long day for Brodie. One that he wanted over as soon as possible. There were countless tasks: people who wanted to see wrongs be righted, some who had disputes over trade, and some who simply wanted the laird to teach a lesson to their children. It was as if the whole of the estate needed his help that day.
In a way, he was grateful that his mind had been distracted. At least the tasks held his attention and forced him to be somewhere else than his home, where he would be pacing the halls, waiting for Beatrice to talk to him. It had been two days since their fight on the stairwell, and Brodie did not know how to fix things. He should not have been so forceful …Beatrice had suffered so much. He could see she denied herself happiness, but it was all she had known until then. Pressuring her to stay was clearly difficult, and he should have given her some room, eased into the discussion instead of making her feel bad for merely trying to follow her duties. He did not want her to go one bit. And now they had been at odds for two days. Just as the time of her departure was drawing near, each minute they were not together was another minute wasted.
He wanted to talk to her, apologize. Maybe if he did, then they could at least go back to how things were before their argument—the both of them pretending she was never leaving. He was fine with the pretense as long as it meant they both would be together for even a short while longer.
Brodie went towards one of the common rooms where he hoped to see Beatrice and Helena. He needed a glass of whiskey after his busy morning. When he walked into the room, he was surprised to find only Helena.
“Brodie!”
“Helena, is Beatrice here? Is she in the library?” He had decided to apologize, and needed to do it sooner than later.
“I need to tell you something. Beatrice left.” Helena looked at her own hands, unsure of what else to say.
Brodie felt his heart fall into the pit of his stomach. Beatrice left? Without saying goodbye?
“What? What dae ye mean she left?” Brodie stammered.
“Her maid of many years has fallen gravely ill, and she worried she would not be able to say goodbye. The carriage only left only an hour ago. She asked me to say goodbye to you.”
Brodie nodded. “Thank ye fer tellin’ me.”
He turned around and left the room, feeling hollow and empty. He could not believe she was gone. This could not be the end of them. In his anger, he slammed his hand against a nearby wall. No, that could not be it. He was annoyed at himself, and his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as he paced in a small circle.
It was at that moment that it struck Brodie just how much he truly cared for Beatrice. He did not merely enjoy her company, he not only wanted her to stay for a short while longer, but he was deeply in love with her—a love he had never experienced with anyone else. This could not be the end of them.
Fixing his kilt, he turned back into the commons room.
“Helena, tell Marcus tae take care a’ the land. I must go. I must go and tell Beatrice I love her.”
Brodie headed straight for the stables…he needed his best stallion, and would ride all night if need be. He would reach her. Thankfully there was only one long road she could be traveling on. With the weight of the carriage, she would be traveling at a much slower than him, and if he left now, might just be able to reach her. He was going to tell her exactly how he felt. Even if she did not feel the same, at least he would get his final goodbye.
* * *
The carriage moved quickly, but not fast enough for Beatrice. She worried she would not make it home with enough time to see Sally, and hoped to hire a good doctor to see if something more could be done. Beatrice chided herself, look what you have done, all because you wanted to follow your heart. She knew Helena meant well by inviting her, and it had done her some good. She was closer to her full weight again, wearing clothes that fit her well. For the first time in a long while, she actually smiled longer than she frowned each day. She was reading more books, and found herself thinking of something other than James. In many ways, it had been what she had needed, but now regretted the journey slightly.
The further she moved from the castle, the more she thought of Brodie. She believed it would be so easy to leave without seeing him one final time, but her heart told her differently. She already felt an ache that seemed to be carving a hole deep within her. She had no James, and now, no Brodie. Her stomach ached, as did her chest. She wanted so desperately to turn around, to tell Brodie all she was feeling, but needed to hurry home, to be there for Sally.
Beatrice let out a deep sigh, she had suffered greatly these last few years, and it seemed there was no end in sight to the suffering. Resting her eyes for a moment, she tilted back her head and pressed her eyes shut. Within moments, she was asleep.
But as was customary for Beatrice, even her sleep was disturbed. All she could see was Brodie, his pained face calling out to her, rushing to her as she climbed into the carriage. Even in her dreams, she could not seem to say goodbye to him. The pain felt just as real while she rested as during her waking moments. Brodie reached his hand out to her, but she tried to tell him she could not take it, to tell him to forget her. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she saw how tormented he was as she disappeared. Even as she opened her mouth, nothing seemed to come out except dust. There was so much she wanted to say, but she could not speak. She was punished even in her sleep.
The carriage jolted to a stop, and Beatrice woke with a start, fumbling around and fanning herself. She was damp with sweat from the dream. Oh no, what more must I deal with? As she moved to look out of the carriage, she heard the sound of a gunshot.
* * *
Brodie gripped the reigns of his horse. He had been riding for over an hour, his thighs pained him, and the muscles in his back were unbearably sore. He knew it was not going to be a comfortable journey, but he felt he was close, almost as if he could feel Beatrice calling out to him. He had to reach her. He needed to tell her once and for all that, he’d fallen in love with her.
The sun was beginning to set, and Brodie could not help but worry for her safety and about her making the journey through the night. He felt sure that the driver would take good care of her, but Beatrice seemed to be the kind of woman who always found herself in trouble, even unintended. He needed to reach her by sundown.
The road forked up ahead, and Brodie knew she would be traveling down the road that would get her home the quickest. It was also, unfortunately, the road most often plagued with thieves. It was the most direct, but not one on which anyone would want to be caught in the dead of night. There was a chance that she went the longer route, but Brodie knew Beatrice too well. As much as she spoke about her responsibilities and her duties, he knew she would put herself in harm's way if it meant getting where she was needed more quickly. He guided his horse down the left path and rode on confident that he would reach her shortly.
Out of nowhere, Brodie heard a loud noise ring through the air, not too far ahead: a gunshot. His stomach dropped, and he knew the noise was coming from the road he was traveling on. “Hyah!” he called, and he whipped his reins. Despite being exhausted, the horse sped up. Brodie clung to his saddle with all the strength in his thighs. In the pit of his stomach, he knew, with utmost certainty that the noise was coming from Beatrice’s carriage, and he could only hope it was the gun of her driver he had heard. He needed to reach her, and fast.
* * *
Beatrice peeked from her carriage and felt her heart race. She saw two thieves pointing a gun at the driver. Oh no, please no, Beatrice thought. Once again, she found herself in the hands of danger. It seemed she could not escape it. The driver held his hands high above his head, but thankfully, did not seem wounded. They must have shot the gun off to scare him. They held the horse's reins, and the animals were pawing at the ground, afraid. One of the thieves looked her way, and she ducked back inside the carriage just as a dull pounding sound could be heard.
“Come wit’ me, y
e bastard.” A gruff-sounding man had pulled the driver from his spot. Beatrice did not want to look. She heard the older man whimpering and knew he was wounded, but alive. She held her breath as steps moved closer to the carriage door.
A man in a mask yanked open the door and reached in, pulling her out with such a force that Beatrice collapsed to her knees.
“Gimme all ye got!” the stranger shouted at her. Beatrice could not move. She was frozen in a panic. The man held her arm tight, and Beatrice felt her skin bruising. He reached around inside the carriage and found the pouch of money Helena had given her.
“See? Was nowt tae hard, eh?” He counted the money in the pouch and seemed pleased with himself.
Next to the rough man, another started speaking in a harsh whisper. “Stick to the plan!” His voice sounded strange, as if he was trying to sound deeper in pitch, yet vaguely familiar. Beatrice was overwhelmed. She had faced so much loss, so much pain, and at that moment, all she wanted was to get home and say goodbye to Sally—but these thieves refused to let her go. Without thinking, she pulled back her loose arm as the man counted the coins, and swung forward as hard as she could and hit the man square in the nose.
“Oy!” he shouted as blood pooled in the fabric mask he wore.
“Yer gonna be sorry fer that!” he shouted as he reached back and slapped her. Beatrice knew it was coming, and tried to shield her face, but he hit her full on the mouth, and she fell over to the ground. As she tried to catch herself, her wrist landed at a weird angle, and she heard a soft crack. The pain radiated through her entire body. Drops of blood fell near her, and she felt suddenly faint. She tried to steady herself, but her head hit the ground within moments.
“What say we have a wee bit of fun with the lassie, eh?” the man growled, but the second thief pulled him back.
“Remember, you get the money,” he added in a rough whisper.
“Fine, fine, then.” He pocketed the pouch and shrugged as he walked a few paces away. Her vision was fading, and all she could see was the man’s boots.
Just as she was losing consciousness, she swore she heard a horse approaching and wondered if her horses had fled, but instead, heard a familiar voice. The thieves ran away as quickly as they could. Then, all she saw was black.
* * *
Brodie recognized the carriage as he was riding up. He saw Beatrice lying on the ground, and she was unconscious. Had the man shot her? He rode forward and leaped from his horse, drawing out his gun.
“What the hell dae ye think yer daein?” The thieves saw Brodie standing before them, his stallion rising on its back legs and kicking the air, and they ran. But Brodie knew this path better than any thief, and ran after them as quick as his sore legs would let him.
The taller thief leaped through the hedgerow with ease, but the shorter one ran slowly, and stumbled over the smallest of stones. Brodie caught up to him in moments and attempted to grab him by the shirt, but the man slipped out of reach.
Brodie shook the dirt off his clothes and stood. The thief was long gone, and he was more concerned with Beatrice than he was with catching a couple of scoundrels. Within a few moments, the driver—who had fainted—came round, and was very grateful Brodie arrived when he did.
“They stopped me, shot a gun in the air. I dinnae know what tae do!” The poor man was shaking with fear.
Brodie patted him on the back. “Ye did fine. I’m here now.”
He rushed over to Beatrice’s side and lifted her up. She was injured, her lip was cut, and he could see her wrist was swollen, and was most likely what caused her to faint.
“Beatrice, Beatrice—wake, please,” he whispered softly and brushed the hair from her face. He pulled a canteen from his side and poured a little bit of water into his hand. He ran his wet fingers along her face.
Beatrice’s eyes fluttered open. “Bro—Brodie?’ She looked confused and bewildered. But Brodie saw relief in her eyes as well.
“Aye, tis me, Beatrice.”
“But how, how did you know I was here?” She moved to reach for his face, but winced instead. Her body felt weakened and wounded.
“Nay, dinnae move, lassie. I’ll take care of ye,” Brodie sighed and continued running his finger along Beatrice’s forehead. “Helena told me ye left, and I couldnae bring myself tae let ye go without a proper goodbye.”
“Oh, Brodie, I’m sorry for leaving so suddenly, sorry for yelling at you.” Her eyes shut briefly, but she forced them open again. At that moment, she was hit with recognition of the voice she had heard …it had sounded vaguely like Frances.
“Nay, lassie, ye have naught tae be sorry about. I am the one who ought tae be sorry. I didnae tell ye before ye left, but I should have. Beatrice, I am madly in love with ye. I cannae live without ye, and I couldnae bear tae see ye go without tellin ye how I truly felt.” Brodie watched Beatrice’s face for a sign of hope.
Beatrice looked up at him., she could not deny it; she, too, had fallen in love with Brodie. She had tried the entire time at the castle to deny her feelings for him, but all it caused was a deep ache. She needed Brodie. But more than that, she wanted Brodie in her life.
“Oh, Brodie, I love you too.” Beatrice smiled as best she could with her wound, and as much as she wanted to linger in the moment, she needed to tell Brodie all she knew.
“Brodie, the thief—one of them, I’m quite positive—one of them was Frances.” She could hear how shaky her voice sounded, the doubt held in the cracking of her voice.
“I’ll get ye intae the carriage, and we’ll get ye back tae the castle. We’ll talk more then. Ye need a doctor.” Beatrice could see Brodie was skeptical, but also concerned with her safety. At the mention of the castle, a brief panic-struck Beatrice’s eyes.
“But Sally—I must get to Sally. I cannot bear to lose someone else without a proper goodbye.” She moved to stand, but Brodie held her down. “Please, Brodie, I need to get home.”
“Beatrice, we’ll send word fer an update. I’ll hire a doctor tae visit her myself if I need tae, but we need tae take care of ye first.” Brodie was kind but firm with his decision.
Beatrice cried and said nothing as Brodie lifted her up, taking care with her broken wrist. He guided her into the carriage.
“First, we’re gettin’ ye tae the castle tae get some care. We’ll send a telegram first thing morrow.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The sun streaked through the fog outside Beatrice’s window. She woke in a panic, her heart racing and her breathing quick, and a piercing headache roamed through her temples and across her forehead.
She cried out, shutting her eyes to the light and the pain.
“Aye, lay back down. You’re alright!” Helena moved as quickly as her swollen, pregnant body would allow. She was at Beatrice’s side within moments, and gently guided her to lay back down against the pillow.
Hearing Helena’s voice and feeling her maternal hands, Beatrice understood where she was. She was back in Scotland, back in her old room.
“How did I get here? What happened?” Suddenly, she was struck by a recollection of the trip back to her estate. She remembered the thieves, Brodie's great rescue, but most of all, she remembered the reason why she had left in the first place.
“Oh no, Helena, Sally, is she alright? I must go. I need to make sure she is all right for myself. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I weren’t there when she needed me.” Beatrice moved but cried out in pain… her arm! She looked and saw that it was in a cast. Clearly, her arm was broken, and it would be some time before she would be able to rush anywhere.
“Really, Beatrice, you need to stay calm. Sally is just fine. I made sure and sent a message to ask how she was. I knew you would want to know as soon as you woke up. But you need to stop moving about like this, or you’re going to injure yourself more.” Helena patted Beatrice on the leg and lowered her voice to a soothing tone.
“Thank you, Helena. I appreciate that. But, if you sent a message, how—how long have I b
een asleep?” Beatrice suddenly noticed the clamminess of her skin, the bird’s nest tangle of the hair at the nape of her neck. Her mouth felt stale.
“Oh, Bea, you have been asleep for days now. The journey, the theft, the injuries; it was all too much for your body. I am so glad you are finally awake, and I know Brodie will be pleased as well. Your body clearly needed the rest.
Brodie. Beatrice suddenly felt her skin flush with heat. He had pursued her all the way from the castle, and arrived just when she needed him. She had left Scotland without even bothering to say goodbye and wondered if he was angry with her at all. Most importantly, however, she simply wanted to see him again.
“Ah yes, there it is. I knew you cared for him deeply. He will be by shortly, I’m sure. You know, he’s been checking on you every free moment that he’s had. He’s been reading to you nightly, which I made it a point to tell Marcus. Lord knows that man has never read poetry to me with such passion.” Helena raised her eyebrows up and down, giggling, and Beatrice could not help but laugh. It felt good to be with her best friend and relieved that everything was alright at her estate, enough for her to be here, resting and recuperating.
