In short, I was an utter idiot.
It is you who impresses me, sweet Josephine. You leave me in awe. Not just for your wit and keen mind, but for your heart as well.
I can only pray now that you will someday find it in your heart to forgive this dimwitted man you have been promised to. If you wish to break our betrothal, while it would certainly cleave my heart in twain, I would never hold it against you, for it is nothing less than what I deserve.
With a hopeful heart,
Graeme
The tears she wept were not of sorrow but of hope. The future, their future, no longer appeared so dismal. Excited, she went to the little table that sat under the window and searched for quill, ink, and parchment. She found the quill and ink, but no parchment. She decided she would use the back of Graeme’s note, the one that had been tied to the top of the bundle.
Graeme,
You are completely, wholly forgiven. I look forward to receiving more letters.
Joie
She sprinkled the drying powder onto the ink, let it set for a moment before carefully tapping the excess back into the container. As she was folding the note, someone tapped at her door. More excited than she could remember feeling in many, many years, she all but flew to the door in hopes that it was Graeme.
Her smile faded when she saw it was one of the kitchen maids, bearing a tray of food.
“Josephine,” she said with a curtsy. “Ye missed the mornin’ meal and again the noonin’ meal. Mistress Kathryn asked that I bring ye somethin’ to eat.”
Josephine’s eyes grew wide. “I have slept the day away?” she asked, feeling quite embarrassed.
The maid smiled brightly, “Do no’ fash yerself over it. Ye’ve traveled far in a short time. Mistress Kathryn said ye needed yer rest.”
Josephine waved her in and asked, “What is your name?”
“I be Bridgett,” she said as she cautiously set the tray down on the table, careful not to knock over the small jar of ink. She was a very pretty lass, with long, blonde hair and dark blue eyes, and Josephine estimated she was mayhap only a year or two younger than herself.
“I thank you kindly, Bridgett. Have you seen Laurin?”
“Yer sister?” she asked before turning to leave. “Aye, she only came below stairs a while ago. Albert was showin’ her the keep and such.” She offered Josephine a giggle and telling grin. “I think he be smitten with her.”
“I believe you’re right,” Josephine told her. “Bridgett, would you be so kind as to do me a favor?”
“Anythin’ fer ye, Josephine. Mistress Kathryn says I’m to care fer ye as if ye and Laurin were the queen and princess of Scotland.”
Josephine giggled lightheartedly. “Let us not go quite that far,” she said before handing her the folded parchment. “Would you please take this to Graeme?”
“Aye,” Bridgett said. “I will give ye time to eat, then will come back to help ye dress.”
With another curtsy she left the room.
Josephine went to the table and found she was ravenous. Remembering she hadn’t eaten since noon the day before, she enjoyed the stew, bread, and fruit, and washed it down with warm cider. She had just downed the last of the cider when another knock came and a moment later, Bridgett stepped inside.
“Graeme had me wait while he wrote this,” she said as she came to the table and handed over a letter. Eagerly, Josephine opened it.
Josephine,
I have not been to church since my last visit home. I am heading to the chapel now to thank God for your response. When I return, I shall answer more of your letters.
Thankfully, your servant,
Graeme
Josephine giggled and held the note to her chest, momentarily forgetting Bridgett was in the room.
“Josephine?” Bridgett asked, interrupting her reverie.
Josephine cleared her throat and tried in vain to wipe the smile from her face. “Aye?”
Bridgett studied her closely for a moment before asking, “Would ye like a bath?”
“Aye, Bridgett, I would very much like a bath. And as much parchment as you can bring me.”
After a long and much needed bath, Josephine slipped into a simple green dress and sat down to pen a letter to Graeme. For the next two hours, they passed letters back and forth to one another, using Bridgett as their messenger.
Laurin returned later in the afternoon, and while she looked happy, she was not quite as happy as Josephine.
“Pray tell,” Laurin said when she entered the room and Josephine looked up with a bright smile. “What has ye smilin’ so?”
“Oh, Laurin,” Josephine exclaimed happily. “Something quite remarkable has happened.”
Laurin hurried to sit opposite her at the little table. “What? What has happened?”
Josephine handed the stacks of letters to Laurin. “Begin with the one on top,” she said.
Laurin’s brow knitted into a line of confusion as she tried to decipher the handwriting. “Who wrote this?”
Josephine was beaming. “Graeme,” she said as she waited for the realization to settle in. “When I woke, there was a small bundle of letters just inside the door. All from Graeme.”
Laurin was not quite grasping the importance. “And?”
“Don’t you see? He begged my forgiveness last night and when I woke, I found the letters. He had begun to respond to all the letters I wrote him over the years. So far, I have eleven.”
Laurin shot her a look that said she was beginning to question her soundness of mind. “Why do ye no’ just go talk to him? If he be anythin’ like Albert, ye’ll soon find ye can talk to him about anythin’.”
Josephine patted Laurin’s hand. “Albert is a very good man. I am so very happy that you are warming to him.”
Laurin’s face flushed a deep pink. Josephine would not dare ask if they were doing more than just talking.
“He be a verra good man,” Laurin agreed before changing the subject back. “Why do ye no’ just talk to Graeme?”
“Well, we discussed that in our letters. Graeme is much better at writing his feelings than saying them. And in that process, we are learning much about one another.”
Laurin put the letter down and studied Josephine closely for several long moments. “I do no’ think I’ve ever seen ye this happy, Joie. I do no’ understand all this writin’ back and forth, when ye’re only a few steps away from each other. But if it ye brings ye happiness, I’ll say naught more about it.”
Josephine knew that others might not understand the significance of this breakthrough. What mattered was how important Graeme’s letters were to her.
She was about to tell Laurin something else, when someone knocked on the door. Josephine squealed with delight as she shot to her feet. “Another letter!”
Bridgett had barely stepped inside when Josephine grabbed the letter from her hand. “Um…” she asked with a hint of trepidation. “Will this be goin’ on all the night long? I be wearin’ a path out between yer room and his.”
“Oh! Bridgett, I am so sorry!”
“Do no’ fash yerself over it,” Bridgett said. “But would ye mind if I found a younger lad to help run the letters between ye and Graeme?”
For the next two days, neither Josephine nor Graeme left their rooms. Meals were sent to their respective chambers while the two young people wrote one letter after another.
Josephine felt she had learned more about Graeme in the past few days than she would have had, had they been locked in a room and forced to speak. She had to agree that writing to one another offered a safe barrier where one could in fact say what one was truly thinking or feeling without having to worry over a slip of the tongue or misstep that might lead to an embarrassing moment. Nay, writing was much safer.
While she spent her time in correspondence, Laurin spent her free time with Albert. Neither Laurin nor Albert, or anyone else inside the keep for that matter, could quite understand the appeal that Josephine and Graeme found in
writing.
“Do ye plan on marryin’ the man through letters?” Laurin asked when she had returned from the evening meal. “Mayhap ye want to marry him by proxy.”
Josephine simply shook her head and smiled as she went back to writing yet another letter to Graeme.
“How will ye consummate yer marriage?” Laurin asked. “Will ye do that by proxy as well?”
Josephine’s face burned a brilliant shade of red as she looked away. She was at that moment responding to a question Graeme had posed on that very topic. Laurin shook her head and threw up her hands in defeat. “I am goin’ to bed.”
Josephine returned to her letter.
I was far too young when my mother passed away. I was unable to have a conversation with her on the matter of consummation. Your mother however, has been very helpful in that regard. She assures me that if you do everything correctly, then I shall quite enjoy that aspect of our marriage. She has also told me that if you have any questions on the matter, seek out her counsel, for it was she who taught your father the proper way to please a woman.
Within the hour she had Graeme’s short response on the matter.
Joie,
I find myself asking another boon of you. In the future, I ask that you never mention my mother or my father when we discuss the topic of consummation. I fear now that my sleep this night will be plagued with nightmares.
The hour is now late and I must bid you adieu. Sleep well, sweet Josephine.
Graeme
She knew he meant it in jest. She had learned that Graeme possessed a wicked sense of humor. Numerous times over these past days his letters had made her laugh to the point of tears. And yet there were other times when she was sincerely glad for the solitude Laurin had given her, so she could blush quietly and without question.
Most of all, Graeme had answered her questions honestly. She had learned that he was not prone to drinking heavily as her father and brother had often done. And nay, he had not enjoyed the company of dozens of women whilst he was away. Though the manner in which he had answered that particular question left her to wonder if he hadn’t enjoyed the company of at least a few. He wrote that he had been far too busy with his studies to “visit the numerous brothels or taverns”. Josephine was not so naive as to think that brothels and taverns were the only places to find an eager woman, but she let the matter drop, at least for the time being. In the end, it didn’t matter if he had or hadn’t. All that mattered was his subsequent vow never to stray from their marital bed.
In turn, she had answered all of his questions with the same level of honesty and respect. Some of the questions she found rather odd, but most were completely predictable and expected. “What was your first kiss like?” he had asked. She answered, “I do not know as I have yet to experience such. Mayhap I should find a willing young man to help teach me how to kiss before I marry. With you being such a worldly and experienced man, mayhap you would want a wife who is just as experienced and worldly?”
His response left her laughing almost uncontrollably. “It would bring me much relief to know you have not one grain of experience with kissing. I would hate to think you were comparing my kisses with anyone else’s. Equally important is the fact that I might be drawn and quartered before our wedding day, for gutting any man who dare even think about kissing you. You would, in truth, be saving countless lives by remaining ignorant on the matter.”
On the following morning, one of the many young lads they had bribed into running their messages back and forth, appeared bright and early at her door with another letter.
My dearest Josephine,
Whilst I have thoroughly enjoyed writing to you these past few days, I fear I am unable to continue on this path. You see, I have written so much that my fingers are now permanently damaged from all the hours of holding a pen. They will not, no matter what I do, uncurl.
I beseech ye to allow me to see ye in person.
Graeme
Excitement and eager anticipation swelled. She didn’t bother with writing another note. Instead, she gave a verbal message and sent the young boy off to deliver it.
As soon as he was out of the room, she quickly set about readying herself for her betrothed. She washed her face and teeth, and slipped into a clean chemise before stepping into what she thought was her prettiest dress. A pale green damask with fitted sleeves, a scooped neckline, trimmed in dark blue thread. Laurin was already gone, so there was no one to help her style her hair. She ran a comb through it and decided to leave it down. All the while she flittered about the room, her heart pounded against her chest.
She was just stepping into her slippers when a knock came at her door. Not wanting to seem too eager, she stood with her hand on the bar, took several deep breaths and counted to five before opening it.
Writing to her had been as easy and simple as breathing.
But let him gaze upon her face? Any eloquent speeches, poems of love, or words from his heart that he had planned to tell her, vanished in the blink of an eye.
She stood before him in a pale green dress, her hair unbound and tumbling down her back, her smile – the one he should have seen days ago – was enough to light up the darkest night. His mouth had suddenly become dry and paralyzed, as if he’d been born without the ability to speak. Or swallow. Or think any coherent thought.
Graeme felt all at once foolish, immature and unworthy. He was about to turn and run away like a boy, when Josephine all but flung herself into his embrace, twining her slender arms around his waist and resting her head against his chest.
“Graeme,” she said, a note of glee in her voice. “I’ve waited a very long time for you.”
The sensation of feeling foolish, immature and unworthy fell away as he wrapped his own arms around her. Why did I resist this for all these years?
She pushed away slightly to look up at him. He studied every inch of her lovely face. Josephine was quite beautiful, with her creamy skin and oval shaped face. Her green eyes reminded him at once of the summer grass that lined a French countryside. Dark lashes surrounded those eyes – eyes that were sparkling with joy and excitement as they looked into his. A pert, little nose and deliciously looking full, pink lips, which he was quite certain would feel as soft as a whisper against his own.
He wondered then if anyone would object if he married her now. This very day. This very moment.
“Ye’re beautiful,” he said.
Those cream colored cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink when he gave her the compliment.
“Jose—” he stopped himself. “Joie, I ken I am wholly unworthy of ye, but would ye do me the distinct honor of marryin’ me?”
Josephine had already agreed to such, more than four years ago. She had learned, however, through his letters, that it had been quite important to Graeme that he be able to marry a woman of his own choosing. Her heart felt close to bursting from her chest. He was choosing her of his own free will.
A joy-filled smile curved on her face and she flung her arms around his neck. “Aye, Graeme MacAulay, I will marry you.”
To his mind, ’twas too glorious a moment, and he could not resist the urge to taste those delicate pink lips. Without asking permission or giving much warning, he pressed his lips to hers. At first, she was quite surprised, but that fell away a heartbeat or two later. Josephine melted into him as she returned his kiss with equal passion and zeal.
Their long overdue kiss was interrupted far too soon for either of their likings.
“Well, it be about time!”
Nothing on God’s earth can douse a man’s ardor like the sound of his mother’s voice.
9
When Kathryn MacAulay had happened upon her son and future daughter-in-law embracing and lost in a kiss, nothing could have brought her more joy. She took a good measure of satisfaction in knowing that she had been right all along. Graeme and Josephine were perfect for one another.
When she saw the intense level of passion in her son’s eyes when he looked at h
is betrothed, she knew that waiting another few days for the wedding was unwise. Knowing that Graeme was sprouted from Marcum MacAulay’s loins, well, chances were good that Josephine would not be going to the altar as a sweet, innocent and untouched young lady.
It took only a few moments to convince her husband that the two should be married that day. Preferably before the nooning meal, for she seriously doubted her son would wait much longer. They settled on marrying before the evening meal in order to allow them some time to prepare.
Thankfully, she could enlist the help of Laurin as well as her other daughters-in-law to keep Graeme away from his bride for just a few more hours. They surrounded Josephine as if they were royal guards protecting the queen, keeping her locked away in her room while they prepared her for the ceremony.
While the women hovered over the bride, doing God only knew what to her, Graeme sought out his father’s company and counsel.
“I will no’ be tellin’ ye ‘I told ye so’, but I will be usin’ words to that effect.” Marcum said as he sat behind the table in his study. “I was right, aye?”
Graeme knew any attempt to deny that everyone else had been right would seem ludicrous. Instead, he paced around his father’s study, his mind sprinting from one thought to another.
“As was yer mum,” Marcum said as he poured himself a cup of fine whisky. “And yer brothers. They were right as well.”
Graeme stopped pacing long enough to glare at his father. The man sat tall and proud in his chair, a look of deep satisfaction etched on his face. “Are ye quite done?”
Marcum laughed, a deep, rumbling laugh that made his belly and shoulders shake. “Well, the cook, stable master, and blacksmith knew it as well.”
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