He danced unusually fluidly, leading Marion on the dance floor in a way that made everyone turn their eyes at the soon-to-be couple. She enjoyed the dance, and her smile was not forced anymore—rather, the closeness of the Earl made her heart race and cheeks blush.
But she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the back of her mind.
After her dance with the Earl, Marion curtsied and thanked him for the wonderful dance. She needed to find Edith and tell her about the day’s events.
I can’t hold this in any longer! I just have to find Edith and it’ll all be all right.
She found Edith still chatting with Mr. Alby—they sure had become close in only a few hours’ time.
“Edith, darling, may I speak with you for a moment?” Marion said as she touched her shoulder for attention. Neither of them had noticed Marion’s arrival, as they were both very deep in conversation.
“Ah, Lady Marion, the rose of the party!” Mr. Alby said. “Miss Hall and I were just having the most interesting conversation about their new mare, it seems she has been giving the grooms quite the runaround. Miss Hall is the most wonderful young lady—I don’t know how I can possibly part with her tonight!”
“That’s such a pleasure to hear, Mr. Alby. I do think very highly of her myself. If you’ll excuse us for a moment—I hear a girl should always give her beau a chance to miss her, after all,” Marion said with a big smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She adored Mr. Alby, but he had the habit of being quite intense.
Marion grabbed Edith’s hand and they made their way through the crowd and out the ballroom doors.
“Marion, what’s going on?” Edith asked, while Marion was leading her through the dim corridors.
Marion didn’t respond, but instead, opened a heavy wooden door to their left. They stepped into a small library, that the Countess often used as her personal study.
“I’ve held this in the whole day and I simply cannot do it any longer!” Marion exhaled and told Edith the whole conversation between her and her parents.
“Oh, dear, that is certainly a lot to take in,” Edith said and patted Marion’s hand that was resting in hers.
“Why would they leave me? Papa won’t let me go and find them, he says it’s too dangerous. But how am I supposed to live the rest of my life, knowing what I know?” Marion sobbed and wiped a stray tear off her cheek.
“Your father is right, Marion, going to Scotland alone would be foolish. Your family loves you and your life is very sheltered and secure. And you are to marry the Earl of Brookville, no less! You are loved, and that’s all that matters. Besides, it’s not like you can just hop on your horse and go find them.”
2
Regret Is A Lousy Friend
Without knowing it, Edith had given Marion an idea. If her father wouldn’t let her go find her parents, she would simply have to take matters into her own hands.
It was in the middle of the night, and everything was quiet. The whole manor was sleeping. Marion stepped quietly into the barn where her horse, Bells, was half-asleep in her stall.
She saddled her up and walked her into the muddy yard. Her hands were trembling a little bit. She was about to leave behind the only world she had ever known, the only people who had ever loved her.
A shadow of doubt covered her mind and for a brief moment she thought of going back.
No. I’m doing this tonight.
She pushed the blue tartan with her initials deeper into her bundle. She had grabbed it before leaving her room—maybe it would help her find her parents.
She mounted Bells and hurried her outside of the manor gates. She glanced back for a second.
I’m sorry, Mother and Father. I will be back—I promise.
She asked Bells to trot faster.
The night was still and quiet, but Marion didn’t notice it. She felt the fresh night air on her face and her hair unraveled from its bun. The men’s saddle she had picked over her own saddle felt strange under her legs and her thighs started to tire.
The sun started to peek through the clouds in the horizon after what felt like hours to Marion. Her legs were shaking and the adrenalin in her veins started to disappear.
“Whoa, Bells,” she sighed and slowed the horse down to walk. When she had grabbed the tartan and escaped in the night, she had been determined, rebellious even. Now, Marion felt doubt for the very first time.
Which way am I supposed to go? Maybe the villagers can point me in the right direction.
Marion kept riding towards a small village she saw on the horizon.
The sun was up when Marion finally reached the edge of the village. The air was filled with the chatter of women buying vegetables and apples at the market. She saw a little girl feeding clucking chickens in front of her house and heard men greeting each other.
Marion pulled her hood up to cover her face. She didn’t want anyone to recognize her. Walking slowly, not wanting to draw attention, she passed small stone houses. The houses had colorful flower beds in the front yards and freshly smelling herbs and vegetable gardens. Many houses had muddy pig sties in the back and she could hear the pigs splashing around in their pens having breakfast.
This reminded her about her own stomach, that made loud noises in protest. Soon she reached the edge of the village and found a well in the middle of a square. She hopped off her horse with stiff and aching legs. Now would be a good time to have some food and give Bells a well-deserved break.
Miss Keenan ran down the stony cold stairs towards the breakfast room. She was a heavy woman who rarely ran anymore, so her breathing was labored and wheezing.
Oh dear! Oh dear!
She wobbled forwards.
Earlier in the morning, she had knocked on Lady Marion’s door to help the young Lady get ready for breakfast. Instead of finding Lady Marion fast asleep, she had found an empty bed. Miss Keenan knew her little madam inside and out, and immediately thought that something was wrong. She had hurried around the house from room to room and even told William to swiftly check the stables for Lady Marion. But she was nowhere to be found.
Servants weren’t supposed to know the business of the masters, but Miss Keenan prided herself on her excellent hearing and sharp eyes. And a little eavesdropping never hurt anyone. She was well aware of the surprising news that the young Lady had received, even though she had tried to hide it from her.
Miss Keenan reached the breakfast parlor and found the Earl and Countess enjoying their breakfast.
“Scuse me, My Lord,” Miss Keenan said, still panting from all the running.
“Whatever is the matter, Miss Keenan? You look upset,” the Earl asked, confused.
“My Lord, My Lady, I should not be bothering in the midst of your breakfast, today’s porridge is exceptionally delicious… but My Lord, the young Lady is nowhere to be found!” Miss Keenan explained, grabbing her chest.
The Earl and Countess listened quietly when Miss Keenan explained the events of the early morning. The Countess let out a faint sob and the Earl started giving out orders to other servants. A few of his men were to go after Lady Marion and no one was allowed to say a word about this to anyone in town. What a shame it would be if anyone heard that the young Lady had escaped in the middle of the night, alone without a chaperone. It would ruin her reputation and engagement to the Earl of Brookville.
The whole manor was buzzing with worry and the servants were whispering to each other in the hall. By the end of the day, every servant in town would know what had happened—their masters none the wiser.
Marion was back on her horse, headed north towards Edinburgh. She had met an older, tired-looking woman at the well who had pointed her in the right direction. Though she had been very friendly and polite, Marion had noticed that she had looked at her clothes, knowing immediately that she was upper class and that something was up.
Before the woman in the smudgy clothes had had a chance to ask any questions, Marion had thanked her and left.
As the day w
ent on, Marion took many breaks. Every few hours her legs would get tired and she would stop and walk Bells forward instead of riding. The journey advanced slowly, and Marion was sure that someone from the manor was already looking for her. She couldn’t afford to stop, not yet, not so close to home.
The sun started to set and it was soon to be dinner time. Marion had reached fields and all she saw around her were hilly meadows. The road squirmed on like a snake, disappearing behind the hills. She was tired and decided to stop for the night.
Marion let Bells graze in the meadow, while she sat down by an old oak tree. She exhaled deeply and rubbed her swollen legs. The wind had picked up since yesterday and the breeze felt good on her face. She let her gaze wander around the meadows, while her mind was back at the manor.
Oh, Mother, please, please don’t be angry with me.
She was feeling the same sting of guilt she had felt before.
Papa will be so disappointed in me.
She pushed these thoughts aside and opened the cotton towel of food. It was nearly empty already. One carrot was left with a splash of water in the flask.
Oh!
She was now angry at herself.
How could I be so stupid?
Marion ate in silence, absentmindedly holding onto the corner of the tartan. Her fingers were tracing the threads that made her initials—S.M.
I wonder what my last name was? Maybe this will help me get started… though it is not much to go on.
Marion drifted to sleep.
The next morning, she woke up hungry. She hadn’t eaten well the day before and riding the whole day had taken a toll on her. The sun was barely above the horizon when she stood up and dusted herself off. Sleeping on hard ground was a new experience for her and her muscles were sore.
Where can I get some more food? I have no money with me.
Marion grabbed Bells’ reins. She mounted the horse and started north.
Begging would not be all right… I am a Lady, after all, and what if someone recognizes me? They would tell my parents and I’d have to return home.
She was passing a line of beautifully kept stone houses on the right.
The houses were small, but well-kept and homey-looking. They were close together and she saw pig sties behind some of them and heard the pigs sloshing around in their muddy pens.
The gardens in the front yards were nurtured and growing many vegetables. She could see carrots, potato beds, apple trees and plums…
Apple trees?
Marion got an idea that immediately squeezed her stomach.
Should I? It would only be a few apples. No one would know.
She slowed Bells down a little bit.
She made the decision in an instant. She dismounted Bells quietly and stepped over the little wooden fence that was marking the yard of one of the stone houses. She reached the low-hanging apples and stuffed a few of them in her bag.
Wait… what am I doing? A Lady doesn’t steal!
She dropped the red apple she was holding. Marion felt hot tears filling her eyes with moisture, as hunger pressed her stomach like a heavy rock and tiredness flushed over her.
I can’t do this. Father was right. There is no way I can do this alone.
She started heading back towards Bells, who was grazing grass next to the little fence and waiting for Marion.
She mounted Bells and kicked her to trot. Though Marion may have thought about heading back, Bells was still heading north, as if she was saying “Let’s go, we can do this!”
Marion’s head was buzzing and cloudy from guilt, hunger, and regret.
Oh, God, what have I done?
Marion squeezed the reins in her blistering hands.
I have stolen. Stolen! I stole food from a family who probably needs every bit of it to feed each mouth in it.
Marion felt guilt taking over her emotions again, and she tried to get rid of the feeling by shaking her head furiously. It didn’t help.
What would her mother and father say? They would be so disappointed, so angry.
Marion felt a lump rise up her throat. She felt horrible for stealing and for leaving.
Maybe I should turn back.
No, I have to find my parents. I need answers. I cannot turn back, I cannot! How could I live a sheltered life, knowing what I know and having such a big unanswered question in my mind, a hole in my heart?
She convinced herself to go on.
The day dragged on, as did the next one. She stopped more frequently and asked for directions wherever she could. The ever-growing hunger was still pressing in her stomach, making her nauseated and clouding her already tired mind.
Next time, she was more careful. She would only sneak into a garden in the middle of the night, when she was sure the families were asleep. Marion never took more than what she needed, still feeling uneasy about taking from someone else. But to her surprise, though she still felt a hint of guilt, stealing got easier each time she filled her stomach.
By the fourth night, she thought she couldn’t be far from Scotland anymore. The scenery had changed, and the meadows were gone. Instead, she saw flatter moors, stony roads, and very few houses along her way.
The exhaustion started to take over her, and she felt her sore legs and arms. It became harder to keep her eyes open, so she dismounted and let Bells go and graze again. Marion leaned against a thick tree, letting her eyes close and her hands feel the hard, rocky ground beneath her.
The long journey, sleepless nights and lack of food finally got the best of her. She burst into tears and cried with all her heart.
Where am I supposed to go now? I don’t even know where to start! I don’t even know their names! What if they won’t remember me? Or will not want to see me?
Marion was sobbing into her hands.
Oh, what have I done? I left without a goodbye, talked back to my loving parents and acted like a common woman. I have stolen and disgraced the entire family. What will they think of me? Will they even take me back?
She kept sobbing uncontrollably, until a more horrifying thought entered her mind.
The Earl of Brookville… after he hears of what I have done, he will not marry me, that is certain. And no one else will either, for that matter. Oh, I will be an old maid, forever a burden to my parents.
Marion had ruined her life as she knew it.
Even if she were to return now, the damage was done. She had no other choice but to keep going, and hope that her search would produce results. At least she would have answers, she would know where she came from. And upon her return, she would beg for forgiveness from everyone. But she would think about that later, when the journey was over.
The sobs finally slowed down and ended as she drifted to sleep.
Marion woke up abruptly. She heard voices of men. She took a quick glance towards the road and saw a band of six men moving along the road.
“Ye’re such a dobber!” she heard one of the men yell and slap one of the other men on the back.
Oh no. I am in Scotland. They must be Highlanders!
Marion tried shifting herself behind the tree without making a sound, but in vain. They had noticed her.
“Oy! There’s a bonnie lass, sittin’ over there, she is,” she heard a rusty voice say.
3
A New Ally
The border of Scotland, 1522
All the drowsiness of Marion’s mind was gone in an instant, and she sprang to her feet. But before she got a chance to grab her bundle with the leftover food and tartan in it, a tall, scruffy-looking Scottish man, named Bill, with ginger beard and hair pulled it from her reach.
She turned around to grab Bells, but another man had taken the horse by the reins. Bells didn’t like this strange man, and she reared and pulled back. Marion quickly yelled,
“Let her go!”
Laughter broke out as the men rounded Marion. Bill, the man with the ginger beard, was digging through her bundle, clearly disappointed that there was nothing of value in it
. The other man was still holding Bells, who had calmed down a bit and was looking nervously around with her ears moving rapidly.
An older man, Connor, small and skinny with long, tangled hair and sharp eyes stood further away, holding three horses by the reins. Two of the men, still sitting on their horses, looked at the last man, who had dismounted and was making way towards Marion and the other men.
Captivating the Highlander: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 2
