The Captive Heart (13 page)

“Thank you, Mistress Fenella,” Alix said to the housekeeper.

“I’ll leave you with Jeannie, then,” Fenella responded, and hurried out.

“Can you eat by yourself, or shall I feed you?” Jeannie asked, setting the little tray down on Alix’s lap. She took the serviette from it and tucked it in the neck of the girl’s gown. “It’s nice lamb stew with leek and carrot.”

“I can feed myself, but thank you,” Alix said. The stew in the round bread trencher smelled wonderful. She dipped her spoon into it. “Ummm, that’s good!”

“It’s the one dish Mistress Fenella won’t let the cook prepare. She does it herself,” Jeannie said chattily. “Did they tell you how lucky you were? The cows kept you warm. Robbie said you were near death when they found you.”

“Robbie?”

“He’s one of the two cowherds who discovered you wedged like a winkle on a rock between two of those big cattle. The laird brought you home himself,” Jeannie said.

Alix tried to remember. She vaguely recalled the storm getting worse and then finding herself amid some cattle. But the rest of it was gone. “I can’t recall anything,” she told Jeannie. “Does he ever smile?”

“Who? Oh, the laird. Rarely except with his little daughter. Not since his wife ran off with her lover and broke his heart, poor man,” Jeannie informed Alix. “But don’t say I said such a thing. Mistress Fenella says we shouldn’t gossip about such a tragedy.”

Alix slowly spooned the lamb stew into her mouth. It was really quite delicious.

“She was a Ramsay, his wife,” Jeannie continued on, ignoring her own words. “They found the body of the lover out in the heath. He was the laird’s older half brother, and had never been well liked. They say he died with his sword in his hand. A better death than the traitor deserved.”

“What happened to the laird’s wife?” Alix wondered aloud.

“Some say the devil took her to breed his own bairns upon. He would need her body for that. Others say that it’s obvious the laird and his half brother fought. When she saw her lover was getting the best of it, she rode off, and the laird didn’t care enough to follow after her. She didn’t go back to her family. Some months later the body of a woman was found, but there was no way of really identifying who it was. The garments were hers, but rotted away, and the body was half eaten by beasts, but they think it was her.”

“How terribly sad,” Alix said. “Especially for the little girl.”

“The laird went to her family to tell them what had happened. Neither the Scotts nor the Ramsays wanted a feud over the lady’s bad behavior,” Jeannie explained.

“But if the body could not be identified, how can you be sure?” Alix asked.

“It had to be her. To this day no sight of her has ever been seen,” Jeannie replied.

Alix scraped some of the bread from the trencher and ate it. “Do you think that the laird might have killed her and hidden the body for another to find?” she asked.

“He’s capable of it, aye,” Jeannie replied, “but he swore an oath to the priest that he didn’t harm her. The Laird of Dunglais is noted among the border folk for his honesty. He’s often called upon to settle disputes among the local clans because of it. They all know he can be trusted and that his word is good.”

An interesting fact to have, Alix thought to herself.

“If you’re through, I’ll take your tray,” Jeannie said. “Would you like me to come back and keep you company later? I can see yer tired now.”

“I am,” Alix admitted. “Aye, come back later,” she said. Then she lay back. She felt warmer now, and her belly was full of hot food. She had gained some interesting information from young Jeannie. But despite the girl’s reassurances, Alix couldn’t help but wonder if the laird had indeed killed his wife for her betrayal of his honor. Still the man hadn’t remarried. Perhaps his wife was still alive. Her eyes beginning to feel heavy, Alix fell asleep again. She awoke at the sound of her chamber door opening, and looking across the room, she saw a little face peering at her. She smiled.

Immediately the little girl stepped into the room. “My name is Fiona,” she told Alix. “What’s your name? My da said you were found on the moor. Why were you there? Were you lost?”

“My name is Alix, and aye, I suppose I was lost,” she told Fiona. The child was very pretty with her father’s black hair and inquisitive blue eyes. The blue eyes were not the laird’s. “How old are you, Mistress Fiona?” she asked the little girl.

“I will be six come the fifth day of December,” Fiona answered Alix. “How old are you, Mistress Alix?”

“I’m sixteen this August past,” Alix answered her.

“Sixteen is old,” Fiona observed, “but twenty is very old, I think.”

Alix laughed aloud. “I suppose when you are to be six on the fifth day of December,” she said, “sixteen does seem old, and twenty older yet.”

“Do you know any stories?” Fiona asked.

“I know lots of stories,” Alix replied.

Fiona trotted around the door, and crossing the room, climbed up into the bed with Alix. “Tell me a story,” she said.

“Shall I tell you about a prince?” Alix inquired.

“Oh yes! I should like a story about a prince!” Fiona exclaimed, snuggling next to Alix, her small dark head on the older girl’s shoulder.

“Once upon a time,” Alix began, “there was a prince named Henry. He was only a baby when his father the king died and the prince had to become king of his land. They unofficially crowned him with one of his queenly mother’s gold bracelets, for being a baby his little head was very small. He was the youngest king ever crowned, and presided over his lords sitting in his mother’s lap. One month before his eighth birthday he was officially crowned king of England. And two years later he was crowned king of France.”

“He was king of two lands?” Fiona asked, her tone disbelieving.

“For a time, yes, he was. He gained France through his mama,” Alix said.

“Who was she?” Fiona wanted to know.

“A beautiful French princess named Katherine,” Alix answered her.

“Are you English?” Fiona said.

“I was born in England, aye, but my parents came from Anjou.”

“What happened to the prince who became king?” Fiona inquired.

“He married a French noblewoman. Her name was Margaret,” Alix said.

“Did they love each other?” Fiona wondered. “My papa loved my mama. My mama is dead, you know.”

“Kings cannot always marry for love,” Alix explained. “But to answer your question, King Henry did grow to love his queen. And she came to love him. A prince was born to them. His name is Edward, and he is just eight years old.”

“Will he be king one day?” Fiona wondered.

“I do not think so,” Alix responded.

“Why not? Doesn’t he want to be king?”

“Aye, he wants to be king, but another king overthrew his father. Now that man rules in England. It is unlikely that Edward Plantagenet will ever rule,” Alix said. “Poor King Henry was ill, and his enemies took advantage of him to steal his throne.”

“What happened to King Henry? Did they kill him?” Her blue eyes were curious.

“They tried, but he fled with the queen and their son,” Alix replied.

“Where did they go to hide?” the little girl wanted to know.

“Right here in Scotland!”

Fiona giggled. “Here? Are they near Dunglais?”

“I don’t know where they are now, but they are in Scotland,” Alix told her.

“How do you know?” Fiona said.

“Because I was with them until several months ago,” Alix answered.

“Did you lose them out on the moor?” Fiona inquired.

“Nay, somewhere else.”

“Fiona!” The laird stood in the open door. “Everyone has been looking for you. You must not disturb Mistress Alix. She is still not well.”

“Alix has been telling me a story,” Fiona said as she scrambled down off the bed. “It was about a prince who became a king not just of England but of France too! And princesses and a prince who is just eight years old, but will never be a king. And they’re hiding here in Scotland, Da! Could we go and find them tomorrow?”

“Not tomorrow,” the laird said, “but perhaps another day. When Mistress Alix is well, so she may go with us.”

“Oh, I would like that, Da!” the little girl cried as she practically danced to his side. “And can I come back to see Alix so she can tell me some more stories?”

“I would like that!” Alix said quickly before he might say nay.

The laird’s mouth quirked with his amusement. “As long as you do not tire Mistress Alix, Fiona, you may visit her again. But you must tell your nurse where you are going when you do. She was very worried.”

“She was asleep,” Fiona said. “I could not tell her. She sleeps all the time, Da. And she treats me like a bairn. I’m not a bairn. I’m almost six!”

“You are?” The laird feigned surprise. “I did not know that.”

Fiona giggled again. “Oh, Da, you did know.”

“Six is a grand age,” Alix noted.

Malcolm Scott looked across the bedchamber at Alix, and their eyes met for a brief moment. Was it sympathy she saw there? Then he nodded his head. “Aye, lassie, six is a very grand age.” Reaching down, he took his daughter’s hand. “Come along, Fiona Scott. We must let Alix get some more rest if she is to be well again.”

Alix watched them go, Fiona turning about to wave at her. Alix waved back. Over the next few days Alix grew stronger with the good food she was being fed. After two days Mistress Fenella let her get up and sit for a time in the chair by the fire. Jeannie kept her company. The girl was full of chatter about the keep and its inhabitants. And then came the day that Alix stood up and began to walk for short distances about her chamber. She was feeling so much stronger. Better actually than she had in months.

November ended with a fierce blizzard that raged for almost two days. Alix was now joining the laird and Fiona in the hall. She began to teach the little girl how to sew properly. The housekeeper was delighted to have Fiona out from underfoot. The child’s nurse was an old woman who should have been sent back to her cottage years ago.

“It isn’t that she doesn’t love the bairn, for she does,” Fenella said to Alix one morning. “But she is too old now to watch over such an active little girl. And she cannot teach the child to be a lady with a lady’s manners. A laird’s daughter shouldn’t be a hoyden. She needs to know how to sew fine stitches and direct her servants. She should be able to make soaps and perfumes. To know how a household should be managed. If the laird had remarried, his wife would teach Fiona those things, but he hasn’t remarried.”

“Why not?” Alix asked, curious.

“Robena Ramsay was the love of his life,” Fenella said. “When she betrayed him, she broke his heart, but to betray him with his half brother was a terrible treachery. Black Ian was the bastard of the laird’s father, born when the old laird was scarce fifteen. His mother was a cotter’s lass. The old laird had a daughter by her too. But then he fell in love with a Bruce, married her, and was faithful to her the rest of his life. Oh, he acknowledged his bastards, but after his legitimate son was born things were different. Black Ian was almost grown by the time our laird was born, but he never forgave his father for favoring and putting his legitimate son first. Everyone knew that was how it should be,” Fenella said, “but Black Ian would not accept it. He was the firstborn. Whenever he got the chance, he was cruel to his half brother, although never in sight of their father. One day, however, our laird’s mother caught him throwing stones at her child, who was just four at the time. The lady took a stick to him, and when he dared to fight her back, she screamed at the top of her lungs. The old laird came running, saw his bastard attacking his wife and child, and beat him almost senseless. For Black Ian that was the final straw. He turned outlaw. Our laird grew up knowing about his half brother, but he didn’t remember him, not having seen him since that fateful day.”

“How did the laird’s half brother get involved with the lady Robena?” Alix asked.

“Black Ian had been gone from here for several years. In that time his father had died, his brother became Laird of Dunglais and took a bride. Fiona was just a year old when it began, although no one knows how they met. Or even why the lady Robena betrayed her husband. But Black Ian made certain that our laird knew his wife had run away with him. And of course, the laird being an honorable man, had no choice but to go after his wife and avenge his honor. He killed his half brother, but the lady Robena ran off when she saw her lover would lose. They found her body months later. No one knows how she died, but when they found her she had been ravaged by wild beasts.”

“So Jeannie told me. A terrible end nonetheless even for a bad woman,” Alix murmured. “Jeannie says the laird swore an oath to her family that he didn’t kill her.”

Fenella nodded. “He did, and he would not have killed her. He couldn’t. He loved her in spite of it, and she was the mother of his child. Malcolm Scott is an honorable and a good man, Alix,” the housekeeper said. “It wasn’t right that he be so wounded by his wife, but then she wasn’t as perfect as he believed.”

“You did not like her?” Alix was surprised.

“Some girls are suited for marriage at fourteen and motherhood at fifteen. Robena Scott was not,” Fenella replied. “The laird fell in love with a beautiful young girl who fit his ideal of perfect womanhood. He was sophisticated. She was not. He was a friend of our late king and had been to court. She expected he would take her to court when they married, but he did not. Like all men, he wanted an heir first, but she birthed a daughter and the lady was angry at the child. She would hardly touch her, would not nurse her, and sulked. So to cheer her up, the laird took her to court, introducing her to the king and the queen. I am told she had a fine time.

“When they returned, he wanted her to give him his son, an heir for Dunglais. But she kept him from her bed, wept most of the time, and still showed little interest in Fiona. She wanted to go back to court. It was then she took to riding out alone. That must have been when she met Black Ian. Suddenly she was in a state of high excitement much of the time. The laird became suspicious, of course, for he is no fool. One day as he watched her ride out, the lady’s tiring woman came to him and told him that she had watched her mistress take her jewelry from its box and secret it upon herself.