Lakota Princess (11 page)

“Did ye ’ave to tell ’im?”

“How could I not? To keep it to myself would not have been fair—to him. I have no right to keep him here. I have no right to…”

“’e will be snatched up if ’e stays here.”

Estrela gasped. “What do you mean?”

Anna sighed, wishing she were not the one to have to educate Estrela about the more unscrupulous aspects of the society in which she now found herself. “W’ t’ Duke and Duchess be’ind ’im now,” Anna began, “’e will become a sought-after ‘catch.’ ’Tis not one lady who will not want ’im for ’er own daughter…as a son-in-law. ’E is, after all, under the guardianship of t’ Duke. ’E ’as become a valuable, matrimonial ‘catch.’”

Estrela opened her eyes a tiny bit wider.

“’Tis a shame ye ’ave told ’im of yer marriage. If ye ’adn’t, ’e would not even look at another—now…”

Estrela shrugged. “’Tis done. And I would do it again. I did not tell him for my sake, but for his.”

“Still,” Anna persisted, “’e is a bachelor and ’andsome and I’m afraid many of t’ young ladies will seek ’is favor. Besides, there is somethin’ about ’im: a backwoods charm or some sort of wildness that t’ ladies will find irresistible.”

“But he is leaving. He told me so himself.”

Anna shrugged. “’E may change ’is mind, especially after ’e finds ’imself so popular. Ye did tell ’im t’ truth of yer marriage, did ye not? That ye are not truly married in deed?”

“No. I wasn’t somehow able to and then I thought maybe it was better this way. This way, he will leave. And Anna, I’m afraid that if he were to stay, I would somehow try to keep him with me.”

“And why should ye not?”

“Anna, I am married.”

“Forget it, I say. Ye kinnot even find t’ man ye supposedly married.”

Estrela sighed and Anna, looking at her, shook her head.

“T’ staff will be talking about yer Indian for years to come. ’Twas quite an escape from yer balcony.”

“They know? But that only happened a few moments ago.”

Anna smiled. “Somethin’ like this does not ’appen often, M’lady. Before t’ morning is gone, t’ whole of Mayfair will know of it. Yer Indian will be quite well known, M’lady. ’E will be well sought after. Be ye careful.”

“I’m sorry, Anna. I know what you think I should do, but I can’t. I gave my word to the Earl of Langsford.”

“Why does t’at make so much difference?”

Estrela sighed. “Anna, until I met the Indians, the Earl was like a father to me, the only one I’d known. He raised me and he cared for me as though I were his own daughter. And this pledge I gave him, the commitment, was made on his deathbed. ’Tis not something I can ignore.”

“But did ye not give yer vow to yer Indian, too?” Anna hesitated, and then continuing in a whisper, she added, “As I see it, ye must break one of yer vows. Why make it the one ye gave to yer Indian?”

“Because I owed the Earl, Anna. I owe him even still. And these debts include my life and my loyalty. When I made my pledge to Black Bear, I didn’t know the Earl was coming back to take me away from the Indians. I was too young. I didn’t know anything of life outside the Indian camp. And I never dreamed at the time that my marrying Black Bear would cause the Earl pain. When I did learn of it, when I came to understand that my pledge to Black Bear would hurt the Earl, what could I do? No, Anna, perhaps you do not understand my commitment to the Earl, to the man who cared for me, and to his dying wish. No matter my own feelings in the matter, I cannot break that pledge.”

“I see,” Anna said, breathing deeply. “I did not realize t’ extent of yer devotion and I kin only admire yer courage in remaining true to yer own ’onor. I kin see t’at ’tis this which makes ye what ye are. Still for yer own ’appiness, I wish ye could…”

Anna let her words trail off, and as she stared at Estrela, she became cognizant of just what the indulged aristocracy would expect from Estrela, her budding innocence looked upon as a challenge to fight over and to take, rather than to nurture.

And with a shudder, Anna helped Estrela prepare for breakfast. And if Anna, herself, were devising a plan to help her friend keep the Indian…well, who would know? It wasn’t as though any of Anna’s peers had ever sought counsel with her.

Feeling a bit better, Anna slowly smiled.

She wore the pink, transparent creation into the breakfast parlor after all, and was rewarded for her efforts by a frown from Black Bear. The gown’s lines trailed downward from an empire waist, and Estrela smoothed the outer filmy material down with a self-conscious gesture of her hand. She hadn’t wetted down the undergarments as was the current custom, it being thought by those who ruled fashion that if the material beneath looked wet, it would allude more to the feminine form; something which, it would appear, was most desirable.

Her shoes of soft, pink satin peeked out beneath the hemline of the dress as Estrela paced forward and all at once, she felt the heat of Black Bear’s piercing scowl.

She peered down at herself. It didn’t matter if she hadn’t wetted down the undergarments; the dress still made her look practically nude. She looked up then, and away, her cheeks awash with unbecoming warmth; she felt suddenly inadequate.

It also didn’t help, she realized, when she looked at the other women seated around the breakfast table and found them to be dressed in a much more risqué fashion than she.
They
didn’t appear to bother Black Bear.

He scowled at her alone.

She advanced into the room.

“Ah, Lady Estrela.” The Duke of Colchester arose from his seat and smiled at her. “So good to see you this morning. Did you enjoy your morning of exercise?”

“Yes, Sir, I did,” she replied, sweeping her lashes down over her eyes to study the Duke without his knowledge. The man had been most kind to her. Did he mean more by his question? She couldn’t tell.

“Ah,” the Duke continued. “I must admit that I was concerned after that dreadful event yesterday. But I see that you have recovered most splendidly. Jolly good of you to join us, I say.”

Estrela smiled. “Thank you, Sir,” she said, and treading down the long length of the breakfast table, took the seat that a servant held out for her.

She smiled at the servant, then at the Duke as he, too, sat down.

She glanced around the table noting that the Duchess of Colchester chatted gaily with her daughters and with Black Bear, who after his initial glare at Estrela, hadn’t looked again in her direction.

There were other people here, too, women she did not recognize and a few other men. The Royal Duke of Windwright must have spent the night, for he sat just opposite her at the table.

He glanced at her now, and clearing his throat, said, “So good of you to join us, Lady Estrela. I say, did you sleep well?”

Estrela smiled at him. “Yes,” she said, “quite well, thank you.”

Black Bear glowered at her down the length of the table, but he said nothing and Estrela wondered if Black Bear intended to discipline her—and if he did, what form would it take?

Well, she wouldn’t think of it now. She
had
done the right thing for him. In time, he would see this. She only wished that time would elapse quickly.

“I daresay, old man,” the Duke of Windwright addressed the Duke of Colchester. “Must retire to the country soon, now that Parliament is out of session. Can’t afford to miss the fox hunt, you know.”

The Duke of Colchester chewed upon a long cigar, not daring to smoke it in the presence of ladies. As it was he bordered on commiting a social faux pas just by bringing a cigar into the same room as a lady.

He leaned forward across the table and leered at the other Duke. “I say,” the Duke of Colchester said, “geese are in season now. Do you fancy hunting geese? Could make a trip to the country, we could. I say, there, Black Bear.” He turned his attention to the Indian. “Have you ever hunted geese?”

Black Bear glanced down the table, glaring first at Estrela, then turning his solemn gaze upon the Duke. He didn’t smile and his features revealed nothing at all. At length, he said, “Geese are many in my country. I have hunted them, yes.”

“Well, I say, old chap,” the Duke of Colchester said, “would you quite fancy taking to the country with us to hunt geese?”

Black Bear didn’t scowl, but he didn’t smile either. He stared at the Duke of Colchester, then at the Duke of Windwright. And as he studied the two men, his brows narrowed. At length he spoke, saying, “I would greatly honor the chance to hunt with you. But it is autumn, the season to make meat, and I think we would do better to hunt deer or elk so that the women can fill the food stores for the season when the babies cry for food. Does your country have—
tatanka
—buffalo?”

“Make meat?” It was the Duke of Windwright who spoke, “I daresay we have no buffalo, my fine fellow, but the deer are aplenty and we could hunt them, too; however, shooting geese or any fowl is more the sport this time of year.”

The Indian nodded. “Then we will hunt geese,” he said, returning his grimace once more to Estrela.

Estrela glanced away.

And Black Bear, after a quick survey of the people sitting around the table said into the quietness of the room, “There is old Indian legend told in my country about geese.”

“Is there?” It was the Duchess of Colchester who spoke. “Oh, how exciting. Won’t you tell it to us, please?”

“Yes, please.”

“Oh, do tell us.”

Black Bear smiled and, shooting Estrela one last glare, began, “It is said that—”

“I say, young fellow,” the Duke of Windwright interrupted, “what is ‘making meat’?”

Black Bear’s gaze leaped to the Duke.

“Oh, do be quiet.” the Duchess of Colchester said, perhaps without thinking first. “Can’t you tell that…?” She stopped and, glancing quickly at the Royal Duke, carried on, “Oh, so sorry, Your Grace. It’s only that the Indian is telling us a story and I thought that you were my husband or that—I mean—perhaps I—”

“Making meat,” Estrela spoke up, thereby “saving” the Duchess, “refers to the necessity in an Indian camp to ensure there is enough food in store to get the people through even the harshest of winters. Usually in the fall, there is one last buffalo hunt during which the women will take what meat they get and dry it and pound it into
wasna,
which is a mixture of pounded meat, fat, and chokecherries. It is an important venture since, if there is not enough food to get through the winter, the people will starve.”

Estrela glanced at Black Bear and nodding, returned her attention to her breakfast.

The Duke of Windwright snorted.

The Duchess of Colchester fluttered her eyelashes and her husband, the Duke of Colchester, brought his attention onto the Indian.

“I say,” the Duke of Colchester started, “I believe I would like you to tell that story you were about to begin—the one about the geese.”

“Oh, by all means.”

“Please do continue.”

“We want to hear it.”

Black Bear smiled. “There is a legend,” he said, relaxing back into his chair, “about the geese in my camp. For you see, the geese tell us much.” He gazed at the Duchess a moment before sweeping his attention around the table. And seemingly satisfied, he fixed his glance once more upon Estrela, his stare a sulky glower. “Those birds’ habits announce the season change,” he continued, “and we look upon the geese as good food when there is no buffalo to feed our women and children. But their meat has too much fat, though the taste—good.” He paused, and with his glance clearly on Estrela, said, “It is well known that geese mate for life, something a wise person will study.”

Estrela choked on the bit of sausage she had just swallowed while the Duchess of Colchester exclaimed, “Oh, how endearing. Tell us more!”

“Yes, please, tell us.” The women’s enthusiastic voices re-echoed the plea around the table.

And Black Bear, ever ready to continue, said, “This story is about the female goose who could not select just one mate.” He stared directly at Estrela, who, in turn, moaned, closing her eyes.

Obviously enjoying her reaction, he continued, “Once there was a family of geese.”

“I say, young man.” It was the Duke of Windwright speaking again. “Do you force your women to work, then? You have no servants, no slaves? You make your women—”

“Your Grace,” the Duke of Colchester interjected. “This young man is trying to tell us a story. Perhaps you could ask your questions later.”

“So sorry, I didn’t mean to—it’s only that—well, who would hear of it, after all? Forcing women into physical labor? I mean, after all, are all their women merely servants?”

“The women,” Estrela spoke up, if for no other reason than to stall for time, “work, but the work is not great and there is much time to talk and to tease. Mayhap one could compare it to the fine ladies at work over needlepoint.”

And although the Duke of Windwright merely “humphed,” and scoffed, he said no more.

“Black Bear—please.”

“Yes, do continue.”

He smiled. “Most geese have many children,” he said, satisfied, “all of them dedicated to the continuation of their race, and…”

Estrela glanced away, trying, in vain, to concentrate on something else besides Black Bear. The story was told for her benefit, she knew. He believed he spoke about her; this form of storytelling was probably one of the more severe forms of discipline he would administer. The Indian, regardless of Western belief, rarely punished his children. Estrela realized that most people who did not know the Indian in his own territory, did not understand Indian logic: that he did not scold his children, did not physically punish them in any way, and did not even raise his voice to a child, a mild look of disapproval sufficing to correct any bad behavior.

“…but this female bird was beautiful, her feathers most fine, more colorful than any other, her squawk more pleasing to the ear,” Black Bear was saying. “She did not want just one mate, it is said, and she did not feel she should be confined to just one husband. Nor did she have to. There were several young ganders who sought to have her under any condition.”

Estrela moaned.

And Black Bear did not take his gaze from her.