The Border Lord's Bride (13 page)

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Authors: Bertrice Small

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General

BOOK: The Border Lord's Bride
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Have you decided whom you will send?"

They spoke for a time of Duffdour as they walked through the spring garden. The sky above them was bright with the sunset when Duncan Armstrong finally escorted Ellen MacArthur back to the apartments of Princess Margaret. They lingered before the doors a few moments, and then Ellen went inside. Peigi had saved her a bit of meat, bread, and cheese from the supper she had missed. Ellen ate slowly as her servant chattered away.

"We‘ll be safe at Duffdour, my bairn. The laird is a good man. Ye couldna hae a better husband, I‘m thinking. What will ye wear on yer wedding day?" Peigi asked.

"I have not a great deal of choice. Perhaps it is better I wear this gown I now have on, for the wrinkles are gone from it. It would be foolish to unpack my trunks now, when tomorrow they will go right back on the cart. ‘Tis a pretty garment, and the color suits me well enough."

"Ye should be wed in the hall at Lochearn in yer finest gown," Peigi grumbled.

"Lochearn is gone, and I‘ve not a doubt Anice is wearing my finest gown," Ellen remarked ruefully. "Still, to be wed in the king‘s private chapel is an honor, and my green gown is very nice. I‘ll have a good husband, and my dower portion is a very respectable one. I would not have thought Lochearn was worth so much."

"Well, I‘ll nae say the laird isn‘t a good man," Peigi allowed. "Ye did terrible damage to Balgair MacArthur‘s face, my bairn."

Ellen shuddered. "I barely remember," she said. "I just wanted to get away from him. I do not recall attacking his face, just going at him with my dirk."

"I should hae been wi‘ ye," Peigi said.

"I thank God you weren‘t. I could not have gotten away had you been, for I would never leave you behind, and you are not a woman for horses," Ellen reminded her servant with a mischievous smile. "I was fortunate to catch up with Duncan when I did."

"Do ye love him, lass?" Peigi wanted to know.

"Love him? I don‘t know," Ellen responded with a small shrug. "He seems a reasonable man. I have not seen him show temper or cruelty. But I do not know him well enough to have formed any kind of attachment to him. I will be a good wife, though, Peigi. He and the king have saved me from a terrible fate."

"Ye‘ll hae to bed him," Peigi said frankly. "Yer first duty will be to gie him a son. Hae ye even kissed him?"

"Why would I kiss him?" Ellen replied. "There would be no reason to kiss him."

Well, that was true enough, Peigi thought. "There are things ye should know before ye go to yer marriage bed."

Ellen laughed. "I know what I must know," she said to her surprised servant. "You cannot live to the ripe old age of nineteen without learning certain things. Anice was always speaking of men and their attributes. The lasses who were with me when I was a part of the princess‘s household.

Even Margaret Stewart herself. She said all lasses should know about such matters if they were going to keep from getting themselves seduced, as she once did. I know of manroots, and that there will be pain when we are first joined. I know men like to fondle women‘s breasts. I am ready to do my duty."

"I am glad to hear it," Margaret Stewart said sharply as she joined them. "Now, tell me, Ellen.

Are you truly content with this marriage you will contract tomorrow? If you are not you have but to say it, and I will convince my nephew otherwise. I do not want him to be responsible for your unhappiness. Jamie is wildly in love with his Meg, and he wants everyone else to be as happy as he is. But you and Duncan are not the king and Margaret Drummond."

"I must marry, madam," Ellen said quietly. "And I have found Duncan Armstrong to be a good and fair man. And I know him enough not to be afraid. I am content to be his wife. Duffdour is smaller than Lochearn, but a comfortable house. Its people have been friendly toward me. I believe I can be both content and happy there."

The princess nodded. "Then so be it. Now get to bed, Ellen. Prime is celebrated at six o‘clock in the morning, as you know, and your wedding vows will be spoken immediately afterward. Peigi, tuck your mistress in and then come to me. I have instructions for you regarding your journey on the morrow."

It had been a very long day, preceded by several long days. And now on the morrow she would wed, then turn about and go right back from whence they had come. I don‘t think I want to travel again for a very long time, Ellen thought as she grew drowsy. I will be content to remain at home. Home. I‘m going to have a home again. And a husband. It‘s not at all what I thought it would be. And then she slept.

When she was awakened it was already growing light. Two young maidservants were dragging a small round oak tub into the little chamber where she had been housed for the night. Several young serving men hurried in, each carrying two buckets, which they dumped into the tub. Peigi oversaw it all. When the other servants had gone Ellen arose and stripped off her chemise.

"A bath!" she said joyfully. "And the water is hot!" she exclaimed, seating herself.

Peigi handed her a washing cloth and a small sliver of soap. "Dinna forget yer neck and ears,"

she said. "I‘ve yer gown all brushed and ready."

"I wish there were time to do my hair," Ellen murmured, but she knew that there wasn‘t. She washed herself quickly and then, rising from the water, stepped from the tub and dried herself with a warmed drying cloth.

"Here‘s a nice clean chemise for ye, my bairn," Peigi said, handing it to Ellen.

Ellen slipped it on and then, seating herself on the edge of the bed, undid the heavy, thick braid of her hair and began to brush it out. When she had finished she put on her green gown and slipped her feet into her sollerets. When they began their journey home later she would change again, but she would not go into the king‘s chapel in her boots and traveling clothes. Ellen would wear her red-gold tresses loose, denoting her virgin status. Peigi gave the long hair a final brush, and then she set a chaplet of fresh flowers atop her mistress‘s head that Margaret Stewart had sent for the bride.

Together the two women left the little chamber, which opened into the princess‘s large antechamber. The vast room was almost empty at this early hour but for several servants dusting and sweeping. Margaret Stewart joined the women, and they walked together to the king‘s own chapel, entering it to find the king, Maggie and Duncan Armstrong waiting, along with the king‘s confessor. The priest said Prime, and then he called the laird and his lady before him. His assistant brought the marriage contract, which had been drawn up the previous evening, betrothing Ellen MacArthur of Lochearn to Duncan Armstrong of Duffdour. The dower was

listed at ten gold pieces and ten silver pennies.

Ellen looked at the laird. "There was more," she said.

"It is yours," he replied. "A woman should have something of her own."

Ellen‘s eyes filled with tears. She was astounded that a man would be so thoughtful. Two pieces of gold, ten silver halfpennies, and two dozen coppers were hers! "Thank you, my lord," she whispered to him.

Duncan Armstrong silently brushed a tear from her cheek.

"Please sign the contracts or make your mark, my lord, my lady," the priest said.

First the laird and then Ellen took the inked quill from the assistant priest and signed their names.

The king‘s confessor looked slightly surprised to see both signatures, especially the woman‘s. He was not certain he approved of women who could write. It generally meant that they could read too, and women who could read became dangerous. The signatures were sanded. Then the

witnesses—the laird‘s sister, the king, and his aunt—signed. Their signatures were sanded.

Sealing wax was carefully dropped onto the document. Both the priest and the king pressed their seals into it. The assistant took the documents away. One copy would be kept by the church; the other would be given to the laird before his party departed shortly for the borders.

"Kneel," the priest commanded the couple. A little too quickly, Ellen thought, the king‘s confessor muttered the words of the marriage sacrament. When asked, both Ellen and Duncan accepted each other although with the contracts already signed it was but a mere formality. He wrapped their hands together, saying, "Let those whom God has conjoined be not rent asunder by others." He blessed them, concluding, "It is done now. Go and be fruitful, my children."

They arose and for a moment stood awkwardly, not certain what to do next. Then the king‘s aunt spoke. "Come along now. I have had a small wedding breakfast laid in my own private dining room." And she led them out of the royal chapel.

They were five at the table, Peigi having gone to the little chamber to lay out the clothing Ellen would travel in shortly. It was a wonderful meal. There were individual half trenchers of bread filled with oat stirabout into which had been mixed bits of dried apple, pear, and cinnamon.

There were eggs poached in a cream sauce that had been flavored with marsala wine and dusted with nutmeg. There was half a ham and a large rasher of bacon as well. There was fresh warm bread, sweet butter, plum jam, and a hard, sharp cheese. The wine was ruby red and rich. The quintet did full justice to the breakfast the king‘s aunt had ordered. As the meal was coming to an end the king stood and raised his goblet to Ellen.

"I have not failed you, my bonny Ellen. Be happy now, and put the dark memories from you.

God bless you and your bridegroom!" Then the king drank, as did the other four at the table.

Now Duncan stood and raised his goblet. "To you, my liege. I thank you for the blessing of a fair wife. I am, as always, your most loyal servant." The laird bowed to the king. Then he turned to Ellen. "And to my bride, who has already brought goodness and happiness to Duffdour! May we have many years and many sons together." He raised her little hand up with his free hand and kissed it, his look piercing her. Ellen blushed prettily. Then the laird drank, as did the others.

With the two toasts the meal was concluded, and, kissing her on both cheeks, the king left his aunt‘s apartments. The nun excused herself as well.

"I will go and see to the horses," the laird told the women, and he hurried off.

"We will say our farewells, Ellen, when you are changed and ready to leave," Margaret Stewart said to her. "Come and see me then."

"Thank you, madam," Ellen replied. She found Peigi waiting to help her out of her green gown and into her traveling garments. She put on her linen breeks and her shirt, fastened a wide leather belt about her narrow waist, and donned her doeskin jerkin with its horn buttons. She pulled a pair of knitted foot coverings over her feet, and then yanked on her leather boots. Then Ellen sat down and braided her long hair up. She would not again wear it loose and flowing in public, for now she was a married woman.

"Are we ready?" she asked Peigi when she had finished her hair.

"We are, my lady," Peigi answered. "I‘ll have the men load this last wee trunk on the wagon.

‘Tis fortunate we did not unload the rest of it two days ago when we came. I never thought to be going back to Duffdour, but I‘ll not be unhappy to see it again."

Ellen sighed. "I lost Lochearn," she said. "Perhaps if Balgair had let me become more familiar with him I should not have been so afraid when he attempted to have me. Perhaps I could have managed to live with him and be a good wife to him. If I had we should be at Lochearn now."

"That foreign MacArthur is a wicked man, my lady. There would hae been no living wi‘ him.

Those northern island men are barely Christians, and many, I hae heard, keep more than one wife. You saw that already he was consorting wi‘ Anice. He wouldna put her aside for ye. Ye‘re well rid of him, though it cost ye Lochearn. Ye‘ve a better man in the laird than ye would hae in Balgair MacArthur," Peigi told her mistress firmly. "Now let‘s be off for Duffdour, my lady!"

They left the little chamber together and found Margaret Stewart with her ladies. Ellen went to the king‘s aunt and knelt before her. "Madam, it is time for me to depart."

The princess smiled warmly, taking Ellen‘s two hands in her own. "In your time in my

household you served me well, Ellen MacArthur. My nephew has chosen a good man to be your husband, but I think you already know it. Be glad, my child, and know that you will always have a friend in Margaret Stewart." The king‘s aunt leaned forward and kissed the kneeling girl on both of her cheeks. "Go now, and be happy."

Ellen lifted the two hands in her own and kissed them. "Thank you, madam, for all you have done for me. I am but a simple Highland lass, but you treated me with kindness, and I will never forget you. I would not sound bold or above my station, my lady, but you will always have a friend in me as well. I bid you farewell." Then Ellen stood, curtsied, and backed from the princess‘s presence.

"Godspeed, child," Margaret Stewart called after her as Ellen and Peigi left her apartments. She was genuinely sorry to see Ellen go, but it was the way of the world that people came and went in one‘s life. She suddenly reflected on her daughter, but impatiently shook off the thoughts.

Little Margaret was where she belonged.

In the stable yard of the castle they found the laird and his men awaiting them. The cart was standing at the ready. One of the clansmen hurried to help Peigi up onto the bench next to the driver. Maggie was then helped up next to Peigi. It wasn‘t meet that she sit next to a man. The laird helped Ellen to mount, and she smiled at him. He smiled back, suddenly very aware now that she was his wife. A wife. He had a wife. Conal and Murdoc, his brothers, would certainly be surprised. He grinned as their party moved forward and in short order left Sterling Castle behind.

When the noon hour came they stopped after several hours of riding to rest and water the horses.

There was bread, cheese, and meat from the castle kitchens. They sat in the green grass and ate.

"I will miss this," Sister Margaret Mary said. "I had forgotten how delicious freedom is. I haven‘t had a picnic in the grass since I was a child."

"Will your superior allow you to come to Duffdour if we invite you?" Ellen wanted to know. "I will always plan picnics when you come, Maggie."

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