Thirteen
Laurel’s toes curled within her boots as she sat among the other ladies-in-waiting. She’d been refused entry into the Privy Council chamber when she arrived on Brodie’s arm. Brodie had insisted that the chamberlain permit her to enter, and the pugnacious man nearly wet himself when Brodie leaned so far forward that their noses nearly met. But it had done neither of them any good when the chamberlain let them pass. King Robert shook his head and dismissed Laurel, phrasing his order as a suggestion that she join the queen. Brodie only conceded after he insisted either Laurel remained or that he be allowed to accompany her to the queen’s solar.
Brodie walked her to the door. When a guard pushed it open to a group of staring facing, Brodie kissed Laurel on the temple and gave her hand a squeeze. She’d squared her shoulders and took a step forward, but Brodie didn’t release her arm. She looked up at him, and he mouthed, “I’m proud of you. Be brave.” It was the infusion of courage Laurel needed to face the queen and her entourage. She’d crossed the chamber and found a seat in the center where she opened the book she’d been reading the day before. As the group tittered around her, she steeled herself for what would inevitably come. Her toes ached as she waited.
“Lady Laurel,” Queen Elizabeth addressed her. Laurel rose and approached the older woman, dropping into a deep curtsy until she noticed the queen’s fingers flicked the signal for her to rise. “Please keep me company.”
Laurel lowered herself onto the overstuffed pillow that laid beside the queen’s feet. Sitting there always reminded her of being a loyal hound. She understands that was precisely why the queen positioned as it was. It gave Queen Elizabeth a position of superiority, and it humbled whoever sat upon it. Laurel remained silent, awaiting whatever the queen would say about the scandal Laurel caused.
Keeping her voice exceptionally low, Queen Elizabeth said, “While I wouldn’t have advocated making such a public declaration, I am gladdened to know your future is with Laird Campbell. He will be a good husband to you, Lady Laurel. The two of you are well matched. You will challenge him to no end, I’m sure, but he will not begrudge you it. In fact, I suspect he rather enjoys it. He might have spent his life with a quite different woman than you, and I don’t think it would have been a happy match.”
“Do you mean Lady Eliza?” Laurel asked softly.
“You know of her?” Queen Elizabeth asked in surprise.
“Aye. Laird Campbell told me he’d exchanged vows with her, but she’d died before they made it a true marriage. He mentioned we were not much alike,” Laurel hedged.
Queen Elizabeth snickered. “Not much alike indeed. She was a nice lass, but mousy. I doubt that would have changed, no matter how long she lived or how long she served as Lady Campbell. The alliance would have been advantageous to the Campbells, but I fear the laird was shortsighted in his choice. His clan will not live and die by access to Loch Sween. They may live and die by who stands beside their laird. They are a powerful clan, and they need a lady with the gumption to stand beside her husband and against those who would threaten the clan. There are many who would.”
Laurel remained quiet, surprised to hear some of what Brodie shared with her being articulated by Queen Elizabeth. She wondered if the queen would say more, but when the conversation lulled, or rather the queen said nothing, Laurel wondered if she was dismissed. She didn’t dare stand, but she wasn’t certain what to do. She jumped when the queen spoke again.
“Lady Laurel, I anticipate your life being even more trying over the next several days. But it was easy enough to read Laird Campbell’s lips and the look in his eyes. You won’t avoid the rumors or the scornful looks, but I believe Laird Campbell will do what he can to shield you. But if you would heed my council, you’d do well to curb your tongue.”
“Aye, Your Grace,” Laurel replied.
“I’m certain the ladies will goad you. But remember, in the end, you are the one Laird Campbell chose. They may have caught you in…a delicate moment, but anyone with eyes will see soon enough that it is not just lust that lies between you two. Bear that in mind when they test you.”
Laurel looked up at the queen, shocked by the maternal and sage advice the older woman offered. Laurel recalled the queen had suffered great public scrutiny when she married King Robert, especially when she returned after eight years of imprisonment by the English King Edward Longshanks.
“Thank you, Your Grace.” With a nod, Queen Elizabeth dismissed Laurel, who stood then dipped into a low curtsy. As she made her way back to her stool and her book, she took in the faces that watched her suspiciously, those who gloated, and those who turned their noses up at her. She noticed Emelie and Blythe watching her, but neither woman had defended her that morning. Emelie had been less convinced than the others, but she’d hadn’t spoken on Laurel’s behalf. The sisters’ ease with which they turned from her hurt more than any rumor Sarah Anne or the others spread. She’d considered Emelie and Blythe her friends, and she’d defended them and their sister Isabella when people cast barbs at the younger women about Isa marrying a man who once served King Edward. With a sigh, she returned to her seat and returned to her book, but her attention wouldn’t settle on the words before her. Her mind conjured various scenarios that might be occurring in the Privy Council chamber as she pretended to read. Her belly ached as it clenched over and over. She practically threw the book aside when it was time for the ladies to dress for the evening meal.
“You have made sure you will marry in haste.” Laurel disregarded Sarah Anne’s taunt, pretending to be set on her course to her chamber. But Sarah Anne refused to be ignored. “You had best pray Laird Campbell doesn’t delay having the banns read, lest you deliver an eight moon bairn.”
Laurel ground her teeth, repeating the queen’s advice that she curb her tongue. Sarah Anne’s accusation that she might be pregnant made many of the ladies gasp, and Laurel heard a fresh wave of whispers follow in her wake.
“Liam and Nelson will have their noses out of joint since they have lost their wager,” Margaret mused.
“They have not. Laird Campbell must show up to his wedding. He might still run all the way back to the Highlands before he shackles himself to the Shrew of Stirling,” Sarah Anne corrected.
“Do you think he would really jilt her?” Emelie asked.
“Wouldn’t you?” Sarah Anne asked.
“Lady Laurel,” Brodie’s masculine voice made the women jump. He stepped away from the wall against which he leaned just beside Laurel’s door. “I’ve come to escort you to the evening meal.”
Laurel’s smile was tight as she nodded. “Thank you. I will only be a moment. My maid Ina should already have my gown ready.”
“No need to hurry,” Brodie assured her, bringing her hand to his lips when she stopped in front of him.
Laurel told herself to relax when Brodie smiled, but the other women’s presence put her nerves on edge. She nodded and slipped into her chamber, relieved to find Ina awaiting her. Laurel considered the gown Ina had selected, wishing she hadn’t worn her newly reconstructed gown so recently. She twisted her lips from side to side, knowing the king would announce their betrothal that night. While Ina chose one of Laurel’s more favorite gowns, it was rather subdued. Narrowing her eyes as she considered what hung in her armoire, Laurel’s lips twitched before she drew them in to keep from grinning. She crossed the chamber and flung open the doors, pulling out the one she desired.
Sensing her lady’s impatience, Ina worked quickly to lace Laurel into the dress she selected before her deft fingers created an intricate coiffure of braids and ribbons. When Ina finished, Laurel beamed at her maid. What Ina accomplished in a hurry impressed her.
“You’ve done a wonderful job, Ina. I don’t thank you nearly enough for all that you do for me. Please know that I appreciate it all,” Laurel said as she stooped to kiss the older woman’s cheek. “Thank you for staying with me.”
“Och, ma lady, wheest. Ye’ll have me blubbering into ma hanky,” Ina chuckled. “Go to yer mon. He’s been pacing in yon passageway for at least the last half hour.”
“He has?” Laurel asked as she glanced at the door.
