It was true that they were in strange woodlands and possibly enemy territory, but it didn’t seem very likely they would get where they were going without daring to ask where they were.
The crude maps they had been given were useless. Following them precisely had led them to the edge of a steep cliff, and the implication might have been clear to Elizabet if she wasn’t so certain her father had sent them on this journey for their betterment, not to their demise.
His new wife, on the other hand, Elizabet wasn’t quite so certain about. Were dear Margaret to have her way, all of her father’s children would disappear from the face of the earth forever. And just to be certain Elizabet and John were the first to go and stay gone, she had sent her brother Tomas along to see the task done. She had insisted vehemently that Tomas accompany their party, and Elizabet was certain Margaret had done so to be sure that Elizabet and John would be safely out of her way forever. It had been made quite clear to Elizabet that Margaret did not appreciate them in her home.
Elizabet didn’t like her.
There was something about her dear stepmother’s demeanor that seemed a bit deceitful—although why her father seemed so blind to it Elizabet didn’t know. Margaret was beautiful, to be sure, but her eyes lacked any warmth. Alas, her father was old, and Elizabet supposed he was grateful enough to have a wife so young no matter that she might be a shrew.
Men were silly creatures.
Jesu, but she never wanted to be attached to one. If Piers would be so kind, he’d simply allow her to keep her dowry and spare her the misery of finding her a husband.
By the rood, these men who traveled with her were a perfect example of male stupidity. Of the four sent to escort them, all were of fairly equal standing, and none seemed the least inclined to follow the other. Not even Tomas seemed able to quell their endless bickering. If her brother John had been a little older and perhapsmore confident in himself, he might have taken matters into his own hands and dared to make his own decisions as his father’s heir. As it was, they were each intent upon following his own direction, and John was helpless to lead them.
No wonder they were lost.
Well, Elizabet had nearly had her fill of them all. In fact, she was tempted to seize John’s sword from his scabbard and force them all to follow her. She was wholly unaccustomed to standing meekly aside whilst men bickered amongst themselves like old women.
Her mother had not taught her to be a damsel in distress. Nay, the men her mother had known had been strong men of stature, accustomed to giving orders, but her mother, in her own way, had been as strong as they were. She had been well educated, intelligent and full of mettle. As a result, Elizabet had little patience for feeble people of any gender.
Where were those doddering fools anyway?
They had all dashed into the woods to relieve themselves, her brother included, and the hound had gone missing right behind them. None, as yet, had returned, and Elizabet was growing impatient with the wait.
She rose, brushing herself off. “Harpy!” she called out, craving the comfort of her hound’s presence.
If the truth be known, she didn’t particularly like it much that Harpy had attached herself to John. Finicky animal! It washerdog, not his and she loathed to be petty about the matter, but it was the only thing she had left of her mother, aside from the crucifix she wore on her girdle.
She started into the woods, calling after the wayward dog.
Although Elizabet could hear the men’s voices nearby, she couldn’t see them. If Harpy were with them, the dog would surely have heard her calling by now so she must have wandered farther away, she reasoned. IfElizabet waited for those babbling men to return before setting out to search for her, the dog would be halfway back to England before they found her. Elizabet called the hound again, praying she wouldn’t stumble upon the men at their business.
“She’s not here!” shouted John from the bushes ahead, and Elizabet veered at once to avoid them.
“I’m going to search for her,” she shouted back, grateful that he had spoken up so that she wouldn’t barrel through the bushes and embarrass herself.
“Don’t wander far, Liza!”
She smiled at John’s show of concern. “I won’t!”
Mayhap she worried too much about him, but he seemed so fragile at times. His wit was sound and quick, but his frail body failed him far too oft. The youngest of her father’s legitimate children, he seemed ever ready to do battle over the least little thing—as though he always had something to prove—and Elizabet finally understood why. His fears had finally been realized. Like Elizabet, he had been too easily discarded.
She had grown to love John, though she hadn’t known him long. He was the one person who had welcomed her without reservation when she’d arrived at her father’s house—not that her other siblings had treated her poorly, they had simply never really embraced her. There was not so much to go around that they relished having to share with yet another sibling.
And yet, Elizabet had dared to hope she’d found a safe haven after so many years of having no family and no place to call her own. Until her father had gone and wed that horrid woman, and Elizabet had been put out of her bed within a fortnight of their nuptials.
But she refused to allow herself to wallow in self-pity. This was an opportunity, she assured herself. Unlike her mother, she would never be shackled to some man, dependent upon his good graces to feed her andher children. Nay, moreover, she would have no children and no man to keep her. Here in the wilds of Scotia she would be free to live as she chose, unencumbered by the fetters of matrimony. She would beg Piers to return her dowry, and she would find a way to care for herself. She was determined to make the best of her life and take care of John as well.
Anyway, she reasoned. It wasn’t as though anyone would have her anyway. She had nothing to bring to a union aside from her body and her mind. Her meager dowry hadn’t even been enough for her father to keep her.
Indeed, she had learned quite young where men placed their value. A woman’s worth was determined by two things. The first and most important was what they could bring a man by way of riches and heirs. The second was what they could do in bed, and the latter would gain Elizabet no more than it had her courtesan mother.
In truth, her mother had worked hard for every morsel of food the two of them had placed in their mouths, and in the end she had died alone. And her father’s wife—she who had borne him five children—had lost her husband’s heart to another woman whose body had brought him greater pleasure—Elizabet’s mother.
In both cases, it was a matter of one man’s satisfaction and some poor woman’s unappreciated labors.
It all seemed so unfair.
