From her bench in the carriage, Elizabeth stared out one of the small openings. The rain had stopped, and despite the cold, she’d pulled back the leather flap to feel the air on her face. The bumping and tossing of the carriage over the rough terrain were making her slightly nauseous.
Fortunately, Joanna, whose stomach didn’t need any additional cause for nausea, had fallen asleep—as had the others—on some of the pillows and cushions that had been piled on the benches and floor of the carriage to make it more comfortable, which given the constant jerking and jostling was definitely relative.
Elizabeth sighed, watching the darkening countryside roll by in a bumpy panoply. Every now and then she could make out snippets of conversation coming from the men who rode ahead and behind, but the clatter of the carriage prevented her eavesdropping and relieving some of the boredom.
She would rather be riding, but having accepted an offer to ride in the carriage, they felt obliged to keep Lady Mary company for the duration of the journey.
Thank goodness they would be arriving in Edinburgh soon. It was what she wanted, wasn’t it? She’d been counting the days to be back in a big city, far from the monotony of the countryside. She’d been eager to begin preparations for the wedding that she’d been so excited about.
A wedding she had barely thought about since she’d left Blackhouse Tower.
There had been so many other things to think about, she told herself. Archie, for one. She was sure all the excitement would come back to her once they arrived, and she and Randolph came to their understanding.
Her stomach lurched, which she attributed to the jostle of the carriage. The lurching of her heart, however, could only be explained by the man who’d just ridden past. Her chest squeezed at the sight of the familiar frame, the broad shoulders ensconced in dark leather and strapped down with a multitude of weaponry, the inch of wavy dark hair visible beneath the steel edge of the helm, the powerful legs gripping the horse tightly—perhaps too tightly, she thought with a smile. Would he ever be comfortable on a horse?
He was so achingly familiar and yet so different. The village boy who’d been her closest companion was a powerful warrior now, and he looked it. The change was difficult to grow accustomed to.
“I remember you, you know.”
Elizabeth startled at the sound of their hostess’s voice. Lady Mary had woken, and if her thoughtful expression was any indication, she’d been watching her.
“I’m sorry?” Elizabeth said, perplexed. “Have we met before?”
Lady Mary smiled. She was very pretty, which perhaps explained some of Joanna’s irrational jealousy, and had been nothing but kind and gracious to them. Although perhaps to Joanna it was more politeness than graciousness. The subtle difference in how Lady Mary addressed Joanna would not have been noticeable had Elizabeth not been looking for it. But it was there. As it was with most ladies of noble birth. It was a level of reserve. An invisible raising of the hand to keep a distance between them. Joanna wasn’t one of them, and she never would be—no matter whom she married.
“We have, though I’m not surprised you don’t remember. We were both children. I was visiting my aunt and uncle, the Earl of Angus, when your stepmother sought refuge with him after your father’s death.”
Elizabeth paled, but Lady Mary appeared not to notice.
“I was only a couple of years older than you at the time, but you made a big impression on me. You were such a beautiful child, and I remember thinking that if someone who looked like you could find yourself in such dire circumstances, I could as well.” She laughed. “Isn’t that silly? Children are so superficial and inclined to see the world only as it relates to them, aren’t they? But I remember feeling so sorry for you. It was such a scary time, and everyone feared doing anything to offend King Edward. I overheard my uncle and aunt arguing about it. My aunt wanted to help your stepmother, but my uncle was terrified Edward would come after him. Did she want to be in the same position? he asked her.” Lady Mary shook her head. “I know they both deeply regretted turning you and your brothers away—James was being fostered, wasn’t he?”
Elizabeth nodded. With William Lamberton, but she was afraid to speak, lest the mortification she was feeling be made obvious.
Lady Mary smiled. “I thought so. A blessing, I suppose, for him. At ten or eleven he wouldn’t have been much help. Anyway, I’m sure they would apologize if they could. I hope you do not blame them.”
“Of course not,” Elizabeth said honestly. They had not been alone, and their reaction had been understandable. King Edward might well have sought retribution against anyone who helped them.
“I’m sorry.” Elizabeth could hear the Earl of Angus’s voice as he spoke to her stepmother in the laird’s solar while she and her baby brothers waited on a bench before the fire in the Great Hall. “But you have to understand... we can’t risk it.”
Why would no one help them? Tears filled her eyes, though she’d heard the words before. It was the same thing the others had said. This was their third castle. Their third friend “who couldn’t refuse them.” But they had. She was only eight but she knew they were running out of places to go—and money to get there. She was tired and hungry, and didn’t want to sleep in another church.
The memories came back. The fear. The helplessness. The darkness and hunger. Feeling like they were lepers. God, she hated thinking about it. Hated talking about it even more. She wasn’t an eight-year-old little girl anymore who’d been one bag of coins away from an almshouse. Were it not for the generous abbess who’d taken pity on them and given them a bag of silver that was meant for the convent, that’s where they would have ended up. The thought of being in a position like that again...
She repressed a shiver.
Unconsciously, her hand went to the purse of coins at her waist. It was almost full, and when it was, she would start again. “It was a long time ago,” she said to Lady Mary. “I barely remember it.”
“And you’ve come a long way from that time, haven’t you? I hear a rumor that you are to marry the new Earl of Moray? I’d venture to say there isn’t a more highly prized unmarried man in all of Scotland.”
Elizabeth smiled tightly. Good gracious, she made it sound like Elizabeth had won a contest, landed the biggest fish, or brought down the most pheasants. It wasn’t a game!
Or was it? Wasn’t the game of marriage all about “winning” the best alliance?
Lady Mary didn’t seem to mind Elizabeth’s lack of response. She continued on, adding in a low voice, “At least one Douglas will make a good match.”
Elizabeth stiffened; her spine felt as if a steel rod had been stuck down it. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”
Lady Mary gave her a chastising frown. “Come now, Lady Elizabeth, your loyalty to your sister-in-law is admirable, but surely you realize that a daughter of an obscure local knight is not a fitting wife for one of the most powerful lords in Scotland?”
