"My laird?" Henry asked.
"I would speak...with you a moment...before you...see my daughter to her chambers."
"Aye, my laird."
When Lady Henderson did nothing but stare her down, Belle took the hint and stepped out into the corridor to await Henry. She stood there, surrounded by majestic stone and cold candlelight, fiddling with the letter in her hands.
It was the first time she had been without Henry since he had arrived at her mother's cottage. For a childlike moment, she wished he would hurry up even though she knew him to be only on the other side of the door.
Shaking herself of such silliness, Belle looked down at her name again, emblazoned on the front of the letter. She had been holding the thing firmly and now tried to smooth out the paper. It was too dark in the hallway to be able to read what it might say and, in truth, she did not know if she wished for the company of two strange guards in her presence when she finally did break its seal. So, like with Henry, her only choice was to wait and endure the curiosity burning low in her belly.
6
Despite his illness, Laird Henderson had been able to make himself perfectly clear. Even bedbound and fighting for each breath that God might still permit him, the man was sharp. He knew what he wanted.
"She is my heir," he had said. "She mustbecomemy heir."
Two statements. Each was true but uniquely different. The laird could name Arabelle as his successor through the blood they shared, but that would not see her morph into a woman able to shoulder the mantle of leadership. The letter that Laird Anderson had received—the letter that had sent him to the Highlands in the first place—had made it very clear that such a transformation was to behisjob.
A counselor of fine reputation and successful tutorships, he had been summoned to turn the bastard child of Laird Henderson into an elegant woman whom barons and landowners would trust to rule them.
Now, he was receiving those same orders from the man himself.
"Yes, my laird," Henry promised, with only a small ripple of contention. "I shall do all that I can to ensure it."
At leastthatwas a statement he could stand by. All that he could do would not necessarily work the miracle that Henderson was requesting.
Henry had trained and advised many a young woman but never any for a position as affluent as this and never from an origin of such inferiority.
This Arabelle was practically a child. Not only was she nubile in appearance and in her experience of the world, but she was wild and unfettered like an infant. She could barely speak with a civil tongue and could not hold herself well. She had no exceptional beauty to speak of and no understanding of social politics. He had never been given so little to build upon.
Not to mention the fact that she was willfully stubborn.
Henry thought of her constant rebukes that she was not a lady and was surprised at the amusement he felt, tickling the corners of his mind. He pondered on the way she had stomped through their little venture that evening, with her own agenda but also wide-eyed curiosity and an open heart.
He recalled how she had reached to take her estranged father's hand.
There was something pure about her that was...unique.
When Lady Francesca Henderson cleared her throat, Henry realized that his thoughts had drifted. Flushing and annoyed with himself, he made his vow again, this time with more certainty.
"Your daughter will be in good hands, my laird. I shall see to her education myself."
The promise must have given the laird a certain sense of peace because he drifted off to sleep a moment later.
Excusing himself, Henry made for the door, concerned for the young woman that had been left on the other side with nothing more than her own shock for company. Henry knew what it was like to have your entire life stripped away and a new one planted in its place. It was disorientating and scary. He did not like the idea of leaving Arabelle to fend for herself against such emotions.
Upon exiting into the hallway, however, Henry found the girl waiting quietly.
She was not wandering the place in a state of wonder nor fidgeting as if she were ready to pull her hair from her head. She seemed neither worried nor lost.
She simply appeared to be giving her current state of affairs a thoughtful moment of consideration.
Henry altered his opinion of the girl.
Not only was she stubborn and open-hearted, but she was also brave. It took a certain amount of courage to stand in an empty hallway, amongst none but strangers, assessing the revelation of your sireage and not burst into tears or scream at the frightening changes around you. Whether Arabelle realized it or not, she held more self-control than most.
Perhaps there was still hope for her tutoring.
