Page 4 of Bride takes a Scot

Her mother constantly berated her for her unladylike behavior and even the most minuscule matters. But Isabella knew it was better to stay silent because talking back meant even more criticism. She’d never hear the end of it and had learned that doing so certainly wasn’t worth the lecture she’d receive. But this day Isabella’s hackles were up, and she meant to reproach her father for his behavior and her mother for her harassment as well.

“Should you not speak to Father about his stealing? He and his men went on another raid and stole our neighbor’s sheep again.” She glared at her father, who seemed impervious to her scolding.

Her mother laughed lightly. “Oh, darling, they do like to raid. This matter doesn’t concern you, for it is a man’s nature to thieve and you shouldn’t involve yourself in matters of men. Now cease this unbecoming talk at once. Have a little decorum and set your mind to matters of the home.”

The discussion was closed. Isabella sighed and snatched her cup from the table. She held it in her fisted hand and drank down the contents until it was gone. As much as she cared for her parents, they could be a tad bit overbearing. Her mother had the most ridiculous rules concerning what a lady should and shouldn’t do, which mostly had to do with the keeping of one’s home. But Lady Joan wasn’t one to follow her own rules andonly enforced them on Isabella. How tedious it became, day in and day out, trying to please her mother while keeping her father from the gallows.

The gate watchman marched into the hall and continued until he reached her father. His heavy steps thundered across the floorboards. He held a missive which he handed to her father. “My lord, this was just delivered from the king’s messenger. He said it is a matter of urgency.”

“Well now, is this not shockingly delightful? I wonder what the king wants. Probably my attendance at an important meeting of the lords.” Her father sounded gleeful.

She would have laughed at that because he wasn’t on the best of terms with the king at present. Only the month before, King Alexander had sent a writ declaring her father had to return the four horses he had stolen from Lord Heatherington’s fields. The only reason the king didn’t have him tried for the crime was that Alexander detested Heatherington more than he disliked her father. But she wouldn’t remind him of that minor detail.

Her father opened the missive and read silently. His expression gave no hint as to what the message contained. When he finished reading, he set the missive on the table in front of him and cleared his throat. Isabella was about to demand to know what the king wanted of him, but then her father finally spoke.

“’Tis the most grievous news. I vow my heart is heavy.” His eyes sought her mother’s and then hers.

When she noticed his gaze linger on her, a cold shiver wound its way up her back. Whatever was in that missive had to do with her. She held onto the table as her heart raced, and a light-headedness overtook her. Her father spoke to her mother, but she couldn’t hear him over the pounding of her pulse in her ears. Isabella prayed that it wasn’t news relating that Christopher had died. Her brother had only left a month before and hadn’tarrived yet in the Holy Land. Surely the news couldn’t be about her brother. She swallowed and bade herself to be calm so she could hear.

“But how can this be?” her mother asked in a clipped tone. “Is it a punishment after all, for the horses? Has Heatherington come forward to demand you be tried? The nerve of the man. He’s the vilest of men and deserved to have his horses taken.”

Her father shook his head. “Nay, ’tis not about Heatherington or his horses. I disbelieve what the king has demanded of us.”

Her mother set her hand on his arm and nodded. “Speak it, my dear. How dreadful can it be?”

“The king orders me to send Isabella to Edinburgh at once. Alexander has betrothed her. She is to wed a man of his choosing. Aye, he has indeed punished me and takes my baby from me.” Her father’s eyes shone with the beginning of tears.

Isabella hid her relief. The fact that her father hadn’t betrothed her before now somewhat displeased her. Her father cared for her, and he’d boasted many times that he didn’t want her to leave his home. He had turned down their neighbor Heatherington’s appeals for her hand countless times. Isabella was grateful for that because she detested Heatherington. She’d thought that her father would eventually use her to gain an alliance or improve his political position. But he had professed that no alliance was worth losing her.

It wasn’t that Isabella had hoped to find love because marriages were more contractual than that of matters of the heart. Nor did she wish to be under the rule of a husband. She had enough trouble adhering to her parents’ rules, as it was. Yet at age twenty, she was past the age when a lass was offered to a man in marriage, only slightly. Still, she was not too old to make a good wife. She had many child-bearing years ahead of her.

Isabella admitted she had always longed for children and a family. This was her opportunity to make her way, which she had thought of so many times. The only thing that concerned her was to whom the king would marry her. She hoped he was a worthy chivalrous man or a knight who beheld honor. The last thing she wanted was to be married to an overbearing man or one as sinful as her father, or God forbid, a man like Heatherington.

A swirl of nerves trembled through her and her breath caught in her throat like an invisible hand had wrapped around it—and squeezed. She was trapped. Helpless. There was nothing she—or anyone could do because to do so would be treason. “He cannot take my baby from us,” her father said and pounded his fist on the table. “I won’t allow it. She’s but a lass.”

Mother put a restraining hand on his arm, stopping him from slamming his fist against the table again. “’Tis time, my dear. Isabella is past the age when a girl takes a husband. It’s time to let her go.” She spoke in a soft, soothing tone. “I have taught her how to be a lady and now it is her time to shine. Besides, my dear, you have no say and cannot refuse King Alexander. Think about it…We will not have to incur the expense of a wedding since the king demands she wed. Surely, he wouldn’t ask for a dowry. We pay enough tax to appease him.”

Her father looked as though he would weep into his tankard. Isabella kept her expression devoid of humor, but the situation was somewhat comical. She raised her eyes heavenward and gave thanks to God that she would finally be free of her meddling parents.

Her mother didn’t share his emotions. Instead, she seemed elated. “Dearest daughter, go and ready yourself. We shall journey on the morrow. Worry not about your father, for I shall see to him and ease his discontent. Be sure to pack your finest garments, for we wish you to look your best when you are presented to the king.”

Without a retort to her mother, Isabella covertly grabbed her medicinal pouch from the side table on her way out of the hall and hurried to her chamber. There, a maidservant entered behind her, placed a valise on the bed, and began placing items inside. Without her seeing, Isabella placed the pouch under a pillow.

As the maid readied for her departure, Isabella sat woefully on the bed. She’d hoped to marry eventually, but the news received this day was definitely unexpected. She assumed a marriage contract would be made without her input, but to have such a choice made for her by the king unsettled her. Would he marry her well or would she be forever tied to an unworthy man? She’d always coveted an amiable marriage to a man who treated her with respect. Now who knew what kind of man she’d marry? Such thoughts tightened her chest.

The maid drew her from her musings when she spoke, “Mistress, I placed your favorite gowns and garments in the baggage but left the tattered gowns. Is there anything else you wish to take?”

Isabella had few possessions that she held dear. She opened a small chest where she kept a collection of pamphlets, parchments with written poetry, and a small booklet of stories her father had brought to her on his return from travels. Isabella cherished them and now she tucked them inside the valise before the maid closed it.

After the maid left, Isabella retrieved the hidden medicinal pouch and stowed it inside the valise between a few gowns where it would be hidden. Then she readied for bed. Sleepless, she tossed and turned and thought of her future husband and her hope that her life would be bettered by a marriage. Tears gathered in her eyes as she considered she’d leave her home for an unknown place with unknown people. What would her husband’s people be like? More importantly, what would herhusband be like? Would he be kind or mean-spirited? The thought of being married to a contemptible man caused her tears to fall. At least she would no longer have to contend with her parents’ unrelenting squabbles, nitpicking, and thievery. Would she come to regret that notion?

*

In the morning,she hastened to get ready for her departure. Outside, her father’s men waited to ride sentry on their journey. A small carriage afforded enough room for her, her mother, and her father. During the ride, she barely spoke a word. To do so would have caused her father grief and gained another reminder from her mother of all the things she needed to remember when in the king’s presence. Her mother had already berated her to sit up straight, keep her hands folded on her lap, how to eat in the presence of others, and not to look overlong at any man in the king’s hall.

The journey took almost a full day and near the end of the trek, rain fell heavily. She hoped they weren’t delayed by it, but the rains lightened when the castle came into view. At Edinburgh Castle, the sentry admitted their party at the entrance. They rode up a small rise, which took them between the two tall stone turrets and through the gatehouse. When they reached the courtyard, six men approached to assist them and removed their baggage from the rear of the carriage. One man grabbed her valise and her parents’ satchels and retreated with their belongings into the castle.

“Welcome Lord and Lady Forrester, and Mistress Isabella. I am Edmund, our great king’s chamberlain. Come and I shall get you settled. Mistress Isabella, the king wants to speak toyou privately before the festivities begin. I’m to take you to his private chamber.”