Chapter 9

Catrina knocked at the door about thirty minutes later. Jane opened it, careful to hide behind it as Catrina came through. Catrina cocked her head, but soon saw why: Jane was not fully dressed. A dull blue dress was hanging at her waist, and only a chemise was covering her breasts. "I am sorry fer nae being ready," Jane said. "I have been trying tae get intae me dress and… in England… that is, in me house, there was always somebody tae…"

Catrina grinned. "It is nae a thing of shame tae admit that one has privilege. This castle has several servants too. Ye would have had one or two attend ye too, if the circumstances of yer stay were different."

Jane frowned.

"Ah, I have said too much," Catrina said, but with amusement rather than regret.

"So you do admit that in a way, you are meant to watch me."

"Have I, in any way, suggested otherwise?" the older woman asked.

"Well…" Jane said. "No."

"Very good. Ye see, women are caught in men's wars often. I dinnae ken the extent of yer involvement in all this, but I dae ken that it is men's fault that ye are being held here. I must dae as I am told, but I would like us tae be friendly. In addition, I feel that ye are a good person. That's what yer eyes say. And the eyes rarely lie."

Jane found herself smiling. "Thank ye, Catrina."

"Ye are welcome. Now," she put her hands on her waist. "We must get ye dressed fer dinner. We are late already and if I ken the laird as much as I think I dae, dinner will nae start without you. Let us nae add keeping hungry warriors waiting tae yer list of perceived faults, yes?" Her eyes twinkled, and Jane smiled.

"Yes, Catrina."

"Good." Her eyes went over Jane's dress. "This is a… formidable English dress."

"It is ugly."

"I have not said that," Catrina said with a laugh. "The dress will dae on English soil, but nae so much here. I can see that it has buttons upon buttons and we are short of time. Also, dinner is usually a gay affair so ye might need a brighter color. I have a wonderful emerald dress that will fit ye and make yer eyes shine. We are almost the same size, dinnae ye think?"

"I would not want to impose-"

"I will fetch it quickly."

A few minutes later, Jane was in the dress. It was much easier to put on than Jane's dresses, and true to Catrina's words, it made Jane's eyes shine. The dress was about a quarter of an inch too short, because Jane was a little taller than Catrina, but it was barely noticeable.

Catrina led Jane down to the dining room. There were several tables set with chairs around them. Everyone seemed to already be seated, and when they appeared, the room seemed to go silent. Jane held her head high; she followed Catrina as she led her to a seat right across from Alistair. Catrina then took her own seat, flanked by her husband and child.

Alistair made a motion, and servants began to appear with platters of dishes. So, Catrina had been right- he had waited for her before dinner was served. That was odd. Even more odd was the fact that she was eating at his table at all. It was almost as though… she was a guest. Shouldn't prisoners be served light fair in the confines of their cells? And yet here she was, being served a very tender-looking piece of lamb and a broth that smelled absolutely divine, quite different from the broths she knew. When the serving was done, Jane had a full plate of food and had she been in different circumstances, she would have set upon it with relish. On the carriage ride, she had had only bread, dried fruit, and dried meat to keep her sustained.

Then, Alistair said grace. Never in a million years would she have imagined him doing that before eating. And yet he did! It was brief but not perfunctory, and when everyone around her chorused amen, she opened her eyes and looked at him in surprise. Was she imagining, in the light from the lamps above, that he was looking straight at her with a grin on his face?"

"Jane Marsh," Catrina whispered. Jane turned her head.

Eat, the woman mouthed.

Jane nodded and took the first spoon. The broth tasted as good as it smelled. Jane closed her eyes to savor it, and then opened them quickly. She was aware that she was being watched, even though they were polite enough not to make it obvious. A servant filled the goblets of everyone on the table. Jane eyed her goblet and looked at Catrina.

Wine,Catrina mouthed. Very good.

Jane took a sip and found that it was good indeed. Conversations welled up around her. They were loud but not intrusive. Without making it obvious, Jane observed the people at her table. These people, whom she had been taught from childhood to see as superstitious, belligerent illiterates, seemed just like regular people. There was Alistair, taking a sip from his goblet and nodding as his second-in-command said something in his ear. There was Tasgall, eating rather enthusiastically, and then there was Catrina, chiding him. Tasgall sighed and began to eat a little more slowly. He must have asked if his current pace met with her approval, because she nodded and tousled his hair. That made Jane smile.

When Jane was done, a servant came over to ask her if she would like another helping. "Goodness gracious, no, thank you," she replied. She turned to see Alistair beckon to the servant. The girl rushed to her master and bent over him. She returned shortly. "Madam, me laird said tae ask if ye declined another helping because ye dae nae like the food."

Jane's eyes widened. "Oh, of course not, I enjoyed it tremendously," Jane said. "I just do not have room in my stomach for anymore."

The servant returned to Alistair. After the message was relayed, the girl did not return. Jane's reply was satisfactory, then.

"Come, Jane," Catrina whispered, materializing by Jane's side. "We must leave now. Extra goblets of wine will loosen the warriors' tongue and ye may nae like what ye will hear." She giggled. "Stand up, curtsy tae the laird -something very small, no need for flamboyance - and follow me."

And that was precisely what Jane did.

* * *

"Lady Jane Marsh of England!"

Jane stirred, and the slowly opened her eyes. The room was dim, and she had to focus to see the figure that had woken her up. It appeared to be a girl. She was at the foot of Jane's bed, her hands clasped in front of her. "Lady Jane Marsh of England," the girl repeated in an urgent whisper.

"I am up," Jane said, sitting up.

"Oh," the girl said. "Good morning, miss. May I open the windows?"

"Please," Jane said with a yawn.

The girl walked briskly to the window and bound the blinds, A flood of light poured in and Jane had to look away. The girl returned to her place at the foot of Jane's bed. "I have come to help you with a bath, if you'll be needing it."

Jane looked at the girl well for the first time and had a faint recollection of seeing her serving food at dinner the previous night. "If I'll be needing it?" Jane asked, her eyebrow raised. "A bath or your help?"

"Me help, Lady Jane Marsh of England" the maid returned.

"No, I shall do well enough on my own. Thank you."

The girl nodded and was about to walk away. "Please hold on," Jane said. "Are there… other bath chambers that I can use?"

The girl's forehead furrowed. "Other bath chambers that ye may use?"

"Yes," Jane said. "Yesterday, you see, I bathed in a bath chamber that appeared tae be Alis- the laird's. I am asking if I could bathe in a different bath chamber.

"Oh," the girl said, understanding finally. "There are more in the castle, Lady Jane Marsh of England, but the laird's is nae doubt the best."

"That stands to reason, but I would very much prefer a different one," Jane said.

"I shall ask Lady Catrina, Lady Jane of England," the girl said,

"Thank you," Jane said, and the girl nodded and turned to go. "Wait," Jane said. "What is your name?"

"Fionnula," the girl answered.

"Fionnula," Jane repeated. "That is a lovely name."

"Thank ye, Lady Jane Marsh of-"

"My name is Jane. Simply Jane. And I am not a lady."

Fionnula's eyes widened. "Ye are nae a lady, miss?"

Jane chuckled. "I mean it in the titled sense. Of course, in morals and conduct, I am a lady. But in the sense of a titled lady, as in the wife of daughter of an Englishman with a title, that I am not. My family is gentry, not nobility."

"Oh," Fionnula said.

"Yes," Jane said. "And you must confess that it is a mouthful, ‘Lady Jane Marsh of England.' You can call me Jane, simply."

"What dae yer servants in England call ye?" Fionnula asked.

Jane cleared her throat. "‘Lady Jane,' but that is only because my father has aspirations to nobility through-" She caught herself in the nick of time. The memory of Eleonor's betrothal to the Duke of Lancaster mainly because of her father's desire for power and influence filled her with sadness. She thought of Eleonor, and what she must be doing now.

"Then I shall call ye that," Fionnula said. "I must go now, Lady Jane."

"By all means," Jane replied.

Fionnula walked out of the door. Jane got out of bed and walked to the window. Outside the castle, it was bustling with activity. She supposed a castle was, in a way, a palace, or, at least, a lord's home, and she wondered at the fact that it seemed like the walls separating the nobility from the commoner, both literal and figurative, were lacking here. Surely that was dangerous? In England, many a commoner had attempted to kill, or at least cause bodily harm to, a lord because of something that he had done to him. Tommy Ballows, for instance. His case had been the news for weeks. The feudal lord over the land where he was a lowly carrot farmer had sired all of Tommy Ballows' children. The first two were girls. And if Tommy Ballows noticed that their hair was the color of corn while he and his wife had jet black hair, he did not show it. But then his wife had given birth a third time, and it was a boy with a mop of blond hair on his head. Ballows had lodged an axe in the lord's chest two days later. Ballows' last words on the executioner's block one day later were, "I did not fret about the girls but he stole my heir. The bastard stole my heir! May he burn in hell just as I will."

Jane's father was sympathetic to the man's plight, which was odd because he had said, very many times, that commoners' lives were in the hands of their feudal lords and they could do whatever they wanted with them. "A hero if there ever was one," he'd said about Ballows, his excitement a little startling. "A foolish hero, but a hero all the same."

Now, Jane turned away from the window just as Fionnula returned. "Lady Jane," she said, "I will show you to another bath chamber. Are you set for a bath now?"

"Yes, thank you," Jane said.

After her bath, Catrina came into the room. She smiled. "Jane. You are well rested, I hope? Fionnula told me that ye wanted a different bath chamber?"

"Good morning, Catrina," Jane said. "Yes. It is not that I did not find the other one suitable for use," she added quickly. "I just-"

"Ye didnae want tae use the laird's bath chamber," Catrina said. "It is quite all right. He suggested that ye use his because it is the best in the castle, as I am sure ye have noticed. Breakfast is ready. I shall have it brought up. But dinner must be eaten communally. And we shall have tae talk about Scottish dining etiquette. I am told it is nae as elaborate as English dining etiquette. But it is different, so it would help matters if ye would learn."

Jane nodded. "Thank you."

"You are welcome," Catrina responded. "Alistair will be meeting the people today. You are permitted to be present."

"I will …?"

"Yes. A laird must judge cases in his terrain. He must settle disputes and make pronouncements on the validity of contracts. Things such as that."

"And he has to lead his warriors into battle by himself also?"

"A Scottish laird must nae only be brave, but wise," Catrina said. "I shall fetch ye when it is time." Catrina walked out of the room and not long afterwards, Fionnula came bearing a tray of breakfast.

Afterwards, Jane spent her time rereading Eleonor's letter, which strengthened her resolve to find Eleonor's lover no matter what. Alistair seemed like a reasonable person. Surely, he would let her go as soon as she was no longer needed? He appeared more than reasonable, for he had treated her so far as a guest and not a prisoner. Perhaps… and this was a stretch, but perhaps, he could even help her? He knew the terrain more than she did. He was a laird, after all. But one could never be so sure. It was always best to be on one's guard.

And why did she think him kind just because he gave her a good room and let her eat what the rest of the castle was eating and let her share his bathroom? He wouldn't have needed to do all that if he had simply let her complete her journey. She would have been at Loch Lomond right now, getting bound to Commander Pierce till death did they part. The thought caused her to shudder. She thought of how life by the man's side would be, and as always, it filled her with dread. Her father had not even done her the courtesy of refraining from causing her more distress. He'd told her simply that Loch Lomond was nothing like Marsh Manor. "I know you detest this house," he'd said, "but when you get to Loch Lomond, you will wish to return. It is a war zone, crawling with soldiers who wish to return to England. There will be no one to put fresh flowers in your vase every morning. I doubt that they even grow flowers. You will be in hostile territory, where hell may break loose at any point. Which is why you must keep the commander happy. If you are in his good graces, you will spend the rest of your life relatively well."

Jane would never admit it to a living soul, but a little part of her was relieved that she was here instead. At least, it would shorten the number of days that she would have to spend as a despicable man's wife. Infinitesimally, but it was welcome all the same.

Jane moved from the bed to the window. She had never been one who was able to bask in idleness. At home, she spent her time doing embroidery, taking French classes, painting, and writing poems. The first two were on her father's orders. The last two were of her own volition. But her father had not allowed her to take her painting paraphernalia along, and she didn't feel much like writing a poem at this time. She wondered if she was allowed downstairs. But it would be rude, would it not, not to mention unwise, to wander about the dominion of people who, to all intents and purposes, were her captors?

As if she'd read her mind, Fionnula entered the room and said, "Lady Jane, Lady Catrina has asked that I escort ye downstairs."

"Oh," Jane said. "Is it time?"

"No, that is not fer hours still," Fionnula said.

"Oh."

Jane followed the girl out of the room, down the hallway, and below the stairs. Jane could not help but notice that even though the castle had an austere feel to it (it was, after all, a castle), it was better aired than Marsh Manor. An effort had been made to bring vibrancy to the building. There were colorful murals on the walls, and the wood was gleaming with polish. It was very bright, and Jane could feel the air come in through the windows as she walked. They descended the stairs, and Fionnula led Jane to what appeared to be solar. Two women were bent over sewing tables, cutting material. When Jane and Fionnula entered, one of them raised her head up and then went right back to her task.

"Ah, there you are!"

It was Catrina. She entered the solar, a bundle of fabrics balanced on her arm. Fionnula quickly relieved her of them and placed them on an empty table near one of the women who had ignored Jane. The other woman looked up finally. When she saw Jane, she smiled. "The Englishwoman," she said. Her dress was yellow, a youthful color, even though she had to be about 60. Her hair was braided into two plaits that ran down her back.

"My name is Jane," Jane said.

"Jane," the woman said. "I am Catrina and Keith's aunt." She chuckled. "Ye have such enchanting green eyes."

"They are just green eyes," the other woman said without looking up.

"And that is Garia," Mary said. "Aptly named, fer ye can see she is nae taller than a child." There was no derision in her voice, only mirth.

"And ye are Mary, named after our Lord's mother, but everyone agrees that that was a mistake."

Mary's laugh was boisterous. She turned back to Jane. "I saw ye as ye were ushered intae the castle yesterday. Ye look much better rested now. Come, sit with us. Dae ye sew?"

"No," Jane said, a little apologetically. "But I embroider."

"'Tis a wonderful skill, embroidering," Mary said.

"Thank-"

"A child could embroider," Garia said. "Flowers and trees and the sun and whatnot. ‘Tis a skill fer the flighty. The real work is sewing. But I understand why ye dae nae sew. Ye are a snooty lady, aren't ye?"

"She's nae a lady," Fionnula responded. "Her faither doesnae have a title. They are gentry, nae nobility."

Jane smiled tightly at Fionnula. "Thank you very much for pointing that out, Fionnula."

"Is that so?" Garia asked with a smirk.

"Off with you!" Catrina said. "There ye go again, speaking when ye havenae been spoken tae."

"Sorry, Lady Catrina," the girl said and walked out of the room. Catrina pointed to a chair. "Dae sit, please, Jane."

Jane sat down and Catrina made her way to the table where Fionnula had dropped the fabrics. "The laird suggested that ye might have nothing tae dae in the room, and I had hoped that ye might sew. Since ye dinnae, ye may want tae watch. These are blankets. All we are doing is sewing the edges so they dinnae fray. See?" She held the end of one of the fabrics up. "Of course, you may go back up if ye so wish."

"It would not hurt to watch a while," Jane said, "that is, if you would all have me."

"Pay nay mind tae Garia," Mary said. "She's a sweetheart at heart, this one. Of course we would like tae have ye."

"Speak fer yourself, Mary," Garia said. Her voice carried such authority, and Jane mentally stood on guard. The woman seared Jane with an intense stare. "Englishwoman, we dinnae want ye here."

"I understand," Jane said. "Believe me, I do not want to be here, either. In this situation, that is. I shall go back." She turned to Catrina. "Thank you." She then stood up.

"Garia," Mary drew out, "that was a tad harsh, was it nae?"

"She is a captive. An English captive, might I remind you. A captive does not sew unless the task is inflicted as labor. A captive is not a guest to be entertained."

That did it. Jane sat back down. "Your laird does not seem to think so," Jane said. She had their rapt attention. If a needle had fallen to the floor, they would have heard it. "If he did not like the idea of my being alone in my room, perhaps it is for the best that I am not? A laird is not only brave, but he is also wise. Is that not right, Catrina?"

"Yes," Catrina said, and Jane wondered if the quality in her voice was amusement.

"So, madam," Jane said, once again addressing Garia, "if you have better ideas on how to spend my time, I would be more than happy to hear them. If not..."

Garia regarded her darkly, and inwardly, Jane kicked herself for going too far. But then a smiled appeared on the woman's face and she said, "I have none. You may stay."

Mary made a sound that was akin to a squeal and Catrina chuckled.

"She can help with the folding," Garia said to Catrina.

"Yes, Maither," Catrina responded, and Jane's eyes widened. She had had no idea that Garia was Catrina's mother. All afternoon, Jane helped with the folding of the fabric while the other women sewed. In about two hours, they had exhausted discussions on the best fabric for blankets, the best kind of stitches for different items, the similarities and differences between English and Scottish fashion, Catrina and her twin Keith's childhood, and Mary's enormous bunion. Jane found herself enchanted by this simple fellowship. The closest thing she had ever had to this were her French classes, as the tutor, a well-sought-after matron, took on many young girls at once. During breaks, the girls would share gossip, but Jane would always find herself excluded because she considered the things they gossiped about to be mundane indeed. Here, she felt like she was a part of it. When she got to Loch Lomond, she might take up sewing, if she found someone to teach her. She revealed nothing private of herself, and they did not ask. For that she was grateful.

Garia had just suggested that Mary attempt to take out the bunion with a knife heated over the fire when a bell sounded.

"Tis time for the hearings," Catrina said. "Let us go to the hearing room now. We must be quick, for there will not be many cases to hear today, on account of the feast tonight."

"There is a feast tonight?" Jane asked.

"Nae really a feast," Mary said. "A ceremony. Smaller than a wedding but bigger than a child's first anniversary of birth."

"Bigger than a small wedding," Garia commented, and Mary seemed to think about it before she said, "Yes, I suppose."

"What is it about?" Jane asked.

"Oh, it is a celebration of the oldest man in our clan," Catrina said. "'Tis his sixty-second anniversary."

"Oh," Jane said. "That is… spectacular indeed." How could the oldest man in the clan be only sixty-two?

"Aye," Mary said. "All his peers are long gone, you see, due tae wars with other clans and wars with…"

"The English," Garia finished.

"Come now," Catrina said, getting up and motioning to Jane.

"Of course, he is nae the oldest in the clan," Mary said. "The oldest is sweet Ayleen. Poor old thing is more than a hundred and yet gets nay recognition. Only her children and grandchildren remember." She smiled wryly. "Well, ye must get going, Jane Marsh!"

"It was a wonderful time spent with you," Jane said to them, and then stood up and followed Catrina out the door. However, Garia called Jane back, and Catrina followed her back inside.

"This changes nothing," the older woman said. "The English and Scottish are still enemies and may very well be till the end of time."

The woman's walls, which Jane thought had been pulled down during their conversation, were back up. Jane's heart sank, but she would not show her despair. "True," she responded. "But Jane and Garia need not be." With that, she walked out of the door. Catrina followed.

"Jane, ye must be patient with me maither," she said. "Me faither was killed by the English several years ago. She has healed, but nae completely."

"I do not hold it against her," Jane said. "But I too have reasons to hate the Scottish."

"Yer capture?" Catrina asked.

"No," Jane said. "My…" She weighed the wisdom of mentioning her Uncle Howard's murder but decided against it. It would open a wound, a wound she would need to keep sealed if she must relate with these people politely. "It does not matter," Jane said.

"Oh, but it does," Catrina said. "I should like tae ken why ye may hate me."

"Not you," Jane sighed. Yes. My capture."

Catrina meant to say something, but they were in the main hall and she spotted Tasgall brandishing a bow and arrow. She shouted at him to take that outside, and they walked in silence the rest of the way. Jane received curious stares, but she pretended that she did not see them. Finally, they arrived at the hearing hall, which was in the west wing of the castle. There were about a hundred people here, dressed mostly in commoners' clothing. Catrina led Jane to seats at the back, and they both sat down. There was an elevated seat in front, and Jane knew that it must be Alistair's. "Wonder why the laird's late today?" the woman directly in front of Jane asked her companion, a man a little younger than she.

"Must be something important came up because he's never late," came the response.

"True," the woman continued. "A responsible leader is our laird. The very best of men. But too serious, me thinks."

Jane thought of Alistair and his pranks in the bathtub only yesterday, and she almost chuckled. Too serious?

"Of course, his seriousness has an appeal tae it," the woman whispered. "A very, very, very strong appeal."

"He would nae bed ye if ye were the last woman alive, cousin, so best breathe and be calm."

Jane saw the woman pout and turn away. She felt a little peculiar about the last bit. Alistair had a type, then? Was it based on physical attributes? The woman appeared to be no great beauty, but from the little of her face that Jane had seen, she appeared presentable. Or was it a status thing? He would not bed his subjects, and so sought women who were higher in station?

"The laird approaches," a man in front announced, putting an end to her musing. Alistair emerged from an inner room, his strides sharp and confident, his blond hair grazing his shoulders. He sat down, and Jane could see that he was tired. Still, his back was straight, and his eyes were as alert as ever. "I apologize fer me tardiness. I was tending tae a matter that affects all of our safety. Let us begin."

The first matter was called by the man who announced Alistair's entrance, and two women came forward from the crowd. One looked to be in her late teens and the other in her forties. From the testimony of both parties, it appeared that the elder woman had a marriage match in mind for her daughter, but the girl wanted to marry a man from a different clan. When asked what clan it was, the woman said it was Clan Donohue.

"A clan friendly to ours," Alistair asked. "Does the man in question have any deficiencies?"

The mother did not think so. "But he is nae from this clan, me laird!" she exclaimed. "Me husband died three years ago leaving me with Mairin and four boys. If she goes tae Clan Donohue, who will tend tae me when I am old? Everyone kens that only women remember their parents in old age!"

There was a murmur in the crowd, and Jane could see many nodding in agreement.

"I dinnae ken that," Alistair said calmly, and the murmuring ceased. "Every good child, raised well, remembers their parents in adulthood. If yer sons dinnae dae as tradition dictates, there will always be a laird in Clan Fletcher to compel them tae dae so. If the lad yer daughter desires is respectable and hardworking, and he fulfils all the conditions fer marriage in cases such as these, there is nothing preventing a marriage. Yer daughter's choice of life partner cannae be predicated on yer comfort."

"Yes, me laird," both women said at the same time. "Thank ye, me laird!" the younger woman added, her joy almost palpable. They then walked back to their seats.

Janee would never have thought that Alistair would give such a judgment. She supposed that she had not read him sufficiently to know the type of person that he was, but this ranked highly in her books. Judging from the reaction of the audience, inter-clan marriages were not so popular. And yet Alistair's judgment had been a considered one.

The next few cases went by quickly. The last case was a land dispute between two neighbors. Each claimed a right to it by inheritance. Each had witnesses that attested to the title.

"A conundrum," Alistair said. "And neither of ye will give up rights tae the other?"

"I would rather it burn, me laird," one of the litigants said.

"You will address the laird with decorum!" the announcer declared.

"Apologies, me laird," the man said.

"Nay, me laird," the other man said, "I will never give up me rights tae him.

"Ah, two Englishmen," Alistair remarked. The audience burst into laughter.

Jane did not find it the least bit funny.

Finally, once the laird had sentenced that the land would be split between the two to their great disappointment, the announcer stated that the laird would be retiring. Everyone stood up, and Jane joined in. Alistair then walked back the same way he had come. The crowd began to disperse. Jane caught a full-body glance of the woman who had been in front of her for the duration of the hearing. She was more than presentable; she was pretty.

"Can we go and see him now?" Jane looked away from the stranger to say.

"Now?" Catrina said and began to make her way out of the room. Jane followed behind. "Nay. But he will be at tonight's feast. Come, let us return. We have done most of the preparations, but there are things which always come up last minute. Have ye ever organized a feast in England, Jane?"

"Not really," Jane said.

"Ah," Catrina said, "yer maither, then?"

"My mother has been dead for the same number of years as I have been alive."

Catrina's face fell. "I am sorry," she said.

Jane smiled sadly. "It is quite all right. I have learned to deal with not having a mother.

"Yer faither must be an exemplary man, tae stand as both faither and maither."

Jane smiled but said nothing.