Chapter 11
ELEANOR WAS DIZZY and seeing double by the time she raced up the stairs, found her room, and threw herself into the chair by the sputtering fire.
It was a threat.
A palpable threat.
Against her.
Keir had threatened her life, hadn’t he? Whatever’s meant to happen to ye, will happen to ye.
She sprang back up.
Poured herself a cup of water from the pitcher by the bed.
Gulped it down.
She had to do something.
What could she do?
She hurried to the wardrobe and looked at the clothes there.
No, what she was looking for wasn’t there.
She stooped to look under the bed.
Aha, that’s where Hannah hid them last.
She struggled to get out of the dress then knelt down at the night table and peered under the bed again, reached a hand out, and pulled forth the breeches and shirt they’d found on the ship, the things old Tavish made them put on.
She dressed at once then sat at the dressing table to put a wet cloth to her face and wash away the powder.
She didn’t have time to be careful about removing the hair switches and wefts.
She pulled and winced and succeeded in extricating every lock.
She still looked like a girl.
The small mirror said so.
She poured a little water into the washing bowl and dipped both hands in.
Ran her wet fingers through her hair until it was flat against her head.
Nothing to tie it with, no ribbons anywhere.
She tried out a curse she once heard Cook use.
It didn’t help.
She’d have to find something in the barn where she could hide until morning.
Perhaps she’d find a length of straw or a leather cord there.
Why am I preoccupied with my hair?
The panic she felt would not subside.
She had to run now.
Hannah would understand.
She glanced at the writing table.
She could leave her a cryptic note and hope she could decipher it.
The brooch.
She’d need the brooch and the money Lady Beth had sewn into the hem.
Where was the bag they put it in? She hurried through the connecting door into Hannah’s room and searched.
Found it.
Took half the coins out and put them under Hannah’s pillow.
Tied the sack to her waist.
She listened at the door.
Opened it an inch.
Peered out.
Slipped through.
Closed it quietly.
Stared a moment at the McKelveys’ room across the hall.
She couldn’t stop herself.
She scurried across the hallway and entered their room.
Looked about among their things.
Found a leather cord she could tie her hair with.
Hoped she was stealing it from Logan or Jack and not from Keir.
She looked for weapons.
Found none.
She hurried back out and down the hall the other way, toward the servants’ stairway.
With all the servants busy with the dinner, she had no problem sneaking out the lower side door into the dark evening.
The heady scent of honeysuckle filled the air but did nothing to calm her.
But at least she was outside.
The brooch.
She forgot the brooch.
She turned to go back when the door opened again and a kitchen maid stepped out with a basket of carrot tops and turnip peelings.
“Oh, here boy, ye can save me a walk to the stable.”
She thrust the basket at Eleanor.
“Bring the basket back when ye come fer breakfast.”
Eleanor stumbled back with the basket as the maid slipped inside and pulled the heavy door closed.
Fine.
Did she really need the brooch? Her breathing still came in huffs and puffs, but slower now.
Calmer.
She needed to think.
The alarm she’d felt at Keir’s words was fading.
Perhaps he meant something completely different.
Perhaps, she thought, he did recognize her after all.
He was a better actor than she was.
Was that it?
She looked into the basket and picked out the single potato peel, something toxic to horses, turned toward the stable, and munched on the skin as she walked—long boyish strides—and thought.
The stable was dark.
Not a candle or a lantern.
No flowery scents either, but the horsey odors were comforting.
Where were the livery men, the stable hands?
“Hello?”
She called out a little louder and was answered by a few lonely horses nickering and snorting.
She smiled and worked her way into the dark barn, her eyes adjusting.
“Here you go.”
She held out a handful of the treats and the first horse nibbled at the gift.
She reached up and gave him a rub on his nose and moved on.
Ah, this was where she belonged, not in a frilly gown at a banquet table.
There were several stalls in the Beldorney stable, each quite large, holding up to four horses.
The guests that were staying the night had arrived by carriage or, in the case of the McKelveys, on horseback.
She thought she might recognize Keir’s horse if she could see better.
Nevertheless, she walked along the stalls and offered the treats to whichever horses stuck their heads out.
She rubbed foreheads, patted necks, and cooed gentle words, keeping her voice low and husky.
She remembered Keir’s horse’s name and called it out.
She was rewarded with a neigh and a bobbing head out of the last stall.
Of course, they were first to arrive and their horses would have been led to the back.
“Hello, boy, how are you doing?”
She shared the last of the carrot tops with Copper and the two horses with him.
She set the empty basket down and continued talking to the horse, asking the questions that were on the top of her mind: “Where should I go? What should I do? Huh? Any advice for me? I’m in a quandary and need to make a decision.”
She wiped a bit of horse slobber off her arm and inhaled the warm scent of stable air.
“A quandary, eh?”
The voice was all too familiar, sonorous and mellow.
Eleanor froze.
Keir strode the length of the stable as if he could see like a cat in the dark.
“I wondered when I’d see ye, El.
Pascoe’s doin’ a nice job o’ bein’ a lady.
At the dinner.”
He chuckled.
“But I couldn’t get close to her.
And then she ran off durin’ the second course.
To check on the princess.”
Eleanor stayed still.
Any words she might have uttered plummeted to silence as if they’d stepped off a cliff and couldn’t find the bottom.
Keir brushed against her at the stall, reached over the rail and patted Copper.
“Ye’ve been givin’ ’im treats, have ye?”
“The … the kitchen maid sent them.”
She stared his way, could barely make out the jut of his chin, the shape of his nose.
“So ye’ve been workin’ in the stable and lettin’ Pascoe do all the lady things? And now ye’re thinkin’ on where ye should go and what ye should do? Yer quandary?”
His laugh made her insides flutter.
She tried not to sound as nervous as she felt.
“Did you … did you meet Princess Nora? I don’t think she’s … I don’t think she’s as beautiful as … as one of the women I saw arrive this noon.”
She waited for his reaction.
He grunted.
“I ken which one ye speak of.
But the wee folk cursed that one with a streak o’ meanness.
Anabel MacLeod, me betrothed … Och, ye dinnae react to such news with the surprise I expected.”
Eleanor dared to say, “Whatever’s meant to happen to you, will happen to you.”
Her cheeks flexed but she couldn’t manage a smile or a frown.
“Aye, lad, ’tis truth ye speak.
I said the verra same to the princess.
The Good Lord has a plan.
I’ll nae fash over me future.”
His response lightened her fear.
“And the princess? What did you think of her?”
Keir harrumphed.
“The princess has her beauty on the inside … a lovely soul.
I can feel it.”
She felt better still, but had to be sure of one more thing.
“But … but you’re going to kill her.”
The clouds outside parted and a shaft of moonlight coming in the stall window put a spark in Keir’s eye.
Eleanor studied his face.
He sighed.
“’Tis in God’s hands, her life.
I cannae take it.”
“But you’ll have Thomas do it.”
“Nay.
Thomas would kill the redcoat, but as fer sendin’ a princess to Heaven … or a queen or a king … he’s nay fer that.
And I’m havin’ second thoughts, too.”
They stood side by side in silence.
Keir rubbed Copper’s face between the eyes.
Eleanor sensed her heart rate returning to normal.
“El … can I tell ye somethin’? Man to man?”
Eleanor stopped breathing.
Then sucked in a lungful of the pungent stable air.
“I’m hardly a man.
Barely eighteen years.”
“Have ye ever had feelin’s fer a woman?”
Something like a laugh escaped her mouth.
“No. Never.”
“Well, ye love yer mum, aye?”
“I don’t remember her.”
“So ye dinna understand the feelin’ o’ love? Or do ye?”
“I love horses.
And …there is someone who has … stirred my soul.”
And with those words her heart picked up its pace again.
“Stirred yer soul? I havnae heard such an expression, but I like it.”
He stopped rubbing Copper and turned toward the moonlight.
“The princess stirs me soul, El.
Do ye understand? I cannae be a part of this revolution … this upheaval, anymore.
’Tis wrong.”
“Because the princess stirs your soul?”
Eleanor squeaked out the last word, breathless.
“Aye.
I’ve a mind to spirit her away.”
***
IT WAS A crazy idea.
Ridiculous.
But Keir had spoken the thought aloud.
And to the lad, of all people.
That strange feeling he’d had for El before dissipated, replaced by a male camaraderie that emboldened him to speak his changed mind to the lad, though he considered the youth might not understand.
He rested his arms on the rail and tucked his forehead against his elbow, closed his eyes, and groaned.
“’Tis a betrayal of sorts.
But also a rescue.”
He lifted his head at the sound of shouts.
“Somethin’ is afoot.”
Keir looked toward the sounds.
Two stablehands bolted into the barn, one carrying a lantern.
“Ho! Ye’ll nay be startlin’ the horses, lads.
Or startin’ a fire.”
“Sir,”
the boy huffed, catching his breath, “the liveryman from Kilmahew Castle was teachin’ us a new gamblin’ game.
In the attic.
When the alarm went up.
The maids are asearchin’.
We thought to look here.”
“Searching?”
El’s voice wobbled.
“Fer the English lady.
The one they’re makin’ a fuss aboot.
The redcoat captain has sent fer his soldiers that be campin’ near the river.
She’s done and gone.
Kidnapped, methinks.”
“Or captured by fairies,”
the second boy claimed.
The other one raised the lantern high and peered into the first stall.
“She’s nay here, lads.”
Keir stepped back from Copper’s stall and the lantern’s light sent his shadow large and looming against the far wall.
The boys took one look, hurried out and left them in the dark again.
Inside the stable, with no lantern-fall, their ears detected a rustling as if the lads left a draft to stir the straw-littered floor, yet the air remained dead-still.
“The lass was ill, the Baroness said, but she seemed fine to me.”
Keir cocked his head at El.
“She’d need help to run away.”
He put a large hand around El’s upper arm and squeezed a bit.
“And bein’ English yerselves, I ken the temptation ye might have to aid the lass.”
He let go of his grip on her arm and neither said a word.
Time slowed as he breathed and thought and strained to determine El’s expression.
“When ye and Pascoe masquerade as lasses, do ye learn any of the Princess’s secrets?”
“Secrets?”
The lad’s voice was as high as a girl’s.
“We ken that her ancestors are Caroline and King George the Second and her father must be their third son.
Deceased now, but the mother …”
He stared down at the lad who blinked repeatedly.
“Do ye ken who she might be?”
***
IT WAS A decisive moment for Eleanor.
She cleared her throat.
“She, the princess, told Pascoe her mother’s name.
She has a brooch she claims belongs to her … to Mary, uh, Mary Ainsworth Fletcher.”
She could barely see his face, but she could tell he was mulling this new information over.
She added, “And she told Pascoe she wants to find her mother … before she’ll consent to marrying a king.”
She determined he was scowling.
“Perhaps this redcoat has agreed to help her find the woman.”
He shook his head.
“But I can nay uncover a reason Princess Nora would leave Beldorney now.
She must be in her room, or sulking in some quiet spot.
The library or study.”
“They won’t find her.
She’s not in the castle.”
He grabbed her arm again and she winced.
“Have ye seen her then?”
“I’m sure … if you would give your word to help her find her mother … I’m sure I could get word to her … Pascoe will know where to find her.
They walk the grounds together.
And then—”
Once again he let go, kicked at the bottom of the stable door, and said, “Aye, I’ll make that promise.
’Tis a special thing to find yer mum.
As ye must ken, El, not rememberin’ yers.”
He kicked the door again.
“I feel compelled to do all I can for the Princess.”
He cuffed Eleanor on the shoulder.
“She stirs me soul, lad.
Indeed, she does.”
***
HANNAH HAD NOT meant to raise the alarm about Eleanor’s disappearance.
It was unfortunate that a servant had entered the room to tend the fire just when Hannah had removed the brooch from Eleanor’s gown and stuffed it in her bosom.
The maid, a homely girl of twelve with spindly arms and a dirty face, dropped the logs in the scuttle and pointed at the gown.
“Is the dress bewitched? I saw the princess run from the dining hall in it.
Did she … did she turn into a … a fairy?”
“No, of course not.”
Hannah spread the dress neatly on the bed.
She had been surprised to see Eleanor hightail it from the dining table, but her face was as red as the time they’d eaten all the strawberries in Cook’s pantry.
Hannah assumed she perhaps had a reaction to the wine and therefore wasn’t as concerned.
But then the Baroness signaled her during the second course to go and check on Eleanor.
And so she had, and found the rooms empty.
“Princess Nora is just … not here.”
The maid used the end of a log to push the coals around and then set several logs on top, mumbling about fairies and gowns and missing persons.
Hannah waited until the girl left and then looked under the bed. “Oh, no,”
she whispered Eleanor’s name, “you didn’t.”
Eleanor’s boy’s clothes were gone, but the second set of male attire was still there.
Hannah grunted.
She wasn’t going to put them on and go hunting for Eleanor.
She knew exactly where her friend would be.
Give her time, she’d come back.
But now, Hannah’s job was to go back to the dinner and reassure the hosts that the Princess was resting comfortably and would not be joining them tonight.
She took her time descending the stairs and returning to the dining hall, but upon reaching the doors several of the footmen burst through, one half dragging the fire-tender still muttering about fairies kidnapping the princess.
“Oh, Baroness, I’m sure she’ll return to her room soon.”
Hannah didn’t know what else to say.
The dinner guests seemed stunned by the interruption.
Hannah noticed all were still seated, but there was one other empty spot besides Eleanor’s.
The eldest McKelvey was gone.
***
“YOU WOULD HELP her?”
Eleanor spoke slowly, knowing her mouth would betray her and spill out the wrong words, suggest the impossible, reveal the hidden truth.
“Aye, lad, if the princess were to stand before me this instant and beg fer me help, I’d be honor-bound to extricate her from this terrible plot.”
Eleanor took a deep breath, pulled the leather cord from her hair and shook her hair out.
“When you met the princess an hour ago, she asked you ‘are you not married, Keir?’ and you replied ‘nay’ and then you looked at Anabel … and then back at the princess … at me.
You asked if you could take my arm and seat me at the banquet.
Keir … it’s me.
I’m Eleanor.
I’m Princess Nora.”
She expelled the last of the air in her lungs.
She could tell he was squinting at her.
She stepped to the side, crushed the basket with her foot as she angled herself under a beam of moonlight, and said again, “It’s me.”
Keir burst out laughing, his horse whinnied, and he clapped his hands a couple of times.
“I cannae believe it.”
More laughter.
Then he got silent, quite serious, and cocked his head.
“So ye impersonated the princess, did ye? And the English captain went along with it? Why, lad?”
Eleanor gulped back a sob.
“You still don’t understand.
I’m not a lad.
Your sister knows.
Pascoe plays Hannah so well because she is Hannah.
And I am the daughter of Mary Fletcher.
You saw me as I really am, Keir. I am Eleanor … or as the Baroness has named me: Nora.”
Keir leaned toward her, not in a threatening way, but curious.
“Now, lad, ye best be truthful.
Old Sylvan hired ye to play a part, a lady in waiting, a spy, but ye’re not to be confused by all the plottin’ and mischief and call yerself a princess.
Why yer no more a lass than Copper here is a goat.
If I yank yer shirt over yer head—”
He grabbed at the bottom of the shirt and did as he threatened.
There was barely enough light to see, but see he did, and immediately he thrust the shirt back at her and twirled to give her his back.
“Och, m’lady, a thousand pardons.”
He dipped his head and whispered, “I dinnae ken.”
Even the horses grew quiet.
Eleanor wiggled back into the shirt and started to cry.
She sank down to the ground and completely crushed the basket, put her head in her hands, and blubbered out in short spasms what she could to tell him her tale.
Her heritage.
Her life at Ingledew.
The journey with Luxbury.
How they pretended to be the hired lads when Tavish found them on the ship.
When she finished, she realized he’d lowered himself to the straw, too, and held his arm around, but not quite touching, her shoulders.
“I dinnae ken,”
he kept repeating.
“What shall we do? They’re looking for me.
And I don’t want to be Princess Nora.”
Her face was mere inches from his.
He lowered his arm the last inch to wrap her in his embrace.
“Ye shall come wi’ me.
’Tis good fortune that yer room is across from mine.
’Twon’t be a problem to sneak ye back into yer role.”
“But …”
“Dinnae fash, princess, I’ll keep yer secret.
But ye must resume the royal role until I work out the solution wi’ me brothers and wi’ Hubert.
He kens Luxbury.
We’ll dispatch him back to England.
Do ye ken if that’s where yer mum might be?”
“No, no, she came to Scotland … oh … fifteen years ago.
You’ll help me? You’ll help me find her?”
He put a finger under her chin as if to bring her lips to his, but he smiled instead.
“Aye, lass, I’ll help ye.”