Chapter 9 The Endells
True to his word, Brun arranged the whole trip for Vivian and Lizzie”s family. He had not been able to collect them in person from Edingburgh Airport but had hired a private car to bring the group straight to Glennloch.
For the second time in her memory, Lizzie witnessed her mother become speechless, gaping from the manor to Brun and then back to her father and her, her lips rounding and flattening but no sound forming.
“This is incredible, Elizabeth!” Charlotte finally spluttered, placing a carefully manicured hand over her chest and then glaring at her father with a censuring glare, “Benjamin, how did you not know about this?”
This is going to be a long weekend… Lizzie groaned, foreseeing many hours of continuous misery. Vivian discreetly squeezed her fingers sympathetically, mouthing You can do this.
Her grandmother, Sophie Endell, rolled her eyes, while her father opened his mouth to reply to what could only be a rhetorical question, but Brun beat him to it.
“I… I mean, my family lost track of the late Viscountess Lochellen’s descendants for a while, Mrs Endell. It was only with more modern methods that I was able to track your daughter,” then he gestured towards the main door, “Shall we get inside? Mrs Clisham has prepared some refreshments for us.”
Lizzie nearly fainted when Brun offered his arm to her, but said nothing, hooking her hand on the crook of his elbow, too astonished to argue. He turned to her grandmother offering her his other arm and Sophie giggled like a teenager.
“Oh what a charming young man,” her grandmother cooed as if she were one hundred and fifty years old instead of seventy, and Brun tilted his head with an equally old-fashioned gesture, presenting Sophie with a smile that could melt iron.
They walked into the house in procession as if they were in a Jane Austen’s novel. Her mother did not seem to notice, too busy analysing the manor’s architecture, while Vivian clapped a hand to her mouth to curb the guffaws, but she could feel her father’s eyes burning on her back.
Her father was far too perceptive for her peace of mind…
Like the proper laird, Brun guided them towards the drawing room. The walk from the driveway there took a whole five minutes, because her mother stopped at each piece of art at the entrance hall uttering occasional oohs and aahs when recognising some of the signatures. That was actually one of the few things Lizzie admired in her mother: she truly was an art connoisseur.
The process was only sped up when Sophie complained of her swollen ankles, which was most likely hogwash, because everyone knew that she was strong enough to run a marathon.
During tea, Brun dominated the conversation talking about Glennloch’s history with his vivid way of narrating, as if he had lived it, leaving her father gobsmacked. Then he invited Ben to see the manor’s library, and after that, Lizzie knew her father would be officially lost to them until the end of their visit.
Mrs Clisham offered to show Charlotte and Sophie to their rooms and once the door in the drawing room was closed, Vivian literally jumped from her sofa to sit beside Lizzie, making her yelp.
“Holy cow, Lizzie!” she whispered-shouted, gesticulating rather madly to their surroundings, “I thought you inherited an old mansion in ruins!”
“So did I!” she whispered back defensively, “I genuinely believed Glennloch would be no better than an archaeological site at this stage!”
Vivian looked towards the door through where the others had disappeared minutes before, to ascertain that they were truly alone.
“Not to mention that your Mr MacLugh is not the octogenarian you thought him to be.”
Lizzie nearly choked on the shortcake she was chewing.
“Gosh, don’t remind me!” she coughed and drank a sip of her already cold tea grimacing. Gelid tea was disgusting. “I have never been more shocked in my life when I saw that man standing in front of me in Aberfeldy!”
Vivian stared at her knowingly, a lopsided grin on her face.
“Shocked and aroused, no? The man is unreal!” she fanned herself in an exaggerated gesture, “All that TV crap about how hot the Highlanders are is true! Have you seen him in a kilt already?”
Lizzie laughed with her friend, but a small part of her felt annoyed by her comments. Obviously, Brun was ridiculously handsome and no straight woman could not feel attracted by him, but in the past two weeks he had pretty much spent every waking hour at her side and the thought of sharing his attention with someone else made her sick.
Like on the day he went to Edinburgh…
She studied Vivian’s face, suddenly regretting her decision of inviting her over to Glennloch.
It was not unusual for people to ask whether they were sisters, because they had very similar biotypes. Both were dark haired, but Vivian had hazel eyes and was a few inches taller.
Despite some resemblance between them, while Vivian was graceful and feminine, Lizzie was a tomboy covered in mud. Her friend was clearly the prettiest between the two of them, in particular now that those weeks basking under the Greek sun had granted her a lovely golden tan, which made her even more attractive.
Vivian was also very smart because her next words nearly made Lizzie choke again.
“So… did something happen between you two already?”
“What? Between Brun and me? No, of course not… He doesn’t… I mean, I don’t think he sees me that way. I’m too–”
Lizzie swallowed her nonsensical babbling, feeling her cheeks flush.
“You’re too what? Have you actually looked at yourself in the mirror recently?” Vivian scolded, “You’re gorgeous!”
She snorted, “Gorgeous is not the word I would use to describe myself…” then before Vivian could object, “Besides, I think he sees me as a little girl… Brun is an old-fashioned man, a gentleman… He is not one of these men who prey on younger women…”
Vivian frowned, “Why are you saying this? How old is he? Thirty tops? There is hardly a Lolita story between you two…”
Lizzie huffed, exasperated, “There’s nothing between the two of us, Vivian!” she snapped, and the truthfulness of those words stung more than she cared to admit, “I told you he does not see me this way, he…” she thought about the day he helped her down the saddle. When their bodies touched, Lizzie felt as if she were holding a live wire, but then Brun had quickly put some distance between them, therefore she assumed he was trying to make clear he felt only friendship for her, “He barely notices me…”
Vivian gaped at Lizzie with an expression of utter incredulity on her face.
“You’re joking right now, no? The man cannot take his eyes off you!”
Lizzie’s eyes widened, feeling heat creep up her face and a shiver run down her spine at the same time.
Could that be true?
She had been attracted to Brun from the moment she had laid eyes on him, but he had always treated her with kindness and respect. There was a barrier between them, an unspoken forbidden distance that should not be crossed.
I do take it very seriously, he had said to her. Rather than the age difference between them – which as Vivian pointed out, could not be that big – perhaps he reckoned that her Viscountess status was a real obstacle between them?
“I think you’re imagining things,” Lizzie countered, suddenly feeling angry, though she could not tell whether it was at herself or her friend.
Vivian scowled at her, “Oh, I don’t think so… We spent two hours in this room and while your Mr MacLugh was very attentive to everyone, he would not keep his eyes away from you for more than a few seconds!”
Can it be true? She repeated to herself, warmed by the possibility.
I would be honoured to be your escort if you allow me.
He had said casually, as if he were offering to give her a ride to town, but was it possible that he actually wanted to be her date?
Brun had been quite annoyed when she mentioned her chance meeting with Finn. Could that offer have been something more than his old-fashioned gallant ways?
“By the way, I met Finn in Aberfeldy,” she reported, hoping to change subject.
Vivian’s face was transformed by that, “That bastard is still alive?”
Lizzie blinked, surprised by her friend’s anger. Like Brun, Vivian was the protective type in general, but no one made her blood boil quite like Finn.
“Very much,” Lizzie confirmed, “I have to say I was a bit shaken to see him there, so close to Glennloch after six years in absentia!”
“And what was he doing there?”
“Visiting family apparently, quite the coincidence, right?”
Vivian bobbed her head, “More like a natural disaster if you ask me…” then she scrutinized Lizzie’s face and her gaze softened, “How did you take it?”
Lizzie shoved another shortbread into her mouth before replying, “Not very well I have to say… I was quite upset, and I think that is why Brun offered to be my escort to the Fair…”
She frowned, “Does he know about… You know, about what happened between you and Finn?” Vivian asked carefully.
Lizzie shook her head vehemently, “God, no! I only mentioned he was a former boyfriend, but Brun is not stupid: he figured it out that it was not a pleasant experience.”
Vivian’s brows arched, “Oh so you think that Brun is being nice to you out of pity?”
Yes, that was exactly what she was thinking, but actually hearing the words out loud made the sting burn more painfully.
“Maybe,” Vivian conceded, pushing the knife deeper into Lizzie’s wounded pride, “Maybe you’re right…”
Not willing to discuss the topic of Finn or Brun any further, Lizzie wiped crumbs from her fingers and stood up, reaching for her friend’s hand.
“Enough of that, you must be exhausted. You barely had any rest since you came back from Greece,” Lizzie declared, “Come on, let me show you to your room. It’s right next to mine.”
There was such an expression of awe on Ben’s face that Brun could not help but smile. His eyes – green like Lizzie’s – scanned the bookshelves of Glennloch’s library in pure ecstasy, as if he had never seen anything more beautiful, much in the same way his daughter had done when she first entered the room two weeks earlier.
Father and daughter were actually quite alike, and not only physically: Ben was clearly Triarell’s descendant with his dark hair and emerald eyes, but something in his personality reminded him of Ryul, who had also been the quiet type. Both Lizzie and Ben were observant by nature, but Lizzie bore a natural vibrant energy, which Ben clearly lacked.
He was like a pond and she was like the ocean.
“Wow!” Ben gasped whirling on his heels, apparently trying to decide where to start, “This library is incredible,” he lowered his eyes to the first bookshelf and tilted his head, reading the books’ spines, “Oh my God, so many first editions!” then he stared at Brun with the expression of a child in a sweet shop, “Can I read them?”
Brun grinned, “Well, strictly speaking, this is your daughter’s library now…”
Ben chuckled, “Yes, of course. Incredible…” he repeated and then reached for a book with brown binding and gilded letters, “Look! A first edition of Jane Eyre! Lizzie will love this! This is her favourite classic!”
“Oh yes, she was reading this one the other day,” Brun confirmed, recognising the volume.
Ben’s eyes snapped at him. He seemed alarmed, “She was? What happened? What did you do to her?”
Brun was taken aback by the sudden aggressiveness in Ben’s demeanour. Honestly, he had not pictured the man capable of such passionate emotions.
“What do you mean?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and pulling to his full height. Ben was a good five inches shorter than he was.
“Lizzie only reads this when she’s very upset,” he pointed to the book in his hand, not intimidated by Brun’s display of strength, “You know, man trouble.”
Brun stiffened, recalling their conversation that day. Lizzie did seem quite upset about meeting an ex-boyfriend, but he had not thought it could be as serious as Ben was suggesting.
“She mentioned meeting an ex-boyfriend by chance in Aberfeldy that day…”
Ben’s eyes narrowed at him, “Listen, Mr MacLugh–”
“Brun, please,” he interrupted gently, relaxing his stance, after all it was a father’s prerogative to protect his daughter.
“Right, sorry, Brun,” he rubbed his chin and stared Brun firmly, “Lizzie likes to pretend to be tough, but she’s all soft goo on the inside. I don’t want her to get hurt.”
Brun blinked, confused, “I am not following…”
“I see the way she looks at you,” he interrupted, “I know she’s a grown woman, a Viscountess for God’s sake! And a rich woman too!” he gestured around meaningfully, “I have no say in her life anymore, but I will not stand by and watch her get hurt!”
Brun’s eyes widened. He was five hundred years old, it was ludicrous that he was being scolded like a teen with wandering hands.
Specially because his hands had wandered nowhere!
Sadly…
Heavens, what was he thinking!
Taking a deep breath to shush the inconvenient thoughts, Brun held Ben’s stare.
“Ben, I can promise you I have no intention of hurting your daughter. Quite the opposite really, I… I mean, my family has served Glennloch and the Viscountesses Lochellen for centuries. I am here to protect her… to protect her interests, that is. This I can swear to you.”
Ben peered over his glasses at him with the same green eyes he bequeathed his daughter, in a gesture that reminded him of Ryul, as if he were reading Brun’s soul.
Whatever Ben saw on his face, he seemed satisfied, because he gave a small grunt of approval.
“That’s all I need to hear, Brun. My family are the most important people in the world to me.”
Family. The word echoed in Brun’s head making him feel dead inside. He had not thought about his family – his real family, whomever they had been – in centuries now, but all of a sudden the wish to have his own became maddening.
The image of Lizzie holding a baby in her arms appeared before his eyes, as clear as day and Brun gasped, shocked by the sheer absurdity of it.
It could never come to pass. Even if anything ever happened between them – and he was not saying it would – he could never have children while shackled to that ring. He had no way of knowing how many years of immortality he still had to endure before its magic wore off, meaning that while Lizzie aged, he would remain the same.
Heavens, she might even die before he was finally free!
The thought felt like a dagger in his heart.
Clearing his throat, he looked at Ben who was still studying him as if he were a rare animal.
“Lizzie is very lucky to have you and your wife as her parents,” he muttered the inane reply, too shocked with his insane musings to think of anything more intelligent to say.
Ben chuckled, though his eyes were still serious, “You got it backwards: my wife and I are blessed to be Lizzie’s parents.”
OnceVivian was settled in one of the guestrooms, Lizzie grabbed her Yoga mat and rushed out of the manor hoping that a few minutes of practice would ease her tension and help her face the next round with her mother.
She strolled down the driveway and crossed the small bridge towards the Déjà vu Trees, enjoying the silence and the fresh air.
The grove’s nickname was stuck in her head (unbeknownst to Brun) because every time she walked under those trees the sensation that she belonged there grew stronger. For an inexplicable reason, that was the one place in Glennloch where she felt more comfortable, even more than at the library, and she had chosen that as her Yoga spot.
There was seldom anyone around there at any given time: Mr Clisham and the gardener were generally busy with the grounds next to the manor, Mrs Clisham was not much of a stroller and Brun would not even mention the grove anymore, therefore that place was essentially hers now.
To her surprise, however, her grandmother was standing in the middle of the clearing. Her hair was now died in a dark blonde with pink undertones which had made her mother nearly faint.
“Grandma?”
Sophie whirled on her heels and greeted her with a broad smile. Well, as broad as she could, because her previous stroke had left the right side of her face partially paralysed. It was barely perceptible, but those who knew her well could notice.
“Lizzie! I was just wandering around a little bit,” she explained. Her light brown eyes were alight with awe, “This place is marvellous, isn’t it?”
“I thought your ankles were swollen?” Lizzie’s eyes narrowed at her suspiciously.
She waved her hands dismissively, “Ah pish posh! I just needed to shut your mother!”
Lizzie scoffed. The relationship between her mother and grandmother was the perfect stereotype of conflict between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law.
“Yes, I love this place too,” she lifted the mat meaningfully, “A great spot for Yoga.”
Sophie eyed the mat as if it were something disgusting, “Not my cup of tea, really, but I appreciate what you’re saying,” then she turned her gaze up at the trees again, “Colin would have loved to know that this place is so well-preserved.”
Her voice was choked, and Lizzie tenderly wrapped an arm around her grandmother’s shoulders, “This Royal decree was truly unfair.”
Sophie nodded, “After your grandfather found those documents he would spend hours poring over them. He had started making plans to come over here and see if the manor still existed, but then…”
She swallowed the words, but Lizzie did not need to hear them.
Her grandfather was the one who had rediscovered the Endells’ Scottish roots after finding the documents belonging to the late Lady Lochellen. He had literally packed his bags to come to Perthshire to do more research when he suffered a massive heart attack and died even before the ambulance arrived.
“I wish he were here too, grandma. I did not even get the chance to meet him.”
She cupped Lizzie’s face and smiled. Her eyes were still swimming in tears, “You look a lot like him, in particular in the sarcasm department.”
Lizzie grinned, “I definitely wished I had met him then!”
Sophie giggled at that, “You two would have made quite a pair!” then her face went serious, “Speaking of look-alike, I must confess that I was quite shaken by the portrait of the deceased Lady Lochellen. Such resemblance… Uncanny! What do you make of it?”
“I was pretty shocked too when I saw it, but frankly I kind of forgot about it. A genetic oddity for sure,” then she studied the frown on Sophie’s face, “Why? What is wrong?”
Sophie shrugged, “I don’t know, Lizzie. It’s just… It’s a little unsettling seeing your face on a dead woman’s portrait. It feels almost… supernatural.”
She shivered, “Well, when you put it like that…”
Her grandmother pulled her into an embrace, “Don’t mind a doddering old woman! Coming back to his family’s ancestral homeland was Colin’s last dream, I’m just a tiny emotional, that’s all.”
Lizzie closed the door to her room feeling like she had been ran over by a train. A few hours with her mother was worth a fortnight of hard labour in a coal mine. Allowing her body to fall on the soft mattress, she kicked out her trainers and combed through her braid with her fingers, letting her hair down.
The day had not been worse thanks to Vivian and her grandmother, who had tried to spin most of her mother’s thoughtless barbs into humour, and to Brun, whose solid presence beside her had been like arriving at a safe port after facing a storm at the sea.
Still, despite their staunch support, she was feeling drained, because after the initial shock upon her arrival at Glennloch passed, her mother had promptly returned to her usual self.
And her mother’s usual self was a hard pill to swallow.
Lizzie was starting to drift into sleep when a soft knock at the door startled her awake.
Before she could answer, the knob turned and her mother waltzed into the room inspecting everything as if she had not inspected every inch of it earlier.
Oh God, I cannot face this now…
“Elizabeth!” Charlotte squealed as if it were a bright morning and not close to midnight, “Finally I get the chance to talk to you in private!”
And I know exactly what she wants to talk about.
“Mum, I’m a little tired, it’s been a long day,” Lizzie tried weakly, “Can’t we leave it until tomorrow?”
Her mother shook her head stubbornly. Her hazel eyes were sparkling with excitement, “It won’t take a minute, darling, and this is quite urgent!”
Anything urgent in her mother’s perception of the world had to involve a hairdresser, a boutique or a shoe sale, Lizzie mused in desperation.
Or all the three options combined.
“It is about the ceremony this weekend!” her mother started, seating on the edge of her bed, “Your appearance is not remotely appropriate for it!”
Bingo!
“Mum, it’s a small village! It has like, I don’t know, a dozen people… We can hardly call it a ceremony!I can wear that cocktail dress that you sneaked into my suitcase.”
“No!” her mother cried in outrage, her eyes widening in horror as if Lizzie had suggested she should go naked to the Fair, “That dress is not nearly good enough, you are a Viscountess!” she uttered the word as if it were gilded and then she grabbed a bunch of Lizzie’s hair between her fingers, eyeing it in disapproval, “We still have two days left before the ceremony. I know that there’s a lot of work to be done, but we can manage, especially now that money is not a problem.”
Lizzie flinched at her mother’s frivolous tone.
“And surely Vivian can help too, that girl has excellent taste. That dress she was using today! So lovely!”
A knot formed in her throat because those words hit a chord.
She was used to her mother’s disapproval of her style, had never cared about it. However, now it made her think about Brun’s indifference and with Vivian there for him to compare, it actually made her heart hurt.
Maybe a little sprucing up could do her some good?
“Fine, mum,” she conceded feeling too exhausted and too insecure to argue, “but now I am really tired. We talk about this tomorrow, okay?”
Charlotte’s steps approaching the door of Lizzie’s bedroommade Brun spring into action and he retreated into a dark corner.
After checking that all doors were locked as he normally did after dinner, he had wished the Clishams’ goodnight and went upstairs for a well-deserved full night of sleep. The day had been long: playing the role of host was not something he was used to – or enjoyed – but seeing how nervous Lizzie had been prior to her family’s arrival, he had wanted to support her in any way she might need.
However, as he walked past her door, he overheard Charlotte speaking of something urgent and out of habit, stopped to listen. He nearly went away when realising she was speaking about the Lammas Fair, but Lizzie’s voice had sounded so despondent that he could not move. For a moment he had nearly burst into the room and kicked her mother out.
Being quite frank to himself, initially he thought she was exaggerating in her reluctance to have her family over. Since arriving at Glennloch, Lizzie had been reticent about talking about her parents, therefore Brun had assumed that there was a personalities’ clash, but what he witnessed that afternoon was something much more serious. Lizzie’s mother completely undermined her confidence, while her father watched in silence, too absorbed in his own world to be arsed to raise in defence of his daughter.
Something which made Brun feel very angry all afternoon.
Well, until that conversation they had in the library that is…
Lizzie likes to pretend to be tough, but she’s all soft goo on the inside.
Sophie and Vivian had managed to rescue her most of the time, but he could only imagine how difficult it was for Lizzie to deal with her parents on her own.
Brun did not have parents of course: the closest thing to a mother had been Fayla, and his mentor had not exactly been the maternal type. Mostly she would teach him spells and the language of the Otherworld, and when he was old enough, how to fight and kill.
A mistake will get you killed, she used to repeat to the children, hoping to make them understand the importance of their duty and the precariousness of their lives.
And she had been right in her advice. Brun had seen scores of his comrades being killed by the Dreams Thief and his minions.
Trying to convince her daughter to go the hairdresser was not exactly a life-threatening situation, but perhaps Lizzie’s mother’s intentions were equally honourable?
He blinked away the memories when the doorknob turned. Hiding deeper into the shadows, Brun squeezed his fist summoning his magic when Charlotte stepped out of the room. His body merged with the shadows while she walked right past him, none the wiser of his presence.
Brun stood in front of the door for a long time, debating whether he should go in and talk to her.
Reckoning that she would be mortified if he went in to show sympathy, he dismissed that idea, silently releasing the spell. Then he marched to his room, decided to help Lizzie discover her true worth.
Saturday was a nightmare. A trip to Hell would have been preferrable.
Lizzie drove to Perth with her mother to visit a proper hairdresser, though Charlotte’s efforts had mostly been futile because Lizzie did not accept more than one inch of her hair to be cut, had not allowed it to be styled in any way, had agreed to a very simple manicure session, and only permitted the beautician to shape her brows a little after Charlotte threatened to call her Your Ladyship in public.
And she had to face that full day with her mother on her own, because her grandmother engaged the company of Mrs Clisham for a tour on the grounds, while Vivian declined to go after complaining of a strong headache.
The only small relief had been Brun’s call around lunch time to check on their progress. It had been like a soothing balm to hear his calm deep voice.
They returned to Glennloch after midnight finding the house dark and silent. Lizzie had kissed her mother goodnight and dragged herself up the stairs towards her room, dreaming about a hot shower, an analgesic for her own headache and hopefully twelve hours straight of sleep.
She flicked the switch and the lamp threw a warm light into the ample chamber. It was weird that after only two weeks she already felt as comfortable in that room as if she had used it all her life. And it was not only because it was indeed a comfortable room, but because she felt a deep connection with it. It now felt familiar.
Lizzie glanced at the portrait of her ancestors – Lady and Lord Lochellen – wondering whether they were watching over her now. Would they be proud of her? She studied the beautiful couple in their elegant eighteenth-century clothing and then looked at her jeans and gray T-shirt ensemble reckoning that the answer to that question would be a resounding No.
Shaking her head at the silly thoughts, she carelessly dropped the several shopping bags her mother had forced her to buy beside her desk and went straight to her bathroom, peeling layers of clothing as she walked.
Twenty minutes later, wrapped in her robe she returned to the bedroom and froze.
There was a huge black box tied with a golden ribbon on her bed. A box which she had completely missed when arriving.
Frowning, Lizzie pulled the ribbon and lifted the lid.
There was something wrapped in golden tissue paper and over it a small, folded note with her name on it in Brun’s careful calligraphy.
I thought about you when I saw this dress (Vivian helped me choose). I think it matches your eyes.
Brun.
Vivian?
Did she go shopping with Brun?
Did her friend lie to her?
With shaky hands, she pushed the tissue paper aside and took out an emerald-green dress with cherry blossoms motifs and thin stripes.
She lifted the garment in awe. It slid over her arm making her skin pebble at the soft coolness of the silky fabric. The cherry blossoms, she noticed, were actually hand painted and each flower had minute crystals embroidered to it, making the fabric glitter in an elegant way.
It was… gorgeous.
And it made Lizzie feel angry.
Had Brun been talking to Vivian behind her back? Or had it be her friend’s idea? Did they all think that she was a hopeless ugly duckling?
Was he trying to make her change her ways to satisfy his own sense of aesthetics, to make her fit in into his world, like her mother had done all her life? He had offered to be her escort but perhaps he did not want to embarrass himself by walking around in his pristine suits with a scruffy woman dressed in grubby jeans and old T-shirts.
She shoved the dress back into the box furiously, fighting against the burning sensation in her eyes, but she touched something hard. Frowning, Lizzie took the dress out again.
There was something else in the box…
Pushing the tissue paper aside, she found a pair of golden trainers. Inside one of the shoes there was another note.
If you choose this dress for tomorrow, I reckon these would be a good match for it (these I picked on my own).
B.
She stared at the note in disbelief for a whole minute, then burst into laughter.