Chapter twenty-four
I walked between the two guards Alec had assigned to watch me, my satchel of herbs and remedies tucked under my arm, my steps matching theirs as we moved along the castle’s stone corridor. My mind was turning on how I could possibly get a missive to James and to Millicent.
The guards stopped before a heavy oak door to the king’s ill daughter, Mary.
One rapped his knuckles against the wood to announce my arrival, then pushed it open.
I stepped into the chamber, and my breath caught at the sight.
I had seen luxurious rooms before, but this went far beyond anything I had known.
The walls were hung with pale blue silk that rippled in the light breeze from the narrow windows.
A fire burned low in the stone hearth, casting a warm glow over the polished floor.
In the center of the room stood a massive carved oak bed piled high with thick furs.
Mary reclined in the middle of the bed. Her pale hair spread around her, and her gaze, surprisingly bright and alert for one who’d supposedly been ill for quite some time, was fixed on me.
“I’m Katreine Wallace,” I said, setting my satchel on a nearby table. “The king sent me to see ye.”
Mary nodded, her fingers plucking at the coverlet. “Thank ye for coming.” She motioned to my guards, who still stood in the doorway. “Out,” she ordered, with the certainty of one used to having what they said obeyed.
As the guards shut the door to her bedchamber behind them, I drew a small stool to the bedside and sat, my movements measured and unhurried.
I’d learned long ago that confidence put patients at ease more than any poultice or draught.
“I’ll need to examine ye,” I explained, reaching for her wrist. “May I?”
She extended her arm, and I pressed two fingers to the inside of her wrist, counting the beats.
Her pulse was strong and steady, as I would expect in someone in good health.
Curious. I kept my expression neutral as I moved my fingers to the glands at her throat, finding them normal, then asked her to open her mouth so I could examine her tongue. It, too, looked healthy, though dry.
“How long have ye felt unwell?” I asked, my voice quiet.
“Ages,” Mary said, the words coming too quickly.
“And what are yer symptoms?”
“A fever,” she said, her eyes darting to the hearth where the fire burned. “And I do nae have an appetite. I can nae sleep. My head aches.” The list sounded rehearsed, as if she’d given it many times before.
I nodded, watching her face. “Does yer skin burn when I touch it?” I asked, brushing my hand across her forehead.
She hesitated. “Aye.”
I kept my hand where it was, counting silently.
“Yer warm, but nae fevered,” I said at last. “Yer heart beats steadily and normally. Yer eyes are clear.” I sat back on the stool and studied her.
“I do nae find a trace of illness in ye.” I could perform many other examinations, but I strongly suspected her illness was a ruse.
“Do ye have any sores or lesions I have nae seen?”
“Nay, but the two medicine men both agreed I was ill.”
I frowned at that. “Did they examine ye all over?”
She gasped. “Certainly nae! I would nae allow them to see me without my clothing, and da agreed it was nae proper.”
I stifled a snort. This lass had the king wrapped around her finger. “What did ye tell the healers ailed ye?” I asked, suspecting the men simply went along with whatever she said for fear of inciting her anger and possibly incurring the king’s wrath.
“My stomach aches constantly.”
“Does something vex ye? If so, that can certainly make yer stomach ache.”
She stared at me in stony silence.
“What else?” I prodded gently.
“I can nae breathe when I think upon marriage.”
“Are ye thinking upon marriage?” I asked gently.
“Aye,” she grumbled. “My da’s new wife—”
“Queen Yolande,” I inserted.
“Aye,” Mary said, and her tone made her distaste for the woman clear. “She wants me wed and gone, so da is pressing me to wed.”
“I see,” I said, thinking. This certainly could be what was making Mary ill. And the queen likely wanted her gone because Mary held so much sway over her da.
Mary huffed out a breath and said, “The medicine men told da and me that I have what is called female hysterics.”
I snorted at that. “And what did they give ye in their attempt to cure yer hysterics?” I asked.
“A tonic to drink that makes me weep and makes me sleepy.”
I arched my eyebrows at that. “But ye are nae weepy or sleeping today.”
Mary offered a wicked smile, showing the lass had spirit. “I have secretly quit taking it.”
“Good for ye,” I said honestly. “Mary, what is it about wedding that scares ye the most? Is it that ye wish to ken the man ye wed, mayhap even love him?”
“Oh, I am in love,” she whispered, blushing. “Though I have kept it secret.”
I smiled at her. “I see. Do ye care to tell me who it is? I promise it will be our secret.”
“’Tis Lord Ogilby. Da would most definitely approve if he kenned. Lord Ogilby is English, but he has a fondness for us Scots, and he has the ear of the King of England, as a personal friend, which da would like.”
“If ye are in love, what is it ye are fearful of?”
She bit her lower lip for a moment before speaking, and the blush on her face deepened.
“The marriage bed,” she said, her words barely audible.
“I do nae ken what happens there. What a man does to a woman. I fear I’ll die of it, or of shame.
” Her voice caught. “I love Oggy,” she said, and by the dreamy look on her face, I knew it was true.
“I’ve loved him since I first saw him at court.
But when he kisses me, I feel such strong emotions that I become afraid.
I can nae ask Yolande, of course, or my maids, for fear they will speak of it to others and it will reach my da’s ears. ” Tears filled her eyes.
I’d expected a confession of simple deception.
Not this raw, real terror that made my chest ache in response.
I refolded my hands in my lap, considering my words carefully.
When I’d begun my life as a healer, I’d promised myself I would never lie to those in my care, no matter how uncomfortable the truth might be.
“There’s nae shame in wanting to ken,” I said, my voice low and steady.
“And there’s nae shame in fear. What happens between a man and a woman in the marriage bed is natural, but that does nae mean it does nae make ye feel strange if ye do nae understand it, nor does understanding it mean it is nae strange the first time. ”
Mary wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Will ye tell me?” she asked. “Truly?”
I nodded. “Aye. If ye wish to hear.”
She gave a small nod; her eyes fixed on my face.
“When ye say ye feel such things, is it things like yer core tightening, yer body aching, and mayhap a pulsing sensation near yer core?”
She nodded, eyes wide.
“This is desire. Ye desire Lord Ogilby. This is natural and good.” I took a deep breath.
Where to begin? “A man’s body is different from a woman’s,” I said, keeping my tone matter-of-fact.
“He’ll come to ye with his body hard and ready.
He’ll touch ye in ways that may feel strange at first, as ye have mentioned.
” I lightly touched my own breast and the place between my legs.
“Ye have felt the stirring, the heat, as yer body responds. As I said, that’s as it should be.
When he enters ye and joins yer bodies, there will be discomfort, perhaps even pain, the first time.
That too is natural. A barrier will break.
Ye may bleed a little. A good man, one who is tender and careful, will be patient.
He’ll go slowly. He’ll stop if ye ask him to. ”
Mary’s cheeks and neck were flaming red now, but her eyes never left mine.
“The pain fades,” I continued, thinking of James.
“The body learns to welcome what it first feared. And when there is love between two people who choose each other, as I think ye wish to choose Lord Ogilby, the act becomes something other than frightening. It can be a comfort. A joy.” I offered her a small smile.
“Ye will nae only survive it; ye will likely yearn for it again.” An image of James, standing naked before me, flashed in my mind, and I had to force it away.
Mary let out a long, shaky breath. “Thank ye for speaking so plainly to me,” she said, reaching out and grasping my hand. “I do nae have any friends here at court. It is verra lonely as the king’s bastard daughter. I must be extra careful and extra proper.”
I squeezed her hand. “I am certain it has been lonely,” I said, fully understanding how it felt to keep others away to protect yourself.
“Most people expect young women to learn by doing, or to suffer in silence.”
“That’s cruel,” Mary said, a new steadiness in her voice.
I nodded. “Aye, it is.”
She sat up straighter against the bolsters, pushing her hair back from her face. “Thank ye,” she said. “Truly.” She paused, her brow furrowing. “I would like to do something for ye, in return for your honesty.”
The offer surprised me, but I seized it without hesitation.
“There is something,” I said carefully. “I need to get two missives delivered without anyone keening about them. One to a man called James Ross, who is here at the castle, and another to my sister, Millicent Wallace, to the Wallace stronghold, I would think.” I wasn’t entirely certain, and I certainly could not ask Alec, but it made the most sense that Millicent would still be at our home, since she was not yet wed.
“Why can’t ye send out the missive and simply see this man James Ross if he is here?” Mary asked.