Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“How was the visit to the seamstress’s?” Shona asked, as soon as Beatrice walked into her chambers.
“I did very little, Shona. All I had to do was stand there.”
Shona waved a dismissive hand. “Aye, I ken all that, but how did it go? What colors did she put ye in?”
Colors…
A memory flashed through Beatrice's mind of Leo throwing the cloak over her shoulders, telling her in no uncertain terms that she was part of this clan and that she should wear the clan colors.
A shiver ran through her, and she reached down to hold onto something to keep herself upright.
“Och, are ye all right, lass?” Shona rested a hand on her back. “Are ye feelin’ faint?”
I’m so tired of answering that question. Nay, I am nae all right as long as Leo keeps touching me. Ah!
Beatrice shook her head and stepped away from Shona. Maybe she was sick. Maybe there was something wrong if she kept feeling dizzy and swoony for no reason.
Shona watched her with concerned eyes, but ultimately dropped the matter. As she bustled around the room, a knock sounded at the door.
“Are ye back from the seamstress’s, Bea?” Eloise’s voice called out from the other side. “And are ye decent?”
“Aye, but never as decent as I should be,” Beatrice joked, opening the door, then sitting down to make sure she didn’t collapse.
I cannae just be feeling odd. Me head keeps swimmin’, and me heart is going to burst out of me chest.
Eloise was a panacea for her rattled state. She hugged her tightly as she came in.
“Ye are pale, Bea,” Eloise remarked.
“And she’s been feelin’ faint,” Shona piped up.
“I’m nae feelin’ faint.” Beatrice sighed and rubbed her eyes with both hands. “I think there’s just a lot to take in at the moment.”
Eloise sat next to her. “I willnae tell ye about yer father, then.”
“Me father?”
“Aye. He’s been a right brute to me since ye left this mornin'. But James did me a favor,” she said, smiling.
She glanced at Shona, as if waiting for her to retreat before continuing, but Shona went about her chores as if she wasn’t listening.
Beatrice knew better. She remembered the eyes blinking in the shadows of Whitmore Manor when her father had first read off the decree. If the servants were there, they were listening.
“He’s nae happy with this arrangement,” she admitted. “He doesnae think Leo will pay him enough money.”
“What right does he have to demand help from anyone?” Eloise spat, but didn’t go further.
We all ken that he’s the reason the Whitmore name is a laughingstock. Nae the rumors about me or anything else he might concoct in his sloppy mind.
Beatrice turned her face towards the window, the orange and pink glow of twilight swirling the sky into a confection of nature. There was magic in the most ordinary of things; she could see it more clearly than she had before.
Like Effie and her fairies. There’s so much to marvel at in this world, and yet we never look at it quite the way we should.
There was another knock, but before Beatrice could give permission to enter, the door opened, revealing Violet with an unreadable expression on her face.
Heaven help us if me father had the poor judgment to say anythin' to her.
“How are ye, Beatrice?” Violet asked. “Did ye enjoy yerself in the village?”
“Me mother did,” Beatrice replied.
“But ye didnae?”
Beatrice shrugged in an awkward attempt at modesty. “It was odd to be watched like that. Everyone was starin' at us as we walked through the streets with Leo. I cannae imagine the same thing will happen if I go back there alone.”
“Maybe nae entirely, but surely ye’re used to gettin' looks from men. Ye’re a very bonnie lass, after all.”
“Beatrice has always drawn attention,” Eloise spoke up, brushing auburn curls from Beatrice's face. “It’s probably why the elders were so eager to see her betrothed.”
“Well, that and me father’s immense debts.”
“Yer father has been blubberin’ around the castle all day,” Violet told her.
Oh God, I kent it. I kent he would cause me trouble.
“Violet, if he said anythin' to ye—”
Violet scoffed, spinning on the balls of her feet. “Nay, nae to me.” She gestured to Bea. “How did ye live with a man like that?”
“Can ye blame me for wantin' to marry and get away from him?” The joke came out forced.
Violet tilted her head to the side and pursed her lips.
Aye, they all ken.
“I hope for yer sake that me brother is less of a boor than yer father,” Violet said.
“Uncle Patrick’s been actin’ worse than ever,” Eloise noted. “Usually, he’s nae so drunk and belligerent.”
Violet kept her focus on Beatrice, as if daring her to deny that, as if daring her to open her mouth and pour out a lifetime of brutish, nasty behavior.
There was nothing Beatrice wanted to contribute, so she remained silent.
Violet went back to pacing.
“I think ye’re a good lass, Beatrice,” she admitted after a moment. “I daenae want yer father around here anymore, but ye are clearly cut from a different cloth.”
“Beatrice would never be in this situation if it werenae for him,” Eloise said. “I’d say ye are different from him, indeed.”
“Besides,” Violet continued, folding her hands in front of her like she was praying, “Effie absolutely adores ye. It’s hard to trick children. If they hate someone, there’s nay way for them to pretend they daenae.”
“I suppose so,” Beatrice agreed.
But do ye ken what’s happenin’ here, Violet? Do I even ken anymore?
What had seemed so clear-cut was becoming hazy, shrouded in a complication of sentiments and other people’s opinions.
She wished everything would go back to when it had been just herself and Leo discussing an arrangement they had both agreed to—a simple ruse to carry on.
Now there were too many people involved, with too many thoughts and too many things to say.
Too many people involved in what was starting to feel less like survival and more like a lie.
And Effie… Goodness.
A sickening feeling shot through her, but this time, it wasn’t the dizzying rush of blood to her head or the almost gleeful tumble in her stomach. It was a rock sinking into her, calcifying in her bowels.
How na?ve she had been to believe everything would go according to plan.
What will happen when it all falls apart?