Soul Of A Highlander (Lairds of Dunkeld Series) (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story)(30)

Claudine saw Uncle Lucas glare at Bernadette and she followed him in, eyes downcast. No point in making him vexed at her – if he was, he might choose to send away her companion.

“I suppose it is tiring in the heat,” Claudine murmured. In her heart she felt like crying. Was it too much to ask, just to watch Francis practice in the courtyard? To want to be outside on the terrace and take the sunshine like other ladies could?

“It is tiring. And you need all your energy for the party. It would be sad to disappoint Lady Irmgarde.”

“Yes, it would,” Claudine said in a small voice. “But I'm sure I could be ready on time. The other young ladies are still down in the gardens,” she added a little indignantly as they walked on down the terrace. Sure enough, she could hear Lady Mirella and her friends laughing as they played at ball in the courtyard below.

“They are,” her uncle said softly. “But you are different, Claudine. Far too delicate.”

Claudine felt her heart fill with shame. Why did she have to be so frail? So sick all the time? It wasn't fair. “I hate this,” she said sadly.

Uncle Lucas shook his head. His pale eyes were suddenly full of care and he looked more like the gentle, friendly Uncle Lucas she had trusted. “I know, Niece. However, we mustn't rail against it. There is nothing to be gained by fighting the inevitable. It is foolish to rail against what can't be changed.”

Claudine nodded. “I suppose.”

“That's more like it,” her uncle smiled. “My dear, stoic niece.”

Claudine managed to smile at him, though somewhere in her heart she still felt like crying. As she followed him inside it seemed to her that her legs grew even heavier, her body even more drained and painful.

“I need to stop a moment,” she murmured, leaning against the wall. Her uncle nodded.

“Of course, dear child. Take all the time you need.”

Claudine nodded mutely and rested, then stood up slowly. “I'm feeling a little bit better,” she said.

“Good. Now off you go and dress. I'd better dress too. Heaven forbid that they see me in the same tunic and trousers as yesterday.”

Claudine smiled weakly and followed the winding hallway back to her bedchamber. There, she closed the door behind her and collapsed on the bed, wanting to sob but too tired even for that.

She heard someone come in behind her and saw a dark shadow stand before the window. Bernadette.

“I don't know what gets into him,” Bernadette said tightly. Her voice was restrained but Claudine could see the anger, held tight in every line of her body. “Saying such things like that...” she trailed off.

“Bernadette, I'm sorry,” Claudine said mutely. “I know Uncle is...pompous sometimes...” she trailed off as Bernadette gave a despairing chuckle.

“It's not why I'm angry, milady,” she said softly. “It's the things he says to you, the things about being slow and burdensome and...” she sighed. “I don't know why he does that.”

“Uncle cares for me,” Claudine said gently. “He wants me to take care of myself well. To accept things as they are, not as I want them to be.”

She must have been mistaken, but she thought Bernadette laughed.

“That's what he says,” she said. “I don't know, though.”

Claudine frowned. “Of course Uncle cares for me, Bernadette. He's taken care of me since I was nineteen. Since Father lost interest in me.”

She forced herself to say it, though the words grated on her throat and made her want to cry again. Her father wouldn't want a crippled girl in his household. Why would he?

“Lost interest! Oh, my lady,” Bernadette sighed, coming to sit opposite her. “Why would you say such things? Come, now – let's make ready for this party he's so insistent you grace.”

“Grace? Oh, Bernadette,” Claudine said, chuckling though she felt sad. “You are kind.”

“No, I'm truthful,” Bernadette said. “As everyone should be,” she added moodily as she reached into the clothing trunk. “The blue?”

“The blue gown with white trim? Yes, please, Bernadette.”

“Oh, lovely. You'll look a picture in this,” Bernadette said, shaking the folds out of a long gown of pale blue velvet, softly shining against its trim of white silk.

Claudine smiled. “You are sweet,” she said again.

Bernadette snorted as Claudine stood to let her unfasten the buttons. “So are you,” she said.

Claudine smiled sadly at her friend. She was so lucky to have Bernadette – firm, upstanding, trustworthy Bernadette – in her life. However, she wished she could at least allow herself to hope that Francis would truly show her interest. Not deference, not patience, but a true liking for who she was.





CHAPTER TEN





A PLAN UNDER DISCUSSION





A PLAN UNDER DISCUSSION





“That was her, yes?”

Francis blinked as Gaspard asked him the question, breaking in on his thoughts. It was late and they were sitting in the hall, the fire almost banked to red coals in the hearth behind them.

“At the practice ground? Yes. It was Claudine.”