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Ella
Ihave received word that Beatrice will arrive tomorrow afternoon, and to add to my delight, Mary decided to travel with her. Apparently, she has found London to be a bore without me there. To add to her woes, the past three potential suitors her mother invited for tea made her lose all hope for the future.A change of scenery is what is needed,Mary wrote.Actually, a change in my social status is what I need, but that will not happen unless I fall into some mad, passionate love affair and end up with child, eventually giving birth to the sweet bastard that saves me from the chains of an unwanted marriage.Mary tends to be dramatic, but at this point, I wouldn’t put that scenario past her—she’s that desperate.
“Oh! Hello, Douglas. Is everything prepared for our guests’ arrival tomorrow?” I ask when I pass him on my way to the library.
“Yes, m’lady,” Douglas answers.
“Wonderful. And how are you doing?”
“I am fine, ma’am.” His forced smile says otherwise.
“Please take the rest of the day off if it suits you,” I offer and gently pat his arm.
“I prefer to stay busy, but I thank ye nonetheless.”
Douglas had a hard time saying goodbye to Callen. He had worked for him since he was a boy, but he has been his valet for the past twenty years. They became friends during that time, and when they each lost their wives only a few months apart, their friendship was an invaluable source of support and understanding that most others could not give.
When Callen passed away in the forest five days ago, Douglas sat next to a nearby tree and cried. Ewan and I left him alone to release his sorrow privately, but later that evening, he came to me and thanked me for taking Callen somewhere close to Lilith to take his last breath.
That evening, Douglas and I stayed up late into the night, talking about his dear friend. It was wonderful to hear so many stories I may have never otherwise known. It touched my heart to know that Alasdair’s parents had a loving marriage, as did my parents, but apparently, they fell in love when they were barely adolescents. Callen spent years courting Lilith and making sure no one else caught her attention. They were finally married but soon faced tragedy when the first-born son died at only a week old. A year later, they were blessed with another son, Alasdair’s older brother Rory. Sadly, he succumbed to illness at the age of twenty-three. Rory was said to be wise, always showing himself to be responsible and respectful so that he could proudly follow in his father’s footsteps one day. On the other hand, Alasdair was mischievous and playful as a child, always pushing the limits. Douglas said Lilith doted on Alasdair even though he gave her fits with his antics. He said the four of them were a very close family and that the bond of the remaining three helped heal the wound of losing Rory so young. When the sad day came, Alasdair and Callen were there with Lilith when she passed away, holding her hands when she left to be with her sons.
I cried myself to sleep that night. I cried for my father-in-law, whom I barely knew, but loved as if I’d known him for decades. I cried for Lilith and Callen and their loss of two children, for Alasdair losing his brother and both parents. I cried for Beatrice and her warm, comforting embrace, for my father’s ever-constant support, and my mother’s persistent worry over propriety and proper etiquette. And I cried because Alasdair doesn’t know how deeply I love him.
We buried Callen next to his beloved Lilith and their two children the next day. He requested no ceremony at all, but I would not have it. He deserved beautiful prayers, hymns that renew your faith in heaven, and words that spoke of the man he was here on earth and the respect he earned from those around him.
I took a long ride through the forest that afternoon. Willow and I ran free through the trails and found a few jumps that lifted our spirits. She knew I was down and did her best to make me forget, even for just a few moments. The goodbyes, the tragedies, the regrets, and words unspoken, so many things over which we have no control. She pushed me past my melancholy, forced the wind through my hair, and invigorated my resolve to find happiness beyond the pain.
We ended up on the northern ridge and a clearing that was more purple than green. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” I asked Willow. “It simply doesn’t seem real, does it, my girl?”
It truly didn’t. It was a sea of color blanketing the entire clearing. Up close, I could see the small flowers that cluster at the end of each branch, but in the distance, they blended together, creating a field of solid purple.
“Absolutely breathtaking,” I whispered to myself as I looked around the expanse.
Something in the sky caught my eye; a bird soaring in slow circles. Once my eyes adjusted, I could see it was white and rather large with wide wings tipped with black feathers. Its wings stayed wide as it searched the ground below, riding the air with elegant grace.
“What a lovely creature you are,” I felt compelled to say.
He seemed to appreciate the compliment as he cried out a piercing call. It echoed over the purple landscape, and I was overwhelmed by an unexpected sense of nostalgia. He sent another call across the moor, then another as he swooped nearby.
“Do I know you?” I asked, laughing at his obvious grab for our attention. Two more circles above, and he swiftly moved toward the woods behind us, landing on a low branch in the nearest tree.
“Well, hello there,” I said, admiring his stature.
His feathers were a powdery white, brighter on his chest and tinted with gray along his shoulders and head. His wings were decorated with a soft pattern of stripes and patches, and the black tips were tucked neatly behind him. Sharp, shiny black talons curve from his toes where they rested on the branch. But the most impressive feature on that magnificent bird were his eyes. Their focus was fierce, almost penetrating as they stared me down. Their bright, golden-yellow hue was a perfect match to his beak, also tipped in black.
He let out a loud screech, as if to offer a greeting in return, then lifted all his downy feathers and stretched his wings. I laughed at the casual display and thought it must feel good for a bird to do such a thing.
“I’m glad I happened upon you today. It is quite lovely here. I’ve never seen so many flowers in one place. It’s like a purple sea, for heaven’s sake!”
He let out another loud reply, then turned his head around to call into the woods. Looking back at me for several long seconds, he called one more time, then flew away. I watched him go and felt a jolt of sadness come over me. When I looked back at the forest, wondering if he had called to a mate, my breath caught short in my chest. There, maybe twenty paces away from me, standing in the thick of the wood, was a white stag.
“Dear God,” I said, holding onto my chest.
He stood there, staring at me with unfeigned interest. He seemed enormous, his pale coloring contrasting with his dark surroundings. Yet, it was his aura that intrigued me most. The beast that stood before me was composed, focused on me with a dominant air, yet I felt unthreatened. He seemed distinguished, and the more I stayed in his presence, the more I sensed his importance. He was no ordinary beast of the forest—he was regal, a prince, perhaps even a king.
“Hello,” I said, not knowing what else to do. “I’ve read about you. I feel very fortunate to be here with you. I understand it is not common…seeing you, that is.” I was both nervous and excited. From what I read, this was a very sacred animal in these lands, its mystery and mythology thousands of years old.
Startling me, Willow nudged me from behind, pushing me toward the stag, offering a low muffle of encouragement. I turned to her and asked, “Go to him?” And she raised her head, then lightly tapped her foot in agreement. Even Willow’s movements were subdued, as if showing proper respect.
