SOLVING THE PROBLEM
“Henriette!”
Ettie turned around sharply as she heard Brodgar call her name. Was that a note of urgency in his voice? She glanced at Amice, who had heard it too. They dropped the skein of cotton they were stretching out between them and turned to face him, worried frowns on their faces.
“Brodgar?” Ettie asked.
“Ettie! Oh, there you are.” Brodgar looked up at her from the doorway. He had run all the way here, clearly: sweat stood proud on his brow and he was flushed in the face.
“Brodgar?” Amice said. “Brother. What is it? Mother...”
“She's well. She's upstairs. Ettie. Can you come down?”
“Of course,” Ettie said. She glanced at Amice. Her friend was frowning, a small wrinkle on her high, pale brow.
“Go, Ettie,” she said.
“I will. Stay here until I come back? I'll tell you if there's aught amiss.”
“Thank you. I will.”
Ettie hurried after Brodgar, who took her hand as they ran to the solar. “What is it?” Ettie asked. “Please, Brodgar..!”
“It's Alf!” Brodgar said quickly. He was standing in front of her, leaning against the wall beside her, his face close...so close she could see the long lashes of his eyes, the veins where his blood flowed.
“What happened? Is he...”
“In Bronley.”
Ettie gasped. “Brodgar! Has he..?”
“He's taken Ambeal.”
Ettie felt her heart drop through the floor. For Alf to do that now...it was dangerous. The lady Amabel had told her about how dangerous it would be to break the alliance, how the future pivoted. All they needed was for Alf to walk into that precarious balance with no sense of the danger. He would bring down years of negotiation in an instant. “Brodgar. What can we do?”
Brodgar sighed. “I don't know.” He shook his head. “I should have predicted this. I didn't know...”
“How could you have foreseen it?” Ettie asked. “Has anyone foreseen it?”
“You mean, did my aunt tell me?”
“Yes.”
Brodgar sighed.
“You did ask her this morning?” Ettie queried.
“I did,” Brodgar agreed. “She said it could go either way.”
“What does that mean?” Ettie asked, frowning.
Brodgar leaned back, closing his eyes a moment. Then he sighed. “I don't know. Come on. Let's sit down. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come to find you. I just...I was supposed to follow my heart, so I suppose I thought first of you.”
Ettie felt her cheeks flush with color. In the midst of this horrible situation, he had thought of her when he thought of following his heart. She took his hand and held it. “My dear. That is the sweetest thing I ever heard.”
Brodgar blushed. He squeezed her hand too. “Well, it's true,” he said. They sat like that for a while, she opposite him on the settee, her fingers gripped in his. She could feel his pulse under her fingers; bucking and swift. She took comfort in the sweet and steady rhythm of it.
“What can we do?” Ettie asked, clearing her throat.
Brodgar sighed. “No idea.”
“Does your father know?” Ettie said.
He winced. “I know I should tell him. But I cannot betray my friend like that. How could I?”
“He should know,” Ettie said firmly. “Someone has to warn him.”
“You are right, of course.” Brodgar nodded. “I will tell him. Mayhap if I tell him, this can be averted. If he knows soon enough, he can send messengers to the MacDonnell, explaining our lack of involvement. We could avert it. We may yet.”
“Whatever I can do to help,” Ettie found herself saying, “I will do it.”
“My dear.” Brodgar squeezed her hand lovingly. “I thank you.”
Ettie blushed. “Of course, my dear.” She loved saying those words! Just thinking of him and her together made blood rush to her face. However, she couldn't indulge that now.
“I'll go down.” Brodgar said.
“If you're ready,” Ettie said. “I'll come too?”
Brodgar chuckled. “I would appreciate it, Ettie. Thank you.”
They squared their shoulders and went downstairs. Brodgar went up the northern stair-flight to his father's office. He looked set; Ettie could see his shoulders tense beneath his cloak, his jaw tight.
“I'll wait here,” she said softly.
Brodgar smiled over his shoulder at her. “Thank you.”
Ettie watched him go inside, nerves warring with the deep pride she felt in him.
He is such a fine man. So brave. Telling his father won't be easy.
As Brodgar went, she heard his father ask what the matter was. He sounded kind. She paused.
He may sound kind now. I do not know how kind he will be when he hears his prospects for the future have just been flattened by a badly thought-out escapade.
She paced in the hallway. The sun shone through the high window, spilling dusty light onto the flagstones. She couldn't hear the conversation behind the closed door, but wished she could. The suspense was killing her. At length, Brodgar emerged. “What?” she said, rushing over. “What, my love? Tell me? Please?”
Brodgar was white. His hands were clenched. His jaw stiff. “He's furious.”
Ettie felt her heart sink through the floor. “What did he say?”
“I won't repeat it,” Brodgar whispered. “I just...” He walked away even as they spoke, heading rapidly down the stairs back to the hallway. “I just have to do something. I don't know what.”
He turned to Ettie with such a stricken expression that she felt her heart clench. She wanted to hold him to her, to let him find comfort in her kisses, in her closeness. Nevertheless, she knew he needed to do something now. She frowned. “What could you do?”
“There's only one thing I can do,” Brodgar said quietly. “Ride after him.”
Ettie covered her mouth with her hands. That was the thing she had feared he would do. She didn't want him to. Didn't want him to take risks. In her mind she could see him riding through the woodlands, pursued by the soldiers from Bronley Fortress. She was terrified for him. “I know you have to,” she whispered. “But cannot you take Blaine? Someone else? The men?”
Brodgar sighed. “Just me. If I arrive there at the head of a small army, it won't look like a friendly visit.” He gave a small tense smile. “I will do my best to be safe, my love.”
Ettie swallowed. It was the first time he had used that endearment toward her. All the same, the happiness was tarnished with fear. She took his hand.
“Be safe.”
“I'll try.”
He had gone deathly pale. Ettie knew he understood the magnitude of the danger he faced. He could ride there and not come back. It wasn't like the thane would welcome his daughter's abduction. No. This could be war. Bronley was not far from them – they shared a northern border. The thought of what could happen made her sweat.
“I know you'll come back to me,” she whispered. She kissed his brow. “Now, go safely.”
“I will.”
He squeezed her to his chest. She wrapped her arms tight, crushing herself to him. She could smell the musk of his body and feel the hard muscle against her soft form. She didn't want to let go. If she let go, he would walk away. If he walked away, he could die. She didn't want him to die.
She held back her tears, smiled at him as he went into the courtyard. Then she fled. Her feet carried her to her bedchamber, which was a good thing, because she could not have seen the way there, blinded by her own tears. In the chamber, she lay face down on the bed and sobbed and sobbed.
“Brodgar,” she whispered to the empty air. “Be safe. Please.”
As she lay there, feeling too tired and drained to even sit up, she heard a strange sound. It was a soft whisper on the air, a little gasping outbreath. Someone was crying nearby. She sat up and, forgetting her own misery for the moment, tiptoed out.
The noise led her to the wooden door beside her own. She knocked. The crying stopped.
“Hello?” Henriette called softly.
“Henriette?” The voice was strained. Henriette recognized it instantly. It was Chrissie. “Aunt? Are you well?”
“I don't know if I can...oh!” Chrissie appeared at the door. Her eyes were misty and she held a handkerchief to her cheeks. They were silvered with the traces of tears.
“Aunt Chrissie.” Henriette stepped forward and embraced her wordlessly. “Oh, my dear. I'm so sorry...”
Henriette held the small woman in her arms and stroked her back as she leaned on her shoulder.
At length, Chrissie pulled back and looked into her eyes. “I'm so afraid for him. Broderick told me and...” She sighed, shoulders shaking as she sobbed. She went into her chamber and sat down. Henriette hesitated before she followed her invitation. The room was warm, a fire in the grate, little touches of Chrissie's embroidery everywhere. It smelled heavily of rose perfume. Chrissie sat at her dressing table, looking out onto the woodlands.
“I'm sure it can be remedied, Aunt,” Chrissie said softly. She stood opposite her, not wanting to sit down on the big canopied bed. Her aunt waved her to the seat in the corner and shifted so they could see each other properly.
“I don't see how,” Chrissie sniffed. “Broderick...he was furious. He's a good man and he wouldn't blame me or Blaine for it, but...Oh, Ettie. My son should have known better and yet...and yet I cannot condemn his course.”
“Alf is in love,” Ettie said softly. “We are all lucky enough to know how it feels. None of us should condemn him.”
Chrissie smiled. “You are right. You are wise.”
“I'm not wise,” Henriette said softly. “I'm just lucky. Lucky enough to have found love.”
Chrissie beamed at her. “Well, in some ways, I am not sorry. This means you can be free to wed Brodgar, isn't that true?”
Henriette smiled. “I don't know.”
“I don't think Broderick would let this have repercussions for anyone,” Chrissie said, sniffing and dabbing at her eyes with the linen square. “He's not the sort who would hold a grudge or seek punishment. He'll do his best to solve this problem whatever it takes.”
They were both interrupted by the sound of feet in the hallway. “Is that Blaine?” Chrissie asked. She looked at once apprehensive and delighted. Henriette felt suddenly awkward. Here she was, giving solace to Chrissie, where by rights she would want comfort from Blaine, surely. “I should go,” she said awkwardly. The footsteps receded.
“Not Blaine, then,” Chrissie said sadly. “Oh. Well, don't go, my dear. I would like to talk a while. I don't know what will happen now – Broderick will likely cancel the gathering...”
“Would he?”
“Well, if this comes to a feud, we would be obliged to,” Chrissie said sadly.
“It isn't going to,” Henriette said, feeling utter conviction fill her. “Why should it happen?”
Chrissie nodded. “Well, it shouldn't. Why should so many die for one foolish, brave act?”
“Exactly.” Henriette said, feeling renewed strength in herself. She nodded emphatically. “If it wasn't for some obligations laid on young people before they could even walk, Alf could ask Ambeal to wed and there'd be no need for such rashness. Alf didn't do anything. He only sought to make his own choices.”
Chrissie smiled sadly. “If only we all had such clarity of vision, my dear,” she said softly.
Henriette smiled. “Maybe we will.”
“I pray so.”
They sat quietly a while. Henriette heard booted feet come slowly past the doorway.
“That will be him,” Chrissie said, smiling. “That's Blaine. You should go, my dear.”
“I will. Are you feeling better?”
Chrissie smiled. “I am, dear. I feel as if things will come to rights after all.” She sniffed. Chrissie smiled.
“Well, you told me all possibilities are equally possible.”
Chrissie beamed. “You are right, dear.”
“Well, then,” Henriette said firmly. “The possibility of Alf and Ambeal wedding happily and coming back here as if it was never disallowed is possible.”
Chrissie drew in a deep breath and nodded.
“Thank you, my dear. Thank you for reminding me of that.”
“Not at all.”
Henriette kissed her aunt's cheek quickly and rushed out. As she walked up the hallway, she heard Blaine enter the chamber. Saw him take Chrissie in his arms and heard her cry as he held her close, rocking her.
Henriette felt a painful stab in her chest, seeing that love. It made her think of herself and Brodgar.
Be safe, my love. Be safe.