June 2011

Acceptable Suitors
By: Georgina Kamsika

The faint sound of battle was dying away behind us as we approached the safety of Redfern village. Women and children struggled up the hill behind my horse as our single guard scouted ahead to the valley below.

“Heading straight to the chapel, milady?”  Polly asked from my right.  Covered in mud from our midnight flight, no-one would have recognised her as a noble lady’s maid. Or me as a noble lady, for that matter.

“My father told me that Lord Bannon has created a refuge here.  We need to get these people to shelter before it rains again, some are sick,” I replied.

Polly pressed her lips together in worry and hurried to keep up with me.

The village we entered was devastated – buildings damaged, fences burning and blood, everywhere, blood. An old man greeted us, waving his hands at the crowd following me.

“Polly, could you work with him please? Help get everyone settled. I'll go inside and meet this Bannon fellow.”

Polly nodded, taking our scant medical supplies with her.

I pushed open the chapel doors and peered into the gloom.  At the far end of the stone room stood a tall, handsome man trying to organise the chaos. As I watched, I was impressed at how he spoke to the people, his kindness in helping frightened children, his patience with a frail old lady. Eventually he turned to me, surprise on his face at my obviously expensive and yet filthy clothing.

“Good day, my lady.  My name is Bannon, Lord of Redferns.”  He bowed his head, blue eyes never leaving my face.

Blushing at his scrutiny, I raised my chin and responded.  “Greetings Sir, I am Lady Moira Stewart of Highbury.”

Lord Bannon relaxed, letting out a breath I hadn't realised he was holding. “My lady, I am so relieved to hear that you are well. We’d heard rumours of the fighting reaching Eastern Highbury, but had no idea if you’d managed to hold.”

“My family are winning against the invaders, thank you, sir, but I offered to evacuate the women and children for safety.”

“That is good news indeed.  And it is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Stewart. Your father kept you from us at court.”

I curtsied, hiding my flushed cheeks.  “The pleasure is mine, sir.  My family did indeed wish me to attend court, but, ah, it was not meant to be.”

I thought back on my mother's disapproval of my treatment of the suitors she had chosen. Lord Tucker, no chin. Sir Watson, blessed with over five of them.

I tried to turn the conversation from myself. “Your man outside led me to believe that you could provide us with food and shelter?”

Lord Bannon placed his large hand over mine, smiling.  “Of course, you are all welcome here.”

He indicated that I follow him with a smile and an outstretched hand. I fell into step, my arm cradled against his, warmth seeping through his tunic into my frozen bones.

“I beg your pardon, my lady, where are my manners?  You must have been on the road for some time.  Would you like to freshen up? Some food perhaps?”

My traitorous stomach rumbled at the thought of food, and Bannon laughed.  “Come, it appears I have some work to do.  I would appreciate your help.”

On the way to the kitchens, he called out to a servant, asking him to heat some water and I was selfish enough not to turn down the thought of a steaming bath.

Bannon shocked me as he started to prepare the food himself – normally a man of his status would never do anything as demeaning as kitchen-work.

We sliced vegetables to fill an enormous stew pot whilst discussing strategies for defending against the invaders. As he spoke, his care and concern over his people warmed my heart, making me realise that this was exactly the kind of man my father would have chosen for me, not the snivelling toadies my mother favoured.

“Such domestic bliss, my lady, who’d have thought it from Lord Stewart’s youngest and wildest,” a familiar voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Polly!  Really!”  I stammered.  “We were simply preparing food.”

I was flattered to note that Lord Bannon was blushing as much as I was, but Polly’s grin widened.

“So sorry, milady,” she smirked, clearly not sorry at all. “Just wanted to let you know everyone was settled and Mrs Godstone’s sick baby was naught more than colic, like I said.”

“Thank you Polly, that is good to hear.”

“Do you have a moment spare?”  Her eyes flicked to the man beside me.  “The healer could do with your advice.”

“Of course.” I laid down the knife and curtsied to Lord Bannon.  “Please excuse me, sir.  It seems my skills, such as they are, are needed elsewhere.”

“Do not forget, my lady.  I promised you a hot bath, and I shall insist that you have it.” Bannon pressed a kiss to my hand in farewell.

I felt Polly’s stare and wondered how innocent that promise, followed by a kiss, sounded to her.  I raced into the shadowy hallway, Polly only a step or two behind.

“Polly, I need you to send a message urgently,” I whispered.  “Remember my father asked me to stay here and tend to the wounded, but I insisted I was going to return to help at home?”

“Yes, milady, he said you were quite mad.”  She rolled her eyes at me, making it clear she agreed with him.

Ignoring her cheek, I continued.  “Well, please send a message that I intend to listen to his advice and stay here at Redferns.”

“Could never guess why,” Polly giggled, looking back at the brightly lit kitchen doorway.  “Lord Handsome in there, perchance?”

“Just send the message,” I laughed, swiping at her skirts as she skipped off.  I turned back to the kitchen, patting my muddy hair.  “I shall be pleased to provide support to our people and Lord Bannon however I can.”