Part 23 (1/2)
”She was very upset when she heard that we were going after you.”
”Tell her, I miss her.”
Robin pressed out another laugh, while Dougal growled: ”La.s.s, you'll soon be able to tell her yourself.”
”Not if I can prevent it, father,” she murmured.
Suddenly, he asked: ”Who was that man and the boy?”
For a short moment her heart missed a beat. ”The boy is the son of the innkeeper where I stay. He showed me the way to the tolbooth. The man is a clerk of my solicitor. He came with me to talk to Andrew.”
”Ah, the lady has her own solicitor now,” sneered Robert again with a derisive laugh.
”Stop riling her, lad!” said Dougal sharply. ”You better try to mend things if you want to live with her in peace.”
”I'll tame her; you just wait.”
”Not by getting her mad all the time, nor will I allow you to mistreat her. You hear me!”
It was said rather forcefully. Robert's face became somber, but he seemed to make a strong effort to control his temper.
”Thank you, father,” said Helen.
”Don't thank me yet. I am not finished with you, la.s.s. You will get your punishment. And this time, you won't give me the slip either, I promise!” His angry tone of voice made it obvious that he meant it. ”Making me chase you all through the Lowlands. You never went to Edinburgh, didn't you? We searched every inn there,” he ended up muttering.
So he didn't discover that they had left the road, went through her mind.
”And where are you staying?” he continued.
”I won't tell you.” The firmness of her voice left little doubt that he wouldn't get that out of her.
”It doesn't matter. You left with nothing and you will come home with nothing, except this new dress. I saw you already did some shopping. That blue dress you wore in the church in Stirling suited you. Too bad you have to leave it behind. I doubt Robert will ever buy you anything that nice.”
”Oh, it's unlike you to notice a beautiful dress. Andrew liked it too. He'll buy me many more fine gowns,” she parried his sarcasm.
”Not while he labors in chains in the colonies,” laughed Robert.
Helen ignored him. Nothing vexed him more than being ignored, she remembered well.
They emerged into Trongate. The first workers and clerks began to fill the wide street on their way home.
”And now, la.s.s, you better behave! I don't want any fuss, or you will regret it badly.”
For a moment she was tempted to break loose. Her body must have tensed up slightly and Dougal sensed her intention. His grip tightened and he strode out faster. Without any further talk, they went down King Street and turned left on Bridgegate, where they entered a short alley on the south side leading to the Inn of the Golden Eagle. Dougal took her up two flights of stairs to a sizable room, with bedding strewn all over the floor. All four of them must have slept here for a night or two already. He made her to sit on a chair and tied her arms and legs securely to it.
”Sorry, la.s.s,” he said, as he did it. ”We cannot take any chances. You brought this upon yourself.”
”Will you untie me if I promise not to run away, father?”
”Your promises are not worth much, la.s.s. No, you remain tied up until we leave tomorrow morning.” He looked at the kerchief that he had crumpled up in his hand and added: ”If you promise not to yell, I won't gag you. But one squeak and I will stuff that cloth into your mouth... You promise to be quiet?”
”What's the use of promising, since it isn't worth anything?”
”Mind your tongue, or I'll gag you right now and give you a taste of the hiding you will get once we are back home,” he growled.
Helen bit her lips to prevent herself from answering. Then she murmured: ”I promise.”
He turned away from her. ”Come, fellows, we all deserve a feisty meal to celebrate our success.”
The three young men responded with a cheer and filed out of the room. Dougal closed the drapes, plunging the room into semi-darkness. He cast a last stern glance at her and muttered: ”You behave. I meant what I said.”
He locked the door behind himself and checked vigorously that it was secure.
Helen was alone. The air felt stuffy, almost suffocating. The gloom in the room was depressing. Her spirits suddenly hit a low. There, she had planned every detail, but had forgotten about her father. If she had thought of it, maybe she could have dreamed up a scheme to distract them, such as hiring a few sailors to engage her folks in a fight, long enough for them to get away. But now it was too late. She might as well cooperate with them until they departed from Glasgow. Did Andrew get safely to The White Heron? What was he going to do? The answers evaded her. She felt terribly alone, even more so than when Andrew had just left with the constable. At least then she did have control over what she could do. Now she was helpless, at the mercy of a father who saw his honor sullied by her actions, and exposed to the hateful spite of Robert.
She could hardly s.h.i.+ft without the cloth strips cutting into her. After a while, her arms went numb. Her bottom and back began to feel sore and then started to hurt. The room was completely dark. How long had she been tied to the chair? She had lost all sense of time, except that now her bladder also began to feel uncomfortably full.
She was sorely tempted to call for help, but thought better of it. Her father hadn't been kidding when he had promised to punish her. He would do it, in front of Robert, her brother and her cousin. Having them witness her punishment, particularly Robert, would be almost worse than the punishment itself. She could already see the glee on his face. It increased her sense of vulnerability.
How I hate that man! The thought of being forced into marrying him made her gag. I'll never consent. I'll rather die... I'll kill myself first. She fought her despair by thinking of Andrew, reliving the happy moments they had shared. But the present a.s.serted itself time and again. She became suddenly aware of how deeply she loved him, and silent tears rolled down her cheeks.
Slowly, the pressure on her bladder became unbearable. How much longer was she going to be cooped up here? Loud steps on the stairs announced that somebody was coming. Should she call out and ask for father?
The footsteps stopped at the door. Somebody fumbled trying to insert the key into the lock, mumbling to himself. Oh no, it's Robert... Not him! What does he want? After what felt like minutes, he finally managed to open the door. The oil lamp in his hand blinded her for a few seconds. He closed the door, put the lamp on a holder on the wall, and then stood in front of her, grinning. His small eyes were a clear sign that he had drunk quite a bit already. He didn't hold his liquor well, she remembered.
”Just checking on my future wife,” he mumbled.
Her instant reaction was to tell him sharply to forget about that idea, that she would never consent, but she curbed her ire. With her bladder a.s.serting itself ever more urgently, she needed his help right away.
”Robert, I have to relieve myself. I can't hold it any longer. Please, untie me.” She hated herself for having to beg him. It gave him power over her, exposing her to his need for controlling her.
His grin broadened.
”Please, Robert.”
”I don't know if I should.” He was swaying back and forth, having difficulties to keep straight. ”Maybe just the legs.”
”I can't do it with my hands still tied to the chair.” She was getting desperate.
”All right, I'll untie the hands and tie them again in front.”
He clumsily loosened the knots. It took an interminable time. Finally, her arms were free. She rubbed them to get her circulation going again.
”Come, hold them out in front so I can tie them again.”
She complied. She wasn't sure she could hold out long enough to argue with him. Somehow she would have to manage with her hands tied. After another two or three minutes, her legs were free. She rose gingerly, not trusting them, and walked stiffly over to the chamber pot in the corner.