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In His Embrace

By Teresa Smyser

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1612 England

Screams . . . tormented screams. Brigette held her breath. Cold from the stone wall seeped through her dress as she edged further into the dark corner of her hiding place. How much longer would she have to endure those horrible shrieks and cries of torture! Footsteps pounded past her within inches of her feet. Darkness had become her friend almost comforting as she tucked her feet under her dress and closed her eyes.
Another scream tore through the air. Brigette jammed her fingers into her ears. Could no one stop those ear-splitting screeches that bled through the closed door? Oh, how Brigette wished she was anywhere but trapped near that ghastly sound. The nasty dungeon offered a more peaceful respite than the dark alcove where she now hid.
“Thomas, find her!” Nicolas bellowed again.
Brigette wasn’t sure which was worse, facing what was behind the closed door or suffering from her brother’s fury. Once she had been able to influence him with her tears and childish spectacles, but not anymore. He was immune to her methods.
Unless Brigette wanted to be on the receiving end of Nicolas’s wrath, she would have to emerge from her shadowed location. Nicolas was the brother in charge of selecting her future husband. If she infuriated him, he might choose a hideous old man as her mate. Sigh! Crawling from behind the large urn, her eyes met scuffed boots. She didn’t need to look up to know they belonged to Thomas. When he grabbed her arm, her hair tangled in his strong fingers that pulled it as he jerked her to her feet.
“Come with me,” he snarled. “You should have known I would find you.” Brusquely, Thomas dragged Brigette toward the closed door unmindful of her pain. “You know what is expected of you, and hiding has only increased Nicolas’s anger. You would have been better served to come when first summoned.”
“Thomas, you are hurting me.”
“That’s the least of your problems now, little sister. You must do what’s required of you or risk the anger of our brother.” Pausing, Thomas sneered at her. “Maybe a flogging is just what you need to mold you into a more pleasing woman. Come,” he said as he once again all but dragged her down the hallway. Her feet skidded and slipped as she resisted his pull.
Thomas had once been her fun-loving brother. Unfortunately, time had erased his kindness toward her and replaced it with hostility and bitterness. Would she ever get a glimpse of who he used to be? For now she didn’t have time to contemplate that question.
Soon Brigette was standing before her brother, Nicolas, who had been pacing outside the closed door. “Where have you been? You knew I commanded you to aid Isabelle in this grisly task, yet you hid like a child,” he growled.
“Her behavior is despicable,” Thomas added before shoving Brigette down at Nicolas’s feet.
“Thomas, stop this at once. Go see to your daily tasks,” Nicolas ordered.
From her position on the floor, Brigette watched as Thomas stomped his way down the passageway. Good riddance. She and Thomas had been at odds with each other since he found out about her role in Lady Isabelle’s misfortunate accident. Even though Brigette was remorseful for her part, the past seemed to stick to her like tar. No one cared to hear from her penitent heart. Well, no one except Isabelle.
“Get up, Brigette,” Nicolas said as he gripped her arm and hauled her to her feet.
“Please, Nicolas, I will do anything but this,” she begged.
“Your pleas are lost on me and have been since you tried to harm my wife.” He shoved her through the open doorway. “Now, help Isabelle or be on the receiving end of my hot temper,” he said before closing the door and leaving her inside the room.
Brigette plastered her body against the closed door as her eyes scanned the chaotic room. Her sister-in-law, Abigail, was in the bed writhing with pain. Agnes, the village healer, stood stoically by waiting for the inevitable. Isabelle sat calmly at Abigail’s head smoothing back her hair and whispering reassuring words . . . that is until she saw Brigette.
“Brigette, where have you been? I’ve needed you!” Isabelle exclaimed. Isabelle rose from the bed just as Abigail went into another panic-stricken cry when her body lurched.
“I’m going to be sick,” Abigail wailed.
“Here, use this pail.” Isabelle held a bucket next to Abigail’s head as she lost her meal. Brigette closed her eyes and felt bile rise in her throat from the sound and smell coming from the bed. Oh, Dear Jesus, get me out of this mess, I pray You. She peaked from her eyes to see Isabell headed her way. Oh no!
“Come, Brigette,” Isabelle said with excitement. “I want you to feel the babe move.” Isabelle grabbed for Brigitte’s hand that she had fisted behind her back. “It is a precious miracle from God, and I want you to experience it, too.”
Isabelle’s grip was that of a warrior. Brigette had no choice but to be pulled toward the bed and Abigail. She tried hard to resist Isabelle’s grasp, but to no avail as Isabelle placed Brigette’s hand on the hard, protruding stomach of Abigail. Isabelle rambled on about how the stomach contracted and became hard in order to help push the baby into the world. All Brigette wanted to do was avoid Abigail and escape the dreadful room. She and Abigail rubbed together like silk over a rough plank.
With no mother to guide her, Brigette had been left with her brothers to raise her: Phillip, Nicolas, and Thomas. Since Phillip was the only married brother, they had attempted to get Phillip’s wife, Abigail, to take on that duty, but that had gone poorly. To Brigette, Abigail was condescending and spent much time complaining that she had been denied the coveted lady of the castle position. What a fiasco it had been growing up surrounded by three brothers who tried to pawn her off on a woman who hated her.
Without warning, Isabelle released Brigette’s hand. “’Tis time,” Isabelle announced. Brigette stepped away from the bed and watched as Agnes stood ready with clean cloths, and as Isabelle climbed onto the end of the bed. “Brigette, you will assist Agnes in cleaning the baby once it’s born,” she ordered.
Horrified, Brigette looked at Abigail, her hair plastered to her sweat-dripping brow. For once Abigail did not rant at her. She was too entrenched in the birthing process to give Brigette a glance. Brigette thought to take a couple of backward steps toward the door but stood frozen as she watched. She couldn’t tell who was louder, Isabelle yelling for Abigail to push, or was it Abigail screaming in anguish? Either way, she made a vow never to marry and have children. Birthing was a disgusting and painful process she wanted to avoid at all costs.
Finally, after much coaxing, pushing, and crying, the baby launched into Isabelle’s waiting hands. “’Tis a girl,” Isabelle exclaimed with glee. After cutting the cord, she quickly thrust the baby into Agnes’ expectant hands and then sat waiting . . . for what Brigette didn’t know. Without turning her head Isabelle said, “Brigette, help Agnes. Watch her carefully. You need to know these things for the future.”
Brigette obediently followed Agnes to a table containing warm water and more clean cloths. Somehow she obeyed Agnes’ instructions, all the time silently promising herself she would remain free from this type of predicament. At one point she looked over her shoulder to see Abigail deliver again. If it was another baby, there was too much blood for it to survive. She quickly crossed herself at the notion, yet strained to hear the conversation between Isabelle and Abigail.
Isabelle explained to Abigail that she had delivered the afterbirth. It was the part that had kept the baby living and growing inside of her during those long nine months. Ewe! Brigette didn’t care what they called it; it was repulsive to see.
The time dragged by as Isabelle kept giving Brigette more duties to perform with the last task being holding the red, wrinkled mess of a baby—one might even say, ugly baby. “A hard life is in front of you unless you develop into a prettier little lady. Trust me, I know,” she whispered to the baby.
“Oh, look, Abigail, Brigette is already whispering love words to her niece,” Isabelle said.
Oh dear, had they heard her words of criticism? Brigette’s eyes grew large when she looked up at the two on the bed only to find Abigail smiling at her for the first time in her life! Brigette blinked hard and found them both still grinning.
“Bring her to me,” Abigail said kindly.
Brigette’s knees nearly buckled at the endearment in Abigail’s voice. Was it directed at her? Carefully, she walked over and lowered the baby into Abigail’s waiting arms. No longer was Abigail’s face twisted in agony. She looked peaceful and content. Could the birth of a baby really change a person in an instant? Even an unattractive baby? If that were the case, then truly a miracle had happened today. Brigette actually felt hope for her future here at Fairwick Castle.




“Oh, Nicolas, wasn’t it a delightful day?” Isabelle remarked as she readied for bed.
Nicolas rested on his back in bed with his hands behind his head while he watched his wife brush her long, brown hair. He offered a lopsided grin. “If you say so, my love. It didn’t seem all that delightful from where I was sitting.”
Isabelle glanced up from her brushing to stare wide-eyed at her husband. “Nicolas! What a preposterous comment. All you men had to do was wait while Abigail did all the hard work.”
“Now, Isabelle. I meant no harm by my words. You just don’t understand what was needed to keep Phillip from passing out or worse, from running headfirst into the confinement room. He was like a cat in water. ’Twas a pitiful sight to see. But I don’t wish to discuss the birthing process with ye at this time. Come. ’Tis time to be in bed by your husband,” he said with a smile while he patted the bed.
Isabelle laid aside her brush and shuffled over to her side of the bed. As usual, she fell into the high mattress and rolled to the center until she butted up against her husband’s side. He snuggled her close and let out a contented sigh.
“Now this is more to my liking.”
“I must say; I am a bit weary from the day.”
“’Tis no wonder,” he said with a gentle reprimand as he laid his hand upon her stomach. “Ye must have a care for our own babe.”
Isabelle nestled a bit closer at his words. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m an invalid. ’Tis early yet. We have five more months of waiting and much preparations to do.” She turned slightly inward to get a look at her husband’s face. “You haven’t told anyone, have you?” she asked with concern.
“No, my sweet. I’m abiding your word on this and awaiting your consent.”
“Good. I want Phillip and Abigail to be the center of attention for now. They have waited so long for this sweet baby, and I want nothing to diminish their pleasure.”
Nicolas’s finger removed a lock of hair from her eyes. He leaned down and placed a quick kiss on the end of her nose. “They will have more than just one day to rejoice over the birth of young Philippa. I have decided to invite our neighbors to Philippa’s christening followed by a feast of celebration. What think ye of that, my wife?”
Isabelle raised up on her elbow with a gleam in her eye. “Oh, Nicolas, that sounds delightful. You are such a thoughtful man.”
“’Twill also give me time to evaluate Brigette’s possible suitors,” he added.
Isabelle sat straight up in the bed wearing a frown on her face. “What mean you?”
“Now, wife, don’t get all flustered like a mother hen protecting her chick. You know ’tis past time for Brigette to marry and have a little one of her own. Today was a good beginning for her to witness the wonder of a babe being born.”
“But she is still young and has much to learn. Growing up without a woman’s touch in her life has left her at a disadvantage. I’m concerned her new husband might not be as understanding of her ways.”
“What you mean to say is he wouldn’t understand her selfishness and immaturity,” Nicolas said with a huff. “You’ll be pleased to know that I’m even inviting Laird McKinnon.”
“Does that mean you have forgiven him for kidnapping me?”
“It means he will be included, nothing more. Daniel never could resist a pretty face, and Brigette does have that going for her.”
“Nicolas! Brigette has many wonderful qualities to recommend her. But can we not delay this until a later date? I have yet to teach her the ways of a woman with a man or how to run a castle or . . .”
“Stop trying to coddle my sister,” he interrupted. “There’s no better way to learn than on the battle field. Mayhap a husband will succeed where I have failed—purge her selfishness and dramatic acts.”
“Oh, Nicolas, there is much sweetness buried beneath her performances.”
Nicolas placed a finger to his wife’s lips. “No more discussion on the matter. ’Tis already decided. Phillip and I will assess her potential husbands at the christening.”
“Oh, dear,” she breathed.

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