It was an uncharacteristically warm evening. I stared out the window across the grounds, the moonlight filtered through the high wisps of clouds, casting flitting shadows through the trees and inky black shadows behind the hedges.
The guests would arrive soon. How I hated these functions, but it kept me in good graces with the townspeople. I loved the people and I wanted them to have a good time, I just didn't want to be there for it. Idle chit-chat for hours, the good-natured drunken brawl at the end of the night – we were Scotsmen, after all.
I could hear the front door opening as people began to arrive. I checked my kilt, made sure my hair was still tied back in its neat tail, and pulled my stockings up again. Damn things were always falling down. Then I set off downstairs.
Reaching the main hall, I saw the guests arriving in the best clothes they had -- the men in their kilts with sharp pleats, the women in simple flowing dresses.
Along one wall of the main hall a table stretched nearly 30 feet. On the table was all manner of local food and drink. There was the ubiquitous haggis, seafood, stovies and bannocks, cheeses, ales and of course whiskey.
As my father's only child, I had been fortunate to inherit the entire estate. My father had built the massive stone edifice through decades of dealings with the English monarchy and blind ambition. And, while I was loath to give up the comforts his life had brought me, I empathized with those who scratched and toiled to survive. I did my best to share the fruits of my good fortune with my neighbors and they appreciated the monthly gatherings at the manor and I knew all of them by name. Or so I thought.
On this evening, my world was to be turned upside down, though.
I knew as soon as she walked through the door. She was petite and slim and though she seemed somewhat reserved, I saw a fire burning in her that aroused me immediately. There was a glint in her eye that told me not to mistake her shyness for subservience. Her eyes were constantly roving, taking in everything and everyone and making immediate judgments. She saw me descending the stairs and I detected a slight sneer as though she were sure that I would be an aloof and arrogant bastard. I hoped I wouldn't prove her right.
While her dress covered most of her body, I could tell by the way she walked that she was had an exquisite form. The dress flared just enough at her hips to be enticing and it had a tight, laced bodice that made her cleavage more impressive.
I watched her walk along, eying the spread on the table and finally taking a hunk of black bread and nibbling it as she stood with her back to the wall. Nearby, a group of men guffawed and slapped each other on the back in a boisterous celebration.
Walking over to the group, I hugged them and bade them welcome.
After a bit of small talk, Hugh Dudley, an imposing man with a shock of red hair and a beard that defied any attempt to tame it, put his arm around my shoulder and spoke to me.
"William," he said in his thick Scottish brogue, "I have someone I'd like you to meet." He led me to where she stood, almost glowering at the assemblage. " This is my brother's eldest girl, Eithne."
She turned her face to mine and I saw those gray eyes. The light from the torches on the walls highlighted the colors in her hair – all shades of yellow and browns, with just a hint of red mixed in. She was even more beautiful up close.
"Welcome to my home," I said, putting out my hand, "My name is William Bruce. Thank you for coming."
She shook my hand briefly and I could see a touch of contempt in her face. I knew she thought I was nothing more than a pampered dandy.
"Please enjoy yourselves," I said, turning to Hugh. "If there's anything you need, let me know."
I walked away to mingle with other guests but kept finding myself scanning the room to see her. Occasionally, I would catch her eye and she would surprise me by holding my gaze, rather than looking away.
The longer I waited, the more I knew I had to find out about her.
As the evening wore on, the crowd grew and shrank, raucous laughter ebbed and flowed. Throughout it all, I kept looking for Eithne. I frequently saw young men approach her, talk for a few minutes and then wander away looking befuddled.
"She can't be that dense," I thought to myself. "Not with that penetrating gaze."
Finally I was able to make my way over to her. She was sitting on a long, low bench just watching everyone else.
"May I join you?" I asked, bowing with an exaggerated flourish.
She rolled her eyes and motioned for me to sit down. This was not starting out well.
"You are the daughter of Hugh's brother? What brings you to the Highlands?" I inquired. "Where does your family call home?"
She fixed her gaze on me, evaluating me for several seconds and I got the distinct impression that she considered me something of a dandy who only played to the common folk to remain on their good side.
"I am from Kirkaldy," she said. I could tell from her accent that she was from further south, but I had no idea she had come such a distance.
"And why have you come so far to visit us?" I asked. It was obvious she wasn't going to volunteer any information. I was going to have to drag it from her.
"My father sent me," she replied curtly.
"For what reason?" I pressed.
Again she fixed her eyes on me. The cold steel gray of her eyes told me that although she was petite, she was not a person to be trifled with.
"It's not my intent to annoy you," I said. "I'm simply curious as to why your father would send such a lovely young woman so far from home."
"I cause trouble," she said matter-of-factly.
I laughed out loud and she shot me a piercing glance.
"I can see how you might," I said, "but I find it refreshing. Here in the Highlands we like strong women who aren't afraid to stand with, rather than behind a man."
She sat silent for a long moment, as though processing this idea, or perhaps just determining my truthfulness.
Finally, she looked in my eyes and her gaze softened somewhat. I felt as though I had made it past her outer layer of defenses. I had breached the cold, hard exterior, but only because she had let me, not because I was a master tactician.
"I am the youngest of six and my father's only daughter," she said at last. "All five of my brothers have been to Aberdeen, but I was not permitted."
An act of Parliament required the sons of landowners to be schooled in Latin and Law. If all five of her brothers had attended King's College in Aberdeen, I knew that this girl was from a family at least as fortunate as my own. I felt the momentum of the conversation subtly shift to my favor.
"You understand that law requires only the sons to be schooled," I said. "Why do you want to go to university?"
"Because I know I am the equal of any man. If I were wearing a kilt instead of this silly frock," she said tugging at the sleeves of her dress, "they'd let me go."
I knew she was right, but I didn't know what to do about it. I empathized but had no solution.
We sat for a while in silence and I could see the emotion rising in her. Her face developed a slight flush and I saw her jaw tense as she thought of others – dullards, even – being allowed to go to Aberdeen or even St. Andrews or Edinburgh while she was regarded as little more than property in civil society.
"I've not been to university," I told her, "But my father schooled me in Latin and Law and many other subjects. I would be happy to teach you what I know."
She considered the offer for a moment and shook her head.
"I want to go to university. I want to prove to them that I'm not an addle-minded twit. And I want other girls to know they are worthy of education."
"You sound as though you are going off to the Crusades," I laughed.
She shot me a look that gave me a shiver.
"I'm sorry." I told her. "Please come walk with me. I want to show you something."
As she stood, I realized how truly beautiful she was. I felt an almost overpowering urge to pull her close to me and feel the curves of her body against mine. I wanted to kiss her. I had to kiss her. But would she let me?
As we walked and talked, I felt her start to let her guard down and become more comfortable with me.
We left the main hall and walked outside, the ground was spongy and soft underfoot and I wondered whether the slight spring in my step was because of that or because I found myself growing more infatuated with this stubbornly independent woman.
"I agree that you should be able to go to University if you want to, but I have to ask you, what do you intend to do with that knowledge? After all, the opportunities for a lass like yourself are surely scarce at best."
We stopped along a low stone wall that bisected a small hill and afforded a view of the lush green fields below. She lifted herself up to sit on the cool, moss-covered rocks and pondered her answer for a moment.
"Sometimes, knowledge is its own end," she told me. "I would be dishonest if I said I never thought about how I would like to change things, but I know the way things are, too."
I stood there, dumbfounded. This woman was so different from anyone I had ever met. The young men I knew who HAD been to university went grudgingly, preferring less cerebral pursuits.
Most of the women I had known either never thought to question their lot in life or refused to make their discontent known. But here was a woman who was beautiful and feminine enough that she could have men swooning. She was strong and self-sufficient enough to provide for herself without their help. She was smart enough to point out their inferiorities but polite enough not to do so in a way they understood. And I realized as I looked at this woman I had known for only a few hours that I had fallen in love with her.
