"Father, I'm no longer a child. I do not wish to be trapped within the four walls of Cavalon Castle. I'm two and twenty, I can make my own decisions."
"It is because you are two and twenty, that you should not be allowed to roam. I have failed your mother's memory by letting you refuse all who came for your hand, but I'm not letting you go off alone."
"Mama would've wanted me to find my own freedom, I know she would!"
"Enough! Return to your room, Evie. Your marriage secures the castle and the Viscountancy of Karlsborough, so your husband will be of my choosing, you would do well to remember that."
The green eyes of Evelyn Verrick flashed her indignance, but refusing to let her father see her anguish, she instead turned and ran towards her room. It wasn't till the door was turned with a click, did a single tear fall its track down her cheek. But Evie didn't give in to wracking sobs. The last time she had did that was at her mother's funeral just five years past, a month after she had turned seventeen. The Viscountess of Karlsborough had been loved by her husband and cherished by her daughter. Sadly, with the Lady Verrick's death came the estrangement of father and daughter.
As much as the Viscount had doted on his wife, he simply did not know how to be a father. Oh, he wasn't bad in any sense. He provided for his family as best as he could, especially after he knew how devastated his wife was when she was told she could no longer carry any children. Evelyn's pregnancy had been difficult for her, but she placed no blame on her red-headed daughter. Instead, Evie had grown up with her mother who took on all duties. Lady Mailie MacKenzie Verrick had been a full-time mother, a Highland lass whose heart was taken by the fetching English lord. Highland ways had parents close to their children, an edict the Lady Mailie followed, but Evie experienced a traditional English upbringing with her father.
Lord Gregory Benjamin Verrick had a very traditional upbringing himself, and had no clue how to bring his daughter up in any way other then that. The years following her mother's death took Evie awhile to get used to. She only saw her father once every few weeks. She had to get used to the ornery chaperone cum governess he hired, the sharp-eyed and equally sharp tongued Mrs. Archer. Evie sometimes wondered how life would've been like if her mother had not died on that cold, winter's night when the cold fingers of Jack Frost had claimed her life. Yet she also knew that wondering and dreaming wouldn't get her far at all.
Instead, she merely indulged herself in a few moments of wallowing sadness, before quickly composing herself and reached for the bell. Within minutes, her lady's maid gave a knock and let herself in with the key that Evie had personally gave her, for she trusted no one more then she did with her friend and confidante for the past years. Amelia had been assigned her lady's maid the night of her coming out ball, a year after her mother's death and the very day she was out of mourning. The girl was only a couple of years older then Evie, and was blessed with porcelain looks that made her look eternally young. Amelia had a naturally positive and cheery attitude despite being a widow at a young age, and that quickly got Evie's attention. The two had got on quickly, if a little awkwardly at the beginning.
"Oh my lady, we all heard. Would you be alright? Och, your cheeks are all blotchy, oh." Amelia Kinloch immediately began to fuss, placing the basin of water down and immediately began dabbing at Evie's red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. The red-head laughed, but didn't resist her friend's administrations, knowing it would have been futile. "I don't have much of a choice, do I?"
"The Lady Verrick would've made it all right, she would. I've heard she had mighty grand plans for you on your come out, according to Harriet. It is a sad day she couldn't see any of it through."
"Enough, Amelia. There is no sense in dwelling on.... oh, how I wish she was still around." her voice shook again as she remembered her mother's stories. Bedtime was the most exciting for Evie, for her mother would regale her with the most exciting tales of her childhood home in the Scottish Highlands. She could shoot a bow and arrow as well as her cousins, ride a horse that could possibly put the English army to shame, and had a spirit that was untamable. The flaming locks she inherited from her mother was a testament to the Scottish spirit within her, and the more she was trapped within Cavalon Castle, the more she felt tampered down.
The Castle was a gift from her grandfather upon her mother's marriage, apparently. But the castle resided on the crux of the Highlands, a place her father had never gotten comfortable with, in as much as his wife originated from there. According to Mailie, she had been the tamer of her family, of her kin within the Scotland Highlands. But her mother's stories intrigued her, and more then anything, Evie wanted to visit the place, to see the stories with her own eyes.
Feeling the comforting tug of Amelia's fingers on her scalp, she let that shake her out of her imaginations of how the misty lands of the Highlands would look like, to glare at her friend from the vanity. "Unless you're planning to descalping me, Amelia, would you be more gentle."
"I thought you needed some help to return to ground, my Lady. You were dreaming again, weren't you?"
"You know the stories I've told you."
"It sounds too good to be true, that's what I say. Your Mama grew up there, so for sure she'd see it like heaven. But from what I've heard it's cold, wet, and barbaric." Amelia shivered, her fingers twisting Evie's hair into a braid as she spoke. "I don't think we'd do well there at all, my Lady."
"But it's a place of chivalry, of loyalty to your chief, of... family." And there, at the crux of it all was the reason why. For Evie had been alone. Her mother's poetic waxing of loyalty of her kin, of her cousins and her brothers, was what enraptured Evie the most. "To know the feeling of willing to kill and be killed for someone... that's what amazes me the most."
"I don't think being dead is verreh fun, my Lady."
Evie laughed, twisting to give a cheeky grin at Amelia. "It's not the dying that matters, Amelia. It is that... that passion."
YOU ARE READING
The Passion of London [Highlander's Love #1]
Historical FictionHIGHEST RANKING #6 in HISTORICAL FICTION! --- For all her life, Lady Evie Verrick had been regaled of tales of the Highlands from her Highland born and bred mother. She had grown up dreaming of chivalrous knights, sword-fighting, horse back riding...