Chapter 4

Initially, I thought Alex's departure was a temporary punishment. As the months passed, it became clear that he would remain on the Mainland — permanently. When the mood would strike, I would sit down and write long-winded letters to him. Explaining how I had not meant to send him away, that I wished he was still here, that we could still friends. Telling him in no uncertain terms that I was lonely without him, that I was sorry. My half-finished letters only made it as far as the fire where the paper curled as it burned.

Eventually, my guilt abated. Soothing myself into non-action with reason and rationality, I could numb the pain of his absence. I told myself he was too busy to think about me. No doubt he was happy running his own estate, learning the ins and outs of Lordship. Plus, my brothers had found me less tolerable as they grew older — why shouldn't Alex? As a young man, he would need more appropriate friends. My letters would only annoy him. What claim did I have on the Lord of the Fist of the Mainland? I was no one of consequence, a silly girl from a small island far, far away. I offered no advantage to someone as grand as Alexander Leslie. My usefulness started and stopped with my ability to marry and have children.

After Alex left, my education changed. Mother again stepped in as my primary teacher and math, science, and debate were replaced with dancing, etiquette, and penmanship. Deportment and embroidery overtook my life. Where Alex and I had once filled the day with pranks and jokes, now I was expected to plan imaginary dinner parties and perfect my memorization of the hierarchy of Lairds of the Islands.

When not squirming under my mother's instructions, I was strictly confined to the castle grounds. In a matter of months I became cordoned off, separate, removed from the life of freedom and laughter I had once known. I only saw my father and brothers at mealtimes. They ignored me entirely. Most days would pass without a word of consequence being uttered by my mouth.

I became an alcove dweller. Slipping silently down corridors; silk-slippered feet sliding over the cool, polished floors. I was alone. I listened at doorways, curious to know what lives people might enjoy on the other side of them. The servants caught me regularly, but they would only cluck at me sadly — as if they understood. As if they pitied me. My brothers would find me tucked behind a door or buried deep in the curtains of a window seat. Once revealed, they would raise their eyebrows in surprise and then leave the room without a word. I assumed they thought I was a servant shirking my work.

The part of me that laughed, that enjoyed living, that looked out of the window and noted the weather packed up and folded itself away. Forced deeper inside myself, I hid behind perfect manners, a demure disposition, and the void of a voice long silenced. The only thing I felt was a vague sort of fuzziness. If asked a question, I would have to blink several times to focus on the person who had addressed me and ask them to restate their query. A fog of monumental heaviness seemed to shroud me in perpetual nothingness. Life happened around me, but not to me. I forgot what it was to look forward to anything; I drifted from one hour to the next without purpose or care.

One day, a few weeks before I turned sixteen, Mother came into my room. Slumped down in a chair with my leg dangling over the arm, I wasn't thinking of anything. The warm spring breeze wafting in from the windows drifted over my skin. I forced myself to enjoy the sensation of the fresh air as my skin goose-bumped.

"Eilean, you shouldn't sit like that," was Mother's weary greeting.

Without reacting, I sat up and placed my hands in my lap. I offered her the seat across from me with textbook perfection. My manners were impeccable. Mother sat.

"We are going to hold a Standing," she said, once she had settled into the chair.

I stiffened, the buried soul within me worried I was to marry at last. I didn't want to be married, but at least someone might appreciate my existence if I was.

"It is time we settled on a wife for your brother, Walther." Mother continued, unknowingly soothing my fears.

I offered her a closed-lip smile and nodded. Walther had just turned twenty-two and was a well known flirt. He spent most of his time in the old stables with one of the cook's girls, Bess. It was atypical for the fifth son to marry first, but it seemed an exception would be made. If the four elder brothers would meet their fate at this Standing Mother did not say and I did not press for additional information.

"Stand up for me, darling," Mother commanded.

I did so. She directed me to turn around slowly in a circle, then walk from one side of my chambers to the next so she could appraise my form and figure.

"You need proper gowns, ones befitting a young woman, I think," she said, mostly to herself.

My opinion was of no importance. Had it been solicited, I would have pointed out that a new trunk of dresses had arrived only a few weeks ago. It was a mystery to me how brand new gowns could suddenly be improper.

"I will tell the dressmaker to come to your rooms tomorrow after breakfast. You'll need a whole new wardrobe, what with the Standing and the wedding that will follow. I think your Father plans on hosting a Gathering, too, so we'll need multiple options in the MacLeod colors."

I looked down on my mother, considering her in the soft, spring light. She wasn't old, at least she didn't look like she was. Her cheeks were still full and pink, her vivid blue eyes still sparkled and saw with sharp clarity. Artfully coiled on top of her head, her black hair had only the slightest suggestion of silver-grey accents — more like glittering adornment than a sign of age. I tilted my head, wondering if my mother could be considered a beauty. Or if she had been when she was younger. She was handsome, to be sure, with strong features and a willful personality. Before I could come to a conclusion; however, Mother was standing and caressing my cheek with a gloved hand. The touch startled me from my thoughts.

"You're so quiet, Eilean," She commented with a smile that conveyed pride. "You are such a treasure to your father and me."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and exited the room. No doubt more pertinent concerns were vying for her time and attention. I fell back into the armchair, kicking my leg over the side, and let my thoughts drift back into foggy nothing.

~

"Inhale, nice and big, fill up your lungs, honey," The dressmaker spoke in a calm, relaxing way.

I obliged her as she pulled the laces on my new stays nice and snug.

"There we go, there we go," she said, mumbling as she tied them off and tucked the cord into the crisscrossed lacing. "Not so bad, is it?" She asked with a wink.

I studied my reflection in the mirror, a bit in awe of my new silhouette. I felt more womanly, more complete. Out of curiosity, I bent in half and touched my toes. It was comfortable enough to do so. My body felt supported, held in.

"No, it's not bad at all," I said, standing up and enjoying the new peak and slope of my breasts and waist. Smiling timidly at my reflection, I was pleased with what I saw.

The dressmaker noticed my gaze and laughed, "Yes, you're a beauty all right. Enjoy it."

"I am?" I asked, stunned.

She started to drape different colored silks over my shoulder, gauging which tone would suit me best. She answered with a distracted "Yes, of course," though her focus was now on silk and not my self-esteem.

Looking at myself again, I took stock. Wide, green eyes; wild, black hair that curled in snarled in every direction. My face was round, but my cheeks were high and sharp. I supposed that was desirable. I had a long neck, or one that looked long enough to me. My arms and legs were nice and plump, more shapely than the gangly weeds they had once been. I was still unnaturally tall, the same height as most of my brothers — and they towered over most men at Stormway. Dancing and deportment had ironed out the imbalance and clumsiness in my step. My height particularly bothered me because it made me feel singled out, like I was forcing too much of myself inside of a room, but it had become less of a burden. Tilting my head and squinting at my reflection, I decided I was fine looking. Passable. A timid bubble of confidence made me smile as the dressmaker continued to putter around.

"Greens and blues, that's what suits you," she announced, pulling swaths of red and pink fabric from my shoulders as if they were offensive to her. "I think I'll whip up a rich emerald number for the Standing. It's a pity your family's colors are yellow and black...that will look harsh on ye, but I'm not known as the best dressmaker in these Islands for nothing." She winked at me encouragingly.

"Yes, whatever you wish," I agreed, not at all partial to the colors of my clothing. It was just a useless detail that faded into the mist of my surroundings.

"Is there nothing that excites you, lass? Anything special I can do to make you feel your most beautiful?"

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Most young girls are...that is to say, most girls your age are a bit more enthusiastic about getting a new wardrobe."

"Oh," I said, looking down at my hands, unsure of how to fix this faux pax in my behavior. "I'd like to look fashionable, I guess," I said with a shrug, throwing out the first bland statement I could decide upon.

The dressmaker smiled and nodded, "Of course.". A line of concern puckered between her brows.

"I am sorry," I said, wrapping myself tightly in my dressing gown.

The dressmaker frowned, and I worried again that I had failed some test of young womanhood. My cheeks burned with sudden embarrassment and I was at a loss how to salvage the situation.

"Tell your mother I will have the fitting garments ready by the end of the week. I'll come back and make whatever adjustments we need, then." The dressmaker spoke as she gathered up her equipment.

I nodded in confirmation.

Soon, she left, humming a folk tune as she walked out of my door.

Alone again, I shrugged off the dressing gown and approached the mirror. My blush deepened as I admired my new shape more closely. I noticed a slight gleam in my eye, and the effect was quite surprising. Smiling, I realized that maybe I was pretty after all.