1st day of December, First day of Advent

Stephen and I went outside today, for the sun was bright. There will be snow soon, but not today. Glowing braziers were brought out to the garden, and we both wrapt up well and were none too cold if we stayed by the fire.

"I wonder if it would be possible to get back to Lithgow before Christmas," said Stephen, squinting up at the sky.

"I think not," I said, for I do not wish to risk it. But then I thought of Elsbeth, and how she must be missing her brother. I wrote to tell her all was well, but have heard nothing back. Then I thought, it is not so bad a distance, really, if Elsbeth and Morwenna were at the end of it, and if it could put a long way between us and Selkirk (and all of Selkirk's worries).

"It rarely snows before January around Lithgow," said Stephen, still not looking at me, "and even then the snow is very little. With the carriage, the journey would be only a few days."

"And risk bad weather, bandits and misfortune on the way?" I retorted. "You are not healed enough, milord."

"Are you not in a hurry to return?" he asked, and I thought he sounded gloomy.

"Of course I am," I stammered. "I love no place so well as Lithgow. But you cannot make the journey—not yet."

"You do not have to stay here," he said. "The trip is no danger to you. I know there is little to do here at Selkirk, and it is not nearly so comfortable as Lithgow."

"It is comfortable enough," I said sharply. Then, to my shame, I felt tears starting behind my eyes, and thought of how I drove men away from my father's house, and now I think perhaps I shouldn't have done that: perhaps I have laid a curse on myself, that driving away men is now all I am good for. Else why does he say these things now? Would he have said them before Helen's coming?

And then I became angry, which was no more comfortable than the tears but at least more familiar.

"Besides, Sir," I said, my voice as icy as the frost on the grass and my heart boiling over with anger, "would you have me offend our guests by leaving before them?"

"No, of course not," he said quickly.

"Then speak no more foolishness." Then I stalked away, and directed Henry to see to his master.

I have never felt so many things at once. All of them hurt.

2nd day of December

All is bleak. Snow began in the night and now the world is dreary as the inside of an old boot. I have not been able to sleep at all, stuck as I am between Helen-the-Fair and Stephen-the-Incomprehensible. I lie there awake, fuming. I hear when everyone wakes from first sleep. Baron and Lady Tresain usually get up for a while, to sit by the fire. Helen ordinarily does not wake at all in the night, but sleeps right through. But last night she did wake, and went to play a game of chess with Richard. Then Stephen silently turned to me and saw that I was awake, and smiled, as if nothing were wrong. Then he had the gall to reach for me! But I was sure he was thinking of Helen, so I pretended my bladder was overfull and left the bed, and then pretended to be very interested in talking to Baron and Lady Tresain, and when everyone went back to bed Stephen and I both pretended to sleep. And now we are both extremely tired, with rings of blue about our eyes. I look haggard and unlovely. I don't care.

December 3rd

They leave in a few days, as Selkirk was just one stop on their way to a holding further west. Stephen should go with them when they go, and see if I care one stick!

December 4th

Stephen has been trying to get me to pay him more attention at night. As if I would, with my rival a finger's width away. Then he tries to get me to pay him the same sort of attention during the day, only we are hardly ever alone. I admit, we could be alone more if I would only take some trouble. But I do not want to be alone with him, not when he is so clearly thinking of another lady's smiles. At supper, he ignored me completely, and sat talking with Helen and Richard altogether! And then ignored me all night, too. So I can see that my suspicions are right.

5th day of December

Have I done right, being so cold to Stephen? Do I not push him more firmly away? I will be kinder. It is not his fault that she is beautiful and I am not. Anyway, I love him whether or not he loves me.

That is the only conclusion I can make. This must be love, from how sick it makes me feel. I want Stephen's love. I want it for myself, and myself alone. I realized today that Richard is very, very handsome, and then I realized that I hadn't even noticed it before, and then I realized that I don't even care if he does have bright blue eyes and reddish-gold curls. My eyes still go to Stephen's dark face and heavy brow, time and again, whether I will or no. I dream about him at night. I wake and want to turn to him at once, only I can't, there are a thousand reasons why I can't, and I am so confused.

They go away tomorrow, and I will try not to ruin everything as I always seems to do. I will be kind and polite and a lady. I hated when my mother would make me practice at being a lady, but now I see there is merit in learning not to act on every childish impulse. If I had better self-discipline, perhaps I would not now feel so low and mortified.

6th day of December

They leave in an hour. I have not been charming or gracious at all this visit, and I am ashamed that I have not tried harder to do as I ought; it has fallen mostly to Mildryth to see to our guests' comfort and happiness. So today I even made an especial effort to converse with Helen over eel pie at dinner. I do not remember a word either of us said, but I do remember that Stephen watched us with a strange look in his eyes.

7th day of December

God's thumbs, where do I start?

I cannot even think how to say what this last day has been like, but I will try—as a lesson to myself, should I lose my wits again in future as I did while Helen was here.

The very minute the Tresains' last cart was pulling away from our gate, Stephen took me by the hand and began to pull me out of the great hall and toward the solar. He has healed faster than I expected; at any rate, I had to run to keep up, for his leg has healed enough that one of his strides matched two of mine. Not saying one word, he pushed me ahead of him into the small closet that sometimes serves as our private chapel, and then turned and locked the door.

"Now, out with it," he said angrily, leaning his crutch against the table with the gold-leafed statue of Mary on it, kicking the one chair in front of the door, and then sitting in it. There was barely room in there for both of us together, and he was blocking the only way out.

"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to sound haughty but instead sounding nervous.

"Ever since the Tresains came here you have made no secret of your dislike of me, and I would know why."

"I never disliked you, Stephen," I faltered, wondering how I could have been so stupid as to let him think a thing like that. I tried hard to see into his eyes to see how he took it, but he looked away.

"I know that I am not what you wanted," he said quietly. "I hoped we might be happy anyway. Worse pairs have done better than us, it seems to me. When you seemed to love Lithgow, and Elsie—I thought it might mean you might want me, too. Someday. Instead I have this." He gestured at me, and I felt horribly low and ugly and undesired.

"I am sorry I'm not beautiful and rich," I said, "and that I have interfered with your—" But before I could say more, he reached out and took hold of my hand and kissed it passionately, it being the only part of me he could easily reach.

"Whoever said you weren't beautiful?" he asked my hand.

"Well, I'm not!" I answered. I couldn't help a little sob coming out, but I mastered it. "Helen is beautiful. Aelis is beautiful. Adela is beautiful. I have never thought I was beautiful, Stephen. I have always known the truth."

"Yes, how clearly you perceive all, you worldly thing," he said, rolling his eyes at me, and I felt the hairs rise on the back of my neck.

"I don't even know why you honored your father's contract," I said petulantly. "You needn't have. Since you are so dissatisfied with the arrangement—"

"I am dissatisfied," he said, "only because you do not love me as I love you. You try living like that, and tell me how you fare!"

"But I do love you!" I said, surprised into saying what I would not have had the courage to say otherwise. Stephen's eyes fair bugged out of his head and his mouth dropped open.

"Since when?" he asked, astonished. "I thought you did not like me at all!"

"I always liked you," I said, sinking into his lap for my legs would not bear my weight any longer. "I liked you before I knew you. Only you seemed so very reserved, and I am so very boisterous—"

"I love you boisterous," he said.

"And I do not sew well or smile prettily or play the lute—"

"I love your ugly sewing and your shameless smile and your wretched luting," he said.

"—And you know, I expected to like coupling for everyone said I would, but I am sorry to say that it has not moved me much until recently."

"Ah," he said, looking uncomfortable. "I am sorry. I have not had much practice before you, you see, Birdy, and I—"

"I am glad that you haven't," I whispered. "Perhaps we can practice together?"

And Stephen smiled and then kissed his answer against my lips and throat...and other parts. I think I shall like coupling very well, after this. Being in love does seem to make a difference.

"You must not tire yourself," I said in a whisper.

"I won't," he promised.

But he did.

9th day of December

We have decided to try the journey back to Lithgow, for we are both so happy that we wish to be happy there instead of here. Stephen's leg is healed enough that it no longer requires more than the usual amount of bathing, so long as it stays bound tight to its stick. I am longing to see Lithgow again. I recently told Stephen that I loved Lithgow almost as soon as I saw it, and he said that he thought I would, as it is the best place between all the four corners of the world. Then we talked of our home together until we had got really homesick, and that was when we decided. I am fluttery with eagerness to spend Christmas in the place I love, with the man I love. We leave in two days' time, and I shall not write before then, for we will be much too busy—with one thing or another.

16th day of December—at Lithgow

You cannot think what a noise Elsie made when our carriage got near. She could not be restrained, even by Adela, and darted out like a sparrow to greet our carriage. She flung herself in both our laps at once and began talking very fast about a great many things that had happened at Lithgow, mostly things she has seen or discovered or made. She wrote Stephen a story and was going to send it to Selkirk with a rider, and was delighted instead to give it him in person.

Just as soon as Stephen's men had got all the carts unloaded and Wymer had got things more or less in hand, we escaped the fuss of the yard and went up to the solar to be alone.

"What did you truly think when you learned you would be getting me instead of my father?" Stephen asked, leaning on his crutch and pretending not to mind very much what the answer might be.

"I was so relieved I near cried," I said honestly. "I do not wish to speak ill of the dead, Stephen, and so I should not speak at all. Your father was not my choice and never would have been."

"I did not know," he said. "I thought—it seemed you were disappointed to get me instead."

I made a face at this, saying, "He was twice my age, and cruel to my dog."

"Most women liked him very much," said Stephen, seeming surprised. "And he was not so very old. More unequal pairings are made every day."

"Stephen," I said, putting my hand to his cheek. "You cannot convince me I wanted your father. I heard him ridicule you for being learned and clean, and then I knew that there could never be any sympathy between us. I tried to drive him away, for he was the worst of all the suitors I ever had, and when it did not work..." Then I told him the story of the bear that sealed my fate, how I ran away, and why I came back. "When I knew it would be you I would have instead, it made no difference to anyone at all but me. I felt as if I had been reprieved at the very brink of a hanging."

"But you seemed to dislike me so!" he said. "I thought surely you were wishing I was more like him."

"I am sorry for that," I said. "I always did think you a fine man, but a stern one also. I could never be easy with you—until now. You seemed so far away even when you were close."

"Well, I liked you at once," he said. There was a glitter in his eyes, and I marveled that I had ever thought him stern. "I saw you playing with my dog and with Ella, and then I observed how kind you were to Elsie, and I thought you must have a very good heart. That you should be bonny and laughing—only when you thought I wasn't watching, of course—and that you should read and write and paint, and that you were clever and good-natured also—it did not seem to me that one other in a thousand could be your equal. Every time I reached for you, I could see that you wished I wouldn't, and I thought I must go mad from loving someone who would not love me back. I did think that if I went away to visit the holdings, it would cool me, and when I came back I could be as indifferent to you as you were to me, but it did not work, not in the least. I only wanted you the more, Bird-my-Lady."

I could not think what to say to this. I had no idea he noticed anything at all about me. All that time, for him to see that I did not resist him but neither did I try at all to enjoy him—and now, knowing what I was missing out on all those months, while my husband lay beside me, wanting me to love him and fearing I never would—! Then I felt my shame renewed, for while he was noticing things in me that pleased him, I was just as busy finding things in him to displease me. It was only when he was at the edge of life that I could do as Morwenna bade me—to forget about what was in my head and think instead on what was in my hands.

But my husband would not let me feel ashamed for long, before he made me feel a great many things that left no room for shame. He is a good man, and I love him heartily, and will try all my life to deserve him. To think he believed that I was pining for Shaggy Beard, while I thought he was pining for Helen—who he tells me is as dear to him as a sister, so that he could never think of her as a wife without feeling his guts twist in rebellion at the unnaturalness of it! I could burst from laughing. Indeed, I laugh so much and so easy lately that I fear I may laugh myself to death.

The sun is bright and the sky blue. Elsie is making marchpane kings and queens of Christmas in the great hall, Lady Gwen is helping Adela to finish the dress for her wedding in the spring, there are villagers to see and talk to and doctor. There are a thousand things to be done, and the best of all is that I will not have to do them alone.

Goodbye now. Stephen is waiting.

End

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please review and let me know what you thought!