Heart of the Beholder

18

THE NEXT DAY STARTED EARLY when Bridgette got up to do the laundry and fetch the water. Something felt different at the community well, but she couldn’t quite put a finger on it. She observed the others as she scrubbed one of Birdie’s socks which was somehow caked with mud. There were fewer people there than usual. Alice was one not in attendance. Bridgette didn’t mind too much, but it was odd not to see her. Maybe the man she mentioned last week had shown more serious intentions, and she was much too occupied to wash clothes. The few women who were at the well were whispering with enthusiasm as they leaned together. It was probably gossip, of one thing or another, but Bridgette didn’t care.

Bridgette walked back to the cottage with her buckets and hung the wet clothes. When she was done, she went inside to find Birdie looking in the jar where they kept the oats. She had a deep frown on her face when she looked up and saw Bridgette.

“Birdie starving,” she said, tipping the jar to show it was empty. “No m-more porridge.”

“Yes, I know. I was just about to go to the market and get a few things,” Bridgette said. She retrieved the tin can she kept her money in from the small cupboard. She looked at the gold coins she had put in yesterday. Edgar had given her three gold pieces before she had left the manor the day before. She had tried to decline, but the butler had insisted she take them and that Lord Thornwood had told him to raise her pay. She wasn’t sure if that was completely true, but Bridgette ended up accepting the money with gratitude. She took a few coins out of the can and put them in her pocket. “We have a little extra this week. Maybe a merchant has some berries we can add to the porridge.”

Birdie nodded her head in approval and let herself fall dramatically onto the couch. “Be safe. Too m-much energy at the market.”

Bridgette paused and looked at Birdie. “You feel it too?”

Birdie covered her eyes and shook her head. “The b-birds do not like it. Be safe.”

Bridgette nodded slowly, then went into the bedroom. Her mother looked at peace as she slept, and her color was less pale than the day before, which was good. Bridgette smoothed her mother’s hair over the pillow and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back soon, Mama,” she whispered and left the cottage for the market.

The market square wasn’t anything special—just a place for farmers or other merchants to gather and sell their goods. It had a few wooden stalls supplying fruits and veggies that were in season. If she ever needed anything besides what they had, she would have to travel to a bigger town. That was the way it was. So when Bridgette came upon the small square packed with colorful tents and bustling with people in bright colors, her jaw dropped. She had heard of traveling entertainment as a child, but her parents had never taken her to see it. This was probably what the ladies at the well were so excited about.

Bridgette walked slowly and took in her surroundings. She looked wide-eyed at a cage on wheels that held a large animal with sharp teeth and orange and black fur. The animal made a large sound when a man poked at it with a stick. Bridgette jumped back and had to put her hand over her heart to calm it down. She hurried along until she reached the first stall of goods for sale. She was speechless at the colorful clothing and beautiful jewelry on display. The merchants smiled at her and invited her to touch the materials or try on the necklaces. It tempted her, but she just shook her head and moved on.

You are here to buy food, Bridgette. Don’t get distracted by the pretty things, she said in her mind.

She couldn’t help but be hypnotized by the variety of pocket-watches, coin purses, and shoes she passed. She came to the next stall and stopped. Bridgette reached out and picked up a paintbrush and felt its soft bristles with her fingers. She examined the rest of the table’s contents. There were so many different kinds of brushes, it was hard to believe. Jars of paint were stacked behind the paintbrushes, and stretched canvases were propped up against the back of the stall. “Are you an artist, Miss?” the merchant asked.

“Oh,” Bridgette said, “no. I just have a…friend who is.”

“Very good, miss,” he said, and reached for something under the table. He then placed a case in front of her and opened it to reveal a beautiful set of brushes and paints. “A thoughtful gift for your artist friend.”

“Oh, I don’t think I will be buying anything,” she said apologetically. The merchant frowned, and Bridgette quickly left to find the produce section before someone else tried to get her to buy something. After browsing the stalls, she purchased several eggs, potatoes, carrots, strawberries, and apples. She had enough to get sacks of oats, flour, salt, sugar, and bird feed. She even bought a basket to carry it all. Since she had come to Cold Stone Hollow, she had never been able to buy so much food at once to need a basket. It was a good feeling.

Laughter erupted from across the way in front of what looked like a little house on wheels. Bridgette usually walked the opposite way of large crowds, but her curiosity had her walking toward the noise with her heavy basket hanging on her arm. She ducked and weaved until she found a spot where she could see between people. There was a small tent with the flaps tied open, and inside, a breathtaking woman sat at a table covered in a deep blue and purple cloth. She had enchanting dark hair and tan skin, with lips as red as the apples in Bridgette’s basket. She was dripping with jewelry and had an eccentric head wrap.

Across from the woman sat Anne, who had her hands out on the table, palms up. The woman placed her hands on top of Anne’s and said, “Close your eyes and think of a question you would like answered.” She had a thick accent Bridgette had never heard before. It was soothing and hypnotizing. The woman pulled Anne’s hands closer and examined her palms. “Ah, yes. You wonder how comfortable your future will be.” Anne opened her eyes and looked startled. “Do not fret, my dear. I see a husband with a lot of money. I see a beautiful house with lots of children.” Anne settled into her seat, looking relieved. “But,” the fortune teller said loudly, “that will only be yours if you leave your parents and move to a different town, for there are better options in other places. Thank you for coming to Madame Rajani for a palm reading.”

Anne stood up and looked like she was deep in thought as she walked away from the table.

Madame Rajani stood and looked over the crowd. “Now, which one of you is next to sit at my table?” She held her arms out wide and studied each face one by one. “Anyone? Is no one else brave enough to peek into their future?”

Bridgette was so entranced in the act, she was taken off guard when Madame Rajani’s eyes landed on her, and she smiled widely. “You,” she said, pointing a long fingernail in Bridgette's direction.

Bridgette’s face heated. “Me?”

Madame Rajani stepped toward her with a hand outstretched. “Yes, you, my dear. Such a pretty face, will you have a pretty future?”

“Oh, no. That’s okay. I can’t—”

“No cost of coin for you,” she purred and took hold of Bridgette’s hand. “Madame Rajani will be pleased just to read your palm.”

Bridgette let the woman pull her to the table and sit her down on the chair. Madame Rajani took the heavy basket from Bridgette’s arm and set it on the ground before taking her own seat. “Palms up on the table, my dear.”

Bridgette glanced at the crowd watching and back at Madame Rajani. She did not want to, but so many people were waiting for her to do it. Bridgette placed her hands on the table and tried not to think about all the eyes on her. Madame Rajani smiled and said, “Close your eyes and think about a question you would like answered.”

Bridgette closed her eyes and felt the fortune teller’s hands on hers. Her mind was not cooperating; she couldn’t think of a single question. The first thought she had was about her mother, but it was almost immediately replaced by Lord Thornwood. Leander Thornwood and his arm around her in the rain. She forced her mind back to her mother. Did she want to know if her mother would get better? It would take a lot of the worry away, but what if she didn’t get better? Bridgette did not want to know if that was the case.

“So much going on inside your pretty head, my child,” the woman said. Bridgette opened her eyes and looked at where Rajani’s long fingernail was trailing along a crease in her palm. “So much worry about things you cannot control.” She pouted her bottom lip and said, “Peace could be a part of your future, but only if you do not lose yourself in the labor for it. You have a secret in your past which haunts your thoughts; if you do not tame it, you will be crushed by it.”

Bridgette heard laughter and she looked back at the crowd. It was just her luck that Jack was standing there, smirking at her. “A secret? What kind of secret do you have to hide?”

Bridgette clenched her jaw and looked back at Madame Rajani. The woman was grinning like she just discovered a valuable treasure. It made Bridgette’s skin crawl. “Such a pretty face, indeed.” Bridgette quickly pulled her hands away. “Thank you for coming to Madame Rajani for a palm reading.”

Bridgette grabbed her basket and weaved through the crowd as fast as she could. People stared at her while she pushed through. She tried to escape, but knew he was right behind her. Once she was free of the body of people and had a chance to take a deep breath, she turned around to face him. “Can I help you with something, Jack?” she asked through her teeth.

Jack gave her a half smirk. “I haven’t seen you around in a while.”

“Because I have had better things to do than talk to you,” she said.

Jack’s group of boys approached and stood behind him. “Yes, Charles told me he saw you galavanting in the woods with a very mysterious figure,” Jack said as he narrowed his eyes at her.

Bridgette glanced at Charles, who had the nerve to look apologetic and concerned. “It is great that you have someone to gossip with. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.”

Jack stepped toward her, so she took a step back. “This world can be hard for an unmarried woman.”

Bridgette swallowed and took another step back. “Hard, but not impossible.”

“I suppose that is true. Some have to work like a slave in order to barely get by,” he said, looking her up and down.

Bridgette resisted the urge to shudder with disgust. “I do not work like a slave. I am paid an honest wage for honest work. And I am more than barely getting by.”

“What kind of work does the Beast make you do?” Jack asked with a fire in his eyes.

“I don’t see why that is relevant to this situation,” Bridgette said, standing her ground.

“Jack, don’t waste your time,” Charles said, but didn’t move from his spot.

Jack ignored him. “Is that the secret you are hiding?” He flicked his eyebrows up once. “It only takes one rumor to ruin a woman’s reputation.” He stepped closer once again. Bridgette stepped back and bumped into the wooden wall of one of the permanent produce stalls.

Bridgette looked in every direction. Jack’s followers were still nearby, but had turned their backs to them, offering privacy, but were ready in case their leader needed help. Charles looked reluctant, but followed suit with the others. There were other people around. She wouldn’t have to scream too loudly to be heard, but would anyone come to her rescue?

She looked Jack square in the eyes and said, “Whatever you think you know, it's not true.”

“I could save you from a ruined reputation. I could put you in a nice estate. You would never want for anything ever again.” He was close enough that she felt his breath on her face.

She wanted to run, but she knew that if she tried, one of the other boys would grab her. Despite the uncomfortable situation, Bridgette laughed loudly. Jack frowned in confusion. “If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought you were proposing marriage.”

“If you want to put a name to it, that is fine with me,” he said with a dark grin.

“I don’t believe it,” she said, still laughing. “Why would you want to marry the town’s invalid ? The girl who spends her time with the insane ?” She emphasized the words in case he’d forgotten what he had called her the last time they met.

He stepped unbearably close and put his hands on the wall on either side of her head. His lips found her ear and whispered, “There are very few things I can’t fix with my name.”

Bridgette struck with her free hand. She aimed for his eye, but he caught her wrist. “I would never marry you, even if you were the last man on earth,” she said through her teeth.

“But what will you do when no one wants you?” he asked. She was reminded of a snake, trying to hypnotize its prey before it went in for the kill.

You will never be good enough. You can’t dance, and you have no musical talent or grace. No one will ever want to marry a pathetic excuse of a girl like you! Her father’s voice echoed in her mind.

“I’d be happier alone than I would ever be trapped in your house as your wife.” She spat on his face, and he gripped her wrist so tightly, she cried out. He twisted her arm down to pull her closer to him, but she resisted. If only her skirts didn’t get in the way of her having a clear shot to the sensitive spot between his legs. She knew if she tried, she would most likely end up on her back. That was the last thing she wanted, but what other choice did she have?

Jack let out a cry of pain and collapsed, clutching the very spot she was thinking about kicking. Bridgette stared for a moment in shock, then jumped when she heard a loud HONK!

A goose had somehow found its way between her and Jack. Bridgette had never been so happy to see a goose in her life, but she would express her gratitude later. First, she had to get far away from the situation. Two of the closest boys ran to Jack's aid. Bridgette took the moment to bolt. Several more geese waddled past her toward Jack and his followers. Many hands tried to grab Bridgette, but missed because her waddling protectors were nipping at their ankles.

Bridgette ran with her basket held tightly against her. She didn’t dare look back and risk falling on her face. Her feet didn’t stop moving until the market was out of sight and she couldn’t hear the merchants selling their wares. Bridgette dropped the basket. There was a pinching pain in her side and a burning sensation in her lungs. She turned her face up to the sky and tried to slow her breathing.

A soft honk made her spin around. A line of geese were making their way toward her. She laughed in disbelief and bent down to pat the closest one on the head. “Did Birdie send you?” she asked, completely aware she was talking to a bird. There was a unanimous honk which made her giggle. “Well, you have my eternal gratitude. Let's get home. I know Birdie is just dying of hunger.”

Bridgette hoisted up her full basket and led the geese back to the cottage.

BY THE TIME brIDGETTE GOT to the cottage, her adrenaline had been replaced with anger. Her wrist throbbed, and her heart pounded. She would never understand how people like Jack thought about things. He felt entitled to anything and everything and had the audacity to do and say very inappropriate things. The most disgusting part was he got away with it.

Bridgette swung the front door open so hard, it banged against the wall; her gaggle of geese flapped about in surprise. Two pairs of wide eyes looked up at her. “The market was that bad, huh?” Doc asked, looking amused. He sat on one end of the couch, and Birdie sat on the other.

“Doc, what a pleasant surprise,” she said, with a genuine smile as she closed the door. “How is your wife and the baby?”

“It seems the little one is very comfortable in its mother’s womb. Ava wishes that were not the case, but they are both faring well, thank you,” he said politely. “You didn’t answer my question. How was the market?”

Bridgette set the basket down and sat in one of the kitchen chairs. “Well, it started out nice. Apparently there is a traveling carnival or something? I am not sure what I think about it, but there were a lot more options as far as food goes, so that was good. Then I somehow got roped into getting my fortune read, which was interesting…” Bridgette trailed off as she tried to remember what the woman said. She hadn’t had a moment to comprehend what was said before Jack got in her way. “But I crossed paths with Jack and his boys, and I do not want to relive that experience.”

“Did he hurt your wrist?” Doc asked with obvious concern.

“Oh, I am fine,” she said.

“Then why are you holding it like that?” He got off the couch and knelt in front of her. He took her hurt wrist and gently moved the hand in different directions, testing out the joint. For the most part, it felt fine, until she winced when he pushed her hand backwards. “I don’t think any bones are broken, but there is a possible sprain. I would not be surprised if there were a bruise tomorrow.” He leaned away and grabbed his doctor’s bag.

“Birdie, did you send a few geese to the market?” Bridgette asked.

Birdie tilted her head, then said, “I don't t-tell them what t-to do.” Birdie shook her head, then laughed loudly. “They were thirsty.”

Doc pulled a roll of cloth out of his bag. “Thirsty for what?” he asked.

“Blood?” Bridgette asked flippantly.

“Reprisal,” Birdie said in a conspiratorial whisper.

Bridgette exchanged an amused look with Doc. “Well, whatever the case, they were very helpful, which I appreciated,” Bridgette said.

Birdie stood and walked to the front door. “Bridgeet is family,” she said, then stepped outside.

“I am glad I am worthy enough to be considered family,” Bridgette said with a laugh.

Doc started to wrap her wrist and hand with the roll of cloth. When he was done, he tucked the end in and said, “Is that too tight?” Bridgette shook her head. “Good. That will help support the joint and prevent it from getting injured more.”

“Thank you, Doc,” Bridgette said as he sat back on the couch. She didn’t look him in the eye because if there was anyone to chastise her, it would be Doc.

“Are you going to tell me how your wrist got hurt?” he asked casually.

“It seems you already know most of it,” she said, looking at her hands in her lap.

He sighed heavily and rested his forearms on his knees. His head hung for a moment before he looked up at her. “I wish I could protect you from everything.”

“That’s not your job,” Bridgette protested.

“On the contrary; I feel it is. From the first day you walked into my house, I felt a connection to you. Your mom, Birdie, and you are like family to me. I love you like a little sister, so I feel like I have the responsibility to keep you safe and advise you to make smart choices.”

“And what is your advice for me?” Bridgette asked, finally looking him in the eye.

“Maybe you should have an escort when you leave the cottage.” He didn’t sound completely convinced with his suggestion. “Which is not a very plausible idea, I admit. I guess I could just lock you in a tower somewhere and that would keep you away from trouble,” he teased.

Bridgette folded her arms and shook her head. “I would rather face dangers in the world than be locked away from its beauty.”

“And that is what makes me want to hide you away from those who can hurt you,” he said, running a hand through his loose locks of brown hair. “Your view of the world has not yet been tarnished by terrible people.”

Doc obviously knew how her father had treated her, but she hadn’t told him about how she’d left him. “Maybe it is the terrible people who have pushed me to find the beauty out there.”

He sighed and let his head drop again. “I feel like I am trying to reason with a royal scholar.” He chuckled, then looked up again. “Truly, Bridgette, I wish there was something I could do to stop Jack from being Jack, but his father is the same way, and his mother is too soft-spoken to say anything. I tried to talk to them when he had hurt that goose, and all Lord Farthington had to say was he was in charge of Cold Stone Hollow and he could easily find a physician to replace me. I should have said more.”

Bridgette shook her head. “There is no need to put yourself and your family in danger. I have found when you try to play the games of politics, they change the rules once you get good at it. Sometimes, it is just best to keep quiet, and stay out of the way.”

He narrowed his eyes on her. “Are you a hundred-year-old sorceress disguising herself as a young woman? You are too wise for your age,” Doc said, and sat back. “I hate the politics and court system. It is corrupt and unfair to the majority of us.”

“It sounds like you have thought a lot about it,” Bridgette said. She suddenly remembered something and gasped. Doc raised his brows in question. “I discovered some interesting information the other day, and I hope you can explain it further.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” Bridgette said, feeling excited, which was much better than feeling angry or frustrated. “I had the opportunity to look at the royal family history of Oakwater Kingdom and was surprised to find one of the kings had your surname.”

“Ah, you caught me,” he chuckled and held up his hands.

Bridgette exaggerated a look of shock. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t usually go around telling people I am of royal descent because they would think I am delusional, and not trust me as their doctor.” He shrugged, then said, “Besides, being the great-great-grandnephew of a king doesn’t usually hold a lot of weight.”

Bridgette smiled softly, then sighed. “I’d much rather you be the king than the one we have now.”

“If I were king and the power blessedly didn’t corrupt me, I would get rid of the monarchy,” he said.

“Get rid of the monarchy?” Bridgette asked in confusion. “And let the people live without a ruler?”

Doc looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “Maybe there are men who could rule selflessly, but the majority of us would be corrupted by the power of being a monarch. If there were multiple people who held positions as high as a king, it could benefit the people because they would keep each other in check.”

“How often do you think about this?” Bridgette teased.

“According to my wife, too often,” he said with an innocent smile.

“Well, I find your passion admirable.”

He nodded. “Other than the Jack situation, how are you?” he asked with a knowing look in his eyes, though she didn’t know what exactly he knew. “Every time I have stopped by lately, Birdie has said you are busy with Lord Thornwood.”

Bridgette willed her cheeks not to heat. “Birdie says things in the worst way sometimes, doesn’t she?” Bridgette laughed awkwardly. “I have been busy with my position at Lord Thornwood’s manor. But I get paid well, and I enjoy the work.”

“You don’t feel like you are being worked too much?” he asked.

“Not at all,” she said.

“They treat you fairly?”

“More than fair.”

“This Lord Thornwood, is he a proper gentleman and employer?” he asked, crossing his ankles and tapping his fingertips together.

“Yes, he is a very gracious employer and proper gentleman,” Bridgette said.

“Would you tell me if anything were wrong?” He raised his brow and waited.

“Yes, I would,” she said with a laugh. “Why do I feel like I am being interrogated?”

“I may have heard some things which concern me,” he said with a serious tone and folded his arms as if he meant business.

“Oh no,” she moaned. “What else did Birdie say?”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t Birdie. As the only physician of the town, I visit almost every home and hear the latest gossip whether I want to or not.”

Bridgette twisted her fingers in her skirt and cautiously asked, “What is the town saying?”

“I have heard talk that the new maid at the Thornwood Estate might do more than just clean and cook for the Master.”

Bridgette dropped her head into her hands, mortified. It was exactly what Jack was alluding to. She had hoped it was just his disgusting way to get her to react to him, but to her utter embarrassment, apparently everyone in Cold Stone Hollow thought she laid in Lord Thornwood’s bed. “That is not true,” she mumbled through her hands. “I would never do that.”

“I didn’t believe the rumors for a second,” he said.

She dropped her hands and groaned. “What am I going to do?”

“That depends. What do you want?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you wanting a man to come ask for your hand?” he asked.

“No,” she said quickly. “Not now, anyway.”

“Good. None of the men here are good enough for you anyway,” he said flippantly. “Are you hoping ladies will come flocking to invite you to their social events?”

Bridgette’s nose scrunched. “No.”

“I think this rumor only has the potential to affect your reputation, which may sound bad, but if you are not pining for one of the young eligible bachelors or wishing to be included with the ladies, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“So I am just supposed to do nothing?” she asked, throwing her hands in the air. “What do I tell Lord Thornwood? His butler will probably hear the gossip, and he will have to report it to his master.”

Doc shrugged. “You could do nothing and wait for him to bring it up.”

Bridgette couldn’t sit any longer. She got on her feet and started pacing. “But what if he thinks I was trying to hide it from him because I am a coward?”

“Then I guess you could bring it to his attention?” he said, as if it were a question.

Bridgette grabbed at her hair. “I can’t even imagine talking to him about such a thing. If I just tell him there are rumors about us, he is going to ask what people are saying.” She paced some more and put a hand to her forehead. “I will most definitely blush as red as a tomato, and then he could interpret that incorrectly.”

Doc grabbed her by the shoulders and stopped her pacing. “Bridgette, breathe.” She followed his slow inhales and exhales until her head was somewhat calm. “You seem to care a lot about what he will think.”

Bridgette turned away before he could see the blush on her cheeks. “He has become a dear friend.”

“I see,” he said quietly. “As a doctor and a married man, I know how valuable and delicate relationships and trust can be. If there is any advice I can give you, it is to be upfront and honest. Secrets just cause problems.”

She turned back around to him. “How do I show him our friendship is important to me, and I don’t want ridiculous rumors to ruin it?”

Doc tapped his chin and said, “Well, other than just using your words? A gift or a note is always nice. Something meaningful that shows you are invested.”

Bridgette walked to the door and grabbed the handle.

“Where are you going?” Doc asked, looking confused.

“I have to get back to the market before it is too late,” she said as she patted her pocket to make sure her leftover money was still there.

“I am coming with you,” he said and followed her out the door.