Page 79 of An Enchanted Spring
“’Tis such a shame to cover such lovely hair,” Camille said circling back around Emma, her cornflower-blue eyes shining. “Truly, I’ve never seen the like of it, all different shades of honey!”
“That will be all, Camille,” Bri said gently, and the chambermaid dipped another curtsy before taking her leave.
“Highlights?” Bri noted.
“Natural. How does one color her hair in the Middle Ages?”
“One doesn’t,” Bri replied ruefully. “The grays and whites simply come as they do.”
“Turning gray probably doesn’t make such an impression here, I suppose, if it’s all anyone knows.”
“Correct. I do, however, think you’ll make quite an impression tonight,” Bri predicted. “You look lovely.”
Emma’s blue dress was made of a light wool. Much like her original dress, its empire waist was trimmed with a thin silver thread, twisted into a rope that circled her rib cage. This dress, however, wasn’t lined; Brianagh specifically had it made without the extra warmth. Emma would need a cooler fabric, with all the dancing she would be doing after dinner.
“The dress is unlike anything I’ve ever worn.”
“We are lucky to have such talented seamstresses here in the castle.”
“I’m very grateful,” Emma replied, “but, um, I can’t find my shoes. I haven’t been able to find them since I arrived.”
“Oh, right. I have them locked in my trunk. The laces and metal eyelets could be construed as fairy-craft,” Bri said with a wave. “Don’t worry. They’re safe until you need them again. The slippers, if they don’t fit, can be resized.”
Confused, Emma asked, “Fairy-craft?”
“Mmhmm. The MacWilliams tend to be a very supernatural clan. When strange things happen, they attribute them to the Fates or fairies more than witchcraft or other nonsense.”
Because Fates and fairies were sensical?Emma wondered. Then she tripped over a raised stone in the floor and inwardly rolled her eyes. She traveled back in time. Sense and nonsense were interchangeable at this point in her life.
“Now come, come. I can’t wait to see what you think of the goings-on downstairs. Tonight’s a big night—it’s the start of the matching!”
“The beginning stage of the matchmaking process?” Emma asked, hurrying to follow Bri.
“Yes, the formal part, anyway. We used a similar procedure at Celtic Connections when I was still in the future. For tonight, Monaghan’s son, Shane, selected seven ladies from their answers to my questionnaire. I’ve invited those seven women and their families, and a few other choices I’d like him to consider. We have dinner and dancing, and tomorrow, after the tournament, Shane makes his decision. The next day, the lairds—or fathers, if they’re not clan lairds—make up the betrothal agreement, and the wedding takes place soon after.”
“Wow. How long is the process from start to finish?” Emma asked, intrigued.
“Five days or less. Remember, life is sometimes short here. People don’t hem and haw like they do in our time. They make their decision and stick by it, no matter what.”
“What happens if the chosen woman doesn’t want to marry Shane?”
“At that point, it’s out of my hands. It’s up to the woman’s father or laird, Monaghan, and Nioclas to come to an amiable solution.” Brianagh sighed. “It’s only happened a handful of times, when the woman is here against her will. I knowhistory makes us out to be property, but we have a lot more power than the books ever gave us. The law states that we are such, but few enforce it. The Irish are a kind people, who generally love their children and want the best for them. Maleorfemale.”
“What about what’s best for the clan?” Emma was fascinated. She suspected this, but hearing it—seeing it!—firsthand made her almost dizzy with glee.
Bri stopped at the top of the winding stairs. “A laird’s daughter holds much the same value as any other daughter in his clan,” she explained. “Very few men want a child-bride, so to ally themselves, they’ll marry someone else within the other clan.”
“What about handfasting?” Emma asked. The process of declaring to marry at a future date seemed like a good way to sidestep the issue.
Brianagh shook her head vehemently. “Oh, no. It’s done, but not with any clans we know. That opens doors to all sorts of complications.”
“Like what?”
“A rival clan could kidnap the bride-to-be and demand ransom,” Bri said, “or the husband-to-be dies in an accident and the bride is left without full clan protection. It can get messy, so we don’t wait.”
Emma held her remaining questions. She followed Bri down the stairs, where they waited to be announced. Bri clasped her elbow and they walked arm in arm out of the stairwell, into the great hall, which was about half-filled.
“Tonight, you’ll sit with us as a guest of honor,” Bri murmured as they made their way to the raised dais. “I’ll sit to your right, and Aidan to your left.”
