Page 72 of Highland Slayer
She headed in that direction.
“Who is Anaxandra?” she asked as she came upon the women.
Seven or eight pairs of eyes looked at her, startled, but one young woman set down the bolt in her hand.
“I am Anaxandra,” she said. “How may I be of service, Lady Torridon?”
So the woman knew her name. Mabel found herself facing a tall young woman, taller than she was, with long blonde hair, tied back, and the face of an angel. She could immediately see what had Estevan smitten, at least on the surface.
She didn’t blame him.
“You know me?” she said.
Anaxandra nodded. “We all do,” she said. “We saw you come in with the carriage. Estevan told me who you were.”
Mabel nodded, looking the young woman over, evaluating her. But Anaxandra didn’t flinch, instead, facing her the way she faced everything.
With bravery.
That impressed Mabel.
“I would like to speak with you, my lady,” Mabel finally said. “Will you walk with me?”
Anaxandra didn’t hesitate. The two of them started walking toward the abandoned outbuildings on the south side of the bailey where the stone circle was. Anaxandra was struggling not to look directly at Mabel, or speak to her, instead waiting to be spoke to first. She wasn’t the type to start up a conversation, anyway.
Nervously, she waited.
“I understand that you are to thank for saving my daughter’s life,” Mabel finally said. “Estevan said that you were very brave.”
Anaxandra flushed that familiar shade of red. “I saw a problem, my lady,” she said. “I only wanted to help.”
“You did,” Mabel said. “My daughter is unharmed and you are to be commended. You have my gratitude.”
“I was glad to do it, my lady.”
“My son also tells me that he wishes to marry you,” Mabel said. “Has he told you that?”
It was a bold question, right to the point, and one that had Anaxandra’s cheeks predictably flushing. They had come to the abandoned stalls, which was away from the activity in the main part of the bailey. It was wet and muddy and cold because of the heavy mist, and the derelict buildings gave the area a spooky quality. Anaxandra had to steer Mabel away from a particularly nasty mud slick before she answered.
“I know, my lady,” she answered honestly. “He has spoken of it to me.”
“And what do you say?”
“I am agreeable.”
Mabel had been expecting more of an answer. “And… how do you feel about it?” she said, trying to elicit more of a response. “Are you happy? Sad? Repelled?”
Anaxandra could see that Mabel was a strong woman. That was obvious. But given that she dealt with Mother Michael and Sister Hildegarde on a regular basis, she was rather used to strong women. She wasn’t intimidated, but she couldn’t help the nerves she felt. Deep down, she did want to be liked. Especially by Estevan’s mother.
The moment was as unexpected as it was important.
“Anxious,” she finally said.
Mabel’s brow furrowed. “Why do you feel anxious?”
Anaxandra took a deep breath. She’d never wished more in her entire life that she’d been schooled in the social graces, because standing before her was a cultured woman. A great woman who presided over a great house, who was well respected by her peers. From her short observations of Mabel, she could already see how much her sons esteemed her. Estevan spoke so fondly of her.
Now, this gracious lady was asking her why she felt anxious.
