Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Hood or Robin, Marian, Gisborne, Much, et al. I am making no money off of this endeavor. All I've earned is the joy in the writing and the possibility of some nice feedback.
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Marian: Through the Looking Glass, Chapter Six
Robin watched Marian. A look of nausea crossed her face.
She shook her head. "I cannot."
"Very well; I shall have Mary continue."
A light knock sounded on the slightly open door. "Hellooo..." called Matilda as she stepped into the room. "Good to see you awake, Marian. Now, shall we check you out?"
"Right, then―that's my clue to go. I shall see about Eleanor and Claire."
"Claire?" Marian asked, confusion coloring her features.
Robin's heart sank. "Aye, Claire. Have you forgotten both your daughters, Marian?" he asked. How could she when Claire's birth had almost killed her? She seemed sincere enough in her lack of knowledge, but his shoulder tightened as it always did when something bothered him.
Marian opened her eyes and held his gaze. "I am sorry..."she whispered.
Matilda tut-tutted. "She hit her head pretty good, Robin. It'll come back to her, give it time."
With one last look at Marian, Robin nodded and left, pulling the door shut behind him.
He tiptoed down the hall and pushed open the door to the ladies' chamber and peered inside.
Claire was busy building something with the wooden blocks the older Scarlett boy had fashioned for her. Mary held Eleanor to her breast and smiled at him.
He nodded to her and then returned his gaze to his oldest daughter. Just then she looked up. Her face brightened and she smiled. "Da da da." She dropped her blocks and hurried over to him, holding out her arms. "Up."
Robin's heart flipped. She was the spitting image of Marian, and her smile never failed to affect him. He lifted her up and hugged her. "How is daddy's girl?"
"Not daddy's girl. I'm Claire."
Robin grinned and kissed the tip of her nose. "I'm sorry. How's Claire?"
"Good." She placed one small hand on either side of his face and looked into his eyes. "Where's Ma ma ma?" she asked as she had every morning since Marian's accident. Thankfully, it had only been three days. Marian was usually the one who tended them first thing in the morning while he spent time with them after the mid-day meal and before their nap.
"She's awake today, Claire."
She immediately began to push at his shoulders and wiggle her body to get down. "I want to see Ma ma ma."
Robin held her fast. "I know you do, but Matilda is tending to her first. You can see her in a little while, all right?"
"No. I want to see Ma ma ma now." Her bottom lip pushed forward and she struggled against him again.
Chucking her lightly under the chin, he said, "Claire."
She knew his tone meant business and stopped squirming. She looked at him, moisture now brimming on the lower lids of her stormy blue eyes. Eyes so like Marian's, it was all he could do to not give in to her and it had been so since her birth. He was a sucker for tears.
"I want Ma ma ma," she said on a sniffle.
"We'll go see her in a few minutes. Now that she's awake, Matilda must ask her about her owies."
Dark brows drew together. "Ma ma ma has owies?"
Robin nodded. "Yes, Ma ma ma has owies. And just like Ma ma ma tends to your owies, Matilda must look at Ma ma ma's owies."
That seemed to satisfy her and she nodded. Then she pushed at him again. "Down, please, Da da da."
She went over to Mary in the corner and caressed her sister's bald head and then kissed it. "We can see Ma ma ma soon, Ellie," she said. Then she went back to her blocks.
Robin reached his bed chamber just as Matilda exited, pulling the door closed behind her.
"How is she?" he asked.
"The blow to the head was pretty hard, Robin. There are huge gaps in her memory—including her children. Not much is known about head injuries and the long term affects. She may never remember, or her memories may return in bits and pieces. Just have some patience."
His patience with her nonsense had been wearing thin before her accident. He just nodded. "Thanks, Matilda," he said on a sigh.
She patted his arm and offered him a sympathetic look. "It'll all work out, Robs."
She continued toward the stairs, and he steeled himself to see his wife.
He took a deep breath and then entered their chamber. She looked up at him, her eyes large and tired and nervous. He pushed away his questions. They would hold for another day or two. "How are you feeling?" he asked instead.
She shrugged. "I feel a bit achy all over, but the nausea has eased. My head still throbs a bit, but Matilda is going to talk to Cook about how to ease the pain."
Robin nodded now. "Clair would like to see you."
She took a visible breath. "All right. Do I have a special name I call her or anything?"
Robin shook his head. "She doesn't like to be called anything but Claire right now...I'll be right back."
Marian nodded. She had daughters—with Robin. She couldn't imagine what their children might look like. What was she supposed to feel for them? She hadn't said much to Matilda about what had happened and had just answered the other woman's questions about her physical ailments.
"Ma ma ma, I'm coming," called a high-pitched voice.
Marian took a deep breath as the door creaked open and a small girl appeared, no more than three years old. The girl—her daughter—smiled. Marian's breath caught, and she couldn't help but smile back. Claire was lovely.
Her round face was milky white and housed large blue eyes framed by a thick fringe of dark lashes. Mahogany colored curls bounced at shoulder-length and were held away from Claire's face with a narrow cream-colored ribbon. She wore a loose shift in pale blue.
"Ma ma ma," she cried happily and hurried to the bed and climbed into it. She straddled Marian's lap and threw her arms around Marian's neck. "Are you better now?" she asked.
Marian's heart flipped. This was her daughter. A little person who obviously loved her very much. Could it be that she really had forgotten? No...how could one forget something as precious as this?
She hugged the little body back, running her hands through the silky curls. "Yes, I am mostly better, Claire," Marian said, testing the name on her tongue. "My head is still hurting, but I am awake now."
Marian looked at Robin and smiled. His mouth turned up slightly on one side, but it didn't reach his eyes. A small knot of apprehension settled in her belly. There was trouble between them, and she was at a distinct disadvantage.
Her gaze dropped to the baby in his arms. A plump little thing in a plain white gown. The baby sat on one of Robin's forearms facing out. Bright blue eyes twinkled with happiness. Both hands were stuffed into her mouth and drool dribbled down her arms making a wet patch on her gown and on Robin's sleeve where his arm crossed her belly to hold her against his chest . Her chubby feet kicked up and down. Unlike Claire, this daughter had very little hair; just a thin veil in very light brown.
Marian's heart melted. Mercy, what a sweet baby.
She had children, and what precious children they were. There was no way she could have forgotten them, no matter how hard she'd hit her head.
Robin regarded her for another moment. He pushed off the door jamb with his shoulder and said, "Come along, Claire. Ma ma ma needs to rest now. You must go play, and then you'll have your lessons."
Claire placed a hand on either side of Marian's face and kissed her soundly on the mouth. "I love you, Ma ma ma."
Marian tightened her hold on the little girl. "I love you, too, Claire."
She caught Robin's gaze and his raised brow across the expanse between them. Well, what was she supposed to say? These babies were going to be easy to fall in love with. So even if it wasn't necessarily true now, it soon would be.
But there was more going on here than Robin being upset because she couldn't remember their children. She could feel it.
Claire slid off the bed and returned to Robin. "Bye, Ma ma ma." She waved and then disappeared out the door.
"I'll be visiting Bonchurch and Nettlestone this morning. I'll see you at mid-day."
She nodded. Claire chattered to Robin all the way down the hall, and Marian smiled again. The girls were precious. But her smile faded as she remembered Robin's brooding appraisal, his anger, banked as it was. She knew her Robin's temperament and figured this Robin could not be so different. She didn't know what could be the cause of such animosity, but now that she was awake and on the road to recovery, it wouldn't be long until things came to a head. Of that, she was certain.
Marian slid from the bed and hobbled to the window, her ankle tender but not paining her much. Robin strode from the house to the barn issuing instructions to Thornton. She could hear their voices, but could not distinguish the words.
Much had disappeared into the barn just as Marian reached the window. He was saddling the horses, she guessed, and would ride out with Robin. In this version of her life, Much was still Robin's manservant. But at least he had enough food and quarters of his own. And regular baths.
A moment later, Much led two horses from the barn, handing the reins of one to Robin. First, Much swung into the saddle and, with a last word to Thornton, Robin did as well.
Robin looked up at the window then. Their gazes met and her breath hitched just a little. She loved him. She did in her other life. How could she not love him here? But she did not know what their immediate past held. What kind of problems did they have as land-holders? As parents? As husband and wife?
Knowing his character as she did, their issues had nothing to do with his position as a noble and land holder. And he seemed comfortable with his role as father. More comfortable than she might have guessed. So that left their marriage. Or more specifically, her....
Her lack of memory would wear thin very quickly. But what could she do?
He nodded to her and wheeled his horse around, kicking it to a trot. A thin plume of dust marked their departure.
Well, she was no missish lady of the manor. Her head still hurt a bit, but it was time to begin her new life. There was no way to know how long she'd be in this alternate reality, but if it so happened that she was here for good, she was not going to lose her husband. She would do whatever it took to fix whatever was wrong. Although not knowing would make it a bit difficult.
She got dressed and made her way slowly down the stairs. As she reached the bottom, the sound of horses and a carriage drifted to her.
The door opened and Thornton stepped inside. When he saw her, he inclined his head. "Milady."
"Thornton. We have guests?"
"Your family, Milady."
"Family?" she asked. "My father?"
Thornton nodded again. "Aye, and your mother and sister."
Joy welled inside her. "My mother...a sister?" She could not believe it. In her world, her mother had died when she was young from a mysterious illness that neither doctors nor medicine women could identify. And now, here, her mother was alive. And she had a sister....
"Please fetch some refreshment, Thornton."
"Yes, Milady." He left to do her bidding.
Her father strode in, glancing about. Spotting her, he smiled. "Oh, Marian, my dear, I'm so glad to see you up and about." He wrapped her in a warm embrace. "You're looking much improved. We were so worried."
"Hello, Father," she said as he released her. "I'm so happy to see you. Where is—"
A plump woman with a pinched face stepped through the doorway. Her dress was a bright light green that fit too snugly. A long feather of the same color protruded from her coiled red hair. She glared at Marian through beady brown eyes.
That was not her mother. Father must have remarried. Not that she begrudged him, but...
"Marian," the woman said, her rough voice full of condescension.
Marian nodded, even as her stomach clenched in dread. She had no idea this woman's name. A step-mother. And a step-sister.
A young girl, maybe ten- or eleven-years-old, with long blonde braids peeked around the woman's body. Her large brown eyes sparkled with some sort of delight, but she remained quiet.
Marian smiled at the girl.
The girl smiled back, and Marian stopped breathing. A vision of her mother came to her. Those eyes and her smile. The dimple on her right cheek. This was not a half sister—this was a full flesh and blood sister. The spitting image of her—their—mother.
Marian's heart near to burst out of her body. She wanted to throw her arms around the girl. But something held her in check.
The woman cleared her throat. Marian's gaze returned to her, heart sinking like a stone in a pond.
"Come, my dear," Father said, leading his wife to the chair—Robin's chair—near the hearth.
Thankfully, Thornton appeared just then with a tray. There was a pitcher and several goblets, a hunk of bread and a wedge of cheese. He set it on the table with a flourish and a low bow. "Lady Esmeralda," he said. "Your countenance brightens the room. Would you care for a drop?" In an undertone, he added, "I've brought the best."
The lady nodded once, her tight mouth relaxing into a what must be a smile.
Esmeralda?
But what was the girl's name? A sister? She had a sister. Her sister remained near the door. Hands clasped in front of her. She looked more like a young lady-in-waiting than the daughter of...of...a
Curses on the situation. Marian had no idea what her father might be about. A noble certainly, but just a land holder?
"We can't be away from the castle for long," Esmeralda said. "But your father insisted we all come."
Her tone made it clear she'd been terribly inconvenienced. But castle? There was only one castle hereabouts. And that meant Father was the sheriff. Marian was pleased. He'd so enjoyed being the sheriff and he was good one, if she did say so herself.
"I'm so glad you did," Marian said, finally finding her tongue. She glanced at her sister. She had no idea what the girl's name was or what kind of relationship they had. But she wanted to find out. "Perhaps...my sister can stay here?"
Esmeralda's face pinched tight again. The girl's face brightened. And their father's face fell. He sent a sideways glance at his wife. He cleared his throat and said noncommittally, "Well..."
Marian wasn't quite sure of what was going on. The girl obviously wanted to stay, but her father's wife was against the idea for some reason. And Father...he didn't want to make Esmeralda mad. If she was that much of a monster, why had he married her? Sex or land—one or the other. Maybe both, although Marian couldn't imagine anyone finding Esmeralda attractive. But what did she know? Her virtue was still intact. She had no idea the mysteries of the marriage bed, despite all evidence to the contrary.
The girl winked at Marian and then schooled her features into distaste. "All she'll be having me do is fetch and carry for her," she said.
Marian's heart fell. Was she really such a monster that her sister did not want to stay. No—she'd clearly brightened when Marian had suggested it.
Marian glanced at Esmeralda, whose eyes now glittered with interest. Realization dawned on Marian. "Oh, yes. You see, my ankle is still sore and my head still hur—"
"Then what are you doing out of bed and down the stairs," she asked, her tone filled with disdain.
How did her father live with this woman? Whatever brought them together, she hoped it was worth it.
Marian could say she'd gotten up in preparation of their arrival, but she'd forgotten all about her father and certainly hadn't expected any other family. Marian wasn't sure how her other self treated her step-mother, but she certainly wasn't going to pander to her. Instead, she said, "Well, I have been knocked out for the last three days, and I felt the need to get up and stretch my legs a bit. Now, however, I'm feeling quite exhausted. I could certainly use someone..." ...to keep me company and answer my questions. She left the sentiment unfinished, assuming Esmeralda would supply her own version of the response. The version the girl had already offered.
Everyone waited as Esmeralda considered the request. She finally nodded. A single, slow nod as if she were a queen conferring some great honor upon her subjects. The feather in her hair barely moved.
"Since you are so fagged, perhaps we ought to return to the castle," her father said obviously relieved to have the one matter decided without issue. Now it seemed as if he were trying to get Esmeralda out of there before she changed her mind.
Esmeralda took one last gulp of the ale and set the goblet back on the table with a thud. She rose and glanced down her nose at the girl. "We shall send the carriage day after next."
The girl offered a small curtsey. "Yes, mum."
Sir Edward hurried toward Marian and gave her swift hug. "Take care, my dear." Then just as quickly, he was by Esmeralda's side, escorting her back to the carriage.
As soon as the carriage door had clicked shut, the girl had her arms wrapped around Marian, her face buried in Marian's mid-section. "Oh, Marian, I'm so glad you're better."
Marian's arms went about the girl's shoulders automatically. "Yes, yes, I'm fine...can I ask you a question?"
The girl pulled away only slightly to look at Marian with her face so like Mother's.
"Of course."
"What's your name?"
To be continued...