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Isabella

It was the middle of the night when Rebecca heard the sound of horse hooves pounding their way into Locksley, but it was late, and in her sleep-addled state she wasn't certain if she was dreaming it or if it was real. Her first instinct was to light one of the candles on the mantel and go investigate. Her body had other ideas. Exhausted from the many nights previous she had spent awake, her mind only craved sleep. She found she could not move. The noise faded and Rebecca discredited the notion that the sound had been real and promptly fell back to sleep.

She awoke late the following morning, but more refreshed and alert than she could remember being for some time. She kept herself outside of the manor for the most part. She wanted to avoid her master at all costs. While she loathed being infuriated with him, there was an odd thrill at such rebelliousness. Rebecca replayed yesterday's conversation over in her head as she gathered up the linen she had hung up to dry. Guy had apologized to her--half a heartfelt apology--but an apology none the less. She didn't know if she should be amused or hurt at this. She almost wished he hadn't apologized. It would give her an excuse to continue her resentment, but she couldn't hold onto it for long, already it was slipping.

Damn him. Damn him for everything. His indifference was painful, but his notice even more so. Did she expect him to care for her? Now that Marian was gone did she honestly believe that Guy would look at her with any semblance of affection? Better to have him be indifferent, now that she thought about it. If they never looked twice at one another she would not have to be reminded of his lack of affection. It hurt more when he would talk to her, or apologize to her after a particularly bad argument between them. Why did you insist upon always doing that? He never apologized to any of the other servants when he shouted at them. She hated it, she realized, when he spoke softly to her or called her by her old nickname. It was the most painful thing in the world. Maybe Thornton had been right, maybe she should have left Locksley when she had the chance. She shook her head as if to shake the thought away. That would have been impossible, for as painful as being around Guy was, Rebecca could not even begin to fathom her life without him. Damn him. She had no right to think such thoughts.

Rebecca handed over the laundry to one of the maids who was sitting with her friend while she folded the sheets and the clothes. Rebecca gave the two girls a smile before she headed back to the manor. Those two were inseparable, they did all their chores together. They didn't realize how lucky they were.

She blanched as she saw Guy round the corner. He seemed to be looking for something. He had found it. "You are a damn hard woman to find when you want to be, Becca."

Obviously he had ignored her request that he quit the use of her childhood nickname. He seemed to relish the scowl forming upon her lips. "Did ya sleep at all last night, master?" Rebecca commented, "You look..." she paused as she mentally cursed herself. It was as natural as breathing for her to be concerned for Guy. "You look tired." she finished tonelessly.

Guy seemed to flinch at the mention of last night. Rebecca was not going to ask why. She was going to keep her mouth shut and not get involved. It would be altogether too easy to find out what was troubling him, and she would once again go back to being his invisible shield against all comers. She didn't have the energy or the heart to fight his battles again. "What is it ya want, master?" She asked civilly.

"You are to come with me to Nottingham." He said bluntly.

"I am t' what?" Rebecca wasn't certain she had heard him correctly.

"For Isabella. You are to be her maidservant while she is in Nottingham." Guy explained again.

"Does she know?"

"She will when she sees you, now come." Guy gestured for her to follow him.

"Yes, master." Rebecca said as she followed him in docile silence. She had to marvel at this. Ever since he had returned from the Prince's court in London he seemed to have regained some of his old fervor. They had spoken more to each other in the past three days then they had for nearly a year. She tried to still the enthusiasm which leapt into her heart at this realization. Guy had made it abundantly clear that she was just like any other servant. Her illusions were shattered; he had broken her heart more times than she thought possible. She needed to begin to stamp out these lovesick delusions. He was her master, she was his servant; that was all.

Guy led her round to the stables, where his horse had already been made ready for his departure. He mounted with relative swiftness and held out his hand for Rebecca to take. She looked up at him questioningly. "What?" He grunted, "You'd rather walk to Nottingham?"

"I just--is this even proper, master?" Rebecca stuttered.

"Get on the horse, Becca!"

She placed her hand in his and she was helped up onto the horse. She swallowed hard as she swung up behind Guy. She kept her arms down at her sides, her fists bunching up the fabric of her green, linen dress. Get a hold of yourself, Rebecca. She chided mentally, he's only taking you to Nottingham as a servant. This isn't some sort of special outing.

Guy set the horse into a light trot as they rode away from Locksley Manor. Rebecca had not been expecting the sudden movement; so immersed in her thoughts as she was. In an effort to keep her balance she flung her arms about Guy's waist. She felt him stiffen automatically at her touch, but he did not tell her to remove her arms from about him, and so she did not. She was just as shocked as he was. She was pressed against his back and for a moment she dared not move. When was the last time she had been this close to him?

As the horse sped into a gallop, Rebecca shifted her position about on the horse. She kept a fair hold about Guy, but she tried to keep herself from pressing against him. Unfortunately with each jolt from the horse she found herself flung forward and against him. Eventually she gave up and allowed herself to hold onto her master as they rode down the path to Nottingham.

Guy did not speak to her and Rebecca had nothing to say. The silence should have been awkward, but it was almost peaceful. Rebecca could not help the sigh which emerged from between her lips as she rested against Guy. She was safe from sight. Guy could not see the small smile upon Rebecca's lips, even as it formed against her will. He could not see the contentment spread across her being. Rebecca closed her eyes and gave into this momentary indulgence. She allowed her rage against him to cool. She would never have this opportunity alone with him again; when they were both silent and not indifferent, or shouting fury at one another. It was a small blessing, and Rebecca was going to take it. Damn you, Guy of Gisborne. I wish I couldn't love you.

***

Rebecca had only been to Nottingham during fairs or festivals. The streets were usually crowded and there was always a sense of excitement among the people. Now the town seemed gray with oppression, as if all the happiness had been sapped from the town and its people. She clung to Guy tighter as they passed through the town streets and towards the castle.

Nottingham Castle loomed like a gray stoned dragon over the dower town. Rebecca cast her eyes upwards, watching a few soldiers pace around on the towers and the battlements. She watched over Guy's shoulder as the portcullis was raised for them. Guy led the horse into the castle grounds, a stable boy was quick to appear in order to hold the reigns of the horse as Guy dismounted. He helped Rebecca down and signaled for the boy to take the horse to the stables. Still standing in silence, Rebecca fiddled with her kerchief which she had tied about her head. She tightened the knot with nervous fingers, her eyes shifting over to Guy's troubled face to the stone floor.

"Are you all right, master?" Rebecca finally asked.

Guy shot her a look which clearly read he had no intention of talking about such matters with her. Rebecca merely shrugged in response. Guy led her up the castle steps and down one of the corridors. Rebecca followed, trying her best to take in her new surroundings while at the same time making sure she did not lose sight of Guy and get herself lost. She was brought before the doors of one of the rooms in the castle.

Guy knocked twice in rapid succession. "Isabella!" He barked impatiently, Rebecca was taken aback at the harshness in his tone.

"Must you shout at me?" Came an annoyed sigh from within. The door was opened and the sour face of an otherwise beautiful woman appeared in the doorway, "I'm not a dog to be ordered about. Who is this?" She pointed at Rebecca who could not help the grin which spread across her face as she looked at Isabella.

"This is your maidservant." Guy said, giving Rebecca a slight push forward as if to force her upon Isabella.

"Maidservant?" Isabella gave a short, disdainful laugh, "What would I need a maidservant for? Take her back to Locksley, brother, don't pawn your maids off on me."

Rebecca gave a little chuckle, not able to help herself, "I should have known the little mistress was able t' take care o' herself. How could the master an' I assume you'd want any help."

Isabella raised an eyebrow, reexamining the servant before her. She studied her carefully, her keen eyes picking up on every detail. There was only one person in the world who had ever called her 'little mistress,' "Becca?" She asked cautiously.

Rebecca's grin widened, "Aye, little mistress? I shouldn't say that though, look at ya! Ya ain't little any more, bless."

"I should have known it was you in an instant." Isabella said, taking the woman's hands in her own. She touched her as if she was touching a fragile ghost from a life long since vanished. She looked at her with an odd light, Rebecca wasn't sure what to make of it. Was it shocked happiness or surprised calculation? "I can't believe it..." She whispered this as if reorganizing a thought in her mind.

"I'll leave you to your little reunion, then." Guy sighed, turning away from the both of the as if the sight of such happiness made him ill.

"Do so." Isabella retorted. Taking Rebecca by the hand she led her into her room. Rebecca glanced over her shoulder at the retreating form of Guy. Something did not feel entirely right. "Now, Becca, I do believe you and I have much to catch up on." Isabella smiled as she swiftly shut the door behind her.

1171

Rebecca bounced a small ball of yarn off of Guy's head. She giggled as the boy sat bolt upright in his chair. "What is it?" He asked sharply in slurred alertness.

"Ya fell asleep...again." Rebecca twirled a piece of the string about her fingers as she wove the rest back into a ball.

"Sorry." He yawned as he rested against the table top, his head in his arms.

"If you're tired why don't ya nap in your room, Guy? Said ya didn't have t' wait for me."

"I'm all right."

"Sure? 'Cause we don't have t' go anywhere if you're not feeling well." Rebecca asked, already mentally ticking the seconds away in her head until he fell asleep again.

"I'll wake up once we get outside." He insisted.

"You've been acting like this for days. Are ya sick?"

"It's nothing." Guy grunted indicating that it was most assuredly something.

Rebecca threw the half strung yarn ball at Guy's head again, pulling it away before he could swat at it. "Will you stop that?" He snapped.

Rebecca chuckled as she tugged the yarn ball back by one of its strings. She went back to winding it back up. Keeping his head lowered to the table, Guy could see the basket of yarn sitting beside one of the chair legs. He stretched out his leg, hooking the basket about his ankle, he quietly dragged the basket over towards him. Keeping one arm on the table so that Rebecca didn't suspect him shifting about he carefully took one of the balls of yarn from the basket. Snapping upright he launched the yarn at Rebecca.

She gave a slight yelp as the yarn smacked her in the side of the head. She looked over at Guy with a small frown on her lips. His expression was utterly blank. He merely shrugged at her. She threw the yarn back at him and he caught it. "Put it back in the basket, ya sneak. An' don't take the others outta there. Took me all morning t' make those all neat." She couldn't help but snicker as he did as she said.

"Done." She announced as she showed off the neatly coiled ball of yarn.

"You only took an age." Guy muttered as she rummaged underneath the table for the basket containing the rest of her work.

"Now," Rebecca sighed as she reappeared, basket in hand. She set the yarn upon the tabel and folded her arms atop the table, "Tell me what's going on."

"I said nothing." Guy insisted. His eyes narrowed in irritation at her persistence into his own personal matters. "Can we leave it?"

"Guy, you've been snapping at me an' storming about the manor for days. Ya look as if I could knock ya over with a feather. What's wrong with ya?" Guy could hear from her voice she was genuinely concerned and not after his secrets. He turned his glares away from Rebecca. He had no need to be angry with her.

"It's Isabella." He said in a quipped tone.

"What?"

"She hasn't been sleeping. She keeps waking me up with nightmares and nothing will convince her to go back to sleep."

"Have ya told the mistress?" Rebecca asked.

"No." Guy shook his head and from the cutting edge in his voice it was a suggestion that was entirely out of the question, "I don't need to worry my mother over this. Isabella will stop eventually...right?"

Rebecca frowned, pondering this. "Has the little mistress told ya what's the matter?"

"No, she just says it's nightmares and that's it."

"You're impossible. The both of you." Rebecca blew a strand of hair out of her eyes, "Stubborn as the bloody Devil."

"Oh and I suppose you could handle things better?" Guy snapped, not at all in the mood to be taunted.

"Maybe."

"I'd like to see you try. Isabella doesn't talk to anyone." Guy smirked.

"For your sake ya better hope she does. Otherwise ya can look forward t' another sleepless night."

***

Isabella was sitting in a little chair next to her window. She held a tiny comb in her hand and she ran the small teeth of the wooden comb through the yarn locks of her rag doll. She would occasionally glance out the window to spy at the evening sun peeking out from between a roll of clouds. Her mother should be returning home soon. Ghislaine had spent the better half of the afternoon at Locksley...again. Isabella did not like being left by herself. Her brother only played with her for so long before he could not stand being kept indoors any longer.

The clouds drifted past in the sky, covering the sun once again and Isabella gave a small shudder and went back to combing out her doll's hair. A knock at the door interrupted her. She looked over at the door, a confused expression on her face. "Come in?" It was more of a question than an order.

Isabella was surprised to see Rebecca open the door. She gave her a smile and a little wave. Isabella just ducked her head and focused her attentions back on the doll. No doubt, Rebecca had just come in to tidy up her room. She would go away eventually.

Rebecca did just that. She set herself to tending to the quilts and linens on Isabella's bed. Although it had already been made earlier that morning, she made quite a show of tugging at each corner and smoothing out each wrinkle. Rebecca would continually glance over at the little girl, who would duck her head whenever she caught her eye.

"Your doll must have the finest hair in all o' Nottingham, little mistress." Rebecca commented.

Isabella looked up, a bit flustered to have been spoken to by one of the servants. She usually didn't talk to them. Whenever they talked to her she always had her brother or her mother to hide behind. Rebecca didn't mind her shyness, she went about her chores with ease. "Does she have a name?"

Isabella fidgeted in her chair, "Name? No..."

"What? How can a doll that pretty not have a name. Are you joking with me, little mistress?" Rebecca laughed as she stood with her hands on her hips.

"I never...thought of a name." Isabella said softly, glancing back down at her doll.

"Why don't you think o' one now, hm?"

Isabella went silent, back to staring at her doll in concentration. Rebecca walked over to her, almost as one would approach a fawn out in the woods. "You know I had a doll like yours once."

"You did?" Isabella asked.

Rebecca nodded, "My father gave it t' me. Know what I named her?"

"What?"

"Maeve. After my grandmother. Pretty name, don't you think, little mistress."

Isabella nodded. Rebecca knelt down beside the little girl. She sat forward on her knees and folded her hands atop her apron. "An' whenever I used t' get scared o' the dark...or when I had nightmares. I'd keep Maeve with me through the night an' you know what would always happen?"

Isabella shook her head, her eyes were growing rounder and wider as her shyness melted away a little at the story Rebecca told her. "What would happen?" She asked quietly as if about to hear a great secret.

"I wouldn't be afraid anymore." Rebecca said with a smile.

Isabella lowered her head upon hearing that. She ran her fingers through her doll's hair. "Mother made my doll for me." She said, "but Father gave it to me before he..." she swallowed her words and hung her head again. She gave a light gasp when she saw a handkerchief dangling before her. She took it in her hand reluctantly. She hadn't been crying, but she rubbed her eyes with it anyway. "I miss Father." She said.

"I know ya do, little mistress." Rebecca smiled sadly. "An' it's all right t' miss him."

"It's not fair." Isabella found herself crying, "Why did he have to go? Is he going to come back?"

"I don't know, little mistress." Rebecca said honestly. "But I'm sure the master would hate t' see ya crying so, an' not sleeping an' worrying your brother."

"I didn't mean to..." Isabella hiccuped.

"It's all right." Rebecca said, "I cried when my father left too."

"Really? But...but you're so much older!" Isabella exclaimed.

Rebecca found herself laughing at the little girl's bluntness. "You don't have t' be little t' cry. It's not a bad thing."

Isabella nodded. Rebecca pointed to the little doll in her lap, "An' ya got your doll with ya. I don't think she'd ever let anything bad happen t' ya."

"And neither would I."

Ghislaine was standing in the doorway of her daughter's room. She was still in her riding clothes and her long, dark hair was tied back away from her face. Isabella positively beamed at the sight of her mother. She had been so entrenched in what Rebecca was saying to her that she had stopped listening for her mother. "Mother!" She ran over to her and through her arms about her, her tiny arms barely reaching about her waist.

Rebecca got to her feet, her face going a rather dark shade of pink. She made a clumsy curtsy towards her mistress. "My lady..."

"That was quite an interesting story you were telling my daughter about your doll, Rebecca." Ghislaine said, a wry expression upon her face.

"My lady, I was only trying t-...."

"I know what you were trying to do." Ghislaine interrupted her excuses with a quipped severity. Rebecca gulped at the sound. "I believe there is only one thing to be done."

Rebecca winced, she prayed her mistress wouldn't think to punish her too hard, although what punishment she would have merited by speaking to Isabella should could not even fathom. "You shall be Isabella's personal maidservant."

"Pardon, my lady?" Rebecca choked.

"You will be Isabella's maidservant. I saw how you spoke to her. She needs someone to speak to her as you have done. Would you like that, Bella?" Ghislaine turned her attentions to her young daughter, "Would you like Rebecca to help in your room, and with your clothes? I'm sure she'd even like to play with your doll."

"Now, my lady." Rebecca stalled, "I'm not so sure o' that. I only play with dolls that have proper names."

"My doll has a name!" Isabella said in a stronger voice than Rebecca had ever heard. She ran over to grab her doll from off the chair. "It is Maeve and it is a pretty name! Now you have to play with her!"

"I see I don't have much more o' a choice, little mistress." Rebecca sighed. She looked up at Ghislaine who was smiling at her daughter's exuberance. "Thank ya, my lady. Truly..." She was both surprised and grateful at this sudden promotion. It was odd, but all she could think of was what the expression on Guy's face was when she told him about this. She smiled, and willingly allowed Isabella to lead her back over to her doll; her silent, little world no longer so isolated.

A/N: Isabella plays a bit of an interesting part in this story, both in the past and the present timelines. She's a bit of a wild card, espeically from Becca's extremely bias and gullible view point. In other words, angst and chaos, ahoy! XD