Capturing The Highlander's Heart (Lasses 0f The Kinnaird Castle Book 1)

by Kenna Kendrick

  Along with the morning carriage another letter had come, bearing the seal of Devereaux. Amelia had thought perhaps Charles would offer his assistance in such a time. But, in the world of the English aristocracy, word traveled fast, especially about calamity, and saving face was everything. It was two lines:

  Amelia, We can no longer be wed. My family’s reputation is at stake.

  Best of luck in your endeavors. C.D.

  And with one swipe of the pen, Amelia had not only lost her home and father and possessions, but also her fiancé. Over the past few days, Amelia and Henrietta had had to stay in filthy little inns to rest and take their meals and take care of their needs. Amelia had been saving a bit of money she’d received as an allowance, and so they were able to pay for scant meals and dirt-covered rooms. It had been their first time in such places, and they clung to each other tightly in the bed they shared, fearing who or what might be next door to them.

  The journey was over 800 kilometers, and while she brought a few books and her poetry journal to keep her mind focused on something other than the painful carriage ride. Her eyes wandered down to the small, thin volume in her hands. It was a book of Thomas Gray’s poems, one of her and her father’s favorites. Her father had gotten her this volume as a gift a few years ago, and she’d been attached to it and poetry ever since. Just the thought of her father made a solitary tear slide down her cheek.

  She thought of her leather journal in her bag, filled to the brim with her few whimsical rhymes, hoping to mold them into finely crafted poems one day, worthy of publication. There weren’t many female poets, but she hoped to become one of them. These two items were the only possessions she had in the world now. Were they tainted with her father’s betrayal?

  Despite her mind being busy enough swirling with thoughts and questions and plans, Amelia was tired of travel. It would take over a week to get to Brechin, and each bump of the carriage reminded her of their new fate. She held onto the note she was to give to the cottage landlord; it kept her focused on their goal.

  “Shall we stop soon for the night, mother? You need to rest with some warm food in you.”

  “No, dear, I can make it for a few more hours. We need to try to cover as much distance as we can each day.” Henrietta laid her head against Amelia’s shoulder and soon fell asleep.

  After 12 days of monotonous travel, in and out of inns, barely able to get enough food or a proper bath, Amelia and her mother were riding through the Scottish countryside on a cloudy afternoon, and Amelia spotted a small cottage coming into view as the horse’s hooves made their tattooed rhythm on the soft ground. The cottage was made of gray stone, with ivy climbing the walls, twisting and turning around the corners, and it covered the whole left side of the house with its little green fans.

  Looking around her at the surrounding Scottish wilds, she was overwhelmed with a vision of green. It covered the hills for as far as she could see. Other than the river, and a small cemetery a little farther to her left, closer to the river’s far bank, the land was the cottage’s only companion. To Amelia, this seemed like the loneliest place in the world. And suddenly, the carriage stopped right in front of the stone cottage.

  Chapter Three

  Early December, Brechin, Scotland, Kinnaird land

  Once they alighted from the carriage, Amelia and her mother stood motionless in front of the cottage, a little unsure of their next move. The carriage driver dropped off one bag from the back of the carriage, and without a word, continued, the sound of hooves growing fainter and fainter with each passing moment.

  Both of them had lost weight in the past 12 days and looked drawn and tired. They were dirty and in much need of bathing and rest. Amelia took her mother’s hand, and with a voice as confident as she could muster, said, “Come, Mother, we will bear it as best we can.” Henrietta smiled weakly and nodded her head.

  She moved to open the door of the cottage. A cry of “Ahoy!” made Amelia turn her head towards the sound. She saw a ruddy-faced man waving as he walked towards them over the lush green grass.

  He approached them smilingly and breathlessly greeted them, his hat and head tipped in politeness.

  “Welcome, ladies. Welcome tae Brechin. Well, I suppose yer outside of the town a wee bit, but Kinnaird land it is. I was informed yer arrival would be around this time, so I’ve been comin’ tae the cottage every day to see if ye had arrived and checking that everythin’ was in order for ye.”

  Amelia and Henrietta were both so tired that they couldn’t find the words right away to make in reply.

  Amelia cleared her throat and began. “Hello, Sir. Forgive us. We have had a very long journey. You must be the landlord. Here is the paperwork we were told to give you?”

  “Aye, I am Laird Kinnaird’s land agent. Fletcher’s me name. I tend to the cottages and farms on the estate.” He peered quickly at the paper Amelia had handed him. “Well, everything’ is in order. Let’s see ye young lasses comfortable.”

  Mr. Fletcher pulled out a key to open the door to a darkened hallway. He led the way to a side table where he lit a candle and held it up to his face. “Aye, this cottage is a bit drafty this time of year, but I will make ye ladies a fire ye won’t forget!”

  Amelia almost groaned with pleasure at the thought of being warm and comfortable and not being jolted about a carriage over the rough Scottish terrain. She touched her mother’s hand and led her along the hallway until Mr. Fletcher illuminated the armchair by the fire.

  “Sit, Mother,” Amelia helped her mother ease into an armchair, and then she felt a curiosity to see the rest of their new home.

  Mr. Fletcher busied himself with making a fire and making pleasant conversation with Henrietta. “And so, tell me all yer about yer journey, milady.”

  Henrietta replied, “Thank you, good Sir, for your kindness. Well, we’re a long way from home in London, but the journey was pleasant enough.” Amelia’s mother would always have the politeness of an English lady and would never complain to a stranger. “The scenery is quite breathtaking here,” Henrietta continued while Amelia found another candle, lit it, and took off on her own to explore the cottage.

  Besides the main room area, she found a small kitchen, pantry, a tiny drawing room, and one bedroom. Furniture was scant, but the necessities were there. A bed was set in the center of the bedroom with fresh sheets. On her search, Amelia had also found a small writing desk and vanity, with only one cupboard for clothing. She spied a small privy around the back of the cottage. Was this it? Just these few rooms? Amelia held back the tears that threatened to course down her cheeks as she took in their new home. Just 12 days ago I was about to buy my wedding trousseau, and now… How will we live? What will we eat? My mother, Lady Henrietta Parker, should never have been subjected to this. I will do whatever I must do to make her comfortable.

  Amelia took a few deep breaths while alone in the bedroom and steeled her resolve. If her father was to be a weak man with no conscience, no feeling of responsibility or care for those under his care, then it must be totally upon her shoulders. For her mother only, she would find work, she would save, and she would pay the debts. Her father could come back, and her mother would be happy.

  Amelia pushed her shoulders back and walked back towards the main room. But her reflection in a cracked mirror on the wall made her pause. She approached the mirror. Could this really be me? Her blond hair was darkened with dirt and grime, and it hadn’t been brushed. A rough braid lay down her shoulder, and stray pieces fell by her ears. Her face was covered in dirt and dust from the journey, and her eyes looked heavy with worry and fatigue. She wore a plain gray dress that she was able to buy from the last inn, and she wore no corset. She had sold her last pair of stays to buy food. Once she had been a young lady of tall stature, with elegant gowns and finery, being asked to dance at every ball during the Season, and now, she looked like no more than a pauper’s daughter. She remembered the first day she’d met Charles Devereaux, and how he’d looked at her--hungril
y. A sharp pain in her chest made her remember his hurried note and callous tone. All men were self-centered bastards. But, she’d spent her tears already for Charles on the rough pillows along the journey. Now, this is what she was. It made her think of a line from her favorite poem: “Thy sun is set; thy spring is gone—”

  Amelia turned her face away, not wanting to see any more. She must make the best of what she could. And now, with a fire, she could have a bath! She smiled to herself. That was one small pleasure in this sea of troubles.

  Amelia heard laughter, if her hearing was correct, coming from the main room. As she entered, the fire was in full blaze, crackling merrily as it filled the small stone room with delicious heat. Her mother was chuckling.

  “Oh, Amelia! You must hear Mr. Fletcher’s story. I say it was quite restorative after such a dreary journey.”

  Mr. Fletcher smiled.

  “Oh, another time, Mother. I believe you need some tea, food, and rest.” Amelia touched her mother on the shoulder.

  “Oh! I almost forgot to tell ye. Me wife will be comin’ by with a basket full of treats for ye. She’s a lovely woman, and having no children of her own, likes to spoil those on the estate if she can. She should be by shortly.”

  He stood from kneeling at the grate and dusted off his knees. “Well, now that yer settled, I’ll be takin’ my leave. The rent is due on the first of next month, and I’ve brought ye a newspaper from Brechin, as I’ve been told that,” he cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly before them, “that ye are ladies of good breedin’ and would enjoy a bit o’ readin’.”

  They thanked Mr. Fletcher heartily for his kindness and help, and then Amelia took a seat in the wooden chair by the fire next to her mother.

  Her stomach growled fiercely, and she wished for Mrs. Fletcher to make her arrival soon.

  * * *

  Jamie awoke the next morning, feeling more rested but still anxious about the worries of last evening. It had been a late night by the fire with Prince Charlie, and he had resolved to be comfortable with his mother ‘s decision to have a companion. He knew it was not his decision to make.

  Jamie dressed in his shirt, waistcoat, and thick tartan coat for warmth. The stone walls of the castle were no form of insulation, and as soon as his feet hit the floor out of bed every morning in the winter, a chill would run through his body. His hair was tied back in a bun, following the English style. He hated it this way, but it made his mother happy and feel more like she was back at home in England.

  He hurried down to the main hall for breakfast and was surprised and pleased to see his friend, William Fraser already helping himself to sausages at the wooden dining table with a large fire crackling at the hearth.

  “Good morning!” yelled William heartily with a mouth full of sausage. “I didnae think you’d mind if I, uh, began early. I’ve had a busy night and need a bit of sustenance to put me back in order.” William winked.

  Jamie laughed and clapped his red-headed friend on the back. “Of course not, lad! My friend, ye are most welcome, and yer coming is very fortuitous. I have a few issues tae discuss with ye.”

  William rolled his eyes as he took a sip of morning ale. “Och, it’s about that dim-witted, jealous, power-hungry cousin of yers, ‘tis not?”

  Jamie sat down across from him but didn’t yet grab for any food. “Aye, unfortunately. He’s been giving me a lot of trouble, lately. He’s spreading rumors that his father was the firstborn and shoulda been the true laird, making him the heir insteada me. What do ye think I should do?”

  “Well, the only thing I’ve seen the idiot do is visit a few of yer relatives to blather on about his ideas. I donnae think they pay him much mind. I wouldnae worry about it, lad! And if he needs a bit of straightening out, well, ye know we can handle him.” William pounded his fist into his hand and laughed. But then, he paused and cocked his head to the side to look at his friend. “What’s really troubling ye?”

  “What if me da kept this secret from me all these years? Did he know and willingly steal the lairdship for himself? If that’s true, then I can’t rightly take it from the true heir. And now that he’s gone, I cannae tell for sure.”

  “Och, ye know that’s ridiculous! Yer father was a good man, a true lord, and he wouldnae taken what wasn’t rightfully his tae take. Ye know that’s true. And ye were left alive after the battle because of yer ma’s English heritage, and the real ownership belongs tae the English crown anyway. So, what could Donald want? Hmm...perhaps we ought tae make a visit tae your cousin, lad?”

  Jamie laughed and grabbed a plate of sausages and bread. “Aye, perhaps yer right. Now, tell me about this busy night of yers…”

  “Och, lad, yer going to enjoy this one. See, I’m not one for names, but ye know me, I remember faces. Unfortunately, the faces I remember don’t match with all the names I’ve got in me head. These two lush lassies approach me card table, greet me by name, and ask for another tup like the last time.”

  “Aye, so you’ve made a big impression on the one whorehouse down in Brechin.”

  William laughed, “Aye, but I got their names mixed up and called one the other one’s name, and instead of ending up in bed, I ended up with the pint over me head. Ah women…” William leaned back confidently. “Guess they just can’t get enougha me! It’s been a lot easier to get them tae notice me since ye haven’t been there stealing all their gazes.” He winked. “I’ll probably regret this, but why don’t we go taegether one night soon? It’s been a long while.”

  Jamie clinked his cup of ale with William. “Agreed. Guess I’ll need to be there tae protect ye, anyway.”

  Then, William began another tale that had Jamie laughing so hard that he forgot his troubles with Donald, for a time.

  * * *

  Soon enough, as if hurried by Amelia wishing it with all her might, Mrs. Fletcher finally arrived. The three ladies were sat around the fire together chatting pleasantly over freshly made cups of tea. “Aye, it does get a bit cold around this time of year, but ye both have each other tae keep warm, and ye must always keep the fire going! Was your journey very difficult?”

  Amelia and Henrietta glanced at each other briefly before replying politely, “It was as good as can be expected, thank you. It was quite the long journey.”

  Mrs. Fletcher looked off into the distance with a smile. “My goodness, all the way from London. I’ve never been there meself. My Lord, it must be a sight tae see.”

  Mrs. Fletcher turned to open her basket. “Now, I’ve brought a few things for ye here tae eat yer evening and morning meals. A bit o’ bread and jam and meat. I’ve also picked out a young girl tae help ye both and tend tae yer needs. She will be by in the mornin’. Ye can give her two shillings a week.”

  Amelia looked at Mrs. Fletcher’s round face and thought of her as their angel of mercy. Perhaps there was some hope after all?

  “Ah, yes, Mrs. Fletcher, that was something I wished to speak to you about.” Amelia gripped her tea cup tightly. “Thank you so much for all you’ve done, but is there anywhere I could find work? You see, my mother and I are no longer supported by my father, and we will of course need to have income. It would be of great use to me if you could make any suggestions.” She sipped her tea to appear calm and collected, not starving and desperate.

  Mrs. Fletcher touched Amelia’s knee and smiled at Henrietta. Amelia was grateful for the small kindness. “Aye, there is something!” Mrs. Fletcher clapped her hands. “Lady Kinnaird up at Kinnaird Castle. Ye can almost see it in the distance there on a misty day. She needs a lovely young companion for conversation and company. She’s told me herself she gets quite lonely up there in the long cold winters, especially while Laird Jamie is away. I think this would be suitable for ye.”

  Amelia’s whole body tensed with excitement at the hopeful prospect of a job, but she didn’t want to appear rude or indelicate and encouraged Mrs. Fletcher to tell her the details. “Laird Jamie? Is that her husband?”

  Mrs. Fletcher lo
oked down and shook her head. “Och, no, sadly. The older Laird James died in a final battle for Scottish independence four years back now. This is her son, the new laird, quite young and handsome, but a wee brash at times. He hasnae the manners of his late father. But he’s a good boy, I can tell ye that.”

  “Well, may I write a letter to Lady Kinnaird, expressing my interest in the position? Would you be able to give it to her for me?” Amelia almost cracked her tea cup as she gripped it tightly waiting for an answer.