02 - Borrowed Dreams

by May McGoldrick

  “That would be just fine. But before we begin, you will explain to me why you are so uneasy.” She stood before him, refusing to move.

  “Why…nothing, m’lady.” He was avoiding her eyes. “This uneasiness you refer to is just one of my many flaws—”

  “Stop right there, Mr. Howitt,” she scolded quietly. “The entire household is a wreck, and you know it. Has the king been invited without telling me?”

  The young man’s gaze met hers nervously.

  “I am much easier to deal with when I am told what the problem is.”

  He let out an agitated breath. “The truth of it is, mum, the last time Baronsford was preparing a gathering of this magnitude was the day…well, the day of the accident.”

  Millicent should have guessed. With Lyon injured, and Emma dead, there was no reason to celebrate after that terrible day. And more than a few members of the household at Baronsford were probably feeling a little superstitious.

  “In spite of the tragic events of that day,” the secretary continued, “many of the guests who stayed on that night behaved in a fashion that was less than genteel.”

  “Whispering about what had happened?”

  “Speaking openly of scandal,” Howitt said flatly. “That is why we are all determined to make this night so perfect. Begging your pardon, we understand and support what you and his lordship are trying to do. At the same time, we would like to show these people that Baronsford has not suffered from the previous countess’s death. We’d like to show them that since your arval, we are faring even better than before. We should like these guests to see how fortunate we are to have you.”

  “I am honored, Mr. Howitt, by your words.” Millicent fought back tears and tried to calm her emotions. “We shall all do our best. So let us, then, be off. We shall see to our mission here and be on our way back to Baronsford with plenty of time to ready ourselves. We shall be back before they expect us.”

  As she turned toward the muddy river, Millicent never imagined that so soon after speaking those words she would be forgetting the hour, the day, and the guests. Her lapse in memory came just as she came upon the cart belonging to the old woman, and asked about the girl Jo.

  ****

  The burly, muddle-headed Earl of Dumfries had taken it on himself to show up far earlier than everyone else at Baronsford. After two hours of being closed up with him in the library, listening to the man’s whining, Lyon was ready to pick up his favorite pistol and shoot him squarely between his squinty black eyes. He refrained, however, unwilling to ruin the library’s handsome Persian carpet.

  Though he was in large part responsible for much of the problem in the Borders, he sulkily argued that if Lyon were to speak tonight for the protection of the land and its tenants, then he would be unfairly represented as a villain before their peers.

  Just as Lyon was about to tell the earl that he was a fat, jabbering mealworm, Walter Truscott appeared at the door. The rest of the guests were beginning to arrive, and Lord Aytoun still needed to get himself ready. He was surprised, though, when his cousin followed the servants who carried him up to his dressing room.

  “What’s wrong, Walter?” he asked.

  “Millicent has not yet returned.”

  “Howitt is with her.”

  “I believe he is. We have seen no sign of the carriage or the servants or the two of them.”

  “Did you send someone to the riverbank?”

  “An hour ago. No news yet,” he said with a frown. “I am riding down there myself right now. I don’t want you to worry about anything. I shall bring her back. She must have been distracted and lost track of the time.”

  “Go,” Lyon snapped. “I need to know she is safe. I don’t care a straw about the strutting popinjays coming here tonight. I care only about her, Walter. Bring my wife back.”

  *****

  The doctor that Millicent had sent Howitt to fetch from Melrose had come too late. Jo had died with her tiny, tartan-swaddled daughter in one arm while her other hand had clutched Millicent’s.

  The crowd of onlookers just stared. No one whispered a word, and then most of them simply shook their heads and turned away. Millicent didn’t attempt to mumble words of solace. It was a hard world, and they knew it well.

  From the few whispered words the dying Jo had spoken before the end came, Millicent had pieced together an understanding of what had happened to the young woman. It was a story of suffering. It was a story of betrayal.

  She was relieved when Truscott arrived. He knew what to do, and he took charge of the arrangements.

  After what felt like a lifetime later, Millicent found herself standing on the muddy bank of the river, holding the sleeping bairn beneath her cloak, while her people wrapped Jo’s body and carried it up to the village kirk.

  The old woman who had shared her cart with Jo stood next to Millicent. “Ye will take the bairn?”

  “I believe that would be best.”

  “Aye. Part o’ that lassie lives on through her bairn. I heard her. What she whispered to ye about her life. Mayhap someday the wee one’ll find justice for her mither.”

  Perhaps someday. But not for a long time.

  “Will you stay with us? Come back to Baronsford. You can be there and watch her as she grows.”

  The old woman shook her head. “Nay, but thank ye. I may just come back, though, to see how ye’ve done by her.”

  “You are always welcome,” Millicent whispered.

  She watched Truscott’s solemn face as he came down the hill. She knew it was time to go.

  In the carriage, Millicent pushed back the cloak and gazed at the baby’s pale face. She admired the small tightly fisted hands. She would do right by the child. She and Lyon would both cherish her and raise her with their own.

  Millicent nestled the bundle in her arm more snugly against her chest. There were so many things that she needed to tell her husband—about this new addition to their family, and about the other one that was growing inside her now. She could hardly wait until everyone was gone tonight.

  “From the number of carriages and horses and grooms in the courtyard and down by the stables,” Howitt said, peering out the carriage window through the fading afternoon light, “it looks as if most everyone has arrived.”

  Truscott frowned. “We can pull the carriage around to the side entrance if you wish. No one needs to know you have returned until you’ve had a chance to change.”

  “No,” Millicent said. “We will go in the main entrance.”

  She expected an argument, but he surprised her by immediately relaying her wishes to the grooms.

  “And everyone was hoping so desperately to avoid another scandal,” she said to Howitt.

  Walter Truscott leaned over and touched her hand. “I shouldn’t worry too much about that, m’lady. You do as you wish, and let them see what their greed is doing to innocent folk.”

  The carriage stopped before the impressive entrance of Baronsford. Truscott stepped out and assisted Millicent from the She could hear the whispers even before reaching the open doors. A few late arrivals stood just inside, shedding expensive cloaks and hats. Millicent looked down at her mud-stained cloak, at the boots caked with muck.

  “I can find my way from here,” she told Truscott before going up the steps.

  As Millicent stepped inside to the bows of the surprised footmen, no introduction was made. Instead, an immediate hush fell over those who were gathered in the entrance hall. Then like a giant wave, the whispers rolled and spread into the other rooms, through the great hall and the saloons and the ballroom. Then, like the calm before a storm, silence once again fell. Even the musicians in the ballroom ceased their playing.

  Millicent stopped at the base of the great curved stairway and glanced at the place where Emma’s portrait had hung. Then she turned and moved through the separating throngs of guests, looking for her husband.

  She heard his voice, and then, just inside the doors of the great hall, Millicent s
aw Lyon. He was handsomer than any man she had ever seen in her life. She stopped a dozen paces from where he sat.

  “I was by the river at the vagrant camp. At least fifty more families, with all their meager belongings piled on small carts or on their backs, came into the village. There is hunger, sickness, but they somehow retain their pride. They have nothing else.”

  Millicent’s voice quavered but she continued to speak as if there were no one else there. She was talking only to Lyon.

  “I was delayed in returning. Today we lost a young woman.” She shook her head. “No, she was really little more than a child. Without a home, with none of her kin at her side, without anyone who loved her or knew her to help, she died on a stretch of mud on the bank of the river giving birth to this beautiful girl.”

  She gently pushed back the cloak to show the tiny infant in her arms.

  “That was why I was late. I hope you understand.”

  Millicent pulled the cloak over the sleeping baby and, without looking back, went out through the hall and up the stairs.

  By the time Millicent reached the top of the steps, her entire body was shaking. She could hear the voices of the guests as they all began to speak at once. Hurrying servants pulled the doors to her bedchamber shut behind her as sobs began to wrack her body in waves.

  She didn’t know what she had been thinking. She had made a fool out of herself before everyone who mattered. Mrs. MacAlister hastened into the room right behind her.

  “I shall take care of this angel, m’lady. Ye must change.” The housekeeper gently took the baby. Her soft words and gentle manner made Millicent cry even harder.

  The servants’ hands tugged at her clothes, undressing her and dressing her again, brushing her hair. Millicent endured it all in a daze. She wondered how Lyon was managing with the embarrassment of his new wife’s behavior. How was he going to explain her to these people?

  I hope you understand. She shuddered.

  The dress they had pulled onto her had silver threads woven into the fabric. Millicent sat and watched skilled hands franically trying to arrange her hair.

  “One of the women in the kitchen is nursing her own bairn of two months,” Mrs. MacAlister explained. “I think this wee one is just waking up. She’ll be looking for some food too, she will.”

  Millicent nodded gratefully to the housekeeper and watched the woman disappear out the door. All the tugging and pulling and arranging suddenly come to a halt, and they all stood back. She stared into the looking glass at the strangely familiar woman staring back at her.

  Millicent slowly rose to her feet. The idea of walking out of this room and down those steps was terrifying.

  There was a knock at the door, and someone opened it.

  A hush fell over the room, and Millicent turned to see who was at the door.

  It was Lyon, standing in the open doorway.

  Her breath caught in her chest. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision, and she reached a hand toward him just as she felt the room around her begin to whirl.

  Two servants caught Millicent just as her knees buckled beneath her. By the time she regained her senses, she had been conveyed to a settee and Lyon was beside her, growling orders at everyone. She sipped the wine that was being held to her lips.

  “I’m fine.” She took his hand and, despite his objections, pulled herself to her feet. “You’re standing. You—”

  “I wanted to surprise you; I never thought to frighten you like this, my love.” He arms wrapped around her, drawing her against him.

  “How? When?” The tears would not stop. “This must be a dream.”

  “’Tis no dream. I shall explain everything later.”

  Millicent remembered the guests. She recalled the importance of the gathering. At the same time, she could not stop thinking of his legs supporting him. She held him tight, fearing he might fall, but she was the unsteady one at the moment. She took a deep breath. “We should be downstairs.”

  “Are you certain you are feeling better?”

  “I am. I am indeed.” She wiped the tears and took his arm. She was ready.

  CHAPTER 31

  As recently as a fortnight ago, Millicent would have considered this night a borrowed dream. A lifetime of doubt had been cast to the wind, though, as she had stood proudly beside her husband in the ballroom of Baronsford, discussing everything from politics to the living conditions of the vagrants to what might be done to improve their situation.

  At times, Millicent had surprised herself. Here she was, speaking with such passion. She cared naught if the scrutinizing looks directed at her were critical or approving. She was happy with who she was and how she looked. What meant most to her, though, was the t that the most important person in that room, Lyon, was openly proud of her. For the first time in her life, she felt complete.

  It was only after the rest of the guests had either retired or gone home that the earl of Dumfries--the first guest to arrive according to Lyon--decided to leave. As his carriage rolled away from the door, Millicent sank against her husband’s chest.

  “You were magnificent,” he whispered in her ear, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

  “And you are standing.” She looked up with amazement at him. “I still cannot believe it. Standing.”

  Lyon had not been able to manage the stairs. When he had appeared in the ballroom, standing beside his wife shortly after going up after her, though, word had spread with amazing speed through the assembled guests. Millicent had seen many staring as if they were witnessing a miraculous event. Others stood looking on in silent awe. Many of Baronsford’s household staff came up to admire their laird’s recovery, as well.

  “And do not forget the steps I took, too.”

  Millicent hugged him fiercely, fighting back her tears. “I shall never forget that. But how long have you been hiding this from me?”

  “The feeling in my limbs has been coming back slowly, and I was looking for the right opportunity when I could share with you something significant.” He brushed a tear off her cheek. “Seeing you tonight coming in here with that bairn in your arms and facing these wolves so bravely, I could wait no longer. You taught me, showed me, this had to be the moment.”

  “I love you, Lyon.” She kissed him. “I shall never forget this night.”

  When she pulled away, she saw him lean heavily on the cane he held. She quickly motioned Lyon’s valets to bring in his chair.

  “You are not putting me back into that.”

  “We shall only use it to manage the stairs for a while.” She lowered her voice. “This is the quickest way to get you upstairs and to our bedroom.”

  “In that case—” A wicked grin broke onto his face. “There are other things about my recovery that I am looking forward to showing you.”

  Millicent blushed at his suggestive words.

  Will and John positioned the chair behind Lyon. He handed the cane to Millicent and sat down without the aid of the valets. “When will I get a chance to meet the new addition to our family?”

  This time Millicent could not hold back her tears. He understood. Without her having to ask, Lyon knew that they would be raising the child as their own. She walked ahead of his chair as they ascended the steps. “I checked on her once tonight. She was fed and sleeping. I shall ask Mrs. MacAlister to bring her to us if she is awake.”

  He nodded. “Have you named her?”

  “I thought perhaps she should be called Josephine. Her mother’s name was Jo.”

  “That is a beautiful name.”

  When they reacd their apartments, Millicent went to her own dressing room, where Bess was waiting to get her ready for bed. Mrs. MacAlister sent word that the infant was asleep and it would be best to wait for the morning for his lordship to see the bairn. Millicent returned to their bedchamber to find the valets gone and Lyon already in bed. He had been told the housekeeper’s recommendation.

  “I suppose we should enjoy this night of sleep, as I can only ima
gine we shall have some sleepless nights with a bairn in the house.”

  “Will you mind it?”

  He laughed and stretched a hand toward her in invitation. “I’ve been waiting a lifetime for this.”

  “Have you really?” Millicent removed her robe and climbed into the bed. “Do you really mean it? Do you want a child of our own?”

  “A houseful of them! And I do not care how we get them, either.” He pulled her close to him. “What hurt me most during the years that I was married to Emma was being separated from my family. I felt isolated, alone. After the accident on the cliff, I realized that my brothers had severed the last ties that bound us. They had moved away from me, and that cut me deeply.” His hand cupped her face. “I have made a vow to mend that rift, if they will allow it.”

  “That is a good thing.”

  “But that is only a small part of what I dream of for the future.”

  “What else do you dream of?” she asked.

  “Of making you happy. I love you, and I promise to do my best to make up for all the sadness of your past.”

  “You have already done that, love.”

  His fingers delved into her hair, and he brought her mouth to his. She cherished his tender touch and felt her body come alive. He peeled away her nightgown, and Millicent looked into his face.

  “When you mentioned the houseful of children…” Her voice trailed off.

  “I meant it. It matters naught how we get them,” he repeated. “I will not have you worrying about heirs and other such nonsense. There are hungry bairns and orphans amongst the poor. There are those who need a home wandering tonight on the London streets. There are the children of Africans who have been stolen away from their homes who need families. We’ll have no trouble filling up our house, I should think.”

  She pressed a finger against his lips. “And there is the one who is growing inside me now. Do you think we might raise this one amongst all the rest?”