She stopped him. “How dreadful. I should take some food over there and offer our help.”
He hooked her arm and continued walking. “That’s being taken care of, Alana. Tis best you not get involved as yet.”
“But as mistress of Stonecrest I should extend mercy to the sick and bereaved. If not, what good will I be as your wife?”
“I shall think of something.” He gave her such a mischievous grin that she playfully struck him on the arm as they ambled along the edge of the loch.
A companionable silence fell over them for a while, and then they shared memories of childhood. He told her about his travels to England and France and Italy. She related her uneventful days and lonely nights.
They found they both had a passion for reading and argued over who was the best author of the day. He regaled her with funny stories of the crofters’ celebrations and their frequent skirls.
By the time they returned for the horses, the sun’s rays slanted across the heather, reminding her the air would soon turn cool. As the shadows lengthened to dusk, they trekked back to the castle.
Happiness cloaked her. In this short time, she’d learn to know her husband very well. Whether Barthram was right or not about Gavin falling in love with her quickly, she was convinced it wouldn’t take long for her to fall in love with him.
They returned the horses to the stables, and the old groom stiffened like a hound on a new scent. His stealthy glance in her direction told Alana he believed she brought bad blood to the castle.
She knew Gavin forbade her from going to the Fraiser’s croft because he feared they believed her to be Miriam’s daughter. Miriam was a witch and her daughter would be one too. Somehow she had to persuade them she was Hester’s daughter.
Her thoughts went to Finella. She’d have to help Mina with the mad woman, though Mina had agreed to become Finella’s caretaker.
Alana wanted to speak to Finella alone. Even if she had the mind of a seven-year-old, she still might remember something important. Finella might have been present at her birth and could affirm that Alana was indeed Hester’s daughter.
Chapter 11
Twilight cast deep shadows over the Frasier cottage. Though late, Gavin had to investigate. If the disease spread from the countryside, an epidemic would threaten the village.
He reined in his sorrel and met Dr. Paul coming from the front door. “How do they fare, Doctor?”
A tall, thin man, Dr. Paul was more stooped than usual. He shook his wigged head. “The small girl died an hour ago, and the boy will before morning. There’s nothing more I can do.”
Gavin uttered an oath under his breath. “What can it be?”
“I know not. They were retching and in grievous pain before falling unconscious. The older girl has recovered enough to take some broth. I believe she’ll survive.”
“How is Frasier?”
Dr. Paul’s head inclined towards the cottage. “In there, half out of his mind with grief. The vicar is with him.”
“Then I won’t go in. The vicar will let me know their needs.” Gavin walked to the end of the dirt path with the physician. “Is it unusual Frasier and the older lads weren’t affected?”
“Not unusual at all. The wife and younger children are confined to the house where sickness breeds.” Dr. Paul untied his horse’s reins from the hitching post. “I’ll be around to see Lord Carmichael in the morning.”
Gavin nodded. He’d brought the physician from London specifically to attend the chieftain. “He seems to be more comfortable since Alana arrived.”
The Dr. Paul slapped his forehead. “I beg pardon. I completely forgot to extend my congratulations on your marriage.” Since the doctor was originally from England, he had none of the prejudices of the clans and held none of the superstitious beliefs about tainted blood.
“Thank you. I hope to introduce her to the clan as soon as possible.” No need to explain to the physician he feared his wife might incite a rebellion.
“Mrs. Paul and I will look forward to that.” The physician easily swung into the saddle. “Good night to you, m’lord.”
Gavin raised a hand in farewell and continued on the path to the McGil house. The doctor and his wife would be the only ones looking forward to meeting Alana. Perhaps the vicar.
An idea took form in Gavin’s brain, and he turned it over as he walked. He should take Alana to the kirk Sunday. That would test the waters as to how the people would receive her.
He knocked on the wooden door to the low stone cottage. McGil’s nickname was Red, and with good reason. The tall, stocky crofter sported a red beard to match his thatch of red curly hair. Even his cheeks were ruddy.
The expression on Red’s face wasn’t welcoming. “What’s wrong?” was his greeting as he opened the door to Gavin. “Has the plague spread?” He didn’t invite Gavin inside but stepped out under the stoop.
“No, but it has, or will, claim two more at the Frasiers.”
“Tis a horrible situation. I kenna understand, but Mrs. Kilgarney has come to help. She’s Frasier’s blood aunt.”
“I had heard. I need to know what happened with the missing sheep.”
Red scowled. “Aye, they be missing. Thieves never return their booty, now do they?”
“Who do you suspect?”
“Lyulf. He’s been stealing from us for years.”
“Have you caught any on the Gilmour lands?”
“Nay, he gets rid of them too quick, but even Lady Vanora admits it’s him.”
“What did she say?”
“She brought us some lambs to replace the stolen ones, weeping her regrets. Tis damnable the way she be treated by that fox and her fiend of a mother.”
“Have you considered Lady Vanora may be playing for your sympathy?”
Mrs. McGil burst through the door. “Don’t be saying such things about my Lady Vanora, such a pathetic little thing, but trying her best to keep Robert Gilmour’s clan together. What can she do, just being one little lassie? And not one will help her.”
Her accusation was clear. She crossed her arms on her bosom as if daring him to dispute her. “Lady Vanora brings us food from her own kitchen every week and some little gift for all the bairns’ birthdays.”
“I suppose she tells you how wronged she’s been, but it’s just her side of the argument.”
“She wouldna have to tell me she be wronged. Anyone ken see it, and you’ll regret what you’ve done to my lady.”
He didn’t have to guess she referred to his supposed attack on Vanora. “The matter will be taken care of at the next assizes.”
“You’ll call in false witnesses against my lady.”
Unable to control himself, Gavin’s voice rose to shouting level. “She’s not your lady. Your lady is Alana Carmichael.”
“Never.” The woman quivered in rage. “If you hadna brought Lady Alana here, poor Mrs. Fraiser and her babes wouldn’t be lying dead.” Mrs. McGil turned to go back inside the house, slamming the door behind her.
Gavin’s hackles rose. What was the daft woman talking about? Alana had not met Mrs. Fraiser—or any of the clan, for that matter.
Red squared his shoulders. “I should apologize for my wife, but I willna. You must ken if you brought tainted blood into our midst, pestilence t’would follow.”
The man had to be as mad as his wife to accuse Alana of the plague that took the Fraisers.
Gavin forced a calm and fell on the one weapon he’d sworn never to use. “I decided to follow my father’s advice. He disagrees with you that marriage to Vanora would’ve forged an alliance with the Gilmour. He chose Alana to be my wife.”
Red’s eyes bulged, but for all his bluster, he wouldn’t dispute the chieftain’s will. Gavin didn’t give him a chance. He turned on his heel and left the man heaving.
“You shouldna treated Lady Vanora so cruelly.” Red shouted after him.
Disgust holding him in check, Gavin swung into the saddle and wheeled his horse around. Reasoning wi
th Red or Frasier was useless.
They’d not dare to speak to his father in such a matter. But the years away from Stonecrest had cost Gavin more than he’d imagined. He’d not been here to gain the crofters’ respect, and no one could be blamed for that except him. How could he have known Vanora could harden the people against him? How far had Vanora’s poison spread? He’d have to call on all the crofters the coming week.
He’d also have to forge some sort of alliance with Elspeth and Lyulf. It was past time for those two to stop Vanora’s schemes. Send her somewhere. Not to London where Rory was, but to a remote castle in the highlands, or to the south of France, or to the colonies.
As far away as possible.
He turned toward home and let thoughts of Alana drift through his mind like the seeds of thistle, hoping afore long they might find ground and take root.
***
Alana stood at the tall window, gazing out at the darkening skies. It seemed she’d spent most of her short time here watching out the window.
Waiting for him.
He’d been with her the whole afternoon, but she wanted more. She couldna shake the feeling he forced himself to pay her attention. Even his kisses seemed forced. Wooing her was just another chore on his list.
She expected too much.
It was ridiculous to think he’d come to love her in the space of a few days. If she dinna understand him, he dinna understand her either. If he did, he’d ken she wanted to be told where he was. Mayhap it wasna customary for a husband to tell his wife of his comings and goings.
Gavin was new to his new role as husband. She should be tolerant.
Dinner was growing cold, not that it mattered. She’d get her meal sent up to her room. It would be absurd for her to sit alone at the long dining table. Having become somewhat accustomed to the castle’s routine, she knew Barthram slept most of the day, likely due to some concoction the doctor gave him.
She smoothed the heavy drapes back into place. After instructing the butler to have her dinner sent up, she strode toward the stairs. Mayhap Mina had settled Finella into the room they’d chosen for her. Mina had taken the bedroom next to Alana’s, and Finella was put in the room next to Mina’s. The rooms had a connecting door, just as hers and Gavin’s bedrooms.
When she entered the room, Alana found Mina laying a lace trimmed wrapper across her bed. The maid stood and tucked stray tendrils into her mop cap. “Did you have a pleasant ride, m’lady?”
“I did indeed. How does Finella fare? Has she been too much a bother?”
“Not at all. She’s like my dear grandmother before she passed on. I cared for my grandmother who was in much the same state as Finella. I gave your aunt a bath and plaited her hair. You’ll find her appearance much improved. She’s already fallen asleep.” Mina laughed. “I likely tired her out with my ministrations.”
“You are a godsend, Mina. I canna thank you enough.”
They were interrupted by a servant bringing in the tray for Alana. “Would you join me, Mina?”
“Thank you, but I’ve already eaten. Go ahead. I’ll sit here and you can tell me about your day while you eat, if you’ve a mind.”
“That would please me.” Alana sat at the small table where her tray had been set, and Mina pulled up a stool.
Alana was in the middle of describing the beauty of the loch when a knock sounded at the door. Mina hastened to answer, and Mrs. Gantry bustled in with Finella in tow. “I told you Finella couldn’t be left in an unlocked room.” The housekeeper’s tone was accusatory.
Mina looked to Alana. “There’s no means to lock these rooms from the inside.”
“I’ll get someone to put in locks tomorrow. We’ll manage somehow tonight.” Alana laid her arm across Finella’s bony shoulders and led her back to her room. Mina followed them.
“If you’ll help me, m’lady, we’ll shove this chest in front of her door.”
With some effort, they got the chest in place. “Now, if she attempts to leave, I’ll hear her.” Mina smiled, and Alana dinna have the heart to remind her Finella could easily go through the communicating door and out Mina’s bedroom door.
That was a problem she’d have to shelve for later. At present she wished to get some sense out of Finella. Her elderly aunt had returned to her bed and lay huddled with her doll. She looked much better in her clean nightgown and plaited hair.
Alana sat on the edge of the bed and took Finella’s hand. “Do you remember Hester, your sister?”
Finella stared at her blank-eyed. “Hester gave you your first doll, didn’t she?” Alana prodded.
Scooting up into a sitting position, Finella hugged her knees. “Aye, she did. Hester went away a long time ago, but she gave me a babe before she left.”
As Finella rocked back and forth, Alana asked, “She did? Did Hester have a babe too?”
A light came into Finella’s eyes. “Aye, she did. Her babe had short hair, but the color of yours. Hester dinna want me to hold her babe, but she brought me one with long hair like yours.”
She ran her gnarled hand along Alana’s tresses. Finella’s words were enough to confirm to Alana that she was indeed Hester’s daughter, though no one would give any credence to the testimony of a mad woman.
Alana gently pushed the old lady back onto her pillows. “Get some rest now, and if you need something, go to Mina. Doona go wandering about.”
She and Mina made their way to Alana’s bedroom. “I’ll take the tray, m’lady. Is there anything you have need of from downstairs?”
“No, just let me know if his lordship has returned.”
Mina came back within minutes, reporting that Gavin hadna returned, so Alana allowed the maid to prepare her for bed. After Mina had retired, Alana sat by the window that looked out on the courtyard. She recounted her ride with him, his kiss and playful caresses. She recalled the feel of his lips, the tingling he’d sent through her as he nuzzled her ear. Mayhap she read too much in it. Mayhap he was only trying to play count to her as any new husband would, doing what was expected of him.
If only he’d come to her and kiss her good-night, might it lead to something more? Why was she complaining? She’d been the one who asked for time.
Her conversation with Finella had awakened her desire for a child of her own. She was certain Vanora’s tales were false and malicious. Alana was Hester’s own child. Finella had confirmed her mother indeed had born a child. There must be some way to convince the clan.
Vanora had mentioned some woman…what was her name…Agatha Kilgarney, who’d been maid to Alana’s mother at the time of her birth, and Agatha was now residing with one of the Carmichael crofters, the one whose wife had died of a strange new malady.
Alana would wait until after the Frasier’s wake and seek out Agatha Kilgarney. The maid would affirm that Hester was her mother.
Where was Gavin? She wanted to feel his kiss tonight. Without another thought, she went to the communicating door and opened it a bit. If he saw it open, he might recognize it as an invitation.
Retrieving her copy of Moll Flanders, Alana propped up in bed and read, her ears strained to hear Gavin’s footfall in the next room. Finally her eyes began to droop, and she laid the book aside, succumbing to sleep.
***
Alana awoke to the sound of a commotion, though she couldn’t discern where it came from at first. As she became fully awake, she realized the noise emitted from somewhere below. After lighting the taper beside her bed, she got up and slipped her feet into soft slippers. Being as quiet as possible, she opened the door to Mina’s room.
The maid lay softly snoring, so Alana passed on to where she hoped to find Finella in the same state of sleep. Thankfully, her aunt was curled up under the covers with her doll clutched to her chest.
The muffled noise of a door slamming made her retrace her steps with urgency. Holding the candle aloft, she left her chambers and scurried down the darkened hallway. The ground floor was lit with whale oil lamps, so she blew out the t
aper and looked around in apprehension.
A footman burst forth from the blue saloon and hustled away, carrying a large bowl of sloshing red liquid.
Barthram. Gooseflesh rose on Alana’s arms. Barthram was dying.
Great waves of hacking and moans came from the open door. Unthinking, she ran to it. A man she recognized to be the physician stood with his back to her, bent over Barthram, beating his back mercilessly. The poor man’s struggle was pitiful as he fought for and won one short breath after another, then more gagging and moaning.
Gavin stood on the other side holding his father in a sitting position. The servant returned, sliding past her with a fresh bowl of water and folded linen cloths draped over his shoulder. He joined Gavin, and at that moment, Gavin lifted his head, his eyes locking with hers.
He was in front of her within moments, and she reached out to place her hand on his arm. The tortured expression on his face told her what he was going through. Dark stubble of his beard showed in stark contrast with the pallor of his skin. A spot of blood marred his chin. She reached wildly for a handkerchief before realizing her wrapper had no pocket.
Gavin grasped her by the shoulders. “Alana, go back to bed. There’s nothing you can do.”
“Is he…is he—” She could barely force the words out.
“He isn’t dying. It’s a bad attack, but he’s had worse and survived.”
Barthram went into another gagging fit, and Gavin threw an anguished glance back to his father. “Go back to bed. He’ll be better in the morning.” He released her abruptly, and she found her legs turned to rubber.
The smell of blood and death radiated from the room. She swayed.
Before she realized what happened, Gavin had swept her up and carried her to the drawing room sofa. He stroked her cheek. “Lie here a bit. Father will be all right, but I must go attend him.” Some of the strain faded from his face
Alana closed her eyes, willing the image of Barthram’s suffering to disappear. Though the door to the blue saloon was now closed, she still heard the coughing and wheezing. There was nothing she could do but pray. Would prayer do any good? There were likely hundreds, perhaps thousands of people suffering in like manner at this moment.
The Chieftain's Choice (The Wolf Deceivers Series Book 1) Page 11