'What else do you have, you amazing man?' I had never met a man who carried such a thing as a writing set with him.
'It's for my notes,' Alexander seemed almost guilty as he explained. 'When I find interesting plants I write their description, where I found them, that sort of thing.'
'You are the most wonderful man,' I said. Leaning forward, I kissed him, lightly, on the forehead. It was the sort of kiss one gives to one's father or brother, if one has such an entity. In this case, it made Alexander recoil in what seemed like horror.
'Alexander?' I paused in genuine concern.
Astonishment had replaced his smile. He touched his forehead. 'Thank you.'
'It was only a kiss,' I said, 'between friends. Come on, Alexander. If you please, could you help me write my missive?'
Alexander's usual eloquence had deserted him along with his smile. 'I don't know.' He touched his forehead again. 'You might write: “I must meet you on a matter of the greatest urgency?” '
'Thank you, Alexander,' I said. 'Now, unless you lose your Friday face, I will kiss you again.'
My words brought his smile back. 'You are a little minx when you choose to be.'
'We're a fine pair, then,' I said. 'You are a pig while I am a minx.'
'A fine pair indeed,' Alexander shook his head. 'Now, you add where and when you wish to meet your sweetheart.'
'I'm not sure he is my sweetheart, my betrothed or only a friend,' I said, absent-mindedly chewing the end of Alexander's pen. I removed a barb from between my teeth.
I could not read the expressions that crossed Alexander's face. 'I thought it was all confirmed, Mary. Why is there the confusion?'
Without repeating the name Edmund, I explained about Captain Ferintosh's statements about trusting me with his name.
'That could mean anything,' Alexander spoke slowly, as if he were thinking about every word. 'Or it might mean nothing.'
I nodded. 'We agree on that, too.'
Alexander looked thoughtful. 'Come on, Mary, finish off your note. We'll attach it to Ferintosh's chariot and then get you back home.'
Without much thought, I added “meet at the lone pine tree on the fringe of Lammermuir at 10 tomorrow night.” The tree was quite distinctive; all I had to do was slip out of the house unobserved again. It was fortunate that Cauldneb was old, with crooked rooms, including my bedroom, in unusual situations.
'Come on, Mary,' Alexander interrupted my train of thought. 'I'll show you where the chariot is.'
If Alexander had not told me, I would never have discovered the carriage. Garleton Castle was a ruin, but some of the chambers – I hesitate to call them rooms – remained surprisingly watertight.
'What on earth were you doing, poking about in here?' I looked around the dark chamber into which Alexander had brought me.
'Searching for lichens,' Alexander had a lantern, which he shone on the bodywork of the coach. 'Was that your chariot, Mary?'
I must confess to having no interest in carriages. I know some are more luxurious than others, some have different shapes, some are open, and others closed. I opened the door. 'Yes, this is Captain Ferintosh's coach.' I remembered the luxurious scent of soft leather.
'Or the carriage that Ferintosh used.' Alexander's voice was so low I could hardly hear it.
'Yes.' I said.
'Ferintosh might not be using the carriage for days or weeks,' Alexander said. 'But even he will have to feed the horses. They are down that way.' He nodded to an adjacent chamber.
'I'll leave the note beside the horses,' I said, stepping back. 'Thank you, Alexander.'
He caressed his forehead again. 'Once we've left the note, I'll have to take you home, Mary.'
I nodded, wondering what this complex man was thinking. About to say that I knew the way, I bit off the words. I had no objection to Alexander's company. He distracted me from my more pressing worries about Captain Ferintosh and Mr John Aitken.
At the entrance to the castle, a dog rose bush clung to the ancient stones. Ragged with age and tormented by the wind, it still possessed a form of beauty. I caressed it as I passed, enjoying the example of nature's ability to survive in even the most unlikely of locations. Low down, a single pink rose braved the lateness of the season. I plucked the rose, sniffed the residual scent and passed it over to Alexander.
'I cannot thank you for your help,' I said. 'So here is a rose to remember me by.'
Alexander took the rose as if it were the most precious gift in the world. 'There is no need,' he said. 'I will never forget you.'
I smiled, turned away and immediately forgot the incident. It had been a passing fancy, a gesture that meant nothing to me.
Alexander touched my arm. 'Come on now, Mary. It's time you were safe in bed.'
The second that Alexander left me at the gates of Cauldneb, my spirits plummeted at the thought of John Aitken. When I turned to wave goodbye, Alexander was still there, watching me every step of the way home.
Chapter Eleven
Ignoring my nagging conscience, I was becoming quite adept at sneaking out of the house at night. Wearing my usual dark clothing, with Father's tricorne hat on my head, I travelled my usual route out the side door into the biting darkness of the night. Having learned from past experience, I carried a lantern to enable me to see the path and a stout stick for protection.
I knew the path well from our house to the edge of the policies. Beyond that, I was not quite so certain. I had deliberately chosen a site on the fringes of Lammermuir, but I hurried there with an occasional stumble over hidden rocks and tangled heather. All the time I wondered if my captain would turn up. I trusted him, of course, but he was a fugitive from justice. Would he venture so close to the house of a magistrate? I hoped so. I hoped his love for me would encourage him to brave my father's dark house.
The lone pine thrust starkly on the southern slope of the muir. Winter-bare, its branches reached upward in supplication to the cloud-heavy sky. Pulling my hat down and wrapping Alexander's comforter closer around my neck, I panted up the heather slope until I was within ten yards of the tree.
'Captain Ferintosh,' I whispered the name, then louder: 'Captain Ferintosh!'
Nothing answered except the wind, rustling the branches like the whisper of a condemned man. Now shivering, I lifted my lantern, allowing the light to probe into the dark.
'It would be better if that light was doused, Miss Hepburn!' Captain Ferintosh appeared from behind the tree. He was back to his dapper self, with a silver-mounted tricorne hat above a long, dark blue cloak. 'A light can be seen for miles at night.'
'Yes, Captain.' I hurriedly pulled the shutter, hiding the light.
I heard, rather than saw, Captain Ferintosh come closer.
'Captain,' I waited for him to embrace me. He did not.
'What is it, Miss Hepburn? Why do you wish urgently to see me?' The captain's voice was clipped, quite unlike his usual well-modulated tones.
'I wish to see you all the time,' I said, truthfully.
'Is there a reason for this meeting?' The captain was agitated, perhaps not surprisingly given his situation.
'It is mostly because I wanted to see you again,' I said.
Captain Ferintosh shook his head. 'Do you realise that I am a wanted fugitive? Half the county is hunting for me. I am a man outside the law.'
'I don't care,' I said. 'I still want to see you.' I took a deep breath as I threw my caution to the cold Lammermuir wind. 'Don't you realise, Captain Ferintosh, Edmund Charleton or whatever your real name is, that I still love you?'
There: the words were out in the open. I had laid my ace of hearts on the table and waited to see if the captain held the same suit in his hand. I lifted my chin to await his response.
'Yes, yes,' Captain Ferintosh brushed aside my declaration as if it was of no importance to him. 'But what was the matter of the greatest urgency that compelled you to arrange this meeting?'
'Pray sir,' I felt my famous temper rising. 'Did you not h
ear me? I said that I loved you.'
'Yes, I heard you,' Captain Ferintosh controlled his nerves. 'I am much obliged, Miss Hepburn.' I saw the flash of his teeth, white through the night.
'I ask a kiss, sir, before we continue.' I tried to press my case. I was well aware that he might not find my next suggestion favourable so I desired to put him in the best possible humour before I approached that most uncomfortable subject.
'A kiss?' Captain Ferintosh's voice rose in disbelief. That was not at all the reaction I hoped for. 'Madam: Miss Hepburn.'
'You used to call me Lady Mary,' I reminded. 'I have no objections to you returning to that mode of address.'
Captain Ferintosh took an audible deep breath. 'My sweet Lady Mary, I am a hunted man. The longer I remain in any one place, the more danger I am in.'
'Then kiss me quickly, sir, and hear what I have to say,' I was not inclined to back down.
'Oh, good God!' Bending forward, Captain Ferintosh pecked me on the lips. 'There now, say what you have come to say.'
I bit back my disappointment. 'It is this, sir. You are aware that my father is a magistrate.'
'I am aware of that,' Captain Ferintosh started as a vixen barked somewhere in the low country.
'It's only a fox,' I said, somewhat impatiently, 'not a company of dragoons!'
'Speak, madam!'
'Well, Captain Ferintosh. My father is the fairest of men. If you give yourself up voluntarily, I will also speak a good word for you. I know Father will give you a fair trial without prejudice. You will be found not guilty and can be free to walk abroad in daylight.'
I could not see the expression on Captain Ferintosh's face although I was sure he was considering my proposition in all seriousness. I waited, expecting his gratitude and assent.
'Indeed, Captain,' I pursued what I hoped was my advantage. 'I can take you to my father now, right this minute, and if you give your parole, as I am sure you shall, you can spend the night in our house of Cauldneb rather than in chains in Muirend lockup.'
I could not say fairer than that.
For some reason, Captain Ferintosh did not agree. 'You brought me up here for that tomfool idea?' I had never heard him angry since the first day we met. Now his temper was directed at me. 'You are asking me to place my neck in your father's noose?' For a horrible moment, I thought he would strike me.
'Father will not hang an innocent man,' I said, now trembling. I wished I had not come. I wished I had not tried to help. I wished I had minded my own business. 'Please, Captain Ferintosh.'
I sensed him controlling his temper. I heard him draw in his breath. 'Miss Hepburn,' he spoke with something of his old tones. 'You are a brave young woman to come to me with this suggestion in the middle of the night.'
That was better. My captain's nerves must have been stretched beyond endurance for him to act as he had been.
'I hope you can forgive my loss of temper, Lady Mary.'
'There is nothing to forgive, sir,' I said at once. 'There is no need for apologies between people in love.' I hesitated for only a minute. 'You do love me, don't you?'
'Lady Mary,' Captain Ferintosh stepped closer. I inhaled the rich scent of tobacco from his cloak. 'If I did not love you, I would not have come here tonight.'
I allowed his words to wrap around me. His arms were next, strong and secure. I closed my eyes as he kissed me.
'I thank you for the suggestion, Lady Mary,' Captain Ferintosh murmured in my ear, 'but I cannot do as you wish.' The sensation of his kiss lingered on my lips.
When he released me, I stood still for quite some time. 'Captain Ferintosh?' I spoke only to the tree. There was nobody else on that hill slope except me.
'No! Don't leave me alone again!'
You may think me naïve to fall for such a man. I was naïve, but many women have done the same. Surrounded by mediocre uniformity, when something or someone different comes into our life, we can look for adventure in the belief that they share the love that we feel, or that we think we feel. At twenty, I had been exposed to only a limited circle of people, my father's friends and their immediate family. They were mostly from farming stock, with a few minor military officers who remained for a few months before being posted abroad. Captain Ferintosh was unlike anybody I had ever met before.
At twenty I knew that I was approaching the age of consent and marriage. Within a few months, at the very most a couple of years, my parents would have me engaged to what they perceived as a suitable husband. After marriage, I would be stifled in respectable conformity for the remainder of my life. When my mother suggested Mr John Aitken as suitable husband material, can you wonder that I leapt at the most opposite personality possible?
I was wrong. Even then, as I pursued Captain Ferintosh, I knew that I was being foolish. I could not have imagined what life would be like attached to such a man. A man who lived on the hazy border between law and outlaw, who walked with a swagger, smiled readily, had the respect of all who knew him and spent money more lavishly than any penny-pinching farmer I had ever known.
Looking back now, with a smile on my face, perhaps I can understand why I lifted my skirt above my ankles and followed Captain Ferintosh down that steep Lammermuir slope, with my lantern bouncing from my left hand and my staff thump-thump-thumping on the heather.
I saw Captain Ferintosh's form as he rose to the crest of a slight ridge, sharp against a hazy moon. I did not shout; I remembered his warning about light travelling far at night and realised that sound would be equally revealing. The captain was moving quickly, his long legs striding over the heather and onto the grass of the outfields where Father's cattle would habitually have grazed.
With my long skirt hindering me, I lifted it high above my knees to move the faster. With nobody to see me, there was no need to worry about either dignity or respectability. Revelling in my new freedom, I nearly ran, cutting the distance to the captain.
I was right about sound carrying in the night. A few moments after the captain disappeared over the ridge, I heard the voices. I slowed down at once, thinking that somebody had caught Captain Ferintosh. I hefted my staff, ready to leap to his rescue, until the female laugh cut through the dark, and through my heart.
'She's a silly little thing,' Captain Ferintosh said. 'Harmless, but silly.'
'What did she have to say for herself?' That was the female voice, sharp-toned.
'She said I should hand myself into her Father for a fair trial.'
I stiffened in disbelief. These people were talking about me. Captain Ferintosh thought I was silly. Who was this woman? I tried to peer into the dark.
'Did she tell you anything we can use?'
'Nothing at all.' Captain Ferintosh said. 'It was a wasted trip.'
I told you that I loved you, I said to myself. Did that mean nothing? Perhaps he did not wish the woman to know that. I deluded myself again. I followed them at a distance, walking slowly, feeling miserable, and wishing I was in my warm bed.
I heard the clatter of metal on metal. 'Halloa, Captain.' That was a man's voice, uneducated, guttural.
'Jack.' One sharp word from Captain Ferintosh.
With clouds now covering the moon, there was no light. I tried to peer into the dark. I could not see anything.
Something hard pressed into my back and a rough hand closed over my mouth. 'And what are you snooping after, my lad!'
That was the third time I had been grabbed by somebody in the last week, but the first time anybody had ever mistaken me for a man. It must have been the tricorne hat or perhaps the cloak that concealed my shape; either way, I was most put out. I have nothing of the man about me. I have all the attributes that a woman should have, perhaps more plentiful that I would like in certain places.
The man dragged me away. 'If you make one sound I'll blow your backbone into the next field.'
As I had no intention of being parted from my backbone, I took my captor's advice and remained mute. With his great paw across my mouth, I had no other opt
ion.
It is strange that in novels, highwaymen are romantic heroes, prostitutes have hearts of gold and rogues in the countryside are rough-hewn on the outside and decent fellows underneath. Unfortunately for romantic novels, the reality is nothing like that. In my limited experience with the breed, highwaymen are violent thieves with a horse, prostitutes are bedraggled and broken women, and rogues in the countryside are as heartless as any from the foulest dens in the city.
'Here, Captain;' my captor thrust me in front of him. 'I found this lad following you.' My captor proved to be a thick-set man in middle years with a large pistol.
Captain Ferintosh took one look at me and swore. Why men have to swear so often, I do not know. I am glad that women have not adopted that most demeaning habit. 'That's not a boy, that's a blasted woman.'
'It's me,' I said helpfully.
'Is this Andrew Hepburn's girl?' The woman stepped closer to me. 'Is this the one who wanted to see you?'
'That's her.' Captain Ferintosh said.
'Bring her along.' The woman said. 'We'll decide what to do with her later.'
Now in all the best romances, either I would have made a dash for freedom, or gallant Captain Ferintosh would have spoken up in my defence. In reality, with an ugly brute of a man holding a pistol a few inches from my back, I was too scared to do anything except comply. As for Captain Ferintosh, well, he did as he was told as well. He certainly said nothing to help me.
'Where are we going?' I asked.
I found out soon enough as we returned to that trapdoor in the hill. The man they called Jack shoved me through the entrance. I fell onto the hard ground, to find two other men staring at me.
'Who's he?'
'It's a woman,'
'Then why is she wearing a man's hat.' One of the men flicked off my father's hat. 'She's a redhead.' He said, unnecessarily as my hair flopped over my face.
'She was following us,' the woman said. 'Tie her up.'
I was going to protest until Jack stuck the muzzle of his pistol against my throat. I decided it was better to co-operate. Tied wrist and ankle, I was pushed to the ground with a painful thump. I sat against the rock-hewn side of that strange place with my heart pounding as if it would escape from my chest. I was scared. I was more scared than I had ever been in my life. I did not understand what was happening and still hoped that Captain Ferintosh would help me.
The Name Of Love (Lowland Romance Book 4) Page 11