by Border Lass
“You may, aye,” Isabel said, getting up and motioning the others to stay where they were. “Shall we go into the anteroom?”
“Please,” Amalie said, stepping aside to let her go first.
In the anteroom, Isabel said quietly, “Is it Sir Garth? I know he is cousin to your good-brother and friendly to you, so mayhap he gave you a message for me.”
“He did, aye,” Amalie admitted. “I know I should have come in sooner—”
Isabel shook her head. “Don’t worry about that now. What is the message?”
“He is on the step outside,” Amalie said. “He told me you can invite him into this room if I stay with you, and that he will not mind if I hear what he has to say.”
“As both Averil and Sibylla have long ears, I think it would be wiser for me to step outside to speak with him,” Isabel said. “It will be wiser yet if you stay here to intercept anyone who may come looking for me.”
Although Amalie could not imagine how she would stop either a determined Lady Averil or even Sibylla from doing exactly as she pleased, she nodded and watched as Isabel stepped outside and pulled the door to behind her.
Half-expecting Garth to open it again, to see if she had her ear against it, Amalie stayed away. But when he did not, she wished she’d had the nerve to listen, because he’d still not said just why he wanted to speak with Isabel.
Surely, she told herself, they had already consulted about James Douglas’s death, and Will’s, too, because Isabel would willingly discuss with anyone her certainty that Fife was behind both tragedies.
Just as surely, the princess knew nothing of what Amalie had overheard at Scone. Had Isabel known that Fife had discussed a possible murder plot, she would not have kept that knowledge to herself. All of her ladies would have heard about it.
What if Garth had learned something more, though, something that he believed made it his duty to tell Isabel that someone had overheard such a plot? What if he feared that Douglas or even the King was Fife’s intended victim? Such a fear would certainly give him cause to ride all the way to Galloway to talk with Douglas. It would also explain his need to talk to Isabel now.
But if he did mention the plot to her, she would demand details. Specifically, she would want to know who had overheard that conversation at Scone.
What, Amalie wondered with increasing dread, if Garth identified her?
She took a step toward the door just as it opened and Isabel slipped back inside and shut it again.
“No one troubled you?” she said.
“Nay, you were gey quick,” Amalie said, trying to read her expression.
“Mainly, he just wanted to tell me that you know why he’s here and where he’s going, because he’d asked you not to tell anyone and knew you’d keep silent. In any event, he said, it was his duty to let me know he’d told you. And so it was.”
“Aye,” Amalie said, struggling to hide her relief, hoping she looked as if she did not care what he did, and assuring herself that she must look as if that were the case, because it was. She didn’t care, and wouldn’t, no matter what he did or said.
“You look tired, my dear,” Isabel said. “I am going up in a few minutes, but Averil and Nancy will look after me. You may as well go straight to bed.”
“Will the lady Averil not be vexed that I was out too long?”
“I won’t let her bite,” Isabel said with a smile. “Sir Garth was glad to find someone he could ask to approach me. And I’m grateful to have had speech with him. The only thing I cannot like is his leaving us in Sir Harald’s charge.”
Amalie grimaced.
“Just so,” Isabel said. “Your mother’s comments and Simon’s friendship with him would have made it clear that he’s the man they want you to marry even if I hadn’t guessed as much from the attention he pays you—and your obvious dislike. So, although Sir John sent him, Boyd is Fife’s man. Do you not agree?”
“He is, aye, so mayhap you should dismiss him,” Amalie said hopefully.
“I’d like to,” Isabel said with a sigh. “But knowing that he serves Fife, I can watch him. If I dismiss him, my annoying brother will just be cleverer next time and send someone I’m less likely to suspect.”
“It is difficult.”
“Aye, so go to bed, and I’ll do likewise, and tomorrow will be a new day.”
Thursday morning dawned in an impenetrable blanket of fog that covered all of Melrose and doubtless, Amalie thought, dashed Garth’s hopes for an early start.
In fact, none of the other ladies descended to the hall for breakfast much before Lady Murray and Rosalie appeared. The two had rested well, though, and announced themselves ready to depart as soon as they had broken their fast.
As they all ate, Amalie kept an uneasy eye on the lady Averil, but the older woman just reminded her it was her turn, and Susan’s, to make the princess’s bed.
By the time everyone went outside, the fog had dissipated and the sun shone brightly in a cerulean sky. Wispy haze rose from the yard, where Lady Murray’s horse litter awaited her.
The men who would accompany them to Rankilburn stood ready as well.
Garth escorted her ladyship to the litter and helped Rosalie mount her pony, while one of the other men assisted Lady Murray’s woman in mounting hers.
After seeing his charges settled, Garth returned to take leave of the princess.
“We are ready, madam,” he said with a bow. When she nodded, he turned to Amalie and said, “Have you any messages for your sister, my lady?”
“My mother and Rosalie will say all that is necessary, sir. But I would count it a favor if you’d seek out Jock’s Tammy and Sym Elliot, and give them my regards.”
His eyebrows shot upward, and he said with a teasing smile, “I hope you are not setting me this task to bring Buccleuch’s wrath down on me.”
“They are just friends of mine. You’ll be doing nothing improper.”
“Indeed, I have met them both, Sir Garth,” Isabel said. “Oh, and also, I have decided that you should take Sir Harald with you, so he can lead my men back to me here. It does not suit my dignity to return home with only half my usual escort, or to let my men travel without an experienced knight to lead them.”
“As you wish, madam.”
Just four words, but Amalie could see that the princess’s decision annoyed him. He did not want Sir Harald any more than Amalie or Isabel did. But if someone had to have the horrid man, Amalie was glad it was Garth.
As he bowed again and turned away, his jaw tightened until the dimple beside his mouth showed clearly.
She glanced at the princess to see that her eyes were twinkling.
Suppressing her own relief, Amalie said, “I think he doesn’t want Sir Harald.”
“I can see that,” Isabel replied. “Well, I don’t want Sir Harald either. I have decided that I especially don’t want Sir Harald in charge of our party when we return to Sweethope Hill.”
Amalie wondered how anyone would prevent that, since Garth was going to Galloway, but she did not ask for clarification. She got on well with Isabel, but the princess’s tolerance even for those she liked could turn in a blink to royal hauteur if one annoyed her. To question her on any point was to tread on thin ice.
In any event, Lady Murray was waving, so Amalie excused herself and went to bid her mother and Rosalie farewell. She also reminded them, as she had at breakfast, to send word of the birth as soon as it happened.
“To be sure we will,” Rosalie said. “I can hardly wait to see the new bairn. Meg is certain it will be another wee laddie, but I want a niece.”
“I warrant Meg and Wat will be happy with either,” Amalie said.
Lady Murray said austerely, “They will accept God’s will as we all must. And you, Amalie, would do well to remember that a good daughter obeys those in authority over her. She also does all she can to ensure her family’s security.”
“I know you mean well, madam, but my father promised me that I need not marry wher
e I cannot be happy. I believe he meant it, too, because he also said he does not like the notion of dowering me as the Governor desires.”
“Did he? We shall see about that.”
“Then you approve of dowering me with a sizeable bit of Elishaw land.”
“Land?” She frowned. “Do you mean to say that is what Fife expects?”
“He does, aye. I thought you knew,” Amalie added mendaciously.
“I expect I did,” her ladyship said. “One does not recall every detail, I fear.”
Amalie left it at that and bade them farewell, satisfied that her mother had not known, and hoping she cared more about the land than Sir Iagan thought she did. If not, the only thing to do was pray that he would continue to hold his ground.
When Garth turned, caught her eye, and waved, she waved back. That Sir Harald also waved—and might mistakenly have believed that she had waved to him—was tiresome. But at least he was not staying at Melrose.
Isabel then announced to everyone that, rather than return to Sweethope with only half an escort, she would await the others’ return. Sir Garth, she said, had told her they might be back as soon as Friday night but would certainly be there by Saturday midday at the latest.
The time passed slowly. The weather remained fair, and the steady murmur of the nearby river was soothing. The men hunted and fished, avoiding noisier activities that might displease their hosts. So the respite at Melrose was peaceful and—as Susan Lennox complained—downright boring.
“We might as well be cloistered nuns,” Susan said Friday afternoon. “The horses must rest, so we cannot ride. The monks will not talk to us even to say good morning. And the men do not want us walking farther west than a few steps toward the Ettrick Water or farther east than the first bend in the river without a proper escort. And since, by proper, they mean several men, we’d make a spectacle.”
Agreeing with her for once, Amalie could only remind her that Isabel had suggested the others might return that very night.
“Aye, sure, but even if they do, I warrant they’ll want to rest their own horses longer than just overnight, and I don’t like this place. It is too quiet.”
Amalie knew that Susan thought Sweethope Hill House was too quiet, too. Indeed, Susan thought anyplace not teeming with eligible men was too quiet. She had once admitted that she’d joined the princess’s household believing they would live at court and enjoy amusements that had been common before the old King died.
The princess detested court gatherings, although she had enjoyed them before James Douglas’s death, if James could attend them. But Sir John Edmonstone enjoyed the rowdier ones far too much for her taste, and she enjoyed them not at all.
In any event, Isabel and her ladies had to wait until midday Saturday for the men to return. When they did, Amalie was astonished to see Garth leading them.
Sir Harald rode beside him, of course. But Sir Harald did not loom as large as he would have by himself. He would not lead the princess’s party home, either.
“I bring messages for you, Lady Amalie,” Garth said as he strode to meet the princess. “No bairn has arrived yet, but mayhap Princess Isabel will allow you to walk with me later so I can relay the rest of the news to you.”
“Indeed, you may, sir,” Isabel said as she cast Amalie a droll look. “But do stroll with me now toward the graveyard, for I have not paid my visit yet today. You must tell me how you fared and how soon we can go home to Sweethope.”
“We can return this afternoon if you like, madam,” he said. “The sumpter ponies are rested, because Lady Murray and Rosalie traveled with their own. And the lads’ horses will do well enough if we do not push them too hard.”
“There is no hurry, sir,” she said. “But come now, and we will discuss it.”
Amalie watched them go with a sigh. The lay brothers were setting out the midday meal, so the likelihood of enjoying a stroll of longer than five minutes or so before they sat down to it was small if one existed at all.
Lady Averil said, “Stop gawking at them, Amalie. You should be tidying yourself for dinner, not standing there like a post.”
“Yes, my lady.”
She hurried away, visited the garderobe, tidied herself, and hurried back downstairs, only to find that they had not yet returned. Since Isabel also wanted to visit James’s grave, Amalie wondered if the lay brothers would delay dinner for her.
But Isabel had noted the time. She and Garth returned just as the bell rang for dinner, with the news that they would all depart Sunday morning after prayers.
Amalie ate silently, wondering why Garth had not ridden to Threave. Galloway lay sixty miles away at the west end of the Borders, so she knew he had not ridden there and back in just two full days. Curiosity stirred impatience, but she managed to contain both until the ladies finished eating and Isabel sent for him.
To assuage any concern the monks or abbot might have at seeing a man and a maid walking along the river path, the princess had also sent for two of Garth’s men to follow them at a discreet distance. That the men were amused to have drawn such a duty was evident, but a frown from Garth wiped the smiles off their faces.
“Why did you not go to Threave?” Amalie asked as soon as they started walking toward the river path.
“Because Boyd was with me, of course. The others would have said nowt to him about my activities. And Isabel had said she would tell him I was attending to family business if he asked about me here.”
“Why did you not say the same thing to him, then?” she asked.
He gave her a look. “I told you, lass, I do not tell lies. If the business I am on is family business, it is Douglas family business and that of the princess. If Isabel were to say only what she had decided to say, even she would not be lying unless she called it Napier or Scott family business. And she wouldn’t do that.”
“So the Douglas will not learn about Fife’s progress through the Borders?”
“I am not the only one capable of delivering that message,” he said. “Your friend Jock’s Wee Tammy is taking it. Don’t look so surprised, swee—” He broke off with a sudden coughing spell that made her look at him in concern.
“I did not know that you knew Tammy. Are you all right, sir?”
“Aye, sure.” He cleared his throat. “That I know Tam should not surprise you. Buccleuch is my cousin. I’ve visited Scott’s Hall any number of times, as well as Wat’s beloved peel tower in the buck’s cleuch from which his title derives.”
“We lived there after Meg married him,” she said. “They did not remove to Scott’s Hall until after his father died and Wat became Laird of Buccleuch.”
“Aye, well, he agreed to send Tam to talk to Archie,” Garth said. “But I needed to talk to Tam before he went, to deliver your messages to him and to Sym Elliot, who was away for the day, as well as to be sure in my own mind that Tam had my messages for Archie clear in his.”
“Messages? What else besides Fife’s Border progress?” she asked. Then she immediately wished she had not, sure that he would snub her curiosity.
He said, “One of Will’s men told me sometime after I’d left Threave that he’d seen the chap Will named as his killer, at Edmonstone. I went there to find him, but no one there knew the name. It occurred to me that Will’s man could help me find him, so I told Tam to ask Archie to bring him along when he comes.”
“What is the man’s name—the one you suspect?”
“Ben Haldane.”
“Does the Douglas not know Haldane if Will’s men now serve him?”
“Nay, because Will took on many new lads before he sailed to Königsberg. He wanted men who were as hot for adventure as he was.”
They talked about Scott’s Hall then until they reached the confluence of the Ettrick Water with the Tweed. The waters were turbulent there, with one flow crashing into the other, so they stood a few minutes to enjoy it. But with the two men-at-arms looking on, they had no reason to linger and soon started back.
The r
est of the afternoon and evening passed quickly, and Sunday morning they departed after prayers without seeing the abbot or a monk. Two lay brothers served the ladies’ breakfast, guided their prayer service, and then saw them off.
Their journey passed without incident, as did the next two days. Amalie, busy with her duties, saw little of Garth and nothing of Sir Harald, who apparently had chosen to take his meals for a time with the men-at-arms in their dormer hall.
She did encounter Sir Harald late Wednesday afternoon.
Having spent all morning and half the afternoon with Susan, inspecting the princess’s winter clothing, sorting garments that needed attention from those that did not, and setting others aside for discard, Amalie had decided to reward herself for a big job well done by taking a brisk walk down to Eden Water and back.
Returning to the house through the front garden, she had shifted her thoughts to what she would wear for supper that evening. Footsteps behind made her turn with a smile, expecting to see that Garth had sprung up again.
Instead she faced Sir Harald, who returned her smile with a knowing grin and said, “Well, lass, you do look pleased to see me for once. I suppose you must have missed me these past few days. But I shall be supping with you tonight, so you should smile again.”
“You are too familiar, sir, and you assume too much,” she said, striving to keep her anger to herself. Life with her brothers had taught her that letting any tormentor see her anger gave that tormentor entirely too much satisfaction. She added crisply, “I thought you were one of the other ladies, that’s all.”
“You’re a dreadful liar, lass, so don’t try it with me after we’re married. I’d take a switch to an untruthful wife just as I would to an untruthful serving wench.”
“Now you are offensive, sir. You have no right to address me in such a manner and can do yourself no good thereby. Indeed, you make too much of what others may have told you, because my father has told me I need not marry you,” she added, fervently hoping that she could count on Sir Iagan to keep his word.
Not looking at all worried, Sir Harald said, “Does he say that? I expect, then, that he will not make the final decision in this matter.”