by Bess McBride
I jumped up restlessly.
“Well, I’m off to bed,” I said. “Good night, all.” I hurried from the room, embarrassed to have spoken as I did, letting all the world know how I felt about Colin. I hadn’t exactly screamed “I love him,” but I’d left no doubt about my feelings for him.
Somehow, I didn’t think he would mind. Would he?
****
I awakened early the next morning and slipped out of the house, determined to make my way to the river. It drew me almost as strongly as did my newfound love for Colin, and I just needed a few minutes alone there to think about things.
I hurried away from the castle lest anyone see me. As I entered the woods, I thought I heard men’s voices. I stepped off the path and entered the wood, following the sound. An early fall had arrived, and reddish leaves fell around me.
I saw a flash of blue through the trees, and I stopped short and hid behind a tree, peering around it. No, the color came from the kilt of an old man who sat on a large boulder talking to Colin. Colin wore not a kilt, but trousers, having sense enough not to push the issue while the English soldiers were in the area.
I pressed against the tree and watched the two men speak. The old man, frail appearing, gesticulated as he spoke to Colin, and Colin seemed to be reassuring him.
I wondered who he was. Something about the scene looked clandestine, perhaps because they were tucked away in the woods. A shiver ran down my back. I thought the old man looked harmless, but his clothing was torn, stained, and his silver hair matted under a filthy once-gray bonnet. A broadsword hung at his side.
I felt disloyal spying on Colin, and I turned to leave the area. No sooner had I taken a few steps than I saw Captain Jones on the path.
Thinking to warn Colin, I pretended to trip, fell over my skirts and shrieked in pain as loud as I could. The voices stilled, and Captain Jones rushed forward.
“Mistress Pratt! Are you injured?” he said. He looked over my shoulder, and I knew he’d heard the voices and was investigating.
I cried as loudly as I could for a moment or two, and then quieted.
“Oh, Captain Jones, thank goodness you came along when you did,” I said rather loudly, given that he was right in my face.
Captain Jones smiled widely.
“Yes, thank goodness,” he said. He lowered his voice. “You screamed as if you sought to warn someone of my approach.”
I pulled my legs under me and sat up.
“What?” I prevaricated.
He helped me to my feet. “Can you stand?”
I nodded, looking over my shoulder. Colin approached, alone.
“Quickly, am I to understand that you are not Lord Anderson’s cousin?”
I nodded.
“I did not want to embarrass you in front of Lady Elinor.”
“Ah! Lord Anderson,” Captain Jones said. “Good morning! I see we three shared the mutual desire for an early morning walk.” Captain Jones’ affect was pleasant.
Colin looked from me to Captain Jones, with drawn brows.
“Aye, I did set out early this morning,” he said. “And did ye two decide on a stroll together?”
“Oh, no!” I said. “I was just out for a walk when I fell and twisted my ankle. Captain Jones came to my rescue.” What was I going to say? That I’d seen him talking to someone, and I tried to warn him? Warn him about what? The old man was probably just one of his tenants.
Colin looked over his shoulder toward the clearing.
“And ye strayed from the path to walk through the glen?” he asked.
“Well, yes,” I said. “I thought I would explore the woods.”
I could see Colin wasn’t convinced. He eyed Captain Jones, but he said nothing to him.
“Are ye injured?” he asked. “Shall I fetch a doctor?”
“Oh, no, I’m fine,” I said brightly. “It was just a quick thing.”
“Ye screamed as if a great beastie was after ye,” Colin said.
Captain Jones raised a hand to his mouth to stifle a laugh.
“Yes, that she did,” he agreed.
“Well, it hurt at the time,” I said. “I think I’ll head back. I’m famished.”
“I will accompany ye,” Colin said.
“Yes, I am hungry as well,” Captain Jones said.
We turned to walk, and the two men offered me their arms. I didn’t know whether to take one or the other. Was there a protocol? I solved the problem by picking up my skirts.
“Oh, thank you, but I don’t want to trip over my skirts again,” I said. That seemed to satisfy them.
“Did ye say ye were leaving today, Captain?” Colin asked.
“Yes, this morning, after my men and I comb the nearby hills in search of the Jacobites,” he said.
Colin paused for a moment before walking on.
“As I told ye, Captain, there are no Jacobites hiding on my land. My father didna sell his soul to the devil so that his son might harbor outlaws.”
Captain Jones sighed heavily.
“The commander received reports that some rebels have taken refuge on your property. I have no choice but to search for them.”
“And who would spread such rumors? Seems likely to me that one of the outlaw clans would say such things. Ye can imagine my father was hated for his choice to support the Crown, and I dinna fare much better in their eyes, since I am his relation.”
“The commander did not tell me where he received his information, Lord Anderson, or I might gladly share that information with you. I do not fear that you would start a clan war over the matter. For one thing, you have no men to call to arms, nor do you have the authority.”
Now, Colin sighed.
“It pains me to agree with ye on anything, Captain, but ye are right. Most of my father’s men have gone off to America or to the cities.” Colin pursed his lips. “And it is true that the clan chieftains and lairds no longer have the right to rally their men about them.”
Colin’s shoulders slumped, though hardly diminishing his tall height. I had no idea what it was like to be laird of a castle with no one left to work the land, but my heart ached for him. The castle came into view, and I was taken with the stark loneliness of the gray stones.
“Ye may search, Captain, but ye will find nothing. I trust ye to keep yer men in line. I do still have some widows and children on my property, tending a few chickens and cattle, as well as some old men and women who live in the village.”
Captain Jones bowed.
“Of course, Lord Anderson. I am not a butcher.”
Colin paused at the top of the stairs leading to the front door. “The reports are that one of yer number is.”
I turned to look at Captain Jones, who seemed to hang his head.
“Yes, that is the Duke of Cumberland’s reputation. Only history will tell whether the rumors are true, but it is not my way.” The captain tipped his hat before turning to head for the kitchen entrance.
Colin watched him walk away, and I moved to stand close to him on the steps.
“Who was that man you were talking to in the woods, Colin? He looked a lot like...”
I don’t know what I was about to say. A rebel? I had no idea what a rebel looked like.
Colin put his fingers over my lips.
“Quiet, lass. I canna say.”
He took my hand and pulled me into the house.
“Let us have our breakfast and speak no more on the matter.”
I followed Colin into the breakfast room. Elinor, holding a cup of tea to her lips, set it down with a clatter and jumped up.
“Where did ye two go?” she said with a flush on her cheek. “And where is Captain Jones?”
She seemed equally interested in both questions, and I wondered whether Captain Jones had struck her fancy.
“He went along to the kitchen to see to his men. I imagine he will arrive soon enough for breakfast,” Colin said. He didn’t seem inclined to answer Elinor’s first question.
“Where di
d ye go?” she asked again, settling herself back down on Colin’s left. I took the seat at his right and grabbed some thick toast and marmalade.
“I went for a walk, as did Mistress Pratt and Captain Jones. It seems we all had the same idea at the same time.”
Elinor narrowed her eyes.
“Not together?” she asked dubiously.
Colin shook his head, and I eyed her innocently.
“Nay, not at first. We did encounter one another and walked back to the house together.”
Elinor shot me a look as if I’d planned the entire thing. And I remembered that I still hadn’t made it down to the river. I wondered what fate was coming between me and that little body of water.
Captain Jones entered the room, and Elinor’s cheeks colored.
“Good morning, Lady Elinor,” he said. “I thought I might take in a bit of Mrs. Renwick’s fine cooking before we leave this morning.”
“What do ye mean...leave?” Elinor asked.
I turned to look at her. Oh, yes, there was definitely something there.
The captain took his seat and smiled.
“The men and I must set out this morning,” he said. “And Lord Anderson is glad of it.”
Colin quirked an eyebrow and smiled, an unusual occurrence in the presence of the soldiers.
“Aye, I canna lie. I am nae displeased to hear it.”
Captain Jones, as usual, took no offence. What an easygoing man he was! Or maybe just realistic. He realized that his presence in the Highlands was unwelcome, and his task of searching for Jacobites despised by many.
I had come to like him very well, and I hoped he would come to no harm.
“Do be safe out there,” I said sincerely.
Captain Jones’ fair cheeks took on color, and he blinked.
“Why, thank you, Mistress Pratt. I will. I will see you upon my return, as I have to leave my horse stabled here, with Lord Anderson’s permission. The hills are too steep for the horse to climb without a struggle.”
I ignored Colin’s pointed look, though it seemed sharp enough to drill a hole into the side of my head. Someday I would have to remind him that I was two hundred and fifty years on the far side of this dispute, and that many, though not all, people had left their anger behind. But as an American, I wasn’t sure he would think I was entitled to any thoughts on the matter.
Elinor said nothing, but she looked from me to the captain, and I could see the wheels turning. Did she think I had a crush on him? It wouldn’t have been hard to do, but my heart belonged to the dour Scotsman at the head of the table. I would be glad to see him smile as sweetly as I knew he could, once the soldiers left.
Captain Jones finished his meal, said his farewells and left within the hour. Colin did not say good-bye, but Elinor and I stood on the stairs and watched him go, his back straight, blond hair gleaming in the sun as he led his men around the back of the house toward the hills.
“Such a pity that he is English,” Elinor said with a sigh.
“Why is that?” I asked, though I supposed I knew what she meant.
“Oh, well, ye ken. The English. They never ken their place.”
I chuckled. “They say that about Americans too. That we never know our place.”
“Do they now?” she said with a smile.
Captain Jones turned and, with a charming gesture, tipped his hat in our direction. I don’t know about Elinor, but I sighed.
“Are ye taken with the captain, Beth? I thought ye had set yer sights on Colin.”
“I might ask the same of you, Lady Elinor,” I teased. “You seemed a bit upset to hear he was leaving.”
She turned from me and watched as the last redcoat disappeared from view.
“He was a verra nice gentleman,” she said, chewing on her lower lip.
“Yes, he is.”
“But English.”
“English,” I repeated. “It’s warmer in England.”
“Aye,” she agreed. “So it is.”
We looked at each other and chuckled. I put an arm around her, feeling suddenly sisterly, though she had set herself up as competition for the man I loved. At least we shared that. I had no idea who would win the laird, or if either of us would, but at least we shared that.
Chapter Eleven
A loud banging on the front door the following day brought all of us running toward the front of the castle. Colin, Elinor and I had been eating breakfast, and we hurried out to see what the commotion was about. George and Mrs. Agnew met us at the front door, fear on their faces.
George pulled open the door at Colin’s instructions to reveal one of Captain Jones’ soldiers standing on the top step, with his fist raised as if to knock again. His uniform showed signs of trauma, the red jacket and dark pants torn and muddied beyond recognition.
Behind him, two other soldiers, similarly ragtag, carried a limp body. The blond ponytail hanging down made me gasp.
“Oh, no,” I moaned. “It’s Captain Jones. Bring him in,” I said urgently. “Is he alive? What happened?”
“Yes, mistress, but I do not know for how long,” one of the men puffed. “We were attacked by the Jacobites. The captain took a sword to his ribs, he did.”
Captain Jones’ unbuttoned jacket fell away from his body, and I saw a bright-red stain on his white shirt on the right side of his abdomen.
“Make haste. Bring him in,” Colin said, jumping forward to help the men carry Captain Jones inside. He led them to the drawing room, where they settled the unconscious captain on the sofa. Colin seemed to care little if the blood seeped into the fabric.
“George, send for the doctor at once,” he barked over his shoulder. “Mrs. Agnew, hot water, some linens for bandages. Elinor, help her, please. Take the men down to the kitchen for some food. Where are the others?”
“Following us,” one of the soldiers said. “We fair ran with our burden to get here as soon as we could.”
Colin nodded. “Go to the kitchen now. Elinor, tell Mrs. Renwick to prepare food and drink for the men.”
Elinor, tears spilling from her eyes, hurried away with the housekeeper. Colin watched them leave and then turned to me.
“Quickly, Beth. Tell me what I can do before the others return. I dinna ken if he will die afore the doctor arrives.”
“Oh, gosh, Colin, I don’t know. I have no medical training, not even in the twenty-first century.” I ripped open the captain’s shirt and looked at the ugly gash just below his ribs. Blood oozed from the wound but did not gush. His lungs rose and fell without sounds of gasping.
“I don’t think he’s bleeding out, and I’m going to guess from his breathing that his lungs weren’t punctured. But I don’t know if a vital organ was injured. Hopefully, the doctor will know.”
I bent, and in true Western style, ripped the ruffle from my petticoat. Pressing it against the captain’s wound, I applied pressure.
“All I can do is try and stop the bleeding. I don’t think he’s lost a lot,” I said, “but he’s very pale.” With my free hand, I smoothed his hair away from his forehead.
Elinor and Mrs. Agnew returned, and Mrs. Agnew, who appeared to know what she was doing, moistened some of the linens she had brought. I gently pulled my strip of petticoat off, pleased to see that his bleeding had not increased. Mrs. Agnew dabbed at his wound, removing some of the blood, and she looked at it.
“It isna deep. I think he will live,” she said. “Here, Mistress Pratt, clean the poor man’s face up a bit while we wait for the doctor, will ye?” She handed me one of the cloths.
I moistened it and dabbed at the dirt on Captain Jones’ face.
“Master, if ye could hold this cloth to his wound, I will go up to my room and fetch some salve.”
Colin did as instructed.
“What can I do to help?” Elinor asked. She stood there, tremulous, wringing her hands together. “Why canna this violence stop?”
“Well, he was searching for desperate men who dinna want to hang at the end
of a noose,” Colin said, looking up at her. “What do ye expect? That they would go quietly?”
“Let me,” Elinor said. She took the cloth from Colin and held it over the captain’s wound. Colin stood up and stretched his legs.
“No, I understand the Jacobites will fight, though their cause is lost,” she said sadly. “I dinna know what the answer might be, but to engage the English only ensures their death. I heard many have been sent to the colonies as bonded servants. Surely such a fate would be better than death.”
Colin, looking at the blood staining the cuffs of his shirt as they extended from his jacket, shook his head.
“Not for some,” he said. “A Highlander as an indentured servant, forced to work farms? For some, it is a death sentence.”
I wondered again at the man I had seen Colin talking to. Though I understood his family’s leanings to be in support of the Crown, he seemed torn between his identity as a Highlander and his family’s beliefs. Had that man been a Jacobite? Had Colin helped him in some way? Hidden him?
I smoothed Captain Jones’ hair again, as if somehow that might be of comfort, though he was unconscious. I wasn’t sure if I could sympathize with anyone who stabbed the compassionate man on the couch. They wouldn’t know him, of course. To a wanted outlaw, Captain Jones was just an English soldier. And he had been searching for them. Having found them, they must have resisted. I couldn’t blame them either though, if the alternative was hanging.
Captain Jones remained unconscious the next hour while we waited for the doctor. I worried the longer he was out, but I supposed he suffered less pain that way. And if the doctor had to stitch up a thing or two, it was definitely better that he stay unconscious.
A short, round elderly man dressed in shades of luxurious brown velvet, albeit worn at the elbows and knees, hurried into the room. Sporting a gray ponytail and carrying his hat and an old-fashioned black surgeon’s bag, he stopped short at the sight of Captain Jones.
“Lord Anderson,” he exclaimed. “I didna ken this was an English officer. I canna treat him!”
Colin quirked an eyebrow.