“At least we would have been together.”
“Thegither?” She glanced up at the floor above them. “Not mony a married man lives under the same roof wi’ twa women wha luve him baith the same.”
Galled by her words, he shook off the motherly hand on his neck. “Rose does not love me the same way Leana does.”
“Nae, but she thinks she does.”
“Aye,” he grumbled, standing again and starting to pace the floor. Yestreen in their cozy box bed, Rose had told him she loved him more times than he could tally. He rubbed his hand across the stubble of his beard, trying to sort things out, trying to think. “Surely someone else saw Leana leave.”
Neda rose as well, moving about the kitchen to collect what was needed for breakfast. Naught would be cooked—after all, ’Twas the Sabbath—but a few cold items would be spooned onto plates.
He watched her and realized she was stalling, avoiding his question. Did she not have an answer? Or did she not want to tell him?
Finally she confessed, “Willie took her in the chaise, though I dinna ken whaur.”
Jamie grimaced. She’d traveled some distance then. Or had too much to carry. God help me, she can’t have left the parish! Nae, ’Twas unlikely; she couldn’t depart Newabbey without a testimonial from the minister, stating both her marital state and her moral one. After three Sabbaths on the cutty stool for hochmagandy, she’d be a long time wrangling such a letter from Reverend Gordon’s righteous hands. “When did Willie return?”
“He didn’t.”
His heart thudded to a stop.
“Not yet.” Neda shook out a fresh apron and tied it round her waist, eying him all the while as if deciding what else to tell him. “Jamie, there is someone wha may ken whaur she is: Reverend Gordon. Ye’ll remember Leana went tae kirk afore the rest o’ ye yestreen.”
“To subscribe her band.”
“Mair than that, lad.” Neda’s shoulders sank. “Leana asked the reverend for a testimonial. She showed it tae me afore she left.”
Nae. Jamie stared hard at the floor. “There’s only one reason why she’d need such a letter.”
“Aye,” Neda said softly.
Jamie pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.
I will never leave you.
But she had.
Sixty-Three
We sleep, but the loom of life never stops;
and the pattern which was weaving when the sun went down
is weaving when it comes up.
HENRY WARD BEECHER
The bed was cold.
’Twas the first thing Rose noticed when she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The second was more urgent: Her husband was gone.
“Jamie?” She sat up at once, her heart in her throat, and threw open the bed curtains. “Beloved, are you there?”
How strange it felt to call him that. Beloved.
Rose pushed back the covers and slipped her legs over the side, waiting for her vision to adjust to the meager light. Either ’Twas a weatherful morning or an earlier hour than she imagined. She padded across to the window and peered out, frowning as she did. It was not only miserably gray but foggy and rainy as well. Dreich weather for a kirkin. Just as a newborn babe’s first morning at kirk was cause for celebration, so was the first Sabbath for a newlywed couple. At last she could sit beside Jamie in the pew and hold her head up as Mistress McKie.
Claiming the single candle on the dresser, Rose turned back toward the box bed and her breath caught. The sheets. Faintly stained with blood, they were a stark reminder of all that had happened yestreen. She put aside her candle and gathered up the soiled linens, swallowing her disappointment. Aye, Jamie had made verra sure she was no longer a maid, and he’d been gentle, just as she’d asked. But when she’d whispered, “I love you,” he’d only said, “I am glad.” And when she’d asked, “Can you love me, Jamie?” his answer had been, “I will try.”
“Please do,” she’d pleaded, then hated herself for sounding so desperate. But she was desperate. With Leana living under the same roof and loving him still, Rose worried she might never win Jamie’s heart completely. Her silver wedding band, gleaming in the candlelight, caught her eye, and she forced herself to draw a calming breath. “I am my beloved’s,” she said aloud, if only to remind herself of that truth. “And my beloved is mine.” Patience was not counted among her virtues, but she could learn, couldn’t she? And who better to teach her by example than her sister?
Her spirits buoyed, Rose tied her wrapper about her waist, then carried the bed linens down the stair, intending to deposit them discreetly in the laundry. Please God, she would not need to change her sheets again when the time for her courses came. After all, Leana had conceived on her wedding night. “Please?” was all she dared whisper now, for Jamie was right: Almighty God alone could bestow such a blessing.
Drawing near the kitchen, she heard voices. Neda. Jamie. “Good morning,” she called out, not wanting to startle them when she crossed the threshold. They both looked toward her, their faces ashen, and Rose gasped. “What is it? What’s happened?”
The two exchanged glances, then Jamie spoke. “It’s Leana. She’s … gone.”
“Gone?” Her arms sagged beneath the sheets. “Where? To kirk, hours early?”
“Nae, she left yestreen.” Neda collected the linens from her. “I’ll put these in the laundry while yer husband tells ye what little we ken.”
Jamie did not take her hand, as Rose had hoped he might, though his gaze did meet hers. “We don’t know where your sister went. Only that she’s left Auchengray.”
“Left?” Rose pulled her wrapper tight about her neck, suddenly chilled. “To go where?”
“Hard to say, lass. While you and I spoke our vows, your sister took the forest path to Auchengray. She packed verra little, Neda said, and then left in the chaise with Willie soon after you and your father returned from the village.”
“Willie …,” she breathed, remembering Annabel’s words. He’s gone, mistress. Rose looked out into the hall, her heart already flying up the stair to the nursery. “But what of Ian? She didn’t—”
“Nae. She did not take him, Rose.” Jamie’s face was grim. “Although I am sure she wanted to, the law would never allow it.”
“Poor Leana.” She dropped onto the stool beside him, her heart heavy with the weight of his news. She ran off because of me. Why else would Leana leave Ian’s side? Or Jamie’s, for that matter? “My selfishness drove her away.”
He touched her elbow, his expression softening. “ ’twould take more than a sister’s ill treatment to do that.”
“You do not ken the awful questions I asked her.”
Jamie opened his mouth as if to respond, then clamped it shut when Neda returned, her cap askew, her eyes bleary. “I didna sleep weel,” Neda confessed, stirring the broth that had simmered all night on the hearth. “I promised Leana I wouldna breathe a wird ’til this morn. Duncan and I sat up half the nicht worryin’.”
Rose stared in the direction of the spence. “So Father has not heard.” She prayed she would not be on hand when Lachlan learned of his daughter’s desertion. For that was how he would style it, though escape might be a better word for it. “Who will tell him?”
“I will.” Jamie stood, yanking on his frayed cuffs. He’d dressed in the dark, and it showed. “The moment he awakens, Neda, send one of the maids to find me.”
A sudden tapping at the back door brought them all to their feet.
Leana!
“Is it her?” Rose darted toward the door and yanked it open, only to find Jenny Cullen shivering on their doorstep, dripping with rain. “Och, lass!” She stepped back, making room for her. “You poor dear, come in and have some tea.” Neda found a clean towel to drape round her shoulders. “I’ll get Ian ready,” Rose assured her, “while you get dry and settled.”
She flew up the stair, grateful to have a task to occupy her thoughts, which
at the moment were scattered all over Galloway. Where would Leana run off to? Their father had distant relatives in Annan, though they’d corresponded little. Surely she didn’t go all the way to Glentrool? Then she knew. Twyneholm. Aunt Meg adored her older niece. ’Twas the most likely place, though quite a distance for a short visit. Or was it not meant to be short? Did Leana plan to stay away for good?
Rose tarried at the door to the nursery, letting the possibilities sink in. She would have Jamie all to herself, a comforting thought. But she would also have Ian all to herself, and though she loved him dearly, his care was daunting. At the moment both men in her life loved her sister more than they loved her. Could she weather their disappointment if Leana never came home? And what of you, Rose? Would you miss her?
When the answer did not come at once, Rose leaned her forehead against the door, her cheeks hot with shame. Of course she would miss her sister. It was Jamie’s missing Leana that gave her pause. Let me be enough for you, Jamie. Please let me be enough.
Putting her misgivings aside, Rose knocked on the door, then entered the nursery. Eliza was already awake, with her clothes set to rights and Ian wrapped in fresh linens. “Is the wet nurse here, mem?”
“Aye. I’ll send her up.” Rose planted a kiss on Ian’s cheek, still warm from sleep. You are mine now, lad, and that’s certain. Ian blinked at her, not quite awake, looking a bit dazed. “I feel the verra same,” she assured him, kissing him once more. Tempting as it was, she would not tell Eliza about her mistress leaving; Lachlan must be informed first, or they all would suffer his rebuke. “Have Annabel meet me in my room to help me dress for our kirkin,” she said as she turned to go. “I’m afraid we’ve a difficult day ahead.”
Rose found Jenny drying her skirts by the hearth, the young mother’s spirits well revived by the fire’s warmth and the saucer of tea in her hands. “Whenever you’re ready, Ian is waiting in the nursery, Jenny. I … I pray ’twill go better for you this time.”
“Aye, mem.” The maid curtsied, then hurried off to her duties.
Jamie turned to Rose, a look of concern in his moss green eyes. “It did not go well yestreen with Ian?”
“Nae, it did not.” Rose bit her tongue before she scolded him for being too busy with the ewes to notice. “Even Father said not to expect much the first time.”
Jamie snorted. “As if your father had any notion of such matters!”
She glanced down the hall. “Has he stirred in the spence? The sooner he is told, the better, Jamie. If he hears the servants blethering about it …”
“Right.” Jamie straightened his shoulders. “I’ll not wait then.”
“I’d best come wi’ ye.” Neda slipped off her apron and draped it o’er the chopping block. “I’m the ane wha let her go. If there’s a price tae be paid for that lealtie, I’m the ane wha should pay it.”
“Nae,” Rose was quick to say. “I’m the one to blame.”
“We all let her go,” Jamie protested, though his tone was not unkind. “I was off minding the sheep, Rose was busy with Ian, and Lachlan didn’t give the lass a second thought. He will now.” Jamie eyed them both. “If you want to come, I’ll not refuse the company.”
Lachlan opened the door a full minute after Jamie’s firm knock, plainly disgruntled at being roused early from his bed. He waved them into the room and pointed to the chairs, while Neda saw to the hearth, grown cold overnight. When Jamie did not sit, Rose hovered behind his shoulder. She felt safer there.
Jamie wasted no time telling him. “Leana left Auchengray yestreen. Probably bound for Aunt Margaret’s cottage in Twyneholm, though we cannot be certain.”
Rose watched Lachlan’s jaw working round, as though he were chewing on the news, preparing to spit it out. “Is this your doing, Nephew?” he growled, his voice thick with sleep. “Did she leave because of you?”
Jamie leaned back as though he were slapped, his shoulder brushing hers. “N-nae, sir. She left without a word to either Rose or me.”
Neda recounted her side of the story while the bonnet laird stared at his desk without comment. A silent Lachlan McBride was even more frichtsome than an angry one, Rose decided. When no more details could be added, the room fell silent.
Lachlan strode to his desk and reached for his wooden money box, throwing back the lid. “Guid,” he said, nodding. “At least she did not fill her pockets before she left.”
“Father! Leana would hardly take your silver.”
He shrugged. “She’s lost her market, as Duncan would say. None will pay to have your sister for a bride now. I thought she might have helped herself to my thrifite, but I see she has not.”
Rose saw something too: a knotted gold cord stretched across the heap of coins.
Sixty-Four
The thorns which I have reap’d are of the tree
I planted; they have torn me, and I bleed.
GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON
Are ye sure ye won’t come hame wi’ me, Miss McBride?” Willie tugged off his wool bonnet and worked it round in his hands while his wet boots dripped on the cottage’s flagstone floor. “They’ll be sairlie missin’ ye at Auchengray. Truth is, I hate tae think o’ ridin’ up tae the gate wi’oot ye.” He hung his head, displaying his balding scalp. “Mr. McKie will niver let me groom Walloch again.”
“Now, Willie.” Leana wrapped her fingers round the orraman’s hands, plaid cap and all. “You’re not to blame for my leaving. I asked you to help me, and you bravely did so. Neda will see that you’re treated properly when you get home.” Dear Neda. She’d helped Leana slip away unnoticed with a small case of necessities and no questions. Leana had left behind everything but her sorrow and her tears, which, like the late-March rain, had fallen without ceasing since she’d arrived in Twyneholm.
She gazed out the small-paned window at the dreich sky. Gray and damp, a mixture of fog and showers, ’twould make for a miserable ride home for poor Willie. Even so, she envied him. Home. Jamie. Ian. To let her thoughts wander there was to be crushed to the ground.
“I’ll not send you back to Auchengray empty handed, Willie.” She produced two sealed letters from her traveling bag, written at Aunt Meg’s table in the wee hours of the morn when she could not sleep. “You will give this letter to Jamie, aye? No one else? And this one to my father to read aloud.”
What she could not tell them in person, she would tell them on paper. ’Twas the coward’s way of doing things. A considerate person would have left such letters behind in her wake to ease her family’s worry. Instead, she’d escaped by way of the stables while the family ate supper. Leana would not be surprised if her father tossed his letter in the fire unread.
“Fare thee well, mem.” Willie pulled his cap on tight and tucked her letters in his coat, along with pickled mutton for the journey back. The two of them had arrived in Twyneholm nigh unto midnight, slept as late as they could, and attended the parish kirk with her aunt. ’twould be six o’ the clock before Willie saw Lowtis Hill and the last turn home.
“Godspeed,” Leana whispered, a handkerchief pressed to her nose as she watched old Bess clop up the hill past the kirk and disappear from view.
“Come, lass.” Her aunt edged her shoulders away from the window. “He’s well on his way now.”
“Aye.” Leana tucked her handkerchief in her sleeve. “How can I thank you enough for taking me in, Aunt Meg?”
When Margaret Halliday raised her silvery eyebrows, Leana realized she was staring at a looking glass, seeing herself forty years hence. Meg’s golden locks had faded to silver, and her eyes were more gray than blue, but ’Twas the same broad face and full mouth that greeted Leana in her mirror each morning. More speeritie than she, her aunt smiled from morn ’til murk, if only to display her full set of teeth.
“Och!” Meg was saying. “Aren’t I your mother’s sister? And aren’t you my favorite niece besides?”
Despite her heavy heart, Leana managed a faint smile. “
I’ll not tell Rose you said that.”
Meg rolled her eyes, just as Rose did. “What a time I had with your sister under my roof for a week! And in winter too, when I couldn’t shoo her out the door and borrow a minute’s peace for myself.”
“But I’ll be here longer than a week,” Leana cautioned her. Could her maiden aunt, blithe to live alone, bear her constant company? The cozy stone cottage had two rooms—one for sleeping and dressing, the other for cooking and eating and sewing and reading and everything else. “I pray I won’t be a burden to you.”
“A burden? Why, you’re a welcome guest.” Meg touched Leana’s shoulder, then made her way about the cottage straightening her oft-mended curtains and tidying things as she went. Though Burnside was a humble place, no cottage in the parish was more neatly swept. “Don’t you ken your auld auntie gets lanelie now and again?”
“Nae, I do not,” Leana said lightly, standing to brush the wrinkles from her claret gown. “At kirk this morning, nary a soul came through the door without seeking your counsel about one thing or another.”
“You ken why, don’t you? They wanted a good look at you, Leana, my loosome visitor from faraway Newabbey.”
She found herself gazing out the window again. “ ’Tis not so far to Auchengray. Naught but two dozen miles.”
“In Galloway, ’Tis a world away. There are folk in Twyneholm who’ve ne’er seen any parish but their own.” Meg lit another candle, made of beeswax from her own hives. “That’s better,” her aunt murmured as the room brightened, “for ’Tis a gloomy day.”
“I pray ’Tis not gloomy at Auchengray.” Leana turned away from the window. “Rose deserves a chance at happiness.”
Meg’s busy hands stilled. “Even though she never gave you that chance?”
“ ’Tis plain why she didn’t. Had you seen her face, Auntie, when she came home to Auchengray expecting to marry Jamie after her week here with you—”
“Hoot! You can be sure I heard about it.” Meg released a noisy sigh and resumed her tasks. “Rose posted a very long letter to me while you and Jamie were in Dumfries.”
Fair Is the Rose Page 42