Whence Came a Prince

by Liz Curtis Higgs

  “Bless you, Eliza.” Leana touched the ruffled edge of the girl’s white cap. “ ’Tis good to see you, too.”

  Eliza offered her the fresh linen towel draped across her arm. “Ye’ve been sairlie missed, mem.” She stuck out her hands, the creases stained from gardening. “As ye can see, I’ve done a’ I could, but yer gairden is mair than I can manage.”

  “Not to worry. I’ll start with the kitchen garden in the morn’s morn.”

  Rose stepped forward. “Eliza, the rest of the household is anxious to greet my sister. See to her grooming while I gather the staff in the parlor.”

  “Aye, mem.” Steam swirled round the broad porcelain bowl as Eliza poured the hot water. She fished a small cake of soap from her apron pocket, bathed Leana’s neck, face, and hands, then cleaned the dust from her gown. Finally Eliza offered her mistress a slender birch twig to freshen her teeth, then untangled her braids and brushed her hair until it shone.

  “Like waves of spun gold,” Eliza said, clearly pleased with her work. “Shall I dress it in a circle o’ braids again? Though, if ye dinna mind me sayin’, ’tis nice as ’tis.”

  “We’ll leave it unbound,” Leana agreed. The way Jamie likes it. She was ashamed of her thoughts, yet could not bring herself to coil her hair on top of her head. Just for this evening. Just for the first time he saw her.

  Eliza was straightening the washstand and fretting over the sorry condition of the room when a familiar cry floated down the corridor. Ian.

  Leana flew from the room, a cloud of hair wafting over her shoulders. “Coming, sweet boy,” she called out, her heart beating wildly. Would he still know her voice? Her face? Would he welcome her or shrink away, confused? Ian, ’tis your mother. Home to stay.

  Light steps sounded at the foot of the stair as Leana opened the nursery door. Rose must have heard him too. Compelled by instinct and an urgent need to hold her son, Leana slipped into the room and hastened to the crib.

  Ian was sitting up, rubbing his eyes, not quite awake yet.

  She stared at him in wonder. “My braw wee lad.” The child was a miniature Jamie, from his sleek dark hair to the set of his chin. Only his eyes were like hers, blue and wide, blinking at her now.

  “Will you come to me, Ian?” She reached toward him, grateful he did not whimper as if she were a stranger. Leana slid her hands under his arms and lifted the child out of the crib, surprised at the weight of him. When she held him against her, his body still warm with sleep, tears sprang to her eyes. “My dear son.” Smoothing one hand over his silky hair, she kissed his brow, then his cheek. “Who would have imagined such a fine neck hiding beneath that handsome head of yours? Has Neda been feeding you her good porridge?”

  “He’s eating minced beef now.” Rose stood in the doorway, watching them. “And tatties and gravy and soft cheese. Neda has cooked carrots for you tonight, Ian, and bits of the fish your father caught. Aren’t you the lucky lad?” She held out her hands, and Ian dove toward her with a gleeful cry, nearly tumbling out of Leana’s embrace.

  “Careful!” Leana held him a moment longer before guiding him into her sister’s open arms. Did he truly not recognize her? Or did he prefer Rose?

  Ian patted Rose’s cheeks as the two pressed their noses together, then he whirled about as if to assess this newcomer to the nursery.

  “You know who this is, don’t you, Ian?” Rose’s voice was even. “ ’Tis my sister, Leana. She once took care of you and loves you dearly. Just as I do.”

  Leana stared at her in dismay. “Will you not tell him who I am?”

  Rose averted her gaze, busying her hands straightening Ian’s sleeve. “Jamie and I have not spoken of the matter. We did not expect to see you again, and so I thought … that is, I assumed Ian would think of me as … his mother.”

  “But I …” Leana’s throat tightened, “I am his mother.”

  “You gave birth to him,” Rose acknowledged, blushing as she said it. “But Ian is ours to raise now. Jamie’s and mine. When we arrive in Glentrool, ’twould be so much easier—”

  “Easier for you.” Leana clutched her skirts in her hands, her grief mounting. “But not easier for me, Rose. Nor for Ian when he learns someday that you have hidden the truth from him.” She reached for the sharpest arrow in her quiver. “ ’Tis the sort of thing Father would do, keeping secrets from his children.”

  Rose turned away as if she’d been slapped, then recovered just as quickly. Without a word she stepped round Leana and began changing Ian’s wet nightgown as though Leana were no longer in the room. “Aren’t you a fine boy,” she praised him, “staying still while I dress you in your nice, clean gown?”

  Before Leana spoke again, she made certain her voice was calm, and her words far kinder. “Rose, you are a wonderful stepmother. There is no shame in such a role.”

  Rose’s hands stilled. “I am not ashamed, Leana. I am only thinking of Ian in the years to come. Even you must admit how difficult it would be for Ian, always explaining why the woman that bore him is no longer married to his father.”

  “Aye.” Leana sank against the wall, her strength gone. The long journey by chaise, the shock of finding the McKies still here, and the babe in her womb had all taken their toll. “What you say is true, much as it grieves me to confess it.”

  Rose turned, Ian tucked in her arms once more. Though Leana saw compassion in her eyes, suspicion lurked there as well. “Why are you here, Leana?”

  She leaned her head against the cool plaster. Bits of psalms learned long ago came to mind but brought no comfort. I am like a broken vessel.… I am poured out like water.… I am withered like grass.

  “Leana, will you not tell me what brings you to Auchengray?”

  Straightening, Leana took a deep breath as though the air alone might support her. “I came home because I could not impose on poor Aunt Meg’s hospitality another hour.” That was the truth; she felt no shame in saying it. “And I missed Neda. And Duncan and the others.” Also a fact Rose could hardly deny. “Since I was certain you’d left for Glentrool in May, I saw no harm in returning to Auchengray.”

  “I see.” Rose lowered Ian to the floor, letting him test his knees as he rocked back and forth. “I wish you had written first.”

  “So do I, for I did not mean to grieve you.” At least her reasons, hastily assembled, had appeased her sister. “Why did you not write and tell me your news?”

  “I did.” Rose bent to place Ian’s wooden blocks within his reach. “My letter will no doubt arrive in Twyneholm on Monday.”

  Monday. Leana swallowed, feeling ill. “If only I’d waited …”

  “But you didn’t,” Rose said matter-of-factly. “And now you are here, and we will make the best of it.” She gestured toward the stair. “The household is waiting to greet you. It might make things easier if Ian and I waited here.”

  Leana moved to the door, her legs stiff, like those of a wooden soldier being put through its paces by an impatient child.

  Rose reached out a hand to steady her. “Leana, are you all right?” “I’ll be fine,” she said faintly as she started down the stone steps. ’Til Jamie comes home.

  Sixteen

  When things were as fine as could possibly be,

  I thought ’twas the Spring; but alas! it was she.

  JOHN BYROM

  Jamie crossed the lawn with long, purposeful strides, Willie lagging far behind him.

  “Miss McBride has come hame!” the servant had cried when he’d found Jamie in the far pasture. “Wull ye be wantin’ tae walcome her, sir?”

  Aye, he would. Very much. And then again, he would not.

  Leana. Her name pounded inside his chest, louder than his heart. This would never have happened if they’d left for Glentrool in May as he’d planned. Or if Rose had written her sister sooner … or if he’d sent a letter of his own.

  Why, Leana? Why now?

  He could not blame her for coming home. He could only blame himself for not preventing it. Or had t
hat been his secret hope all along? That Leana would come back to him?

  Love my sister. “ ’Tis done,” he muttered, pushing open the front door.

  Jamie strode into the house, empty except for the parlor, where house servants and farmworkers alike stood in a ragged reception line. His steps slowed when he spied the graceful woman greeting each one, her hair cascading down her back, her voice low and gentle. He’d thought himself prepared to see her, but he was not. When she turned toward him, he could not move another step or take another breath, save the one that spoke her name.

  “Leana.”

  She was more beautiful than he remembered. Her skin shone like ivory silk. Her eyes were wider, her mouth fuller. Or had her face grown thinner? Was that the difference? She looked fragile, as if her time away from home had been difficult for her. How well he understood.

  The household had finished welcoming her it seemed, for the servants began filing out. A blur of browns and grays slipped past him, though Jamie paid scant attention. His eyes were on Leana, walking toward him, her hair draped round her like a silk mantle.

  “Jamie.” She curtsied, perhaps to hide the pink tinge in her pale cheeks. “I’m sorry to have come home without writing first.” Her chin remained lowered as if she could not bring herself to look at him. “Had I known that you and Rose were still living at Auchengray, I would have waited until August.”

  Finally he found his voice. “This is your home, Leana. You are always welcome here.”

  “I am glad to hear it.” Leana looked up at him at last. “I could not impose upon Aunt Margaret any further.”

  There was another reason, Jamie decided, barely visible in the blue depths of her eyes. Had something happened at Twyneholm?

  “Jamie,” she began, stepping closer. Her hair brushed against his sleeve. It felt like a caress. “Rose and I had a chance to talk. I am … happy to hear of your news.”

  He forced himself to meet her gaze, to witness the pain etched across her face. The slender crease between her brows. The fine lines round her eyes and mouth. Leana was anything but happy, and no wonder: She’d found her sister blooming with child, in love with the man who’d once pledged to love only her, forever.

  Forgive me, Leana. He would have to say those words aloud. Not now, when Rose might appear any moment, but soon. Mere words would never be enough to assuage his guilt or ease her sorrow. Not Leana, who felt so deeply and loved so well.

  Jamie mustered his courage. “May I … speak with you … later?”

  “You may.”

  For a moment he thought he saw a glimmer of hope in her eyes, but perhaps it was only the sheen of her unshed tears. Whatever had transpired before he arrived, Leana’s afternoon had been most trying. He hoped his apology would not grieve her further. But it had to be said; she must be made to understand.

  “There you are, Jamie.” Rose sailed into the room, Ian on her hip, a too-cheery smile on her face. “I see you’ve made your cousin welcome. And here’s your son, awake from his nap.”

  “Ian, my lad.” Jamie ruffled the boy’s hair, grateful for something to occupy his hands. There was no such recourse for his thoughts, which whirled through his head like dervishes. Nor could he find a place for his gaze to land; left or right, he found a woman who’d given him her heart.

  “I’ve told Leana our news,” Rose said. “She has promised to … help me. To … that is …”

  “I have already wished your husband much joy.” Leana bowed her head. “I will gladly provide whatever guidance you might need, Rose.”

  “ ’Tis … good of you.” Jamie was determined to say something, if only to keep his wits about him. Leana was standing too near. The curve of her long neck distracted him; the warmth of her body unsettled him. He stepped slightly to the left but could not escape her fragrance and the disturbing memories it evoked.

  Rose shifted Ian to her other arm. The lad was growing impatient for his supper. “You once insisted, Leana, that we all speak the truth in love.”

  Looking at Rose, Leana took a steady breath. “The truth is, this is a very trying day for all of us. I am overjoyed at seeing my son, yet I fear my happiness comes at your expense.” She turned to Jamie, her expression less strained than before. “Indeed, ’tis why I left in the first place: to spare you both the heartache of having to choose.”

  Distracted by Ian’s antics, Rose repeated the word as though she’d missed something. “Choose what?”

  Jamie’s heart made a fist.

  “Choose whom you will love,” Leana said simply.

  Rose shook her head. “ ’Tis not a matter of picking one or the other. I love Jamie. I love Ian. And I love you, Leana.” She planted a noisy kiss on Ian’s cheek. “Furthermore, I am quite certain that all three of you love me. So you see, there are no choices to be made. Not anymore.”

  Before either of them could respond, Rose swung round, holding the boy tight, and headed for the kitchen, her braid dusting the back of her gown. “My son cannot wait another minute for his carrots and trout. I will see you both at supper.”

  As she neared the door, Rose began to sing, her voice overly bright in the strained atmosphere.

  Dance to your daddie, my bonnie laddie,

  Dance to your daddie, my bonnie lamb.

  And ye’ll get a fishie, in a little dishie,

  Ye’ll get a fishie when the boat comes home.

  The notes lingered in the room, like the pungent aroma of fried trout. Jamie said nothing for a moment, uncertain how to begin. If they were seated, he might manage better. If she were farther away. If the room were not so quiet.

  “Jamie.” Leana moistened her lips. “You read my letter. The one I sent from Twyneholm the day—”

  “Aye,” he said quickly, hoping to change the subject. “I read it.” Dozens of times. The creases in the paper were nearly worn through.

  Leana rested her hand lightly on his sleeve. “ ’Tis obvious you have done as I asked.”

  He nodded, stalling. “You requested that I care for our son with the same tenderness you would have shown him if you’d been here. And so I have. He looks well, don’t you think?”

  “Very well,” she said gently. “And your wife even more so.”

  His spirits sank. “Must we talk about Rose?”

  “You know we must. Isn’t that what you wanted to speak to me about…‘later’?”

  “It is, but …” The woman saw too much. Knew him too well.

  “Oh, Jamie, please do not make this harder.” Leana’s voice softened to a whisper. “You love Rose, do you not?”

  Jamie closed his eyes. He could not bear to see her face when he spoke the truth. “I do.”

  When he opened them again, she’d moved a step back. “You have made the honorable choice, Jamie. All of society stands with you. The kirk, the law, the parish, my father—”

  “Lachlan McBride only stands where he will benefit,” he protested, seizing the chance to pin blame elsewhere for something, anything.

  Leana did not contest his claim. “My father’s greed knows no bounds, I’ll not deny the truth of that.”

  Truth. He seized on the word and let it fuel his courage. “And I cannot deny the vow I made to you on the day you left.” Jamie wrapped his hands round her arms, her soft flesh giving way beneath his grasp. “Listen to me, Leana. Those were not idle words intended only to comfort you. I meant what I said: I will ne’er repent of loving you.”

  She lowered her eyes, glassy with tears. “But you have repented. You have wisely chosen to love Rose instead.”

  “You are wrong. I did not choose.” His grip on her arms tightened, lest he shake her. Lest he pull her into his embrace. “Don’t you see? The choice was made for me.”

  “By Rose, you mean?”

  “Nae, Leana. By you.”

  Seventeen

  Mercy stood in the cloud, with eye that wept

  Essential love.

  ROBERT POLLOK

  The heat of Jamie’s words
and the warmth of his presence were more than Leana could bear. When her knees began to fold, Jamie caught her in his arms.

  “Och, lass!” He carried her to the guest bed and lowered her onto the worsted wool coverlet. Before she could protest, he slipped off her shoes, then sat on the edge of the half-tester bed, taking care not to crush her gown. “ ’Tis my fault.” He swept her hair away from her face, not quite meeting her gaze. “I should not have spoken so …”

  “So … honestly?” Leana finished for him. The room came into focus as her dizziness started to fade.

  He was more handsome than she remembered. The strong cut of his jaw. The fullness of his mouth. The moss green eyes that haunted her dreams. The man she had no right to love.

  “Jamie, ’tis just as you said: I ran from Auchengray without giving you any choice in the matter.”

  “That morning … when I realized you were gone …” He hung his head. “ ’Twas a terrible morning.”

  “For me as well,” she said gently. She longed to smooth back the stubborn lock of hair that fell across his brow but dared not risk even so innocent a gesture. “I asked you to love my sister. All but insisted upon it. You did not choose that either.”

  Jamie lifted his head. “I chose to act on it, though. Because I had to, Leana. Because she is my wife.” He exhaled slightly. “And because I do love her.” He fell silent, studying her at length. When at last he spoke, his voice was threaded with remorse. “Why, Leana? Why did you leave me?”

  Oh, Jamie. The hardest question of all.

  “ ’Twas not because I wanted to.” Her throat closed round the words. “I left Auchengray for your sake and for Rose’s.” She averted her eyes, disconcerted at having him so near. “But I did so for my own sake as well, knowing the limits of my heart.”

  “Your heart has no limits.” He wrapped his fingers round her wrist, as though measuring the rhythm of it pulsing against his thumb. “You love completely, Leana, holding nothing in reserve. Even those who are not worthy of your love are blessed with it in full measure.” After a moment he stood, carefully releasing his hold on her. “I ken the source of that love, for you have told me often enough.”