by Amanda Scott
“Aye.” She moved it, then added flatly and without looking at him, “You would have.”
He grinned. “’Tis likely.”
Satisfied that she had not been wrong about him, she concentrated on the game. During the next hour they played in companionable silence broken only when one placed the other in check. Mary Kate had just begun to wonder if Douglas might be getting hungry again when the door flew open and Susan Kennedy burst into the room.
“Master, you must come at once! They’ve took Ellen!” She was panting, nearly spent, but her words were clear.
Douglas shoved the game table away and leapt to his feet. Two quick strides brought him to her side. “Steady, lass. Tell me the whole. Where is your father?”
“Home, sir, blaming me mother like usual. But she didna know about Ellen till now.”
“What about Ellen?”
“She run off. Said she’d had all she could stomach o’ me father and was for getting out. Ian Baird over tae the village wants tae wed wi’ her, but me father said only gin he could pay, so they was running away tae Kelso tae be wed. ’Twas a raiding party, Ian said. He won free only ’cause the brigands thought they’d killed him. But they’ve took Ellen.”
“Scots or English?” Douglas demanded.
“Ian thought Scot.” Calmer now, Susan glanced doubtfully at Mary Kate, who smiled reassuringly before turning to Douglas.
“I want to help, Adam. What can be done?”
“You look after Susan, lass. I’ll attend to the rest.”
Susan protested. “I mun get back tae me mother, sir. I’d not ha’ left her, but me father refused tae lift a wee finger. Said Ellen’s taken her ain road and mun take the ruts as weel.”
“Then I will go with you, Susan,” Mary Kate declared.
“That you’ll not,” contradicted her husband flatly. “You are not to leave the castle, madam, nor you either, Susan lass. You are not fit to go back there tonight. I’ll send someone to look after Elspeth.” He glared at them. “You’ll do as you’re bid, the pair of you.”
“Very well, sir.” Mary Kate sighed. “Come along, Susan. I shall order hot possets sent up to my sitting room. I believe we will both be the better for one.”
Douglas shouted orders that could be heard throughout the castle for men and horses, and was soon gone, leaving Mary Kate to minister to Susan. Once she had seated her comfortably with her feet up and the wine had come, she realized that the young woman was carefully avoiding meeting her gaze.
“Are you all right now, Susan?”
“Aye, mistress.” Her eyes remained downcast. “Ye do too much fer me, m’lady. ’Tisna fittin’.”
“Don’t be tiresome, Susan. You are carrying Sir Adam’s bairn. That makes you important to him, and so to me.”
Susan looked up then. “But yesterday—” She hesitated, and suddenly Mary Kate realized what was troubling her. Susan, like every other servant in the castle, was aware that there had been trouble between Douglas and his wife. Unlike the others, however, Susan most likely believed she had been responsible.
Mary Kate shook her head. “What’s done is done. You must not blame yourself for aught that has happened. Did Sir Adam say anything to you?”
Susan nodded. “He sent for me straightaway after…weel, after he fetched you back.” She paused, biting her lip, a reminiscent glitter in her eyes. “He were in an unco kippage, he were, but I told him about Cook, about how ye made her stop lambasting me and fetched me away.” Susan relaxed, and a slow smile spread across her face. “Cook won’t sauce ye again, mistress. I’ll warrant she had a worse day than ye did yourself.”
“Tell me.”
“I told the master what she said about me and how she spoke tae ye, and when he’d got all I could tell him, he went down tae yon kitchen. Grisel was there, and she says he ordered Cook off home and said he’d hold back half her wages for her insolence. She’s no tae coom back here the month.”
Mary Kate was not impressed. Considering the state of Douglas’s temper when he’d left her, she thought Cook had got off easily. She said as much to Susan.
“Och, but nay, mistress. Ye be overlooking her husband.”
“Husband?” Somehow Cook hadn’t seemed the sort to be encumbered with a husband.
“She be Hamilton’s wife.”
“Hamilton?” The only Hamilton she’d heard spoken of was the smith in Tornary village. “She is the smith’s wife?”
“Aye, and a devil he be, wi’ a temper tae mak a strong man flinch.” Susan’s eyes twinkled. “And ’tis said he were mighty cross, too, for after master collected the nag he’d left at yon MacKenzie croft and returned it himself tae the smithy, he told Hamilton why he’d sent Cook home wi’ only half her wages. I’ll warrant she’s sorry the noo she spoke tae ye as she did.”
Grinning at the probable understatement and unable to summon up an ounce of pity for the ill-natured cook, Mary Kate soon sent Susan off to bed, saying practically that there was nothing further to be done until Douglas brought them news of Ellen. Susan was exhausted and went willingly enough, but Mary Kate found it difficult to follow her own advice. Though she crawled into bed, her ears strained for sounds of Douglas’s return, and she could not go to sleep. An hour later she got up, slipped her feet into her sheepskin mules, and crept into her husband’s bedchamber. Only then, snuggled deep under his blankets with her head on his silken pillow, did she finally fall asleep.
Douglas barely disturbed her when he returned in the gray dawn light and got into bed beside her. Mary Kate sighed in her sleep and nestled close to him, letting him draw her into the shelter of his arm. She awoke hours later to bright sunshine and the tingling sensation of his finger caressing the tip of her breast through the thin cotton night rail. She stiffened.
“Good morning, wench.”
“Oh, Adam.” She smiled, her eyes glowing. “I’m glad you are back. Where is Ellen Kennedy? Is she safe?”
“Aye, safe enough.” He buried his face in her hair, kissing her, nuzzling her throat, and finally taking possession of her mouth, while his hands played across her body, gently removing her nightdress, his caresses arousing her to a passion that matched his own. Much later, they lay back against the pillows, relaxed and fulfilled, her head on his shoulder, his arm holding her there lightly.
“Now, tell me,” she demanded.
“We got her back, lass, thanks to Mrs. Jardine’s Willie being a lad who could follow the track of a breeze through a forest, but she’s in a bad way.”
“Where is she? What happened?”
“She’s here. I couldn’t send her back the way she was. Willie took word of her safety to Elspeth.”
“Well, what happened to her?”
Douglas shifted on the pillow so that he could look directly into her eyes. “They were men, and Ellen’s a woman—a bonny wench, at that. Border brigands are not given to the use of courtly manners in their dealings with the fair sex, sweetheart. Ellen objected to their demands, so they forced her.”
“You mean they ravished her?”
“Aye, and beat her nearly senseless when she fought them.” He continued to look at her. “There were a number of them.”
She stared back at him, horror dawning in her eyes. No wonder he’d not wanted to tell her. He had warned her, but she had never believed even border raiders capable of such brutality as he was describing now. “You were afraid that would happen to me,” she said, subdued. “That’s why you were so angry.”
“Aye.” He relaxed now that she understood.
Catching her breath with a shudder as she imagined herself in Ellen Kennedy’s place, she snuggled closer to him and was silent for some moments before she added on a note of relief, “But you caught them, did you not? What will happen now?”
“We caught some of them,” he said, smoothing wispy curls off her forehead. “There are more where that lot came from. As to what will happen, I’ve no idea. They were Scots, and we’ve sent them to Roxburgh Tolbooth to
be held for the magistrate. Once I’m belted, I’ll have more authority to act in such matters, and I can tell you, I’d like to have hanged the lot of them from the nearest tree. Most likely, though, the worst that will happen is that they’ll be flogged. ’Tis not as though Ellen were married or even handfasted. Wife stealing is a hanging offense.”
“I know. Will Ian Baird still want to marry her now?” She knew that some men had strong feelings against marriage with a woman who had been violently used by other men, as though they blamed the woman herself for her misfortune. Mary Kate did not know Ian Baird. It seemed that Douglas didn’t either, because he shrugged. “You are very causal about it, sir,” she said. “Have you no opinion in the matter? It will be a question of first importance to Ellen.”
“I’m sorry, lassie, if you think me uncaring. I am not, but I cannot speak for another man. If he’s a Calvinist, he’ll believe poor Ellen guilty of fornication and therefore unworthy to be his wife. It is possible, though, that it won’t matter a whit to him since she wasn’t a virgin pure when they met.”
Mary Kate sat bolt upright. “And just how do you know that for a fact, sir?” she demanded, eyes flashing. His guilty grimace was all the response she needed. “Have you worked your way through all the Kennedy women, then? I’ll warrant you began with Elspeth!”
She knew she had gone too far when his dark eyes narrowed and he reached for her with grim purpose. But she eluded his grasp, skittering backward across the great bed, snatching at her night rail on the way, and covering herself with it as she hunkered back in the furthermost corner.
Douglas, watching her, shook his head in wry amusement. “I’ll cry quits, lass. You should not have said that, but I’ll admit I provoked you. Now, come away out of that corner.”
She stayed where she was. “You did ask for it. And I’ve not met Elspeth Kennedy, after all. She may be as bonny as Susan and Ellen for all I know.”
His lips twitched, but he managed a note of indignation. “She is not. She’s as old as my mother, besides. Now, leave it lie before you do make me angry. You are to stop flinging my past in my face, lass.”
She grinned at him. “I do not fling it, sir. It leaps. But I have learned one lesson. So long as such things remain safely in your past where they belong, I shall endeavor to restrain my temper.”
10
MARY KATE FOUND SUSAN at her sister’s bedside. Ellen Kennedy was pale, her face mottled with bruises, and she lay staring at the ceiling with glazed, unseeing eyes. Susan and the elderly woman who was the room’s only other occupant got to their feet and bobbed curtsies.
“Mistress,” Susan said, “this be Dame Beaton, the village herbalist. She ha’ fetched herbs and medicines tae help Ellen.”
The old dame cocked her head, showing a gap-toothed grin. “They be some as says I be t’ village witch, m’lady.” Her voice was high-pitched and cracked, but Mary Kate felt no fear of her and therefore decided she could not really be a witch.
“What can you do for Ellen, Dame Beaton?”
“There be little a body kin do, m’lady,” said the dame. “I’ve gi’en ’er fennel and herbs fer ’er nerves, and sugar water tae cleanse ’er, but the best help’ll be me pertickler powders. Puir lassie be bruised in spirit as much as in body, ye ken, and requires rest and quiet. Me powders’ll let ’er sleep wi’oot dreamin’. Mayhap she’ll be summat improved when she wakens.”
Mary Kate eyed the paper of powders skeptically. “What powders are those, dame?” But the old woman would not explain. Smiling mysteriously, she ordered a posset brewed for Ellen and said she would show Susan how to add the powders to it when it came. Mary Kate told Susan to stay with her sister and not to trouble herself over her other duties for the time being, but Susan was concerned about her mother.
“Me father’s bound tae be in an unco kippage,” she fretted. “I mun look tae me mother, mistress.”
Mary Kate frowned. Susan would be of little use to anyone if she were to spend all her time rushing from castle to croft. Not only would such activity not be good for her but Douglas wouldn’t like it. He had promised that he would see to Elspeth. She had an inspiration.
“Look here,” she said, “I am going to require a new gown for Mistress Douglas’s wedding, and Michael Scott said Elspeth could make it up for me. It will be more convenient for all of us, I believe, if she comes to stay here whilst she works on it.”
“Och, mistress, sae pleased she would be! But will the master approve o’ such a plan?”
Mary Kate shrugged with an impish grin. “He’s got naught to say about it,” she declared. “If I wish to have my sempstress near at hand, I shall have her. As it happens,” she confessed, still grinning, “it was his idea to ask Elspeth to do the sewing, and I have only been waiting for the fabrics to arrive. Michael Scott said they won’t be here till the end of the week, but I know of no reason why Elspeth should not come to the castle straightaway. She can help tend to Ellen, after all.”
“Oh, mistress, ye be sae kind. But who’ll tend tae me father?”
“He ought to tend to himself,” Mary Kate said tartly, “but if he objects to that, I expect he can take his meals with the men here. I will tell Mrs. Jardine to see to it.”
And so it was arranged. Elspeth Kennedy arrived that very afternoon and was soon comfortably settled into the room next to Ellen’s, and Mary Kate began to make plans for the trip to Strachan Court. However, the night before they were to leave, Johnny Graham arrived, bringing a message for Douglas, a royal order to present himself at Stirling Castle without delay. Jamie had need of him.
“’Tis just as well, lass,” he said, attempting to placate her. “Now you can be getting on with your gown. Nothing too daring, mind. Jamie mislikes feminine flamboyance.” He grinned, and though she stuck out her tongue at him, she could not be angry. He was stuffing shirts into a satchel while Lucas Trotter attended to other preparations, and he would soon be gone. A courier had already been sent to Strachan Court with word of the change in their plans. “I’ll not be away so long this time, lassie. A fortnight, maybe, but no longer. Then we’ll go to the court for a good visit and on from there to town.”
Less than an hour later, Mary Kate was once again watching her husband ride off with his men. This time, however, she had much to occupy her time and was not so desperately lonely without him. Her materials arrived as promised, and with the combined efforts of Elspeth Kennedy and Sybil Scott, a design was adapted to suit her. Elspeth seemed to have magical fingers for cutting and piecing, and both of her daughters were able assistants, for Ellen was soon up and about, mended in body if not in spirit. The work progressed quickly, and Mary Kate enjoyed it.
A full two weeks passed before Douglas returned, bringing her a message from the king. Jamie disliked having his favorite rush back and forth to Tornary Castle and had sent an invitation, commanding that Lady Douglas accompany her husband in future, in the hope that he might then be content to remain a while in town.
“I told him ’twould be several weeks before I return but that I’d bring you along. Have you missed me, lass?”
“Aye,” she admitted, “but I have been busy, too.” The gown was nearly finished, and she modeled it for him gaily.
The square-cut emerald silk bodice ended in a long busk-point below her waist, where fragile gossamer lace fell away in an inverted vee, revealing the lush folds of the emerald silk petticoat, brocaded in gold and belling out over a wide French farthingale. Green satin ribbon embroidered with tiny seed pearls and gold roses trimmed the neckline and banded the full-cut undersleeves just above their lace ruffles. The creamy lace oversleeves, not yet finished, would be faced with green silk, brocaded to match the underskirt and trimmed at the edges with narrow green ribbons woven through the delicate lace. Her ruff was likewise unfinished, for she was embroidering the lace herself in a swirling pattern of tiny golden roses. When it was finished, it would be wired to fan out stiffly in an arched framework behind her head. She planned to we
ar her rope of pearls and the tiny pendant watch Douglas had given her, while her favorite pomander would be suspended on its jeweled chain from the busk-point to hang some four inches above her hemline. She pirouetted for her husband, describing these artful details.
“I had planned to take the ruff lace with me to Strachan Court,” she added. “Aunt Aberfoyle’s sempstress will attach it for me in town. But there are still days of work to be done on the gown.” She frowned. “I doubt you will wish to wait for it, sir, but perhaps it can be sent on after us.”
“I want to leave tomorrow,” Douglas admitted, “however, Johnny Graham came from Stirling with me. There is work for him to do here, but he will leave for the Canongate house in less than a fortnight. He can take it with him. Have you thought about what you will wear on your feet?”
“Shoes! Merciful heavens, I completely forgot. What shall I do, Adam?”
He laughed. “Never mind, lassie. You’ve green silk aplenty, have you not?” When she nodded, he said, “We shall draw a pattern of your dainty feet on brown paper and send it and the silk along with Johnny. He will see to the rest. You ought to wear more jewels than just your pearls and that trumpery watch, too. We will talk to my lady mother about that. You may wear whatever you like from the family collection, after all.”
Mary Kate had learned much in the time she had spent at Tornary, and one thing that had been made clear to her was that border women wore their wealth—flaunted it, in fact—so that by merely looking at one, a person could tell what her status was, or, more bluntly, how wealthy her husband was. The lowliest border ruffian would not consider returning from a raid without some trinket for his lass, for to do so would be to admit failure. As the wife of a man of power, she knew she was expected to wear expensive trinkets and lots of them. No doubt, people who had already seen her without such stuff clinking about her person had regarded the lack with no little dismay.