The Border Trilogy

by Amanda Scott

  Douglas had suggested on more than one occasion that she ought to put on something that sparkled a bit, but she had resisted decking herself out, not because she didn’t have the wherewithal to do so—Duncan had given her her mother’s jewelry, except for the wedding pearls, as soon as she had begun going to social affairs—but because she had been raised to consider such practices distasteful. In the highlands one did not flaunt one’s wealth in that gaudy manner, nor would it have been wise to do so. Indeed, she did not think, considering the manners and morals of the borderers, that it could be particularly wise to do so here. But this was not the time to debate the matter, so she smiled at Douglas and turned the subject back to shoes.

  As they made final preparations for their journey, Mary Kate began to think that he was leaving a great many things for Johnny Graham to attend to. Even in the stable yard the next morning, amidst the creak, jingle, and clank of harness, spurs, and swords, and the stamping and pawing of impatient hooves, Douglas thought of last-minute instructions; but Graham accepted them all with his usual cheerful aplomb. At last, Douglas swung into the saddle with an impudent grin at his wife, whose impatience was easily equal to that of the horses, and they were off.

  They made quite a cavalcade at first, for since they would be going straight on to the capital from Strachan Court, there was a good deal of baggage tied in bundles and bandboxes to the sturdy ponies. But Douglas had no intention of matching his pace to theirs, so their escort was a large one. Ten armed men would ride ahead with their master and his lady, while twenty others accompanied the slowly moving baggage. Mary Kate never thought to protest this escort, Ellen’s misadventures having sobered her, for the moment at least, to the reality of life in the borders.

  Their journey was rapid and uneventful, through forests flecked with sunshine, up flower-dotted hills, and down into shady dells. The day was glorious, with sunny blue skies and a crisp light breeze, and when they arrived at Strachan Court more than three hours later, they were in excellent spirits.

  The house, approached as it was by a tree-lined drive, came as a complete surprise to Mary Kate. Margaret’s idle chatter had led her to expect a small but modern manor house, but as they rode into the cobbled forecourt with its surrounding green hedges and colorful herbaceous borders, she found herself gazing in awed amazement at a splendid baronial mansion.

  To be sure, the house was modern, designed with intricate Gothic detail and constructed of brick and timber, but it was not small. Flanked by tall boxwood hedges, it stood two and a half stories above a raised cellar, its central pavilion extended on either side by symmetrical wings, each boasting two sets of oriel windows and a pair of outside end chimneys with corbeled caps. Five gables with carved finials punctuated the roofline, and broad steps sweeping from forecourt to entry were bounded by carved stone balustrades that curved at the top to continue across the entire front of the house.

  At first glance the facade seemed to Mary Kate to be all glass, with windows everywhere. There were the four sets of oriels plus a great twelve-light window in the projecting entry bay. Indeed, even the spaces between projections seemed to be filled with windows, for except for the chimneys and the high brick foundation, which was nearly obscured by topiary yews amusingly shaped to resemble chess pieces, there was no open expanse of brickwork anywhere to be seen.

  Aside from the amount of glass, the most outstanding feature of the house was its lovely woodwork, which Douglas pointed out to her, confiding that it was his father’s pride. She was properly impressed, for the mullions, finials, and belt courses were all exquisitely carved. In addition, there were cartouches carved with heraldic devices beneath the central mullion of each upper oriel, as well as one bearing the Douglas arms located beneath the twelve-light window, above the magnificent entry.

  Considering the number of windows, she was not surprised to learn that their approach had been noted immediately. Their horses made a great clatter on the cobblestones of the forecourt, but Mary Kate firmly believed that Lord Strachan’s prompt appearance in the entryway was due to windows, not noise.

  He waved cheerfully, calling out greetings as he hurried out and down the sweeping steps. “Send your men ’round to the stables, Adam,” he shouted as he drew near. “My lads’ll look after them. Good journey?”

  “Aye.” Douglas lifted Mary Kate from her saddle. “See to your skirts, lass, and take care the horse behind you don’t trample you.” He handed Sesi’s reins up to a waiting henchman.

  Within minutes, the forecourt was empty, and Lord Strachan could greet his daughter-in-law properly. He gathered her into an energetic hug while her husband looked on in indulgent amusement.

  “She’s even bonnier than I’d remembered, lad,” Strachan said, laughing and holding her away again. “How do you like married life, my lady?”

  She laughed back, her cheeks flushed. “I like it well enough, my lord.”

  “Then Adam must not beat you too often,” he teased. But his twinkling expression sobered ludicrously when she looked quickly away and the becoming color in her cheeks deepened to a painful red. “Och, I’ve put my foot in it already,” he groaned, shooting a reproachful look at his son.

  Douglas grinned back at him and put his arm around Mary Kate, gathering her to him with a little shake. “You’ve done no such thing, sir. She is oversensitive. Compose yourself, lass.”

  Conscious, despite his smile, of a contrasting, firmer note in his voice, and aware, too, of the anxious look in his lordship’s eyes, Mary Kate squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “He speaks the truth, my lord,” she said with a rueful smile. Then, recovering her poise, she turned to her husband with a saucy grin. “But he is an impudent knave all the same!”

  Relieved, both men chuckled and started up the stone steps with her. “Where is my lady mother, sir?”

  “In her sitting room, I believe. We’ll go up to her now. She has a wee surprise for you.” There was a note in his voice that Mary Kate could not interpret but that made Douglas look at him sharply as they passed under the arch of the magnificent frontispiece entrance and into the hall.

  A great many servants hurried to and fro, all dressed in plain blue livery with Lord Strachan’s crest stitched in silver on the men’s shoulders and on the women’s apron pockets. Strachan smiled at the bustle. “They’ve come to catch a glimpse of you, lass.” He made a small gesture with his hand, and the hall cleared at once of all but those with legitimate business there. At that moment, a man emerged from a room to the right at the rear of the hall. He was grinning, and when he came nearer, Mary Kate realized that he was young, scarcely more than a boy.

  “Ned!” Douglas strode forward to clasp him by the shoulders. “How are you, lad?”

  “Well, sir, thank you, and in a pother to meet your lady.”

  “Then come along. Mary Kate, this is Ned Lumsden, a young cousin of mine. His father, Lord Berwick, sent him here a few years ago to serve as Father’s page. You must be nearly ready to leave now, lad.”

  “Aye, sir.” Light brown eyes twinkled as he bowed his curly dark head over Mary Kate’s hand. “’Tis pleased I am to make your acquaintance, my lady.”

  She smiled, liking what she saw of him. He was fashionably if simply attired and might someday be as tall as her husband, though presently the top of his head was only on a level with Douglas’s eyes. But, though he looked to be about fifteen, she soon discovered that he was in fact rapidly approaching his seventeenth birthday. His slim body had already begun to fill out. His thighs in their dark, close-fitting trunk hose were well muscled, and his chest bade fair to be a broad one.

  “Well, what do you think of the lad, Adam?” demanded Lord Strachan proudly.

  “He’s grown.”

  They chuckled, and his lordship went on, “Aye, that he has, well enough, and hasn’t stopped yet, I’m thinking. But Berwick wants him back. Thinks he’s ready to make his bow at court.”

  “And is he?” Douglas sent a sidelong glance at the bo
y, who showed signs of increasing embarrassment at being discussed in such a casual manner.

  “Och, who knows? He’s graceful enough with the womenfolk, not that that will say aye or nay for him in Jamie’s court.”

  “Mind your tongue, sir,” Douglas said, only half-joking. “You’ll be giving the wrong ideas to both of them. There is chivalry enough at court.”

  “Mayhap, but it does not originate itself with the king.”

  “Fair enough. When do you leave us, Ned?” Douglas turned back to the boy, showing no wish to indulge his father in this particular line of conversation.

  “I am to go with you and the family to town, sir.”

  “Aye, so he will,” interjected Strachan, visibly nettled by his son’s demeanor, “but he’s his duties to attend to now. Get along with you, lad.” Obediently, the boy turned away, and his lordship added, “He’s been tending to my books.”

  “Books, my lord?” Mary Kate asked.

  “Aye, lass. ’Tis a pastime of mine. I collect them. Do you read? I’ll show you.” His enthusiasm was squelched by his son who informed him, chuckling as he did so, that although Mary Kate could read well enough, this was not the time to show off his entire collection. Taking his father by an elbow and putting an arm around Mary Kate’s shoulders, he guided them both firmly toward the great open-string staircase in the left rear corner of the hall. Mary Kate’s eyes widened when the full impact of the staircase’s beauty struck her. Constructed entirely of oak around an open well, the three-run stair was a magnificent example of modern craftsmanship. Between its highly polished handrail and stringer, framed by intricately carved and corbeled newel posts, it boasted expertly crafted ornamental brackets. Mary Kate had never seen anything to equal it and said so.

  “Thank you,” Strachan replied. “We like it.”

  Douglas chuckled again, releasing his father’s elbow as they began to ascend the stair. “He’s as proud of it as he can be, lass. You have now assured your welcome. But just wait until you have a chance to look at some of the carved paneling in the parlor and the great hall.”

  They reached the top of the stair and emerged into the hall of the twelve-light window. Early-afternoon sunlight poured in, but Mary Kate had little time to look around before Douglas, guided by the sound of voices to their left, strode toward an open doorway and into his mother’s sitting room.

  Like the hall, it was well lit by afternoon sun that streamed through windows framed by hangings of beaten blue damask. The walls were paneled in oak and hung with cheerful landscapes and tapestries, while the furniture consisted of beautifully carved oak chairs and stools, decorated and made comfortable with gaily embroidered cushions. Against the wall opposite the window bay stood a magnificent almery. Smaller carved chests stood against the other walls, and a lovely carpet of deep blue and red covered a large portion of the highly polished oak floor.

  Once inside the room, Douglas stopped short with a look of delighted surprise and exclaimed, “Megan!”

  The younger of the two ladies seated in the window embrasure nodded, smiling. So, Mary Kate thought, this was his surprise. She had realized from the conversation downstairs that Douglas had not been surprised to see Ned, but her thoughts on the subject had gone no further. Now she began to understand the odd note in Lord Strachan’s voice earlier.

  Her husband remembered his manners. Mother, how do you fare? You are looking well.” He strode forward again, bent over the small, slender, dark-haired woman, and kissed first her hand and then her cheek. She smiled up at him tenderly.

  “I am very well, indeed, my dear. Present to me your lovely bride.” Her voice was low-pitched and full of gracious dignity. She smiled at Mary Kate, now only a few feet away, and despite lines of suffering etched at their corners, her eyes, as dark brown as her son’s, twinkled warmly.

  Douglas’s grin was rueful. “Seeing Megan put all the words I’d prepared to speak straight out of my head.” Mary Kate noted a gleam of mischievous laughter in the other young woman’s eyes before Douglas’s hand at her elbow recalled her to her duty. He drew her forward. “This is Mary Kate, my lady.”

  Mary Kate stepped forward and curtsied deeply, but Lady Strachan patted the low stool beside her. “Sit by me, my dear. I wish to become acquainted with you.” When Mary Kate had obeyed, her hostess indicated her companion. “This is Adam’s cousin, Megan, Lady Somerville. She spent a good deal of time with us as a child, and she and Adam are great friends. She is to go with us to town because her husband, Sir Reginald, has business that will keep him occupied at Somerville until shortly before the wedding. Megan is only a few years older than you are, so I know you will become good friends.”

  Lord Strachan made an impatient noise.

  His lady smiled at him. “I know you are longing to return to your books, sir, but I charge you before you leave us to remember that Ned is to sup with us this evening. You must allow him time to dress.”

  “And so I shall, though I think it utter nonsense,” replied his lordship with a wry grimace. “He ought to take his meals in the hall as he has always done and not be treated like one of the family until his formal duties here are finished.”

  She smiled, shaking her head. “He is one of the family, my lord, and he must have time to adjust to his new status. I should not like to see him carrying coals at court.”

  “He is hardly like to do that, madam, for a less servile brat I’ve never known, unless it be Adam here. Why, it has not been so long since I swinged Ned’s backside for some impertinence or other, and well you know it.”

  “Aye, ’tis true enough,” she said, laughing. “But, nevertheless, you agreed, my lord.”

  “So I did.” His voice was gentler now, his eyes tender. “Only because you asked it of me, madam.” He glanced at Douglas. “Coming along, lad?”

  “Aye, if you will excuse me, Mother. I have my men to see to, and the baggage ponies will be along soon. ’Tis pleasant to see you again, Megan.”

  Lady Somerville raised laughing blue eyes to his and spoke at last. “If Aunt will allow it, I should like to accompany you, Adam. We observed your arrival from here, you know, and I confess that I have a wish to see that magnificent beast you were riding and to show you my latest acquisition, as well.” Her voice was soft, with a lilt that made it sound like delicate music. At Lady Strachan’s nod she arose, smoothing her skirts over her farthingale and giving Mary Kate an opportunity at last to get an unobstructed view of her.

  Lady Somerville was as tall as Margaret, the top of her head nearly reaching Douglas’s nose. Her fine golden hair was pulled smoothly away from her face and confined at the nape of her slender neck in an snood of gold net. Her face boasted smooth planes, a complexion of pale strawberries and cream, and high, well-defined cheekbones. Delicately arched brows and long, dark lashes set off large blue yes, and her nose was perfectly chiseled to match her perfect face. And as if that were not enough, Mary Kate noted grimly, Lady Somerville possessed a perfect figure as well.

  She was slender, not built upon the magnificent lines of her cousin Margaret, but she had curves in all the right places and moved with a flowing feline grace that told Mary Kate she owed little of her figure to tight corsets. Her rose-damask bodice fitted her upper body like a second skin, emphasizing the soft curve of her breasts and her tiny waist. Her rose skirt and white lace petticoats, spread over a Spanish farthingale, made hushing sounds as she moved toward Douglas, and the sweet scent of French jasmine wafted gently from her person.

  Mary Kate had surrendered her dark cloak and safeguard belowstairs, but in spite of their protection on the journey, she was well aware that her riding dress had suffered, and it was not one of her best gowns to begin with. Self-consciously she smoothed the rough material across her lap.

  “Valiant will be pleased to make your acquaintance,” Douglas said mockingly to his cousin, “and it will spare Mary Kate from your nonsense whilst she becomes acquainted with my lady mother.” He offered his arm with exaggerated
gallantry, and Mary Kate watched them go, feeling bereft. She remembered that Douglas had compared his earlier relationship with Megan Somerville to hers with Robin MacLeod—only not so innocent, he had said. She didn’t know just yet what to make of Lady Somerville, but she did not believe for one moment that she and that young woman were destined to become friends. With a sigh, she turned her attention to Lady Strachan, forcing a smile to her lips.

  11

  “WELL, MY DEAR,” LADY Strachan said cheerfully, “I am pleased and delighted to make your acquaintance at last. You have no idea how disappointed we were when Adam delayed your visit. My lord very nearly set off to fetch you himself and would have done so but for thinking Adam would mislike it.” Her voice was soothing, and Mary Kate soon found herself engaged in comfortable conversation. “You must be wishing to refresh yourself,” her ladyship said at last. “Did my son think to provide you with a maidservant?”

  “No, my lady. He said there were servants aplenty here. Susan Kennedy, who usually does for me, was unable to make the journey.” She felt her color rising, but Lady Strachan appeared not to notice.

  “Kennedy? Not Elspeth’s daughter!” When Mary Kate nodded, she said, “I remember Elspeth well. She married a brute of a fellow and had several children. Most of them died young. But what is this you say about Susan? I trust she is not ill.”

  “No, my lady, merely in a condition that makes it unsafe for her to travel,” Mary Kate replied delicately.

  “I see. But still Susan Kennedy.”

  Mary Kate blushed, nodding her head.

  “Oh, dear. Does she even know who is the father?”

  The flush grew deeper, and Mary Kate looked down at her hands, knotted tightly in her lap. “Susan is a good girl, my lady,” she said evenly. “She had little choice in the matter.”

  There was silence, and she looked up to find Lady Strachan gazing at her placidly. “I believe I understand you, my dear.” The older woman added candidly, “These are unpleasant incidents that we must endure. I trust you had better sense than to read Adam a curtain lecture.”