by Amanda Scott
Still, the way Sammy had referred to Willie was unusual. Gently, Kit said, “Who is Willie’s father?”
“His da?” Sammy grinned. “Aye, well, that would be Ill Will Armstrong.”
“So Willie is Mangerton’s cousin,” Kit said thoughtfully, referring to the prickly, powerful laird who had long created uproar in fractious Liddesdale.
“Aye, he is, and cousin tae Black Jock o’ vivid memory,” Sammy said.
Black Jock, as everyone in the Borders knew, was Johnny Armstrong, a notorious reiver hanged by the King more than a decade before. Ill Will Armstrong had hanged with him, and the event had poisoned the relationship between the western Scottish Borders and the Scottish Crown, and was a primary reason that Jamie could not trust his Border lords to support him against Henry now. Willie came by his reiving naturally.
Sammy told two of his men to look after the gunman and sent a third to collect Kit’s horse. Then he led the way to where he and his men had left their mounts. From where they stood, Kit noted, they could not even see light from Hawks Rig, let alone the shadowy bulk of the castle. Nevertheless, anyone watching the track from atop its wall must have seen his approach before he started up the track and must certainly have heard the gunshots.
He heard no sound of anyone riding down from above.
Sammy easily followed his train of thought, for he said, “That uncle o’ yours takes small interest in his own safety, I’m thinking, since he doesna seem tae care that some’un be shooting on Chisholm property.”
“How did you get up here without the men on the wall seeing you?”
“Slipped up in the dark last night, we did, then hid amongst the rocks when Eustace and his lot rode up the hill at noon today. Nae one saw us.”
“But how did Willie get word to you in time? He must have done so before he and Eustace left Mute Hill House.”
“Aye, now that would be telling,” Sammy said, grinning.
Kit realized they must have made their plan before Willie adopted his role as jester. The only information the reivers would have needed after that was the exact day or days that Eustace and Kit would arrive at Hawks Rig.
He asked no more questions, keeping his mind on the hillside ahead, lest there be more surprises. There were none, but when he and his escort approached the tall torch-lit gates to the castle, they found them closed.
“Happen they won’t let ye in, laird,” Sammy said.
That had already occurred to Kit, particularly in light of the dubious company with him. Nevertheless, it had also occurred to him that Eustace had no good reason to deny him and several excellent ones for letting him enter.
“If I can judge by his behavior at Mute Hill House, he will not challenge me openly whilst he still thinks he has a chance of winning at least a portion of what he seeks legally,” Kit said. “I am the rightful laird, after all. He must know that I can call upon allies to support me unless he has somehow won them all to his side.”
“He won’t have done that, sir. Ye could easily raise a thousand Chisholms in a day, I’m thinking, and our lads from Liddesdale as well. Most folks hereabouts dinna approve o’ what Eustace ha’ done wi’ your father’s people, just turning them out o’ their homes without so much as a day’s warning, the way he did.”
Kit nodded and then urged his horse near enough to the gate so the torches would light his features. “Open for the master of this house,” he shouted. “I am Sir Christopher Chisholm, Laird of Ashkirk and Torness.”
Without hesitation, a sentry relayed his command and the gates swung wide.
Wondering if he were riding into a greater ambush than the one he had just avoided, Kit gestured to the others to follow and rode into the courtyard.
To his surprise, Eustace strode from the main entrance to meet them. If he was not smiling, neither did he look displeased, but only when Willie Armstrong appeared behind him in the motley guise of Mad Jake and nodded reassuringly did Kit relax. At least Eustace did not mean to order him murdered on the spot.
“You must be glad to see Hawks Rig again, nephew,” Eustace said affably as Kit dismounted. “As you will soon see, I’ve kept it in good repair for you.”
“Thank you, sir,” Kit said, politely gripping his outstretched hand and wondering if he ought to mention the incident below.
“My lads shouted some time ago that you were on your way up the hill,” Eustace said. “They did not mention your entourage, so I expected your arrival sooner than this. Doubtless these others with you, being unacquainted with the track, slowed you considerably.”
“It was a gunman that slowed us,” Kit said bluntly. “Someone fired on me below. Surely, your men must have heard the shots.”
Eustace looked shocked. “Had they heard shooting, you may be sure they would have told me, and I’d have sent an army to meet you. Where is the villain?”
“I don’t know,” Kit said truthfully. “It was nearly dark, you see.”
“Damnation,” Eustace said. “The man responsible ought to hang.”
“I am not opposed to that,” Kit said, avoiding Sammy’s bland gaze.
Chapter 14
Although Anne could easily see for herself that the sun still shone and the birds in the garden still sang, the day seemed to have grown gray and dismal after Kit’s departure. But although her enthusiasm for his match with Fiona had waned, she exerted herself to persuade her cousin that he would make an excellent husband.
“He’s certainly younger than Eustace,” Fiona said as they walked in the garden, enjoying the peacefulness after so many guests and uproar. “At least Mother is not talking me to death and I need not try on more dresses or do anything else for the wedding until she receives a reply from his eminence.”
“She sent her message to him at Branxholme yesterday, but we do not know if he has arrived there yet,” Anne said. “He may not do so for another sennight.”
“One of the maidservants whose cousin came here with the party from Branxholme told Molly that Lady Scott’s things were all packed before they left, so I warrant she has already moved back with her parents at Ferniehirst,” Fiona said.
“Do you not think Sir Christopher is much handsomer than Eustace?”
Fiona shrugged. “Anyone would be,” she said. “The jester is better looking than either of them. However, at least Sir Christopher talks to me as if I were a person, which Sir Eustace never does. I’ll have no choice anyway, Anne, so what I think about either of them does not signify in the least.”
Having no wish to agitate her, Anne dropped the subject.
Olivia, too, seemed disinclined now to support either gentleman’s suit, and after nearly a sennight of inactivity, Anne told Fiona on Saturday morning that she had decided to ride to Ellyson Towers again if only to break the monotony.
“You never used to be bored here, Anne. Have you come to dislike us?”
“No, of course I have not, love. I just need exercise. Why do you not come with me? We’ll take an escort of men to protect us, ride to the Towers for dinner, and be back long before supper.”
“I do not think Mother will permit it,” Fiona said, but it was clear that the notion of an outing appealed to her. In the event, however, her assessment of Olivia’s reaction proved correct. She would not hear of such an outing.
“I cannot think what gets into you, Anne, that you must always be tempting fate as you do,” she scolded. “But I will not permit you to lead Fiona into danger. One of the lads told me only an hour ago that Henry’s troops crossed the line near Larriston Fells yesterday and burned a whole village to the ground.”
“We would take an armed escort, Aunt Olivia,” Anne said. “Larriston Fells is miles from here.”
“Only fifteen miles, which is not nearly enough,” Olivia retorted. “You are not to take Fiona outside our wall, so let that be an end to it.”
As they left the chamber, Fiona said, “I told you she would not let me go.”
“Well, I still mean to, just as soon as I coll
ect my cloak and gloves,” Anne said. “I simply must have some exercise.”
“But the danger! Really, Anne, you should not.”
“I’ll take some men with me, love. I’m sure I shan’t need them, but I know they’ll make your mother feel easier about my going.”
“Are you going to tell her?” Fiona asked.
“I don’t think so. You may certainly do so if she asks you.”
“I won’t, but I am glad you mean to take an escort,” Fiona said.
Anne did not want to burden herself with one, but she likewise had no wish to cross swords with an angry Kit Chisholm, and she was certain he had meant every word he said to her on the subject. She would take the escort.
However, when she made her wishes known to the stablemaster a short time later, she discovered that Olivia had already sent him explicit orders.
He said bluntly, “I canna send any o’ my lads wi’ ye, m’lady. I ken ye may still be determined tae go, but the mistress said ye’re no tae endanger anyone else.”
Anne hesitated. Henry of England’s armies had been threatening the area for so long that it was hard to believe they threatened more danger one day than any other. Still, the unexpected could happen, as her last expedition had proved.
On that thought, Kit’s image leaped to mind. Deciding she would be wiser not to annoy him just when he seemed on the brink of doing as she had asked by marrying Fiona, she submitted gracefully and returned to the house.
Being stuck at Mute Hill irritated her, but she and Fiona rejoined Olivia in her bower, and when Malcolm entered shortly before noon to announce the arrival of Eustace, his nephew, and his new jester, Anne was glad she had decided to stay.
“What a pleasant surprise,” Olivia declared as the gentlemen made their bows. “We mean to dine soon, so if you want to wash the dirt of your journey away whilst Malcolm warns the kitchen and sets extra places, you may do so at once.”
Anne was not pleased to see Eustace but felt a rush of pleasure at seeing Kit.
Fiona said shyly, “You are all most welcome. We were feeling rather moped, particularly Anne, but I know Mad Jake will make us laugh, won’t you, Jake?”
Kit had caught Anne’s gaze the moment Malcolm showed them into the room, and he raised his eyebrows now, saying, “Moped, Lady Anne? But the weather has vastly improved. I should think these sunny days would please you.”
“They are beautiful,” she agreed, wishing he would not look at her so intently.
“She was going to ride to Ellyson Towers,” Fiona said, ignoring Anne’s quick headshake. “But Mother would not let me go with her, nor would she let her take any of our men along, so Anne decided to stay home.”
Kit looked directly into Anne’s eyes as he said, “How wise of her. I am sure that Lady Carmichael was wise, too. We heard rumors—”
“Yes,” Anne interjected, having no wish to hear more about English Harry. “We heard the rumors, too, sir. But you must be wondering if we have had news from Branxholme. I do not think my aunt has heard from his eminence yet.”
Kit’s wry smile told her he did not relish the abrupt diversion but understood her reason for it. Then his expression warmed, and it was as if he had touched her.
“I’ve had no word yet, but I expect Cardinal Beaton will reply soon,” Olivia said, recalling them to the moment. Turning to Eustace, she added, “Do you mean to extend us the pleasure of your company overnight, sir?”
“Indeed I do, madam.” He shot an ardent look at Fiona, adding, “Doubtless, you are flattered to have two such devoted suitors, puss, but pleased as I am to be here, I own that my coming was but an impulse. I had formed the notion of sending a lad to discover if you had heard yet from Beaton, and when Jake offered to carry the message, because he wanted to visit kinsmen in the area, Kit decided to ride with him for the exercise.” With a teasing laugh, he added, “I could scarcely let my competitor ride over without coming myself.”
Fiona gazed blankly at him, so Anne said hastily, “We were saying only this morning how quiet the house has seemed since everyone left.”
“Won’t you play us a tune, Jake?” Fiona said, smiling kindly at the jester.
“He can entertain us whilst we eat our dinner,” Olivia said. “I am persuaded that the gentlemen would like time to tidy themselves first.”
They did so, and when everyone gathered again at the high table, their number had grown to include Toby and Lord Berridge, both of whom expressed pleasure at seeing the visitors.
Laughing, Toby said, “Couldn’t stay away longer than a sennight, eh? Well, I don’t mind admitting I missed Mad Jake’s tales and tunes. Play us one now, lad.”
“Aye, sir, gladly.” Jake pulled his stool near the fireplace and took his lute in hand. Its light notes accompanied their conversation while they ate their meal.
Although the entire household had gathered, as usual, for the main meal of the day, the servants and men-at-arms ate quickly, and with the privacy screen in place, those at the high table could converse without being watched or overheard by anyone other than the servants who waited on them.
Olivia soon turned to the matter on everyone’s mind. “I have been thinking about what you said, Sir Eustace,” she began, smiling at that gentleman.
“Which comment in particular, my lady?” he asked.
“About Fiona’s having two suitors,” she said. “I do realize we have not yet received a decision from his eminence, but it has become clear to me which way he must decide, and I believe it is always best to avoid furthering false hope. We have come to be friends, sir, and I should like us to remain so, but I am afraid that if you continue to believe Cardinal Beaton will decide in your favor, you will be disappointed, because your nephew’s claim must supersede yours.”
Clearly unperturbed, he returned her smile, saying, “I refuse to give up hope until the decision is made. That is not my way, and I believe you are mistaken.”
“When things are wrong, sir, they must be set right,” Olivia said. “And so I shall tell his eminence. Indeed, I did tell him as much in the letter I sent him. I am sorry if that distresses you, but as I said, I do not want to foster false hope.”
“It is not false, madam, and thus you do not cast me down. This is excellent beef. You must hope that the local reivers never learn how good it is.”
Jake missed a note but quickly recovered.
Never one to let a serious conversation last long, Toby made a joke about the reivers, and when Berridge aided his efforts to promote conversation of a more cheerful nature, the banter among the three older men grew so cheerful that Olivia soon bestirred herself to call them to order.
“That jest was not suitable for my ears, uncle, let alone for such innocent ears as Fiona’s,” she warned. “Pray, recall that I am in mourning, and reserve such humor for the other gentlemen.”
Toby rolled his eyes. “Have done with your mourning, lass! Had Stephen been here, he would never have allowed it to go on so long, particularly not once he saw that you’d so far forgot your grief for him as to topple head over ears—”
“That will do,” Olivia interjected coldly.
Caught up short for once, Toby looked ruefully at Kit but said only, “Just so, not a conversation for this company. I say, Eustace, you will be astounded to know that that damned fox is still in the house. Yesterday, Cook nearly caught him on her chopping block, devouring a whole chicken she’d meant for our supper.”
Olivia excused herself a few minutes later, commanding Fiona and Anne to accompany her to her bower. “We will leave the gentlemen to their claret and their silly, sordid stories,” she said.
“May we invite Jake to come and play for us, madam?” Fiona asked.
“I suppose he can as easily strum his lute in there as in here,” Olivia said, signing to the jester to accompany them. “You must work on your stitchery though, Fiona. Lazy girls are in small demand as wives.”
Fiona nodded submissively, and the three retired to her ladyship’s bo
wer. However, when Jake began to sing an amusing song, Olivia stopped him.
“That may be what you are accustomed to sing at Hawks Rig,” she said austerely, “but it will not do for Mute Hill House. You will respect my wishes by playing more somber tunes appropriate to our state of mourning.”
“Oh, Mother, really,” Fiona protested.
“That will be enough, Fiona. Find your work and get to it.”
Fiona sighed but obeyed, casting an apologetic look at the jester, who only grinned impudently at her.
“Aunt Olivia,” Anne said quietly, “it is doubtless not my place to mention this, but do you not fear that if you so frequently recall everyone’s attention to your mourning, some people—unkind ones, at least—might begin to wonder why you are so strongly set on Fiona’s marrying at such a time?”
Olivia looked astonished. “How can you suggest such a thing? You, of all people, ought to understand my position, Anne. We are Borderers, and mourning is a continual state here for most people. If we suspended all other aspects of our lives whilst we mourned, most families would live forever in such suspension. You certainly have not stopped all your usual activities to wallow in grief. Indeed, if you have felt any grief at the loss of your family, I have seen no sign of it.”
The music stopped, but Anne scarcely noticed. The attack had come so swiftly and unexpectedly that it was all she could do to hold her tongue, but long training in minding her composure stood her in good stead now.
The sadness that had followed her brother’s death had become an ache that had settled in her soul after her mother’s. That ache settled deeper with the deaths of each of her little sisters and the subsequent loss of her father. But the upheaval that followed her father’s death had made it impossible for her to wear her grief on her sleeve as Olivia constantly did, even had she been prone to behave in such a way. She knew she could not have conducted herself so, had she wanted to, but to be attacked for not grieving sufficiently when Olivia had not cared enough about her grief before even to acknowledge its existence, was too much.