by Amanda Scott
Tears welled in Fiona’s eyes as she looked up, saying, “He is kind to me, Anne, and he sings pretty songs. He said he would teach me to play the lute, and I want to learn. Why can’t I ever do what I want?”
“It must seem hard sometimes,” Anne agreed sympathetically.
“You look dreadful,” Fiona said, looking closely at her for the first time since her entrance had startled them. “You look as if you’d been crying, but you never do, so you must still have that awful headache. Do you want to go to bed?”
“No, and never mind about me,” Anne said. “I want to know why you and the jester came in here.”
“Well, we couldn’t sit in the hall, because it’s too noisy there, what with Sir Eustace’s men—or Sir Christopher’s, as I suppose they must be now—plus our own. Besides, Mother does not like me to linger there. Still, it did not feel right to stay in her bower without her either, particularly after she suggested rather firmly that I take a nap, too. I was sure she would not want me to stay there with Jake. I wasn’t sure what to do, so we came up to your bedchamber to seek your advice, and when you weren’t here, I said we should just wait for you.”
“And the jester saw nothing wrong with that?”
“Well, he could hardly refuse after I’d said I wanted to,” Fiona said reasonably. “He is only a servant, after all.”
“He is not our servant, however,” Anne pointed out. “Did you not stop to think what Eustace or Sir Christopher might say about this?”
Paling, Fiona exclaimed, “Faith, you won’t tell them!”
“No, of course I won’t, but can you imagine what they would do to the jester if they even suspected he had been alone with you like that?”
“What?”
“I don’t know exactly,” Anne said honestly, “but I would not be surprised if Eustace ordered the poor lad flogged.”
“Then we mustn’t tell him. I won’t do it again, Anne, I swear. Just don’t tell anyone. Mercy, if I were to cause anything like that…” She fell silent, and Anne watched in fascination to see if the tears that threatened to spill over and down her cheeks would do so. It seemed utterly unfair that Fiona and Olivia could both cry at the slightest thing and never suffer from swollen eyes or similar signs of weeping, while other people looked so awful that their relatives thought they had fallen ill.
Having come to the conclusion that it would be useless to try to make Fiona understand, and hoping she was frightened enough for the jester’s safety to avoid being alone with him again, Anne was about to suggest tactfully that her cousin go to her own bedchamber to rest when Fiona said abruptly, “He told me something dreadful, Anne.”
“Mad Jake?”
“He said someone tried to kill Sir Christopher. And he wasn’t jesting, either, because I asked him if he was.”
Aware of a sudden chill, Anne said sharply, “Did he say how it happened?”
“Someone shot at him on his way home. Jake said he was riding up to Hawks Rig, and the track he was on doesn’t go anywhere else. Jake thinks the person who shot at him knew it was Sir Christopher, but why should anyone try to kill him?”
“I don’t know,” Anne said, not thinking it wise or appropriate to declare her certainty that Eustace would like nothing better than for his nephew to be officially dead again, as long as Eustace could provide a strong alibi for himself.
“What if I have to marry him,” Fiona demanded, “and someone tries to shoot him then? What if they accidentally shoot me instead?”
“Don’t borrow trouble, love. No one is likely to shoot at you.”
“Well, I don’t want to be a widow either,” Fiona said flatly.
Changing the subject, Anne soon persuaded her to go to her own chamber and rest, whereupon she was able at last to fetch her looking glass and try to repair the ravages of her weeping.
Cold water and a few hours of peace did much to restore both her complexion and her spirits, and she was able to descend to the hall for supper with her normal composure reestablished.
Believing the men would linger at the high table until all hours, as usual, she doubted that she would find any opportunity to ask Kit about the shooting incident. However, if that was their plan, Olivia foiled it by saying as the ladies rose from the table, “Pray, join us soon, gentlemen. I would enjoy more of your company before Sir Eustace and Sir Christopher depart tomorrow. I know Toby has challenged Sir Eustace to a game of chess, so mayhap we can make a games night of it.”
Fiona looked startled. “I do not know how to play chess!”
“You do enjoy playing Fox and Geese, however,” Olivia said, “and I believe Sir Christopher will gladly indulge you in a game or two, will you not, sir?”
“Indeed, I will,” that gentleman responded, “but only if Lady Anne or someone else who has played the game more recently than I have agrees to act as my tutor, so Mistress Carmichael does not turn me into a pauper.”
Fiona giggled. “We do not make wagers over Fox and Geese, sir.”
“Be a more interesting game if you did,” Toby declared. “Children’s stuff! If you want a simple war game, try draughts.”
“We have boards, men, and cards for any number of games,” Olivia said pacifically. “You gentlemen may choose what you like when you join us.”
“Berridge,” Toby said to that gentleman, “what will you choose?”
“I like poque,” his lordship said, “because nearly any number can play.”
“Aye, poque’s good,” Eustace agreed. “We can play a few hands after I beat Toby at chess.”
“Now that’s a wagering game, poque is,” Fiona said wisely.
“Aye, puss, so it is,” Eustace agreed before turning back to his lordship to say, “If Kit’s going to be stuck playing children’s games, Berridge, you’d best have a few hands of Cent with Olivia, so she don’t grow bored, waiting.”
“It will be my pleasure,” Berridge said, bowing to Olivia, who smiled and said she would be delighted.
Accompanying her to her bower, Anne and Fiona discovered that she had already caused numerous games to be laid out on the largest table, and Fiona went at once to get the board for Fox and Geese.
“We’ll play on that round table near the fire, Anne,” she said. “It has room for all three of us, so you can be comfortable whilst you help Sir Christopher. Perhaps you should count the geese to be sure that all thirteen are here.”
Obediently, Anne tipped the polished wooden game figures out of their box. The geese were white with yellow beaks and feet, and black eyes. The little fox was bright red with black eyes and boasted a white tip to its tail. Picking it up, she said, “Has anyone seen our fox since it tried to eat Cook’s chicken?”
Olivia grimaced. “Do not mention that beast to me. Moira found evidence of its presence in my bedchamber this afternoon. Do not ask me what sort of evidence, I beg of you, for I do not want to discuss it. I have told Malcolm that he simply must find the creature and get rid of it. I do not care how he does it.”
“He mustn’t hurt it,” Fiona exclaimed. “It is not the fox’s fault it is trapped in the house. Mayhap if we left the doors open for a day, it would run out again.”
“Or other beasts would run in,” her mother said tartly. “We’d certainly have every one of my uncle’s dogs inside if we were so rash as to leave doors open. Do be sensible, Fiona. You will soon be managing a household of your own after all.”
Deflated by the suggestion, Fiona idly fingered the little geese until Anne suggested that perhaps they should play a game while they waited for the men. “Because I’m not sure that I remember all the rules,” she said. “I don’t want to make a fool of myself when Sir Christopher asks questions.”
Fiona agreed to the game, and Anne discovered that she easily remembered how to play, but she also discovered when the gentlemen joined them a quarter of an hour later that Kit had no need whatsoever of her sage advice.
“You know this game better than I do,” she said accusingly when he had easily “killed” al
l of Fiona’s geese for the second time.
“I confess,” he said, eyes twinkling. “My Highland cousins and I often played this game. And,” he added, grinning at Fiona, “we made wagers on the outcome when we did. But in my own defense, let me add that it has been years since we played. I’m glad to see you looking so much more rested, Lady Anne.”
Anne shot him a dagger look, but he met it with a provocative smile.
“Oh, yes, she does look better, does she not?” Fiona said. “I thought perhaps she had fallen ill when I saw her this afternoon. She looked dreadful.”
Deciding to serve Kit with some of his own sauce, Anne said, “I’m told that someone shot at you last week, sir. That must have been terrifying.”
“Now, I wonder what little bird can have told you that,” he said.
Fiona opened her mouth, but when Anne gave her a stern look, she shut it again, turning fiery red.
“Is it true?” Anne asked.
“Aye, it is,” he said. “I doubt it’s anything to worry about, though. I’ve a notion it was an impulsive act, because aside from that incident, my homecoming was unexpectedly pleasant. Uncle Eustace has proved a most generous host.”
“Host?”
“Oh, aye, he persists in behaving as though he owns Hawks Rig, but since I am still legally dead, I suppose that by law perhaps he does.”
“He sounds as horrid as ever,” Anne said, lowering her voice and glancing at the other table to be sure no one there was paying heed to them. “You should do something to straighten that business out,” she added firmly.
“I will,” he said, “but I thought I’d wait and see just how my being officially dead affects other matters first.”
She had neither the need nor the inclination to ask him to explain that statement, knowing he hoped the odd situation would spare him the necessity of marrying Fiona, so she asked instead if Fiona wanted to play another game.
“You play him, Anne. You will enjoy it much more than sitting and watching us play.”
“Aye, give me a game, my lady. I’ll let you be the fox if you like.”
“No, thank you,” she said. “If I am to make the choice, I’d prefer the geese.”
He gave her another teasing look, and she soon saw that he paid little heed to his moves. Nevertheless, she concentrated carefully on hers.
The trick was to use one’s geese to crowd the fox into a corner of the board until it could no longer move, but one could only do that if one did not lose too many geese. The fox “killed” a goose by jumping over it and could kill several in one turn with a series of hops if the gooseherd was not careful.
“You let me take that fellow,” he said a few minutes later.
“Yes, I want to put this goose where the fox was,” she said, doing so.
He frowned and began to play more carefully.
“You two don’t need me,” Fiona said with a chuckle. “Mother and Lord Berridge are playing cards with the others now, so I am going to watch them for a while and listen to Jake sing and play his lute.”
Anne scarcely heeded her, so engrossed had she become in her strategy, but a moment later, Kit said, “Who told you about the shooting?”
Startled, she met his gaze and said, “Jake told Fiona. I’m sorry I brought it up, though. I should not have done so. I was just annoyed that you had mentioned how much better I looked.”
“But I was glad to see you looking more yourself again.”
“Thank you, but you ought not to mention such things to Fiona. She doesn’t understand the meaning of discretion but just blurts out whatever comes into her head. I should not have mentioned the shooting for the same reason. It upset her, and I had no intention of doing that, but how dreadful to be fired upon.”
His gaze met hers again, and the intensity of it made her realize she ought to look away, but she could not do so. Gently, he said, “It would have been more dreadful to be shot or killed, I assure you.”
“Yes, of course, but do you think your uncle did it?”
“He did not do the actual shooting, because we caught the man who did, but he will not talk, so we cannot be sure Eustace put him up to it.”
“But who else might have done so?”
“Ah, you see the business as I do. Moreover, I suspect that quite a few items are missing from Hawks Rig. Some rather valuable things amongst them.”
“So he’s stolen from you, too,” Anne said grimly. “How vexatious!”
“Yes, you might well say so. However, I’m at a stand, because in truth, I don’t remember exactly what was there when I left, and my father might have sold any number of the things I do recall without telling me. I don’t think he did, but I cannot prove it one way or the other unless I can find a dated inventory.”
“I would say that the sooner Eustace Chisholm goes back to wherever he came from, the better it will be for you, and for Fiona, too.”
“I do wish you would not keep flinging Fiona at me,” he said. “Moreover, if you mean to immobilize my poor fox in that tiny corner you’ve left for him, I wish you’d get it over with. I should have known you’d be skilled at this game.”
“Well, yes, I think you might. I told you that I’d had little sisters. My brother was a good player, too. Moreover, my father taught us when we were small that the fox must always lose if the player with the geese plays them correctly.”
He shook his head at her, but he was smiling. “Shall we play again, mistress, or would you prefer to join the others?”
She had seen Olivia looking their way more than once, and much as she would have liked to continue playing, she knew her duty. “We should join the others,” she said. “Poor Fiona must be dreadfully bored. Look at her. She is nearly asleep on that stool.”
“Either that, or she is entranced by the lad’s music,” he said with a chuckle. “Since his skill is scarcely great enough to cause anyone to go into a trance, I’d agree that she’s bored.”
“Have you come to join our game?” Berridge asked as they approached the other table. “I warn you, her ladyship is beating us all. If I have a pair, she has a triplet. If I have a triplet, she has a quartet. And she scoops the aces at every hand. At the rate she’s cleaning my pockets, I shall be under arrest for debt by morning.”
“You exaggerate, sir,” Olivia said, but she looked much more cheerful than usual. “Fiona, would you like to take my place? I should stop whilst I’m winning lest they see how easily my luck can change.”
Fiona opened her eyes and straightened on her stool, looking like a startled fawn. “I… I do not know how to play poque,” she said.
“These gentlemen will be happy to teach you,” Olivia said. “You must show an interest in the things men enjoy, you know, so you will know how to entertain them when your husband’s friends visit Hawks Rig.”
The statement produced a pregnant silence, since her careful phrasing made it clear that she believed even the ownership of the Chisholm estates remained in doubt. Anne shot a look at Kit, saw that he was amused, and decided he had every right to be. Whatever the standing of the betrothal, no magistrate would refuse to void the official declaration of his death. Even Eustace could not be so foolish as to think he would retain control of Hawks Rig.
Berridge said, “I for one am content to stop playing this wicked game. My luck is out, and I warrant that will not change even if her ladyship departs the lists. If you are not going to join our table, Sir Christopher, perhaps you might take a turn about the hall with me. I believe we have kinsmen in common.”
“Do we, sir? I’d be happy to explore our family trees together, but only if our hostess will be kind enough to excuse us.”
“Lord, yes, she’ll excuse you,” Toby said with a laugh. “Wants to count her winnings, don’t she? Moreover, it’s past time our Fiona went to bed. She’ll soon fall asleep and topple right off that stool of hers.”
Olivia frowned at Fiona but said, “Perhaps you had better take her upstairs, Anne. She has scarcely moved this pas
t hour. Go with your cousin, Fiona.”
Kit caught Anne’s eye, and his expression told her that he was either annoyed with her or annoyed that Olivia was sending her away. She was irked about that herself. It was not so much having her activity directed, for she was used to that, but she did not want to leave. She had enjoyed the evening, although she could not congratulate herself on the success of Fox and Geese as an opportunity for Kit to get to know Fiona better, since she had played with him longer than Fiona had and neither one had spared her a thought after she had left them.
As she and Fiona went upstairs together, she wondered why her cousin could not seem to see what an excellent man he was, how superior to his uncle in every way. To be fair, she did know that Fiona saw Kit’s superiority. The problem was that Fiona was not taken with either man, and unlike most girls her age, she displayed little interest in marriage. Whether it was the result of her mother’s constant scheming to unite her with power and wealth, or simply something lacking in the girl, the desire to wed seemed never to have stirred in her.
As they entered Fiona’s chamber, Anne said bluntly, “Do you never want to marry, Fiona, or do you simply not like Sir Christopher any better than his uncle?”
“He is very kind,” Fiona said, “but he is rather old, too, is he not? At least eight or nine and twenty. If I were able to choose my husband, I should choose someone closer to my own age, would not you, Anne?”
Since she did not think Kit old at all, Anne wondered if Fiona had forgotten she was by only two years the younger cousin, but she did not ask. Kit, after all, had expressed the same yearning to choose his own spouse. She wished Cardinal Beaton would send his reply soon, so they could all be done with wondering.
Olivia was supremely confident that the matter would end happily for her daughter. But since Olivia was interested only in the Chisholm power and wealth, and since her words indicated that she was still uncertain which man would retain control of both, Anne could only believe she expected Fiona to marry the winner, regardless of what his eminence decided.
Eustace seemed supremely confident. He flirted just as blatantly as ever with Fiona, but he likewise flirted with Olivia. And while the latter might say what she chose about having sworn off men, Anne had watched her flutter her lashes and smile at every gentleman in the house save Sir Toby.