Turn of the Tide

by Skea, Margaret

  ‘You didn’t drown then.’

  ‘What are you doing here? I thought you in France.’

  ‘You may blame two ladies. One here with a need that called me home and one in Paris with a need that drove me away.’

  ‘The need that drove you away isn’t hard to guess, but who called you home?’

  ‘Elizabeth, failing a husband . . .’

  ‘She doesn’t ail? And the bairn?’

  ‘Both well, and here.’

  ‘Here?’

  Patrick looked at Alexander. ‘Is he wandered?’

  Alexander laughed. ‘I hadn’t noticed, but then, it wouldn’t be that much different from usual.’

  ‘Where’s here?’ Hugh shook Patrick.

  Patrick detached himself and rubbed at his arms. ‘A house that Robert Montgomerie has taken on the Canongate – she and Grizel and the bairn. And looking to three ladies, forbye the babe, makes soldiering seem easy, I can tell you. I’m fair exhausted.’

  ‘A lass, then.’ Hugh was grinning.

  ‘And bonny with it.’

  Alexander placed a hand on Hugh’s shoulder. ‘Away with you. You’ll not be missed the night, and if you are, I’ll make your peace with James. Though I don’t think there’ll be the need. He’s likely to look kindly the now on a husband’s desire to be with his wife and in this circumstance.’

  Elizabeth was still in the garden when Patrick and Hugh came through the archway. She was sitting in the late afternoon sunshine, a pamphlet of Andrew Melville’s, on the relative merits of bishops versus a presbtery, open on her lap. He had a way with words, whether you took to him or not, but she had read the first page three times and still couldn’t have given the gist of it.

  Her back was to the entrance, so that Hugh was able to slip behind her and grasp her waist.

  ‘Hugh!’ If he had any doubts of his welcome, they were gone immediately. She was on her feet and spinning in his arms.

  ‘I didn’t know whether to expect you or not. Patrick thought . . . Oh, Hugh.’

  ‘Don’t mind me!’ Patrick pretended affront.

  ‘Grizel’s inside with Robert’s wife Jean. I couldn’t settle and she got fair peeved with my pacing. Patrick, tell her Hugh is come.’

  ‘You see?’ Patrick shook his head at Hugh. ‘Your wife has become a tyrant in your absence and now you’re home, will no doubt rule you also.’

  Elizabeth’s breathing slowed as she tugged Hugh towards the shade of the walnut tree. ‘You have another lady to greet . . . I have called her Kate.’

  Hugh bent over and pulled back the blanket from the child’s forehead, revealing a soft down of hair that lay in damp wisps. He sounded disappointed. ‘She isn’t fair.’

  Elizabeth laughed, a mixture of relief that it was not the babe’s sex that troubled him and amusement. ‘We can’t tell the now. Fair or dark, they don’t usually keep their first hair.’ She edged the blanket down still further and turned Kate’s head to the side. ‘Look.’

  He saw the few tufts that sprouted like mis-sown grass, the bald patches like thumbprints on her scalp.

  ‘What hair she had is coming away fast, but I don’t think she’ll be bald for long.’ Elizabeth took hold of his forefinger and stroked it across the baby’s crown so that he felt the tiny spikes of new growth, so fine and fair that they were almost invisible. ‘Here.’ She lifted the babe, the blanket trailing on the ground and placed her in his outstretched arms. He stood stiff, his shoulders hunched.

  ‘Not like that.’ She rearranged him so that Kate’s head lay in the crook of his elbow, his forearm stretched out underneath her, the long skirt of the cream smocked gown flowing over his finger-tips. She curved his other arm so that his hand rested against the side of the babe’s face. He stood as if he feared to breathe, watching the slight flutter of the babe’s eyelids and the scarcely visible rise and fall of her chest. A door closed behind them as Grizel and Patrick, arm in arm, came across the grass.

  ‘Relax, Hugh, she isn’t made of eggshells.’ Grizel enclosed him and the child both in a tight hug.

  Perhaps sensing the commotion, Kate stirred, rubbing her cheek against Hugh’s hand and opened her mouth in a wide yawn, displaying two tiny teeth. She nuzzled his thumb, her mouth pursed, then failing to find milk, began to whimper. He hastily held her out to Elizabeth.

  ‘There’s no doubting whose daughter she is at feeding time, for she’s hard to fill and with no patience at all.’

  ‘I shall have to acknowledge her then.’

  Grizel settled herself on the stone bench. ‘I have so many questions but . . . I daren’t ask the now else you will have it all to tell again over supper.’

  ‘Which won’t be long in the coming, I trust.’ Patrick leaned against the trunk of the walnut tree, idly pulling at a cluster of blossom than hung from a low branch.

  ‘Not soon enough, if we are to save the chance of fruit. Between you and Elizabeth, we will be lucky if the garden isn’t destroyed altogether.’

  Patrick released the branch and it sprung upwards, shedding petals in all directions.

  ‘Whatever I am blamed for can wait.’ Elizabeth beckoned from the doorway. ‘We are bid to an early supper. The bairn will sleep now, for an hour or two at least. And Robert is as ready as we for news.’

  Hugh appeared again early the following morning, poking his head around the door. ‘We have a visitor.’ Grizel sat up straighter in her chair, her hand flying to her hair, tucking a stray strand under the edge of her coif. He addressed Jean. ‘I didn’t think you would mind if I extended your hospitality to a stranger, though,’ he opened the door wide, ‘He isn’t a stranger to all.’ He presented Sigurd to Jean and his greeting lacked nothing, either in word, or the length of time he leaned over her hand, but when he lifted his head, his eyes slid beyond her and found Grizel.

  ‘The Ivarsens were charged with the bringing of Queen Anne’s carriage.’ Hugh shot a glance of apology at Elizabeth and Grizel. ‘I didn’t know of it until this morning for they had a wee bit problem with the Svanen and replaced it with another ship. It wasn’t one I recognized; else I would have brought him sooner. Forbye I still owe Sigurd a personal debt,’ his eyes were on Elizabeth, ‘his elder brother made me a firm friend this winter and I like fine to give hospitality to my friends.’

  Sigurd lifted Grizel’s hand to his lips, his eyes fixed on her face. ‘The winter is past and I am come.’

  Elizabeth stood on tiptoe to whisper in Hugh’s ear.

  ‘And would have come sooner had I not been charged with waiting the Queen’s pleasure.’

  ‘No matter. You’re here now. And welcome.’

  ‘Have you eaten?’ Jean’s hand was on the bell-pull by the fireplace.

  ‘Sadly, yes. Though it wasn’t the most savoury, it has served.’ He patted his stomach. ‘If I was to eat more now, it would be greed and not need.’

  Grizel smiled at the note of regret. ‘There is aye tomorrow. You haven’t any other engagements?’

  ‘None that can’t be put off. Though it is my intention, while I am here at the Queen’s expense, to extend my trading interests and perhaps establish a base, but there is time enough for that.’

  ‘You plan a regular connection then?’ Her face was flushed, the bloom in her cheeks becoming.

  ‘My thought is monthly, for the summer at least, and after that, if it is found to be profitable, a more permanent presence might be required.’

  A pair of magpies chittered in the branches of the walnut tree and Grizel turned her head towards the window.

  Sigurd came to stand close, ‘There is a Norwegian rhyme. . .’

  ‘A Scottish one also.’ She wetted her lips with her tongue.

  Jean joined them. ‘Pretty birds. Though aye greedy. If you were to take some bread . . . or at least show our guest the garden. The walnut tree is particularly fine.’

  Hugh eavesdropped without shame as they walked down the path towards the foot of the garden, their voices floating upwards.
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  Grizel said, ‘Your ship’s to come monthly?’

  ‘Like clockwork, I trust. At the month’s end.’

  ‘Do you accompany it?’

  ‘When I can. It is always sensible to keep a close eye, and I shall persuade my brother that the eye be mine.’ He raised a branch of the walnut tree and they passed underneath, Hugh straining to catch the remainder of his response. ‘He has not the reason to come, having already a wife and family to his credit.’

  When they returned to the house, the talk was of the Queen’s entry and the Coronation, the enforced delay.

  ‘It’s all about money, and a lot of money at that,’ Robert was matter of fact.

  ‘But they’ve had six months or more in the planning. If the Queen hadn’t been driven to shelter in Norway, it would all have been to do last autumn. Surely they were prepared then?’

  ‘Perhaps Elizabeth, but who can blame the burgh for not wishing to spend before they must. They have set aside five thousand merks for the entertainment of our visitors, but it won’t stretch. James will no doubt be farming them out to all and sundry.’

  Jean frowned at her husband, who raised his hand in apology to Sigurd. ‘No offence meant.’

  Sigurd shook his head. ‘None taken.’

  ‘It would be a fine thing to impress James with your readiness to volunteer hospitality, before it is foisted on you.’ Hugh was watching Grizel out of the corner of his eye. ‘Sigurd’s appetite is healthy, but his company is good and may save you from worse.’

  Jean tapped Sigurd’s wrist. ‘You are more than welcome to bide with us, and not just as the least of many evils.’

  ‘Whatever the cause I intend to enjoy our lengthened visit.’ Elizabeth leant back against the settle, ‘It’s little enough excuse we have to be away from Braidstane.’

  ‘Can you bide tonight?’ Grizel directed her question at Hugh, but it was Sigurd’s answer she sought.

  ‘Unlikely.’ Hugh was apologetic. ‘We need James’ permission; and though the outcome isn’t in doubt, it’s getting the chance to speak to him that is the problem. The world and his uncle crowd him with issues that, were I to be uncharitable, I might term trivial. It is a high price he pays for his absence. And that aside from the Danish envoys pressing daily for the inspection of the dowry and the Coronation arrangements. Even Maitland at his most inventive can’t find sufficient excuses to keep them at bay.’ Hugh saw the disappointment in Grizel’s eyes. ‘But Alexander has promised to speak for us today.’ He stretched. ‘Indeed, we should make for Leith the now.’

  Robert followed Hugh’s lead. ‘It’s as well that I make an appearance also, lest James find me tardy, forbye the issue of Ivarsen’s hospitality.’

  ‘You must all go?’

  Hugh bent over the cradle, ‘We can’t spend our days lazing in a Canongate garden Elizabeth, much as we might wish it.’

  ‘You’ll miss our other guests then.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Munro and his wife. Patrick bumped into them yesterday in the throng, and they are contracted to visit at noon.’

  ‘See if you can keep them till supper. I’d like fine to see Munro again and make the acquaintance of his wife.’ Hugh brushed Elizabeth’s head with his lips. ‘The sooner we go, the sooner we return.’

  Chapter Four

  The dawning of a new day had done nothing to dissipate the awkwardness between Munro and Kate. They rose and breakfasted in almost silence, what little conversation they had more akin to that of polite strangers than a married couple of nine years’ standing. The spectre of Anna had resurfaced in Kate’s every action and utterance, a shadow that, even had she tried, she would have been unable to dispel. Afterwards Munro wasted half an hour in search of their landlord, muttering something about the lock mechanism of the main door, while Kate took three attempts to mend the tear in her gown.

  She was pacing up and down, her shawl in her hand when he returned.

  ‘You’re ready?’

  ‘We are contracted to go, so go we must. There is little to be gained by delay.’

  They continued in silence down the stairs, across the close and through the wynd onto the street. It was almost noon and, in a transparent attempt to regain normality, he took her arm to steer her through the crowds that pushed and haggled around the booths. Passing a pie stall they were assaulted by the smell of the gravy that dribbled in trails down the outside of the thick crusts.

  Munro said, ‘It fair makes me hungry.’

  Silence.

  ‘But I suppose I’d better not eat on the way.’

  A fractional lift to her shoulders.

  ‘I like them, Kate.’ His hand bit into her arm.

  ‘It’s easy to like. But not always safe. They are Montgomeries.’ Her head was down, her sentences the staccato of controlled anger. ‘What will Glencairn think of your liking? God knows I am no Cunninghame, but I am married on one and don’t look to be a widow. We have lost one child,’ her voice cracked, ‘and the three that remain don’t deserve to be orphaned because their father takes a liking that isn’t wise.’

  He spoke quietly, as if what he said was reasonable. ‘Give them a chance, Kate. They don’t wish to be our enemies. You could see that. Patrick is. . .’

  ‘Oh yes. Patrick is.’ For the first time since leaving their lodging she looked at him. ‘Patrick has a way with him. I’ll grant you that. But it isn’t Patrick that frights me, nor even Braidstane, steady or not. It’s William.’

  ‘Glencairn can handle William. He and Robert Montgomerie have pledged friendship and have kept to it, these four years past.’

  ‘Archie wouldn’t swear to that. You heard what he said. And four years won’t wipe away a hundred.’

  They had reached the Netherbow Gate and as they passed through she looked about, noting the spacing of the houses, the relative quiet of the street. High above them, a peel of girlish laughter rolled from a half-open dormer. Kate stiffened.

  ‘Robert has only boys,’ he said.

  She shut her eyes, the bright oval of Anna’s face as she brushed and buffed at the pony’s tackle until it shone, as real as if she stood by her side. She drew in a lungful of air, one hand pressed against her breastbone. ‘I will do my best to be civil. But don’t expect over much.’

  They found Patrick lounging in the dappled shade making clip-clopping noises for a boy of about three who galloped a hobby horse up and down the narrow path that dissected the twin squares of lawn.

  He broke off as they appeared in the archway and swung his legs off the bench.

  ‘The others are inside. I thought to wait for you here.’

  It was an unexpected sensitivity. He glanced up at an open window, put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. The tousled head of one of the boys craned over the sill and above it, Elizabeth, who withdrew, to re-appear minutes later at the door, Grizel and Jean close behind. She came to them, hands outstretched.

  ‘Munro. And you are Kate. I’m glad you came. Visitors are aye welcome, though Hugh and Robert and our other guest are not at home. Gone to an audience with the King.’

  ‘And are enjoying themselves immensely, no doubt.’

  Only Kate failed to laugh at Patrick’s sarcasm and was annoyed in consequence. An annoyance that translated into resentment of his easy familiarity and the way he smiled at her, assuming a friendship that she had not granted. Yet against her will as the day wore on she began to relax. It wasn’t just Patrick. Nor was it the children, for besides Hugh and Elizabeth’s babe, Robert’s two boys were there, and although somewhat in the background as was fitting in the presence of strangers, nevertheless contributed to the general noise and chatter. She thought of home and their own bairns and felt the pain afresh, now overlaid by a prick of regret. Another time, she thought, and perhaps we may all have a jaunt.

  What threatened to complete the thaw was the fondness that the whole family, from Jean down, exhibited for each other. Their teasing amusing, even at times outrageous, yet always wit
hout offence, given or taken, and thus infectious. She had never been to Kilmaurs, but suspected that she wouldn’t find there the ease that these Montgomeries exhibited.

  Lunch was simple: partridge and roast vegetables, followed by a syllabub and early strawberries; the whole washed down with a Rhenish wine, that made Kate, less used to it than the others, a little light-headed. A sensation that was, she discovered, not at all unpleasant. Afterwards she was glad to sit in the garden, leaning against the warm stone of the house wall, Grizel by her side, while the children romped with Patrick and Munro, and Elizabeth dandled the baby. Bees harvesting the pollen in the walnut blossom made a constant background hum and she wondered idly if there were boxes nearby and the honey for sale, or if they were wild, making their hives high on the hill behind the town. In the warmth of the sun, her eyelids drooped, the sounds around her receeding gently.

  ‘Late in bedding last night? Or was it that the bed wasn’t conducive to sleep?’ Kate woke to Patrick looking down at her, his brown eyes mischievious. And though his words were innocent enough, something in his expression made her flush, the colour seeping upwards from the lace at her breast, flooding her throat and neck. The sun, which had been full on her face when she sat down, had moved round and would soon, she saw, desert the garden altogether.

  ‘How long did I sleep?’

  ‘Long enough to suggest . . .’ in the pause her colour deepened. ‘Either lack of sleep . . . for one reason or another . . . or over-indulgence in that fine wine.’

  ‘Patrick!’ Grizel, though her tone was reproving, was smiling. ‘Don’t mind him, he can’t resist to tease when we are among friends.’

  Munro had come to stand at Kate’s side and she felt the light pressure on her arm as he echoed, ‘And we are among friends.’