“Callum Grennock believes we are meant to be together. He respects me. He is kind to me. Everyone in this clan loves him and he has a solid reputation. He would be able to care for me. Ye ken that wealth and title are far from the most important thing to me, but he has both and it’s a bonus,” Grace said, using every excuse she could throw at Adeline.
The words were coming out in a rush, and Grace tried to remain confident with each one, but she felt overwhelmed. She still felt as though she had failed Adeline and she knew that she had failed herself.
“Adeline, can ye please say something? Can ye just have some understanding for me and support this?” she pleaded.
Adeline looked back at Grace and her face softened into something Grace didn’t want to identify. Nevertheless, the emotion was obvious. Pity.
“Grace, ye are me dearest friend. Ye are me sister. Ye are an amazing woman and I admire ye in many ways and for many things. But I cannae support this and I willnae pretend that I do. Ye are making a terrible mistake, an awful decision that will affect ye gravely.
“Ken that I still love ye and still think the world of ye. But I’m angry. I’m angry that ye would let go of something so precious as love when it’s the thing that the world is constantly seeking, that we all desire. There is so little of it and ye’ve decided to throw it all away for the sake of ease…” Adeline finished.
Grace was furious that Adeline was being so blunt and refusing to understand her position. Still, a small part of her understood and knew her friend was right.
“Do whatever ye want,” Adeline said, standing to her full height and making her way toward the door. “Ye ken that I’ll love ye no matter what. But ken that I think ye’re making a horrible mistake and I believe ye will regret it later. Trust yerself more than ye have been, because there’s wisdom deep inside ye.”
With those words, Adeline went out the door, leaving Grace on her own to pick up the remainders of what had been said. Her emotions were a blur of anger, rage, confusion, and certainty that Adeline was right, no matter how badly she wanted to push away that last part.
Grace had made her decision; she had felt confident that it was the right thing, the only thing, to do. However, Adeline had caused her to doubt herself and now once more her thoughts were spinning.
Could there actually ever be a chance with Douglas? Was she delusional for wondering? Why couldn’t she be content with Callum?
Grace broke down and began to cry again from the overwhelming thoughts. It was too much. She was too much.
Learning The Truth
“Mr. Warwick, please meet me cousin Julia,” Meredith said, showing Douglas into the parlor, where an elderly woman sat stooped in an oak rocking chair.
“Very nice to meet you, my lady,” he said, bending down to shake her frail hand. She was not what he had expected. This aged crone with unseeing eyes and a pile of white hair atop her head was not the image of a middle-aged woman bustling about a kitchen that he had anticipated her to be.
“Nice to meet ye as well,” she replied in a voice that trembled. “I hear ye have been asking about me former employer.”
“Yes, Miss Julia. I was under the impression that you were still in their employ,” he replied, trying not to seem obvious in his annoyance that she was not at all what he had been told.
“I am afraid that me cousin has not seen me in an age and it was not me she spoke with directly,” Julia replied, unaware that Meredith had shied away into a corner, embarrassed that she had drug this handsome Hanoverian soldier all the way to Edinburgh on false assumptions.
“That is quite alright,” Douglas said, trying to reassure her. No matter what, he was certain that he could learn some sort of information. Julia could point him in the direction of finding his mother and, at the very least, give him an idea as to whether or not she would want to be found.
“What is it that ye’d like to ken?” she asked him, steadily rocking back and forth in the chair.
“Well, I am curious about a young lady who got herself involved with an Englishman,” he responded, wondering if Julia would understand his connection.
“Ye mean Heather. Aye, Heather McGlashan. What a beautiful young lady she was. Her hair was the golden color of the sun and those eyes were as green as can be. I remember her well. What would ye like to ken about her?” Julia asked again.
“So…You are no longer acquainted with her?” he asked, needing to know this before he learned anything else.
“I’m sorry lad, but I’m afraid she has been dead since a year after…a year after she had a baby. I think it was a broken heart. Really, she let herself go in the worst of ways,” Julia said.
It was too much broken information for Douglas. He was overwhelmed by the sadness of knowing his mother was dead, but these other words didn’t fit into the puzzle yet. “What do you mean? Please start from before that. When did she have the baby? How was her relationship with the father? What sort of girl was she?” he asked in a great push.
Julia inhaled and released a hacking cough. Meredith rushed to her and gave her a few sips of water before she settled back into the rocking chair. “Well, Heather was the daughter of the Laird McGlashan. From time to time, English servicemen would come up to these parts. Her faither didnae ken about the affair until after she became pregnant.
“But once he realized she was, ooft, I’ve scarcely seen such a temper!” Julia exclaimed.
“What did he do?” Douglas pressed.
“He forbade her to leave, for starters. Wouldnae even let her see the faither. She wasnae allowed to exit the manse and, of course, that Englishman wasnae ever allowed inside,” she explained. “I’m guessing that Englishman is how ye got yer accent?”
Douglas realized there was no use hiding his identity. He had known even before he came that it was very possible they would all figure out who he was the moment he began asking questions. “Yes, my lady. I am exactly who you think I am,” he confessed.
“I’m glad to hear it. I’m glad to hear that something good came of ye. I’m only sorry that yer mum never got to see it,” she said with soft compassion.
“Can you tell me what happened after her father learned of everything and after his rage?” Douglas inquired.
“Aye. Of course yer faither wanted to be with her. They were damn near inseparable by that point and it broke both their hearts not to be together. Broke the hearts of most of us working for the laird to see it. We kenned by then that their love was real, not the fabrication of two opposing peoples.
“But alas, the laird was adamant. He kept them apart, turned yer faither into a wanted man in the community, so that no Englishman might dare pass Fleet to this day,” she said.
Douglas thought of his own experience in Fleet and understood now. It wasn’t him they despised. It was any Englishman.
Thanks to the prejudice of his grandfather against his own father.
“So anyhow, yer mum stayed with her faither as she was forced to do. He didnae want the village to ken about her pregnancy. Spun the situation to seem as though yer faither was just harassing her and she being a laird’s daughter needed protection from him.
“The pregnancy was kept well hidden from anyone outside the manse and we were all under strict orders of secrecy. We didnae cross the laird. No one crossed the laird. It simply wasnae done. Too risky,” she said.
Douglas wanted to ask a million questions at this point, but knew that if he interrupted, he might never get back to the story at hand. Moreover, he had to know how it ended for his mother and his father, had to understand what came of them.
“So after that, yer secret birth, a cousin of hers was instructed to take ye to yer faither in England. I still dinnae ken what yer faither was telt. I hope that she telt him the truth, that yer mum loved him and wished she could be with him. But it’s very possible that her faither had her tell him that she didnae want to be his anymore,” Julia said.
“I suppose we’ll never ken,” she added thoughtfully
.
“Yes, we do. And my father, what little he has spoken of my mother, reeks of bitterness and abandonment. I can tell you most assuredly that he believed himself to be forgotten by her,” Douglas answered harshly.
Julia’s lips parted in dismay. It was clear to Douglas that she was upset by this news, this smearing of his mother’s name.
“She was a good lass,” Julia finally said. “No such thing should be thought about her. A good lass.”
Douglas felt his heart sink. All these years of thinking poorly of his mother and it was false. All of it was a lie. She had been a good woman. A woman who’d loved his father and her child.
“It was her faither that took ye from her. She’d never have given ye up. Or yer faither. She loved ye both until her death. She loved ye both and she’d have held ye every day until her last breath if she could have.
“As I said, I believe it was grief that took her from us so young. Grief that ye were forcibly taken from her, grief that she lost the love of her life. Yer mum cared about ye and I cannae say anything more about it than that,” she added. Her certainty was palpable, but so was her anger.
Douglas could see that she was furious at the laird for letting it come to this. However, her fury was nothing compared to what he felt. What betrayal and rage he had for his grandfather for taking his mother from him!
“She died in her room after months of not eating and, finally, days without water,” Julia said.
“So…” Douglas began, trying to swallow his emotion. “If it were not for my grandfather, if it were not for his anger that my father was an Englishman, I could have lived with two happily wed parents? I could have known this lovely creature you describe my mother to be?” he asked, needing confirmation.
After the years of lies he had told himself based on his father’s vague responses, it would require a good deal of reassurance from this woman who had actually been present for the events they were discussing.
“Aye, lad. That is how it would have been if not for the laird’s nonsense,” she said.
“And am I to assume that he is dead as well?” Douglas asked.
“Ten year or more ago. Finally got what was coming to him. Fell out his window, presumably while looking down on everyone,” she accused.
Douglas felt his chest clench and in response, his fists. Tears pooled in his eyes. He tried to stop them. He was a Hanoverian soldier, after all. Feeling such overwhelming emotion was an embarrassment. This was worse than the confusion and frustration of the past few weeks.
This was a feeling that everything in his heart was breaking into pieces, as if he had now learned too much ever to be happy again. Too much ever to trust his own judgment again. It was more than he could truly bear.
Finally, he broke. The tears came flowing down his cheeks and Douglas allowed his head to rest in his hands as he sobbed. Meredith rushed to him and placed a hand on his back as Julia continued to rock with sadness in her blind eyes.
There was no comfort for him, so they didn’t try. They simply allowed Douglas to weep until his emotion was exhausted.
His mother had loved him. She had died from the pain of separation. It was strange how this fact both left him in despair while also acting as a balm to soothe his bitter soul. It was a kindness and a cruelty to know.
“I thank you for telling me all of this, my dear lady,” Douglas said to Julia once he had finally recovered himself from his tears.
“I wish only that someone could have told ye sooner. That ye wouldnae have had to live all these years with the pain of believing she’d left ye. But alas, now ye ken and I do hope that it brings ye much relief,” she replied.
“Yes, yes in some ways it does. And in others, it only makes me wish I hadn’t known,” he said honestly.
“I imagine so. But I want ye to remember the truth. Let it grow stronger than the lies. Because yer mum would have wanted ye to ken her love. And she’d have wanted yer faither to ken the truth as well. Is he still around?” she asked.
Douglas was quiet for a moment. How could he explain all of this to his father? “Yes, my lady. He is still alive. And if I am able, I should very much like to tell him the truth about my mother. But my father and I do not speak as much as one might hope for a father and son,” he said vaguely.
“Then perhaps now it’s the time for that to change, lad. This could be right what ye’ve been waiting for all this time and now ye can tell him that yer mum loved him and would’ve given anything to be with him,” she said, pressing him to action.
“My father is not easily swayed, even by truth, I am afraid,” he said.
“I should like to meet him and tell him from me own perspective, but as ye can see, it’s unlikely that I’ll be on this earth much longer. So it is up to ye, lad. Tell yer faither. Tell him that Heather loved him and she’d have given anything she could to be with him,” she implored.
“Yes, yes I think I must.”
A Maiden Captured
“Will I ever stop changing me mind?” Grace asked the ceiling as she stared up at it from her bed. She was a young woman, not some child dreaming about a laird sweeping her away into the Highlands. So how did she find herself here? How had she become so useless and wrapped up in all of this mess?
“Honestly, Grace. Ye wanted Douglas, begged for him, pushed him, begged, and pushed more. Now here ye are waiting for Callum to recover and propose because it’d be easier. And to top it all off, ye’ve pushed away yer dearest friend because ye want to choose easy affection over true love…” she narrated to herself.
“Fool,” she scolded at the end.
It had been hours since Grace had laid down to rest and get a bit of sleep. She tossed and turned her body in the darkness, but could not shake the fight she’d had with Adeline a few days before. She had been in a foul mood ever since, worsened by the fact that Adeline wouldn’t see her.
“Alright. Ye ken she’s right. Ye ken ye arnae happy. Get yerself out do something about it,” she decided.
Grace sat up and threw her legs over the side of the bed. It was time; she had to take action. She had to stop drifting back and forth between her two desires. This was how she would do it.
Sneaking down the stairs, only the candlelight and shadow gave hint of any life. Everyone else was sleeping.
Except the guards. They would prove to be a problem.
Grace remembered that the guards worked on rotation. If she made her way to the servant’s door, she could wait until the precise moment.
She hopped lightly through the corridor that took her to the servants’ entrance and waited. It must have been half an hour, but finally, the tall, imposing man shifted his position and headed off to his next post.
Grace took her chance and rushed quietly through the door before anyone might come to take his place.
Into the night air now, she immediately realized how foolish she had been not to bring a heavier covering to throw around her shoulders. It was winter in Scotland. Hardly a small breeze.
However, she would have to take a horse anyway and the stables were always filled with tartans and blankets for horses and travelers alike. She made her way there and first took hold of three blankets before quietly opening the gate for her mare.
“It’s all right, lass, we’re just going on a short journey,” she whispered, stroking the thoroughbred’s nose.
Grace led her out of the stable and mounted, just in time to hear shouts. She turned her head back and saw that three guards were chasing her, believing her to be a horse thief.
She gasped and kicked her heel into the mare’s side, spurring her forward.
“That’s it, lass! Run!” she yelled with a wide grin on her face. She would easily outpace the guards before they could mount their own horses.
Grace remembered hearing Colla’s stories of escaping with Beiste and felt a pang of sadness at the remembrance. It would have been nice to have had Beiste here, helping her as she prepared for her journey and readying her mare. However
, those days were gone and Grace was moving forward.
She would ride toward his camp and find Douglas. She had to; the need she felt for being with him had become utterly overwhelming.
Douglas. The man she realized she loved more than life itself. She had to reach him as soon as possible. It would take time, but perhaps she could arrive in the morning. Maybe, if she pushed hard enough, it would only take the night before she was in his arms.
Then what? Would she be welcomed at the camp? Unlikely. What if his men saw her as a threat to their safety? What if her uncle sent soldiers after her and somehow managed to track where she had gone? It would not be good.
Still she had to try, so Grace pushed forward.
Once she was well away from Dunmore, a strange sense came over her. It was like she was not alone. As if someone was watching her or following.
Ye’re being paranoid, she thought to herself, not wanting to speak aloud in case a voice returned to her. Grace did all she could to suppress panic. It wasn’t worth allowing herself to be too worked up.
Readjusting herself on the saddle, Grace thought that taking a moment to stretch from her seat on the horse might do her body good. It always helped her loosen when she felt tense.
The steady hoof beats of her mare were deafening in the otherwise silent air. However, no amount of shifting around or stretching would ease the sense of foreboding. Finally, she gave in to it.
“Is anyone there?” she called into the blackness of night with a voice that tried to hold strong.
No response came in return and Grace breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever sensation she felt, she was alone and that was all that really mattered.
Ye’re alone, ye’re alone, ye’re alone, she chanted in her mind.
With the chant came another realization.
Loving A Highland Enemy: Ladies of Dunmore Series (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story) Page 13