“Lass?”
She heard him say it to her and she tried to concentrate. He began unbuttoning her gown to help her cool off.
She shook her head and tried to fight him.
“No,” she protested.
“I need to cool you down. I willna let anybody see.”
He set her down in the gig and moved it behind the building. He returned to the barn and came back with a bucket and his clothing. He walked over to the loch and filled the bucket, and then dipped a handkerchief into it and began bathing the back of her neck and forehead.
“Is that better?”
She nodded. She did feel better, and extremely embarrassed. Instead of showing him how capable she was, she had only shown him the opposite. She had to fight tears. When she had cooled down, he re-buttoned her gown.
“Did you need something?”
She at least should explain why she had been so bold as to venture out here on her own.
“I wanted to help,” she said breathlessly.
“I thank you for that. I ken you want to help, and I will let you do so when you are healed. It is hot as Hades in there, however, and it isna good for your breathing.”
“I’m sorry.” A lone tear escaped and he reached up to wipe it away.
“Doona be sorry. I am only sorry you are suffering. Besides, I canna let you compare me to all the burly lads in there, or you will think your husband is puny.” He laughed.
“No,” she whispered and reached out to touch his chiselled chest. He shivered in response and took her hand and brought it up to his mouth for a kiss.
“Shall I drive you back?”
“That will not be necessary. The horse knows the way.”
“Aye, old Nelly is almost older than I am. She would manage the route blind, I imagine.”
He kissed the top of her head.
“I will be back for dinner.”
She nodded and he ordered the mare to go. Margaux was suddenly overcome with an eerie feeling all the way back to the house. It felt like someone or something was watching her. It was a beautiful summer day, but she felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. She looked about but could see nothing. Was she imagining things? Perhaps she was simply overwrought. It had been an exhausting couple of weeks. She was on Craig land and no harm should befall her here between the barn and the house. Even as she pulled up in front of the castle and entered, she could not shake the disturbing feeling.
Dinner was a family affair. The children had been invited to attend, followed by some dancing in the parlour afterward. The girls were eager to show off their new talents. Margaux had loved being allowed to eat with the adults when she was a child, and she was delighted her mother was treating the Douglas girls as she had her own. Her mother was fond of children and had a natural affinity for drawing them to her.
Lady Ashbury spoke only French with them, and they were picking up an impressive amount in the short time she had been teaching them. She had made Margaux’s task simple—if her voice would comply.
They were gathered in the music room, and the chairs had been moved to the perimeter of the floor. Catriona was to partner Lord Ashbury, and Maili was with Gavin. Lady Ashbury sat at the pianoforte, leaving Margaux and Aunt Ida to watch.
Her mother began to play a tune, and the girls comported themselves rather well for their first audience. Catriona showed great promise as an elegant young lady, and Maili promised to be the life of the party as she tugged and swung her partner with gusto.
Margaux tried not to chuckle as Maili was trying so hard to do just as Lady Ashbury instructed. Her mother would occasionally call out commands and shortened the dance considerably to save the men’s toes.
Margaux wished she could dance. She had thoroughly enjoyed waltzing with her husband, but she knew there would be none in a country ballroom. She sighed and watched them now, attempting a jig. The laughter was infectious, and Margaux could not help but tap her toes and gently clap along. Aunt Ida decided to join in once the jig started, and pulled Margaux to her feet to partner her. Neither of them was fit enough to dance properly, but they did what they could and Margaux found herself smiling for the first time, it seemed, since the fire.
During one of the turns, Margaux suddenly found herself partnered with her father, and the next, her husband. She expected him to carry her back to her seat since she was beginning to wheeze, but instead he smiled at her warmly.
“It is a pleasure to see you smile again, wife.”
She could not talk over the music, so she nodded and smiled again. He looked down at her with a look she had not seen before and it made her tingle all over. He pulled her close and danced more slowly with her. It was only family, after all, and she was very tired. The music became livelier and they turned their heads to the sounds of giggling and laughing.
Her father had Maili on his back and Catriona was swinging in his elbow. She had not seen him thus since she was a small girl. Then he had managed to dance with all three of his daughters at once. Aunt Ida was dancing happily on her own. Margaux’s heart was filled with contentment at the scene. She was not sure how ready the girls were for a ball, although it would likely be more a country dance than a grand London ball—even despite her mother’s involvement in it. The villagers and children were allowed to dance, and they would not have been taught by the grand masters.
When the song finished, the girls took tea with them and then it was time for them to go to bed. She watched Gavin being tender with the girls, as he hugged and kissed them goodnight before they left with their nurse. Margaux was envious, for she wished he would be that way with her. To be fair, he was kind and gentle. She was actually rather fortunate in her circumstance and she knew she should be grateful.
She snapped out of her musings when Tallach entered the room with a message.
“It is a letter from the Runners,” Gavin said as he perused the note.
“Runners?” Margaux asked with surprise.
“Aye. Your father hired them to track down the Mulligans.”
“What does it say?” Lord Ashbury questioned.
“Little. They have been unable to track them beyond the immediate area. Either they have escaped to Ireland, or they have not left the vicinity.” Gavin handed the letter to Ashbury.
Margaux thought about her feeling of a presence earlier that afternoon, which she had dismissed. Surely they would not be so bold as to watch her in broad daylight, on Craig land, no less. They had managed to kill someone with their vengeful ways. She shuddered, thinking about the fire and her own near-death. She still could not understand why they had wanted to harm her or the orphans.
“I will tell them to keep searching. To Ireland if necessary,” Lord Ashbury announced.
“Aye. They shouldna be left out there to cast their own judgements upon the people.”
The next morning, Margaux was awake with the dawn, unable to sleep, for her mind was in turmoil. The weather was foul for a summer’s day, but seemed to match her mood. The winds were howling and the clouds promised downpours, but she needed some fresh air. She would stay near to the house, of course; she was not fit enough for anything more. She longed to ride freely through the countryside, but she dare not try it yet.
She put on her sturdy boots and a thick cloak, should she be caught in the rain. She was drawn toward the water of the loch, and made her way along the path beside the house. If she could see it from her apartment, it could not be too far. She walked for some time, feeling her frustrations begin to ease. She was starting to tire and her chest was tightening. She found a boulder to sit on, and as she looked around, she acknowledged her vulnerability at being alone and apparently much further from the house than she had realized. When she thought of her eerie feeling the day before, she cursed her stupidity and wished she had told someone where she was going. She was too tired to make her way back and sat for some time, feeling uneasy, imagining that every animal noise or howl of the wind was the Mulligans come back to finish what they h
ad started.
Imagining every grave possibility as the outcome of her stupidity was neither helping her breathing nor easing her exhaustion. She needed to make her way back to the house, and decided she could sit there no longer. If she put one foot in front of the other enough times she would eventually arrive.
A loud crack of thunder sent her searching for safety and her heart racing frantically. She knew a deluge was soon to follow and sought for shelter with her eyes. She could not run if she wanted to. The first drop of water hit her nose, and seeing no hiding place, she pulled her cloak over her head and slowly continued walking. The rain began to beat down upon her forcefully and she tried not to cry. She had only wanted some fresh air, but she had no one to blame but herself. She wished with her whole heart that she could go back in time and be well again. She did not look as bad as she felt inside. Her breathing became increasingly difficult until she had to rest on the muddy ground.
She heard more thunder and hoped to God that lightning would not find her as its target. Their family had lost one of its stablemen to a strike when she was a child, and therefore she had a frightening respect for Mother Nature. Not enough to have stayed inside this morning, she chastised herself, and stood up to continue.
Suddenly, a galloping horse was upon her before she could hear it over the storm or move out of the way. She was grabbed and hurled upon the horse and she tried to scream, but it was pointless, even if she’d had a voice. She tried not to panic as her heart pounded with the horse’s gallop, and braced herself for death.
Chapter 15
Margaux closed her eyes and waited for the murderer to throw her off a cliff. What a perfectly Gothic, novelette-style to die. She deserved no less at this point. She had suspected someone wished to harm her, yet she had ventured out alone. She waited for the inevitable as the horse’s hooves beat furiously on the muddy earth.
Suddenly, they pulled into a stable, by the smell of it. Where had she been taken? It was a relief to be out of the soaking rain. She was still too afraid to open her eyes, and she was shaking with terror.
“What is the matter, lass? I see you’ve had a fright, likely akin to the one I had when I discovered you were out by yourself in the storm.”
Her husband’s voice gently chided her as she was let down off his horse and carried into the house. He pulled off her damp cloak and wrapped his warm arms around her.
“You’ve not come to any physical harm, have you?” he asked, as he looked her over from head to toe.
She shook her head as her teeth chattered.
“Have a warm bath prepared in my lady’s chamber,” he directed the servants as he carried her up to their apartments and began to unbutton her wet gown. She opened her mouth to protest, but remembered her maid had been reassigned to the kitchen, since the girl could not bear to look at her.
When the back of her gown was undone, Gavin put his ear next to her chest to listen for her breathing. Of course, she often forgot he was a physician when she worried he would see her unclothed.
“Your lungs do not sound worse,” he said, with apparent relief in his voice. He was marching to the other side of the room to fetch an elixir. “However, I am guessing you did not take your medicine this morning, by the sound of things deep in your chest.”
She shook her head while still looking down. He walked back to her and sat next to her. He lifted her chin and looked in her eyes.
“Doona scare me like that again, lass. You took twenty years off my life, I swear.”
He handed her the elixir, which she swallowed without protest. She was still shivering.
“You need to get warm. Do you want me to help you, or call someone else?” he asked as he removed her bandages.
“I can m-manage,” she stammered through chattering teeth.
“Your face is almost completely healed. It appears that Lady Easton’s salve is miraculous after all.”
He reached up and gently ran his hand over the place on her cheek. It was sensitive and the intimate gesture sent a different type of shiver through her. Her husband was looking down at her as if he meant to kiss her. She saw the hesitation in his eyes before he pulled away. Her heart sank. Why did he hesitate, and what could she do about it?
“Gavin,” she whispered and reached up with her hand to his, before she saw it was the ugly scarred one and quickly withdrew it, ashamed. There was a knock on the door, interrupting anything further between them.
Her husband sighed loudly. “Enter.”
A maid came in.
“The bath is ready for her ladyship, m’lord. And three carriages have just arrived.”
“In this storm?”
“Aye, m’lord. Lord and Lady Ashbury are downstairs, greeting them.”
“Verra good. I will be there shortly after I have attended to my wife and changed.”
The maid bobbed a curtsy and closed the door behind her. He stood and helped Margaux to her feet. He helped her out of her damp gown.
“I can manage the rest. Look after yourself.” She smiled a little. “I am sorry I gave you a fright.”
He reached up and touched her cheek again.
“You are safe, now. I will send Catriona to help you dress.”
He walked through the door to receive the guests. Safe, he said. But was she? She wondered as she slipped into the heavenly reprieve of the bath.
Gavin changed his dress and hurried down the stairs to greet the newcomers. Heavens above, he hoped they were the veterans whom Easton had sent. He needed their help now more than ever. He was weeks behind on the malting process; only the day before they had cleared the drying floor for the fresh barley. He had not begun seeing to the tenants, and he wanted to devote more time to his wife and his girls, a luxury he had not been able to afford. He thought his wife might be softening toward him. Had he imagined she would have welcomed his kiss just now? He shook his head. That was not part of the bargain they had made and he would do well to remember it. She was grateful for his rescue and nothing more. He had no time to dwell on his marriage as he reached the drawing room and was greeted with merry chatter.
He entered the room, and to his surprise, there were at least half a dozen new arrivals. He recognized several of the men, having spent a fair amount of time at Wyndham and having treated many for their injuries. There was an apparent family of a husband and wife, and a daughter who appeared to be of an age that made her fit to be a governess. Lady Ashbury was in discussion with them, and Lord Ashbury was making himself acquainted with the other men.
Gavin felt a weight lift from his shoulders.
“Guid day. I am Gavin, Lord Craig, and welcome to our home. You are very welcome!” he announced and bowed. He smiled toward the veterans he recognized, and walked over to greet the family.
“Lord Craig, may I present Mr. and Mrs. Potts, and their daughter, Miss Alexandra Potts. They will be our new houseparents, and she will be the girls’ governess and teach some at the school. She may desire to live at Breconrae with them if you have no objection? When Margaux is healed, she will likely wish to oversee many of the girls’ lessons.”
“Welcome. We are delighted to have you.”
“I was just telling them that you might be called upon to assist in complicated medical cases when the midwife requires.”
“Indeed. I would prefer that to most of my duties here. Mr. and Mrs. Potts, is this your first time working with children?”
The man’s face flushed. Gavin had not meant to embarrass him.
“Yes, my lord,” the man answered with a gentleman’s accent.
“Mr. Potts has training in architecture. He will be helping to oversee the rebuilding, while Mrs. Potts and Miss Potts will look after the girls,” Ashbury explained.
“Ah. Verra good. If you need anything, please doona hesitate to ask.”
Mr. Potts seemed to relax. Gavin nodded to them and turned to greet the veterans, as Mrs. Ennis brought in a tea tray filled with sandwiches and fresh scones. Gavin directed everyone
to have a seat while their accommodations were readied and their luggage sorted.
“I recognize all of your faces from Wyndham, but you must tell me your particular talents off the battlefield. I am certain I have more than enough work for everyone. Lieutenant Holdsworth?”
Lieutenant Holdsworth was missing an arm and leg, and had been left for dead at Waterloo. He was one of the soldiers Lord and Lady Fairmont had rescued from a Belgian hospital. He appeared to be the spokesmen for the group.
“I am intended to be your new steward, if it pleases you, my lord. I was raised on a sizeable estate, and prepared the accounts for my father, the squire.” He looked away as he said this, leaving the obvious unspoken. His family had not known how to handle his injuries, even though his mind was still capable of performing when his body could not.
Holdsworth was well spoken, and Gavin was sure he would be perfect for the job.
“Private Billings and Sergeant Scott are handy with their hands and can be put to use in the fields or wherever there is need. Billings is near deaf, and Scott is happy as long as he is near Billings. Served in the same regiment,” Holdsworth offered by way of polite explanation.
Gavin smiled and nodded to them both, though Scott did not make eye contact. Gavin looked to the fourth soldier, a bonny Scot if ever he’d laid eyes on one. Why had he not remembered about Buchanan? He had saved the man’s leg after Badajoz, when the other sawbones would have hacked it off.
“Buchanan! You look in fine fettle, I didna recognize you,” Gavin explained merrily and held out his hand.
The strapping Scot pulled Gavin into a hug and near beat him on the back with his exuberance.
“Fergive me, m’lord. I ne’er thanked ‘e proper fer savin’ me leg.”
“You can thank me proper if you ken your way to making whisky.”
“Aye, I have a gift fer it, me da always said. I wouldna be a proper Scot otherwise. Beggin’ yer pardon, m’lord.”
Through the Fire Page 14