Amanda Scott (41 page)

“They won’t, ma’am. It is far more likely that they will try to turn this place into an icehouse by opening all the windows. I mean to let them open one in the saloon and leave the doors to the hall open, but you are not to let them open any windows in your sitting room or any other rooms upstairs.”

“Such orders may offend some of our people,” she said fretfully.

“I’ll deal with them,” he said. “I don’t want you falling ill again.”

A string at the back of the hall alerted him to Mary’s return. Martha and Jessie followed her, and soon took matters in hand. However, when Mary, at a nod from him, tried to draw Lady Balcardane away, the dowager stood firm.

“I’ll not leave him yet,” she said. “My place is here.”

“Duncan,” Serena said imperiously from the landing, where she stood poised with one hand on the banister, “I am glad you are here, for one of your people has been telling the most dreadful falsehood. She said his lordship—Lud, sir, is that him on the table?” Abandoning her pose, she snatched up her skirt and ran down the rest of the stairs. “What happened? Is he truly dead?” Staring at the body, she clapped a hand to her cheek in apparent shock. “He cannot be!”

“He is,” Duncan said, making no attempt to soften the news. “It was good of you to come down, Serena. You can be of help here, I believe.”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” she exclaimed, backing away, her gaze shifting hastily from the corpse. “I don’t know how you can ask such a thing of me! What are we going to do about Juliet’s baby? Does this mean I don’t have to go home now?”

Stunned, he could only stare at her, leaving it to Mary to say calmly, “We can discuss that later, Serena. If you do not want to help us lay him out, perhaps you will feel more comfortable in her ladyship’s sitting room or in your bedchamber.”

“How dare you tell me what to do! Just who do you think—?” Breaking off, Serena stared at her in shock plainly greater than any she had felt over Balcardane’s death. Then, recollecting her anger, she added, “What
am
I saying? Oh, this is too cruel! I suppose you expect me to address you as
my lady
now that you are a countess. Well, I won’t do it! It’s too unfair. Oh, how could this happen to
me?”

“That will do, Serena,” Duncan snapped. “You are never to speak to my wife like that again. Nor shall you inflict any more of your self-serving complaints and reproaches on this household if you do not want to suffer the direst consequences of my displeasure. Now, seek your room and stay there, for I have had all I can stand. You are quite the most self-centered, unwomanly, ill-mannered, and spiteful—”

“Enough, Duncan,” Neil interjected quietly from behind him. “She is just upset. I’ll attend to her now, so you can look after his lordship and your mother.”

Duncan fell silent at once, shocked at his outburst, for despite a lifetime of experience with his unpredictable temper, the swiftness and strength of the fury Serena had provoked had surprised him. Even now, although Neil’s intervention had recalled him to his senses, he still struggled to reclaim control of himself.

As if drawn by a lodestone, his eyes shifted toward Mary’s face.

She stood by the table where the men had laid his father, but she was looking at him, and her steady silvery gaze calmed him as it always did.

He looked back at Serena, a little surprised to see that the color had drained from her face. Neil stood beside her, evidently awaiting his permission to withdraw.

“Take her upstairs,” Duncan said. His gaze remained fixed on Serena as he added sternly, “I am grateful for your assistance, Neil, but make it clear to her that whatever I decide, she will do as I command.”

“Aye, my lord,” Neil said, adding gently, “Come away now, lassie.”

Serena clung to his arm, avoiding Duncan’s gaze.

When they had gone, Mary said, “You should get out of those wet things, sir, and then you have much to do, I know. I will stay with your mother.”

He nodded absently, already making a mental list of necessary tasks. Turning away, he realized that one was paramount and turned back to say, “We must send a messenger straightaway to Inver House. They expect us to arrive on Saturday.”

“I should think they will want to attend the funeral,” Mary said.

“Aye, perhaps, but not only will snowbound roads make it hard for those at any distance to get here, but an influx of Campbells into Appin country would likely start another war. Moreover, I’d like to get him underground as quick as we can, before the ground freezes hard.” A thought struck him that offered a possible compromise. “We could take him to Dunraven, I suppose.”

Lady Balcardane said hastily, “He wanted to be buried here, Duncan. You know he did. Though he was not born at Balcardane, he was raised here. He always thought of this castle as his home.”

“Aye, ma’am, I know.”

“My lord,” Chuff said carefully from the open doorway, drawing everyone’s attention, “Jock said tae bring these rush lights, and he bade me remind ye tae put a pan o’ salt at the laird’s feet.”

Martha Loudoun put her hands on her hips and said indignantly, “You just put those lights where the men can deal with them, laddie. Then tak’ yerself back out tae that Jock and tell him no tae be telling me my business.”

Pinkie, peeping out from behind Chuff, said in a small voice, “Is the laird dead, then, for sure? I thought they helped him, but Chuff said he died anyway.”

“Yes, Pinkie, he is dead,” Duncan said.

Her eyes widened with fear. “Will the deevils come here after us, then?”

Feeling Mary’s gaze, Duncan said gently, “No, lassie, I won’t let them.”

Though Pinkie looked slightly reassured, Mary said, “If you like, you and Chuff can sleep by the schoolroom fire tonight, and Jessie will stay with you.”

“They did say ye be going away, Miss Mary, and Himself, too.” Pinkie’s lower lip began to tremble. “Ye willna leave us here alone, will ye?”

Mary opened her mouth, shut it, and looked beseechingly at Duncan.

He said, “We’ll see, Pinkie. Right now I don’t know what any of us is going to do, but no one will go anywhere tonight, I promise you.”

The child regarded him solemnly for a long minute, then nodded.

Chuff said, “Must she go tae the kitchen the noo, or can she bide with me?”

“She can stay with you,” Duncan said. “You look after her fine, Chuff.”

“Aye, I do that,” the boy said, handing his rush lights to one of the men.

With a gesture Duncan dismissed the children, then hurried up to his room at last to rid himself of his wet garments. Not until he began to remove them did he realize how chilled he was, but Hardwick, having anticipated his needs, handed him a hot toddy. The drink and a roaring fire soon warmed him.

Downstairs again, he issued orders to prepare the castle for mourning. Men had already brought black paint and paper for the door, and willing hands began hanging the mourning cloths, while Jessie and Martha attended to the earl.

Mary’s gentle voice served a blunt contrast to Duncan’s curt tones when she asked two men to set up screens, then asked others to bring water to wash the body.

Noting her appearance then for the first time since their return, Duncan said, “Go upstairs and change your clothes before you deal with all that, lass. I failed to notice before, in all the upset, but your skirt is still damp from holding him.”

“It is only the outer layer, sir. I’ll change when I can.”

“The parson is here, my lord,” Bannatyne said from the open doorway.

Suppressing his annoyance at Mary’s refusal to take care of herself, Duncan greeted the clergyman’s arrival with relief, inviting him into the library after he expressed his condolences to the dowager. He knew that although he had managed to avoid speaking sharply to Mary, the impulse to speak so, and his earlier burst of temper with Serena, proved he was less in control of himself than he wanted to be. It was a good time, he decided, to seek some advice, just as he had promised to do.

He was able to relieve some of his pent-up feelings by making it clear to a lackey who had begun to extinguish the fire in the library that he wanted it built up instead. “And don’t let anyone put out the fire in her ladyship’s sitting room,” he growled. “Freezing ourselves to death will aid nothing.”

“It be custom, my lord. The fires must be smothered tae protect his spirit.”

“Not this fire, or any upstairs. Do you understand me?”

“Aye, my lord.” Red-faced, the lackey bowed and took himself off.

“Dinna be harsh with your people, lad,” the parson said. “They believe they are doing the right thing. Old customs ingrain themselves deep.”

“Do you want whisky, sir?” Duncan asked, moving toward the decanter.

“Aye, and I thank you kindly, for ’tis brisk out the day. When do you want to hold the funeral?”

“I need some advice about that,” Duncan said, finding the admission easier than he had expected. Pouring out two glasses of whisky, he went on, “As you know, Caddell expects us all to take part in his christening party on Sunday. Normally, I would send word of my father’s death hither and yon, then await those who wish to pay their respects, but at this time of year …”

“Aye, well, my lord, you must send word to Lord Caddell that your father’s death will delay the christening, that’s all. Seeing a man out of the world is more important to the folks in these parts than seeing one in.”

“They’ll fear for the bairn’s soul, too, won’t they?” The parson chuckled. “Though they’ll draw censure for it, they will just ask a midwife to do the honors. She will sprinkle three drops of water on the bairn’s forehead—one for the Father, one for the Son, and one for the Holy Ghost—to protect him against evil spirits and fairies until we can get there. Depending on her beliefs, she’ll use plain water on the wee laddie, or her own spit.”

Duncan handed him a glass of whisky. “Then I expect we should discuss what I must do here before we can go to Inver House. Sit down, Parson.”

Mary did not mind helping prepare the earl’s body. Like most Highland women, she had assisted with such rituals before. She knew that he would lie in state in the great hall for a day or two at least, for the lakewake—the watch over the dead—so that any who wanted to pay last respects could do so in their own way.

She had not spared a thought for Juliet’s child until Serena had spoken of it, nor did she give it another thought afterward. Clearly, Balcardane had to come first. Caddell would understand that, whether his daughter did or not. In any event, Mary knew she could trust Neil to look after Serena.

The thought startled her, but she realized that she had come to accept him as an adult, even more since his arrival at Balcardane than before.

She had watched him grow from a surly, bitter adolescent into an intense young man full of resentment at the situation in which he found himself through no fault of his own. She had not expected him to come to Balcardane, certainly not for her. That he had done so spoke much of his increased maturity.

She recalled his initial meeting with Serena with an amusement that she had not felt at the time. That he had proved to be right about Serena’s activities with the gray cloak showed that she had not fooled him; but she also tantalized him, and it came as no great surprise to realize that she intrigued him now more than ever.

Mary could not imagine what the Earl of Caddell would think of Serena’s attraction to a landless chieftain of the Macleans. He had, after all, intended her to marry Duncan, who now controlled the powerful earldom of Balcardane. Mary had a notion that Caddell would not approve of Neil, but since Serena seemed able to wrap her father around her thumb, perhaps it would not matter what he thought.

When it became apparent that despite the parson’s presence at Balcardane neither Martha Loudoun nor Lady Balcardane had given a single thought to the evening meal, Mary took Jessie aside and asked what remained to be done in the kitchen before they could feed the household.

“Will we eat then, my lady? Martha didna say and I didna like tae ask.”

“Certainly, we must eat, Jessie. We gain nothing by allowing ourselves to grow weak or ill. Do you send one of the other maidservants to help us here, so that you can look after things in the kitchen. I will tell Martha.”

“Aye, well, I’ll see to it then. Will we be setting the table in the dining parlor then, or down here in the saloon, what wi’ the parson and all?”

“Set things up in the dining parlor,” Mary said. “It will be warmer there than in the saloon.” Shivering as she spoke, she realized that her dress was damp through now, not just from holding Balcardane earlier but from helping to wash his body.

As she turned away, meaning to go upstairs and change, Lady Balcardane said, “Mary, love, go and tell Duncan we need coppers to put over my lord’s eyelids. Without them, folks will fear he might open his eyes and demand a companion for his journey to the next world.”

“Aye, well, and he might, too,” Martha Loudoun murmured. “And, too, he’ll no mind the expense o’ two wee coppers the noo.”

Sniffling, and blotting her eyes with her handkerchief, Lady Balcardane said, “Every time I recall how often I yearned for him to loosen the purse strings I begin to cry again. Who
ever
would have believed that generosity would get him killed?”

“He was kind and considerate to me from the day I arrived here, ma’am,” Mary said. “I came to love him like a father. Indeed, you both have been kinder than I ever imagined you could be.”

“You became a member of our family, and I think he liked your spirit, my dear,” the dowager said. “Do go now and ask Duncan for the coppers, will you? One of the men has already gone to fetch salt to put at his feet. We never did that in my family, but I know folks here believe it keeps evil from overtaking them if they touch him in farewell, and we do not want to upset anyone.”

“No, ma’am. I’ll fetch the coppers for you.”

Crossing the hall, she opened the library door, savoring the wave of warmth that welcomed her. “Duncan,” she said, “forgive me for intruding, sir, but your mother would like a pair of coppers if you have them.”

“Aye, I do,” he said, getting to his feet. Then his gaze came to rest upon her, and his eyes narrowed. Flicking a glance at the parson, he added, “I’ll just take them to her myself and see if she requires anything more.”