Amanda Scott (5 page)

Adela let her prattle on, although they met no one other than a hastily curtsying maidservant before reaching the bedchamber that, until that morning, had been Adela’s alone since her arrival at Roslin.

When she opened the door, the crackling fire on the hooded hearth drew her attention at once. Since she assumed that a chambermaid or gillie had lighted the fire to warm the room, the sight of a man turning sharply from the bed made her gasp and clap a hand to her breast.

Making a swift, deep bow, he said, “I pray ye’ll for-give me, Lady Ardelve. I didna expect—”

“Mercy,” Lady Clendenen exclaimed, putting a hand to Adela’s shoulder and urging her into the room. “ ’Tis a wonder we did not startle one another witless, Angus. It quite slipped my mind that you’d likely be here, putting all in readiness for your master and his lady.”

“Aye, sure, Lady Clendenen. But, surely, the feasting ha’ only just—”

“Angus, a dreadful thing has happened,” her ladyship interjected. She explained hastily.

“The laird be dead?” The man frowned heavily. “But he had nowt amiss wi’ him earlier, nowt that I who ha’ served him these thirty years past could see.”

“Nevertheless,” Lady Clendenen said on note of warning, “Ardelve is dead, Angus, and we must look after her young ladyship now.”

“Aye, sure, me lady,” Angus said. “But me duties now lie wi’ me laird.”

“They do, and you may go to him at once. But no one in the lower hall must suspect the tragedy. I warrant most of them believe he just took too much drink.”

“Beg pardon, me lady, but the laird ha’ kinsmen here, ye ken. Some o’ them will take it gey amiss an ye dinna tell them at once.”

“Those who must be told will be told,” Lady Clendenen agreed. “But few if any members of his immediate family were able to come on such short notice.”

“Aye, ’twas done in a blink.” He frowned. “We’ll take him home, o’ course.”

“Arrange it as you will,” she said. “I know you’ll see it done as it should be.”

Adela shivered at the thought that everyone would expect her to escort her husband’s corpse on its long journey home to Loch Alsh. “How … how
will
we manage that?” she asked.

Angus was already out the door, but Lady Clendenen said briskly, “You, my dearling, will manage best by letting Angus look after Ardelve. I know I am not truly your mother, of course, but you would be wise to heed my advice.”

“I am grateful for it, madam. You must know far more about such situations than I.” Meeting Lady Clendenen’s astonished gaze, Adela grimaced. “I beg your pardon,” she said. “I should not—”

“Bless you,” her ladyship said with a chuckle. “You need not fret when you say just what you think to me. I am of that same ilk, myself.”

“But I should not—”

“No more apologies, for I mean to speak plainly myself,” Lady Clendenen said. “Your pallor alarms me, child. I know all about your dreadful abduction a few weeks ago. ’Tis because of it that I fear you might look on this tragic incident as an excuse to immure yourself in Ardelve’s castle. That will not do at all.”

“But duty requires that I accompany him home, madam, and see him buried.”

“I do not recommend it,” her ladyship said. “But may I suggest that you will feel better if you wash your face and hands? I am sure there is no hot water in here yet, but there must be cold water in that ewer on the washstand. Let me wet a cloth for you whilst you sit on that stool by the hearth. Despite the fire, it is chilly in here.”

Deciding that matters had been taken out of her hands if, indeed, she had ever held them, Adela obeyed, realizing only as the fire’s warmth began to penetrate that her hands and feet were icy cold.

Holding them out to the warmth, she said nothing until her ladyship returned to her with a damp cloth, and then only to express her thanks.

“Here is a towel, too,” Lady Clendenen said, laying a small one across Adela’s lap before moving to the window. “Sakes, what happened to our sunlight?” she demanded, sweeping the curtains aside, “I swear I saw no sign of this murk approaching when we crossed the court-yard earlier.”

Adela lowered the damp cloth to see curling wisps of mist outside the window. “How thick is it?”

“Thick enough that Isabella will find herself with more overnight company than she expected.”

“That won’t trouble her,” Adela said. “Hugo will be annoyed, because if it gets too thick, he’ll have to take the guards off the ramparts and send them and any number of others into the glen to keep watch over the approaches to the castle.”

Lady Clendenen shrugged. “I’ve seen fog in these parts so dense that one could scarcely see one’s hand before one’s face even in daylight. ’Tis bad near any river, and especially so here with the Esk flowing right round three quarters of Roslin’s promontory. The lads will not find it so murky in the woods.”

Adela pressed the damp cloth against her forehead. Despite the chill, it felt good against her face. And with the cloth over her eyes, she felt a sense of badly needed solitude, if only while her companion remained silent, gazing out at the fog.

Hearing movement of her ladyship’s return to the fire, she lowered the cloth.

“Do you feel as if you could talk a bit now?” Lady Clendenen said as she returned the towel to the wash-stand. “I do not think we should put it off. Sithee, my dear, ’tis your future at stake. I’d not have you make a muddle of it.”

The last thing Adela wanted was to have to listen to more advice. But neither did she want her ladyship to prod her more about her feelings when the plain truth was that she still felt nothing. That she had been shocked at Ardelve’s death was certainly true, but the sensation had passed with surprising speed.

That was not a fact she wanted to admit to his cousin, regardless of how kindly the woman felt toward her. She was distressed at the lack herself and could only imagine what Lady Clendenen would think of such an unfeeling bride. So, with nothing else to say, she kept silent.

Drawing up a second stool, her ladyship settled her-self on its cushioned seat and stared into the flames before she said, “I know things are happening quickly. You’ve scarcely had a moment to think, but people are going to want to know what you mean to do, my dear, so you would be wise to have a plan. Did Ardelve explain the settlements he made or suggest what he might expect you to do in such a case? Not that he expected any such thing to happen today,” she added with a grimace. “But he was a sensible man. I know he left you enough to insure your comfort.”

“I paid no heed to the settlements,” Adela confessed. “He arranged them with my father. ’Tis the usual way, I’m sure.”

“Well, they did discuss some of them with me,” her ladyship said. “For example, with regard to an allowance—”

A double rap on the door barely gave them warning before it opened and Lady Sidony Macleod erupted into the room, her pink skirts still rustling as she said impulsively, “I just heard, Adela, and they said you had come—”

Stopping short in visible dismay, she bobbed a curtsy to Lady Clendenen, adding, “I beg your pardon, my lady! I ought not to interrupt, but I just learned what happened and feared Adela would be all alone. I should have known someone would be with you, dearest,” she added, moving to hug Adela. “How can I help?”

“Sit with us, of course,” Adela said, knowing Sidony would be hurt if she sent her away. “How did you hear?”

“I was looking after Isobel’s baby, but his nurse returned and said I ought to go down,” Sidony said, pulling another stool up beside Adela’s. “So I did, but when I heard what had happened, I came right here to you. Isobel said she and Sorcha will come as soon as they can. Others have begun to ask questions, she said. I do not know how anyone thought they could conceal Ardelve’s death for long.”

Adela suppressed a sigh. Much as she loved her sisters and respected Lady Clendenen, she longed for solitude.

Sidony looked guiltily at Lady Clendenen. “I interrupted your conversation, madam, but I hope you do not want me to go away.”

“No, indeed, my dear,” Lady Clendenen assured her. “Mayhap you can help me persuade Adela that she need not return at once to the Highlands.”

“But why should she?”

Adela said, “I must accompany Ardelve, of course. He will be buried at home, and his home is mine too now, after all.”

“Is it?” Sidony frowned. “Must you go soon?”

“Of course, I must. He is—was—my husband.”

“As to that,” Lady Clendenen said, “I wonder if that need be so. Forgive my plain speaking again, Adela, but I did see you and Ardelve step into the solar before you joined the rest of us at table. You were alone there, were you not?”

“Quite alone, madam. Why?”

“Did he…that is, did the two of you…? Oh, mercy, I’ll just say it. Is it possible that the two of you consummated your marriage then?”

“In Countess Isabella’s
solar
?” The words came out in a near shriek.

Lady Clendenen’s lips twitched. “I suppose not.”

Sidony looked from one to the other. “No one would dare do such a thing in the countess’s solar with half the world outside the door, madam.”

“I had to ask the question,” Lady Clendenen said. “Sithee, we were talking earlier of the settlements, Adela, and that subject may be troubling you. I can assure you, the important ones would not be affected by an annulment now.”

“Annulment?” Adela stared at her. “I couldn’t. What would people say?”

“Nothing when they learn that I support the idea,” Lady Clendenen said. “Especially when they understand that Ardelve arranged for such a possibility from the start. His death before the two of you had children was always a risk. None of us gets to choose his own time, Adela, and he wanted to be sure you were secure. Do you know his son, Fergus?”

“I met him once,” Adela said. “He is just a year or so older than I am.”

“Yes, and he will marry this year himself,” Lady Clen-denen said. “You would be most uncomfortable living with him and his bride. Fergus would attempt to be civil, as I know you would, but you would still be a stranger in their midst.”

“I could always move back to Chalamine,” Adela said.

“Do you want to go from being a bride back to being your father’s daughter in your father’s house?”

Sidony said quietly, “Would that not be somewhat the same thing, Adela? Forgive me, Lady Clendenen, but Sorcha did say you were reluctant to marry our father if you had to share the management of his household with his daughters.”

“This has naught to do with me,” Lady Clendenen said, clearly taking no offense at Sidony’s words. “You are five-and-twenty, Adela, a woman grown. You have had the barest taste of marriage—only an hour of it! You need not seek annulment if the thought troubles you, but if you do not use the money he left you to secure your proper place amongst Scottish nobility, I’ll tell you what will happen. Do you want to dwindle into an unhappy dependent of your father or your stepson?”

“Madam, even if I could do as you suggest, you cannot mean for me to shrug Ardelve off as if he’d meant nothing to me. I won’t do that.”

“Aye, ’twould be most unseemly. But to wallow in your widowhood with no more to your relationship than an hour-long, arranged marriage would be more so.”

Adela gasped. But before she could find words to express her outrage, the door opened again and Sorcha entered with Isobel. Finding cushions for themselves, they sat on the floor, big with news from the great hall, where word of Ardelve’s death, once known, had spread quickly.

Sorcha said indignantly, “One horrid man actually said that Adela must be suffering from some dreadful curse.”

“Insolence!” Sidony exclaimed. “Who dared say such a thing?”

“Some arrogant courtier,” Isobel said. “He said it is plain from her abduction, and now this tragedy, that God never intends Adela to marry.”

They shared more anecdotes from the feast hall before Sorcha said, “You’ve barely spoken, Adela. Ardelve’s death was a dreadful shock, but surely it is not only grief that has silenced you. What’s troubling you so?”

Adela shook her head, but Lady Clendenen said, “I fear I took the opportunity before the rest of you arrived for some plain speaking.”

When the others exchanged bewildered looks, she added with a smile. “I said nothing dreadful, I promise. I merely pointed out to Adela that she has choices to make and suggested she consider carefully what she means to do next.”

Her ladyship explained, and the conversation took its course once again without assistance from Adela. Her sisters were happy to discuss what she should do, although all three seemed to agree that her future looked bleak.

“But if she truly has money of her own now …” Sorcha began thoughtfully.

“Aye, sure, that will make things easier,” Isobel said. “And you can always stay here at Roslin with Michael and me, Adela.”

“I’m sure you could stay with Sorcha and Hugo at Hawthornden, too, if you’d rather,” Sidony said.

“As to that,” Sorcha said, biting her lip, “I do not know that we will be at Hawthornden much longer. Sir Edward has said Hugo should go with Donald of the Isles when Donald leaves court to return home, and I mean to go with him. I have things to collect from Chalamine, and Sir Edward suggested that we might spend some time at Dunclathy on our way back, to see that all is in order there. We plan to be away most of the spring and summer.”

“But Adela could stay at Hawthornden even without you, could she not?” Sidony persisted.

“If she wants to, I suppose she can. I’ll ask Hugo.”

“She has other options,” Lady Clendenen said. “Besides a generous financial settlement, Ardelve left her a house in Stirling, to use for her lifetime. Or, if she likes, she can stay with me in Edinburgh. I’d enjoy her company.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Adela said. “However …”

“Pray, don’t say that you will not,” Isobel cut in swiftly, and soon the others were discussing her among themselves again as if she were not there.

Adela shut her ears to it all, staring into the flickering firelight, until Sidony said abruptly, “What do
you
want, Adela?”

For perhaps the first time in her life, Adela did not hesitate to say exactly what she was thinking: “I want you all to go away and leave me alone.”