Never Broken (20 page)

Elspeth held the cream-colored missive in
her shaking hand. The note was short and to the point.

Come home, daughter. Come home as soon as you can.

She could scarcely believe it. After a year in exile, she was finally returning home to London. No more dreary, cold Highland weather. No more sheep.

No more Iain.

She ignored the regret piercing her heart. She had known this day would eventually come. What she hadn’t anticipated was how much she would miss him. She’d discovered that when he hadn’t been able to visit her during the long, harsh winter. He had come to her once in March, during an unseasonably warm day. Their time together made her forget the long, cold nights she had spent without him. She would face that loneliness again when she returned to London.

Bolting from the chair in front of the vanity, she shoved Iain Mackay from her mind. Once she was back where she belonged, Iain would be a fading memory. She went to the door, called for Lorna, then went to her closet and began emptying it.

“You summoned me, m’lady?”

Elspeth dumped a pile of dresses on top of the crushed velvet bedspread. “We are returning to London first thing in the morning. Father wants me to come home.”

“Ah, now it all makes sense,” Lorna mumbled.

Elspeth paused, her hand touching an opal and green striped evening dress, one she hadn’t worn since arriving in Easter Ross. “What does?”

“’Tis an ill wind that blows through the estate today. The servants, Dryden, even the horses, are all on edge.” Her cloudy blue eyes narrowed. “I believe yer father is up to no good, m’lady. No good a’tall.”

“Nonsense.” Elspeth snatched the dress and two others and flung them onto the increasing pile.

“Then why the hurry? Why does he want you home so suddenly? He could have summoned you any time, but why choose today?”

“He misses me. As I have missed him.”

“You’ve been missing only one man, m’lady. And he ain’t yer father.”

“I won’t even dignify that with a response. Now stop your infernal chatter and get my trunk. I want to be far from this squalid country as soon as possible.”

“And what of the Mackay? Will you be leavin’ him without a word of farewell? I don’t think he’d appreciate that.”

“What Iain appreciates is none of your concern. Gather my cosmetics and clear the vanity. Complete your task quickly, for I’ve changed my mind concerning the time of our departure. We are leaving tonight.”

“A coward’s escape, m’lady?”

Elspeth spun around, ready to discharge Lorna at once for her endless impertinence. For the last year, she had put up with Lorna’s caustic remarks, knowing that if she sent her maid away Elspeth would have no one. Now that she was headed back to London, she didn’t need Lorna or her stinging verbal accusations—even if they were often accurate. Lorna somehow managed to voice Elspeth’s conscience, and Elspeth was tired of it. She opened her mouth to speak, only to be caught off guard by the look of pity Lorna gave her.

“’Tis a shame,” the older woman said, her normally sarcastic voice holding a somber, regretful note. “I thought…”

Elspeth walked to her, unnerved by the unexpected show of sympathy? Concern? She wasn’t sure. “You thought what?” she demanded, steeling herself for another sharp barb. “If you have something on your mind, say it.”

A bitter frown tugged at the woman’s creased lips. “I thought you had changed, m’lady. You seemed happier, and dare I say, kinder when he was here. The Mackay was a good influence on you. He is a decent man.”

Elspeth crossed her arms, annoyed. Of course, she would attribute any of Elspeth’s positive qualities to someone else. “No man influences me, Lorna. I am my own woman. You’d do well to remember that. Besides, what decent man continually sneaks into a lady’s boudoir and has his way with her? Do not raise him to lofty heights he doesn’t deserve.”

When Lorna didn’t reply, Elspeth turned from her. She had put her maid in her place, hopefully for good this time. Not only had Lorna’s speech been hurtful, she had become too attached to this estate and the people who ran it. She had befriended several of the servants, something Elspeth never would have allowed in England.

Yet if Elspeth were honest with herself, up until now, Lorna’s behavior hadn’t truly bothered her. In fact, since she had taken up with Iain, she was able to let most of Lorna’s comments go without reaction. A few times over the winter months they had gotten along much the way they had when she was a child and Lorna was her governess. It had been quite nice.

However, circumstances had changed. “I’ll have no more talk of Iain Mackay,” she said, glancing over her shoulder and giving Lorna a sharp glare.

“Aye, m’lady.” Lorna proceeded to quickly clear off the vanity.

Elspeth continued emptying her armoire, a sense of unease overtaking her. She didn’t derive her usual satisfaction from reprimanding Lorna, not this time. And while she didn’t want to speak of Iain, she couldn’t get him out of her mind. She would never admit it to anyone, but she also thought Iain a decent man, perhaps the most decent one she’d ever known. Their time together hadn’t always been spent pursuing pleasure. Although she had initially perceived him as a stern, private man, once she had gained his trust she discovered he liked to talk, especially about his family and his childhood home in Strathnaver. She also discovered she liked to listen. His deep voice, thick with a Highland brogue, had become a welcome, comforting sound as he told her about his mother and sister, his father, and the history of Clan Mackay. He’d even described the old plaid that was his most treasured possession, a seventeenth-century kilt that had been handed down through generations.

One person they hadn’t discussed was her father. She hadn’t wanted that part of her life to intrude on her time with Iain. With him, she was a different person. She could almost be herself, or rather a version of herself that she had never known before.

She looked down at the evening dress in her hands, one suitable for a grand ball. Why had she brought it to Scotland? There were no balls here. No parties. Months ago she thought she would languish from boredom. Iain’s presence had given her something to look forward to, even something to live for while she was away from London.

Elspeth shook her head and put the dress on the stack of gowns for Lorna to fold, then returned to her task with renewed focus. Iain was her past, London her future. That was how it had to be.

A sudden wave of nausea overcame her. Her hand went to her belly as she grew light-headed. On unsteady feet, she moved to sit on the bed.

“Something amiss, m’lady?” Lorna said from her position in front of the vanity. Her tone was gruff, a sure sign she was still put out with her mistress.

“No,” Elspeth responded in a small voice. “I’m fine.”

Lorna spun around. She took one look at Elspeth and hurried to her. Gently she cupped her chin in her roughened hand, her demeanor changing immediately. “You’re white as a sheet, m’lady.” She guided Elspeth to a reclining position on the bed. “Lie down.”

“But…”

“No arguments.” Lorna gathered the pile of dresses and moved them to a chair. “I’ll be back with a cold rag for your forehead. Why didn’t you tell me you were ailin’?” She grumbled on her way out the door.

Elspeth closed her eyes. Another wave of nausea attacked her, and she gripped the coverlet. She had felt ill for the past few weeks and had attributed it to an onset of the ague. When she had suddenly felt better, she assumed she was over her malaise. Now the queasiness was back in full force.

Lorna bustled into the room carrying cloths, a fresh pitcher of water, and, oddly enough, a small loaf of bread. “Eat a bit o’this,” she instructed as she poured water into the basin.

Elspeth shook her head. “I can’t bear to think of food.”

“Eat. ‘Twill settle your stomach.”

She complied, too nauseated to argue. After consuming a tiny bite of bread, followed by a sip of water, she was surprised to feel the nausea subside.

“Now lie down here,” Lorna said, propping up the pillows.

This time Elspeth regarded her suspiciously. Lorna’s maternal side rarely lasted this long, and she seemed to be taking great pains to make sure Elspeth was comfortable. Elspeth might have enjoyed the attention if she knew Lorna’s motives.

“Have a bit more of that bread. ‘Tis a trick my mother used to use, God bless her poor departed soul.”

“Lorna, I don’t have time for this. The packing needs to be done.”

“That can wait for later.”

Elspeth relaxed against the pillows. She had to admit she was feeling better. She took another nibble of bread. “Who knew that eating a crusty loaf would be the cure for the ague?”

Lorna took her hand, her eyes welling. “You don’t have the ague, m’lady,” she said, smiling. “’Tis a bairn you’re carryin’.”

She froze. A baby?

“Although I never had the privilege, my mother raised twelve wee ones herself,” Lorna continued. “Bein’ the oldest, I’ve seen her plenty o’times with child. An’ every time, during the first few months, she was sick, just like you. Then after a few weeks she was fine until the bairns were born.”

“Don’t be preposterous, Lorna. I can’t be pregnant. I would know if I were carrying a child.”

Lorna looked at the bread crust clutched in Elspeth’s hand. “Mayhap yer body is tellin’ you now.”

Instinctively Elspeth’s palm went to her flat belly. Lorna couldn’t be right. Elspeth couldn’t be pregnant because she was barren. At least she had believed herself to be. Clive had put the idea in her head when she failed to become pregnant more than a year into their marriage. So far, he’d been proven correct.

A chill ran through her, and she clenched her fingers together. A child was the last thing she needed or wanted. She was finally returning home to the balls and parties and the gossip she thrived on. A baby didn’t fit into that future.

“Ach, wouldn’t it be a fine thing if the child was a boy,” Lorna mused, smoothing the covers over Elspeth. “A big strapping lad like his father. Shall I send Dryden for the Mackay so you can tell him the good news?” She grinned. “Of course, there’ll be a weddin’ to plan as well. You should do that posthaste before your belly starts to swell.”

“No!” Elspeth threw off the covers, causing Lorna to step back in surprise. “Iain must never know about the baby.”

Lorna frowned. “But m’lady, you can’t keep a child from his father. ‘Twould be unfair.”

“Unfair? Unfair is being tied down with some peasant’s brat for the rest of my life.”

Crossing her arms over her large bosom, Lorna’s eyes narrowed in disapproval. “Perhaps ye should have thought about that before. The lad loves you, Elspeth. Can’t say I understand as to why, especially at this moment. But ye could do so much worse than to marry a man who would do everythin’ to take care of his own.”

“You’ve listened to too much servant gossip.”

“’Tis not gossip when it’s true.” Her expression softened. “M’lady, please don’t do anythin’ rash. Would marryin’ him be so bad?”

She couldn’t believe what Lorna was suggesting. And yet, her maid’s words gave her pause. She briefly thought about what life with Iain would be like. She had a considerable dowry, one that could be used to further Iain’s prospects. Perhaps she could convince him to come to London. With his innate intelligence and gift of speech, she could possibly mold him into something respectable. He could even manage her father’s holdings here in Easter Ross. He could be a wealthy landlord, instead of an impoverished tenant.

The thoughts flew quickly out of her mind, for she knew he would never agree to any of it.

As Lorna continued to look at her, expecting an answer, Elspeth felt like a cornered cat. Quickly she mentally calculated when the baby was due. She had at least two months before her father would notice she was pregnant. Plenty of time to come up with an explanation for her expanding stomach.

Unless… there wasn’t a baby.

Snippets of illicit gossip floated through her mind as she remembered hearing about one of the countesses who knew a remedy for dealing with an unwanted pregnancy. It had been successful with many of the members of court who had found themselves in such an unfortunate circumstance. Upon hearing about it, she’d been horrified, but now she had a new understanding of how someone would need a quick and easy way to deal with such a special problem.

She turned around and faced Lorna. “There is no baby.”

“Nay, m’lady. I’m sure of it. It willna be long before yer showin’, I reckon. Then ye’ll be feelin’ the wee bairn’s kicks inside ye.”

“Enough!” She held up her hand. “Never again shall mention of Iain’s child cross your lips. Or I swear by my father’s lands, you’ll regret it.”

Lorna blanched, “Aye,” she said, shock flashing across her features. “I now understand what ye aim to do.” She went to Elspeth and took her hands, a bold, yet nurturing gesture Lorna hadn’t done since Elspeth was a child. “’Tis a dangerous thought yer havin’. Ye could ruin yerself for more bairns—or even die.”

Elspeth pulled her hands out of Lorna’s, forcing them to stop trembling. She looked away, unable to meet her maid’s disapproving eyes.

Lorna stepped back. “Oh, my child,” she said softly. “I fear you will live to regret this day.”