The Border Trilogy (21 page)

Lord Strachan made an impatient noise.

His lady smiled at him. “I know you are longing to return to your books, sir, but I charge you before you leave us to remember that Ned is to sup with us this evening. You must allow him time to dress.”

“And so I shall, though I think it utter nonsense,” replied his lordship with a wry grimace. “He ought to take his meals in the hall as he has always done and not be treated like one of the family until his formal duties here are finished.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “He is one of the family, my lord, and he must have time to adjust to his new status. I should not like to see him carrying coals at court.”

“He is hardly like to do that, madam, for a less servile brat I’ve never known, unless it be Adam here. Why, it has not been so long since I swinged Ned’s backside for some impertinence or other, and well you know it.”

“Aye, ’tis true enough,” she said, laughing. “But, nevertheless, you agreed, my lord.”

“So I did.” His voice was gentler now, his eyes tender. “Only because you asked it of me, madam.” He glanced at Douglas. “Coming along, lad?”

“Aye, if you will excuse me, Mother. I have my men to see to, and the baggage ponies will be along soon. ’Tis pleasant to see you again, Megan.”

Lady Somerville raised laughing blue eyes to his and spoke at last. “If Aunt will allow it, I should like to accompany you, Adam. We observed your arrival from here, you know, and I confess that I have a wish to see that magnificent beast you were riding and to show you my latest acquisition, as well.” Her voice was soft, with a lilt that made it sound like delicate music. At Lady Strachan’s nod she arose, smoothing her skirts over her farthingale and giving Mary Kate an opportunity at last to get an unobstructed view of her.

Lady Somerville was as tall as Margaret, the top of her head nearly reaching Douglas’s nose. Her fine golden hair was pulled smoothly away from her face and confined at the nape of her slender neck in an snood of gold net. Her face boasted smooth planes, a complexion of pale strawberries and cream, and high, well-defined cheekbones. Delicately arched brows and long, dark lashes set off large blue yes, and her nose was perfectly chiseled to match her perfect face. And as if that were not enough, Mary Kate noted grimly, Lady Somerville possessed a perfect figure as well.

She was slender, not built upon the magnificent lines of her cousin Margaret, but she had curves in all the right places and moved with a flowing feline grace that told Mary Kate she owed little of her figure to tight corsets. Her rose-damask bodice fitted her upper body like a second skin, emphasizing the soft curve of her breasts and her tiny waist. Her rose skirt and white lace petticoats, spread over a Spanish farthingale, made hushing sounds as she moved toward Douglas, and the sweet scent of French jasmine wafted gently from her person.

Mary Kate had surrendered her dark cloak and safeguard belowstairs, but in spite of their protection on the journey, she was well aware that her riding dress had suffered, and it was not one of her best gowns to begin with. Self-consciously she smoothed the rough material across her lap.

“Valiant will be pleased to make your acquaintance,” Douglas said mockingly to his cousin, “and it will spare Mary Kate from your nonsense whilst she becomes acquainted with my lady mother.” He offered his arm with exaggerated gallantry, and Mary Kate watched them go, feeling bereft. She remembered that Douglas had compared his earlier relationship with Megan Somerville to hers with Robin MacLeod—only not so innocent, he had said. She didn’t know just yet what to make of Lady Somerville, but she did not believe for one moment that she and that young woman were destined to become friends. With a sigh, she turned her attention to Lady Strachan, forcing a smile to her lips.

“W
ELL, MY DEAR,” LADY
Strachan said cheerfully, “I am pleased and delighted to make your acquaintance at last. You have no idea how disappointed we were when Adam delayed your visit. My lord very nearly set off to fetch you himself and would have done so but for thinking Adam would mislike it.” Her voice was soothing, and Mary Kate soon found herself engaged in comfortable conversation. “You must be wishing to refresh yourself,” her ladyship said at last. “Did my son think to provide you with a maidservant?”

“No, my lady. He said there were servants aplenty here. Susan Kennedy, who usually does for me, was unable to make the journey.” She felt her color rising, but Lady Strachan appeared not to notice.

“Kennedy? Not Elspeth’s daughter!” When Mary Kate nodded, she said, “I remember Elspeth well. She married a brute of a fellow and had several children. Most of them died young. But what is this you say about Susan? I trust she is not ill.”

“No, my lady, merely in a condition that makes it unsafe for her to travel,” Mary Kate replied delicately.

“I see. But still Susan Kennedy.”

Mary Kate blushed, nodding her head.

“Oh, dear. Does she even know who is the father?”

The flush grew deeper, and Mary Kate looked down at her hands, knotted tightly in her lap. “Susan is a good girl, my lady,” she said evenly. “She had little choice in the matter.”

There was silence, and she looked up to find Lady Strachan gazing at her placidly. “I believe I understand you, my dear.” The older woman added candidly, “These are unpleasant incidents that we must endure. I trust you had better sense than to read Adam a curtain lecture.”

“I read him no lectures, my lady, but I am ashamed to say my behavior was less than sensible.”

“You may tell me all about it another time if you like,” Lady Strachan said with a smile. “I should like us to become friends. But you must be longing to change your gown. Your baggage ought to have arrived by now.” She rose to her feet, smoothing her russet skirts, and Mary Kate realized that she was only an inch or two taller than herself. She had expected to find her taller, as though so much dignity required height.

She liked Lady Strachan and felt comfortable with her, but she was grateful to her for not demanding more information about the unpleasantness with Douglas. She was not ready to discuss that episode with anyone yet and was dismayed that the subject had already been twice mentioned. She ought to have expected that, she realized, for Douglas’s parents would always have an interest in the circumstances at Tornary.

They crossed the hall of the twelve-light window and passed into the great chamber. In days of old, and even now in some manor houses, this chamber would have housed the master’s bed and would be the place where he dealt with business. At Strachan Court it was merely an oversized elegant parlor with carved wainscoting and a molded ceiling. Several marvelous carpets with floral patterns in shades of pale blue and gold decked the floor. Overlooking the forecourt were two window bays, into each of which had been built a low-backed settle. A huge hooded fireplace occupied the west wall, and once again excellent paintings hung on the walls.

Mary Kate followed Lady Strachan through one of the two doors in the north wall into a gallery, where a bank of windows on their right overlooked a charming inner courtyard. Bearing left, they crossed the gallery into another room, where a maidservant smoothing the coverlet on a huge carved bed turned at their entrance and bobbed a curtsy.

“Sarah, be so good as to tell Annie Jardine she is wanted,” said her ladyship gently. The girl bobbed another curtsy, and when she had gone, Lady Strachan said, “You and Adam will have more privacy here than in the east wing. I have put him here and you in the next room. I ought to mention that Megan has the bedchamber off. the window hall, whilst our own adjoins my sitting room. I should like nothing better,” she added, smiling, “than to take you over the whole house, but I still tire easily and am supposed to rest before supper, so I shall leave you to your own devices for now. I think you will like Annie Jardine. She is your housekeeper’s daughter, you know.”

Mary Kate was pleased and expressed her gratitude, adding shyly, “I don’t wish to keep you from your rest, my lady. I expect Adam will be along soon.”

Lady Strachan laughed. “I don’t know about that. Once he and Megan start remembering their childhood days, I am afraid it will be difficult to distract them.”

Mary Kate’s face fell, mirroring her thoughts, but Lady Strachan tactfully kept silent.

A moment later, alone, Mary Kate turned her attention to the bedchamber. Small trunks, roped bundles, and several boxes littered the floor, and she wondered where Lucas Trotter was and why he had not yet unpacked Douglas’s things. She stepped over some of them to look more closely at the intricately carved bed with its beautifully embroidered green tester and hangings before remembering that Lady Strachan had said she was to have the adjoining bedchamber for her own use.

Curious, she walked through the connecting door to find a room of equal size to the other. Again the floor was cluttered with baggage, but there the similarity ended. The bed in this room was smaller, though the violet hangings were just as prettily embroidered, and the atmosphere was cozy rather than elegant. She crossed to the window. The room overlooked a charming hedge garden with a fountain playing in the center. Through an opening at the left end of the tall hedge she could see the white-pebbled drive that led from forecourt to stables. She wondered where her husband was. Surely he could not still be showing off Valiant to Lady Somerville.

On the thought came a peal of hastily stifled feminine laughter, and Lucas Trotter entered, accompanied by a young woman dressed in the blue full-length kirtle of the house servant. Her smooth light-brown hair was tied back with a ribbon, and her sleeves were rolled up. The fact that she was of some stature among the maidservants was indicated by her apron, which was of transparent cambric instead of the usual coarse linen.

Trotter noticed his mistress first but was undismayed. He smiled. “Mistress, I’ve brung ye Annie Jardine, and a rare handful she be, too. I doubt she’ll be as useful tae ye as her brother Willie be tae the master, but my Lady Strachan says ye mun make do wi’ her nanetheless.”

The young woman laughed, her cheeks blooming. “That will be enough o’ your nash-gab, Lucas Trotter. Run along wi’ ye, else Sir Adam will find his bandboxes still on the carpet when he returns, and, certes, there’ll be an unco tirrivee.”

Reminded of his duties, the wiry manservant hurried into the other chamber, which soon echoed with the sounds of his industry.

Annie proved to be a successful product of her mother’s teaching as Mary Kate was helped into a fresh gown and the boxes and bundles disappeared, their erstwhile contents settled comfortably in the trunks, chests, and large press cupboard provided for the purpose. Annie kept up a light chatter all the while, inquiring about the welfare of friends and relations at Tornary. She had already seen and spoken to her brother, but as she laughingly informed Mary Kate, Willie was a dour man, expert at tracking game but not inclined to gossip. Mary Kate liked the girl and willingly assuaged her curiosity, despite a nagging suspicion that neither her husband’s mother nor Lady Somerville would approve of such open manners betwixt mistress and maid.

She did not see Douglas until he came upstairs to change for supper. She heard him first, laughing and shouting orders at Trotter while he dressed. She dismissed Annie, and a few moments later he entered.

“Greetings, lass. How do you like Strachan Court?”

“I cannot say, sir,” she responded coolly, “for as yet I have seen but little of it.”

He frowned. “Someone ought to have taken you ’round the place, sweetheart.”

“And who should have done so, sir? Your father is with his books, and your mother still tires easily and must conserve her strength. Should I have requested a servant to escort me?”

“Nay, lass.” He grimaced. “Say no more. I take your meaning well enough.” He strode over to her and dropped to one knee, lifting the hem of her skirt to kiss it. “I am a vile beast to neglect my lady wife.” He looked up at her. “That is what you truly would like to say to me, is it not?”

Unable to repress a smile at his un-Douglaslike posture, she shook her head. “Get up, sir. You should not kneel to me.”

“I know,” he agreed solemnly, “but I wanted to look into your bonny eyes, and ’twas the only way I could do so, downcast as they be.” The sally succeeded in winning another smile. He had not actually apologized in so many words, of course, but it would do. Seated upon a stool at her feet, he told her of his afternoon. “Megan hasn’t changed at all, though it must be five years since last I saw her. ’Twas when she married Somerville.”

“Has she children?”

“Not a one, more’s the pity, for I know Somerville dreams of lusty sons. He had one, and three daughters besides, by his first marriage, but the son was killed, hunting.”

“Then Sir Reginald is older than your cousin?”

“Aye, closer to my father’s age. In point of fact, one of his daughters is a year older than Megan. The other two are your age and younger. I wonder sometimes how she can be happy with him, so sweet and merry as she is. Sir Reginald is a strict, dour man who never laughs or jokes.”

Mary Kate bit her tongue, deciding it would not be wise to comment that Lady Somerville seemed well enough to her, however grim her husband might be.

Douglas chatted amiably while they made their way down the stairs, through the entry hall, and along a short passageway to an anteroom with doors leading off it in every direction. One of these, set at an angle across the southeast corner, was flanked by chamfered pilasters supporting a broken pediment. A gillie stepped forward to open the door, and they entered the winter parlor to find the others already gathered there for supper.

The room was too large to be termed cozy, for it was fully twenty-five feet to a side, but it was cheerful. Candles gleamed from wall sconces all around the perimeter and from candelabra at either end of the laden, white-lined-draped trestle table. A fire roared in the great fireplace, and red velvet curtains graced the forecourt windows as well as their tall and narrow inglenook brethren. Once again the click of her heels was muted by carpet as, guided by Douglas’s light touch at her elbow, she made her way to her place, pausing only to make her curtsy to Lady Strachan before she seated herself.