White Rose Rebel (35 page)

‘They’re gathering on the moor,’ he said. ‘That’s where I saw them.’

‘Have you to go back?’ MacGillivray might expect a reply.

‘No, miss, I’m not much for fighting now. I’ll go tomorrow to watch, when the English come. My Shameless might be there.’

Tomorrow? The situation was urgent then.

‘I’ll see she gets this,’ she told Robbie. ‘Off you go.’ As soon as he was gone, she tore open the note and scanned the brief lines.
MacGillivray wanted Anne to join him on Drumossie. It was war business, mainly concern about Anne’s cousin being relieved of command. It meant nothing to Elizabeth – the Murrays were no relation to her – apart from the undying devotion expressed at the end. What was it Anne had that men found so easy to love?

When Jessie brought the tea in, Elizabeth put the note in her pocket, took the tray and went upstairs. Anne would go to Mac Gillivray today as he asked, and, with her and Aeneas so at odds, would likely stay with him. It would be the end of her sister’s marriage, the end of Elizabeth’s hopes for her own. There was nothing left that she could do to turn events, and MacGillivray’s attention, in her favour. It was too late.

Anne was not asleep. She was awake, washed and dressed, and she was packing.

‘Oh, tea,’ she said when Elizabeth came in. ‘That’s probably just the thing.’

Elizabeth set the tray down and poured a cup. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Leaving,’ her sister said. ‘There’s nothing for me here. If I stay now, I’ll become bitter and vindictive.’

‘Aeneas well deserves that,’ Elizabeth assured her.

‘But I don’t,’ Anne said. ‘I’ve been a fool, making a fool’s choice. Love isn’t hard and unforgiving. It’s generous and kind. Alexander showed me that.’

‘You’re going to him.’ It wasn’t a question.

Anne nodded. ‘Tomorrow, my things can go to Dunmaglas. I’ll rejoin my troops.’ She put her teacup down and gave Elizabeth a hug. ‘Don’t be disappointed,’ she said. ‘There will be someone for you but it never was him.’

‘He likes me well enough. This isn’t fair. You don’t love him.’

‘I do, and with an easier love than I have for Aeneas. Alexander gives me nothing but goodness. More than that, he welcomes my love of him.’ Aeneas shut her out now, did not allow. A man who wouldn’t be loved, who could not be vulnerable, who would even control intimacy, was a man who couldn’t love. She rubbed Elizabeth’s arm. ‘You and I are both suffering desire for men who
won’t care for us. That’s too hard a bed to lie in for long.’ She looked around the room. ‘All these things. It will take till bedtime to have them ready.’ She opened the door and called Jessie up.

Elizabeth wandered over to the window and looked out towards the moor. She could see nothing at this distance. The note taunted from her pocket. Why had she not given it up? It could make no difference now if Anne left today or tomorrow.

‘Jessie,’ Anne said, when the girl came in, ‘I need Will to ride to Inverness, and back before night. He’ll have a cart to load in the morning.’

Jessie’s face crumpled. Her hands worked at her apron, now stretched tight over her swelling stomach.

‘He’s gone,’ she said. ‘He’s gone to fight.’

‘But Will’s no warrior,’ Anne said.

‘I know. I told him.’ Jessie started to cry. ‘He said he’d show me he was man enough.’

‘Oh, dear.’ Anne pulled the girl to her in a hug. ‘Don’t cry. I’ll find him tomorrow and send him back.’

‘Will you?’ Jessie brightened up.

‘I will,’ Anne nodded. ‘That baby of yours will not grow up without its father. Now, let’s all have a cup of tea. Then we’ll be ready to pack.’

‘What did you need from Inverness?’ Elizabeth asked. Her heart had clenched in her chest. The moor was on the way there.

‘It can wait,’ Anne said, pouring more tea. ‘The Dowager needs to be told she’ll be mistress here again, at least until Aeneas finds himself a woman he can live with, if any can live with him.’

‘You’re leaving us?’ Jessie asked.

‘I am,’ Anne said, ‘and no tears, for I’ve run out.’

‘I’ll go to Inverness,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I don’t mind and, tell the truth, I’d be glad to be out.’

‘You’d ride all that way and back before night?’

‘If it helps.’

Anne threw her arms round her sister and kissed her cheek. ‘You’re such a blessing to me,’ she said. ‘But I can’t let you do that. Not on your own. You’re nineteen,’ she smiled. ‘And there’s a war on.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ Elizabeth insisted. ‘The road goes there so I can’t get lost.’

And that was it settled. She would let the Dowager know Moy Hall would be short of a mistress come morning. Jessie and Anne would pack. Tomorrow, when the cart was loaded, Elizabeth would go with it to Dunmaglas, then on home to Invercauld. Anne would return to the army. It was all quite simple, except Elizabeth had no intention of going to Inverness. There was one night left, one night in which she might finally persuade MacGillivray his future didn’t lie with Anne but with her. It was a slim chance, but the only one she had. She would go to Drumossie to find him, and maybe change both their lives.

He wasn’t difficult to find. Among thousands of men being moved about and settled down, his stature and that blaze of red-gold hair picked him out, standing near a supply tent. His face lit up when she rode towards him, for a moment thinking she was Anne. When he saw she was not, his expression became concerned.

‘
Ciod e?
Is Anne not coming?’ he asked before she was even off the horse.

Elizabeth held out her arms to be helped down. Maybe it was her turn to play the fool. His first thought was always for her sister, not even manners to greet her.

‘Tomorrow,’ she said when she stood beside him, looking up into his frowning face. He should worry for her, abroad among armies of strangers.

‘Then she’s happy with this?’

‘Why would she not be?’

‘I thought she might want us to stand down.’ He looked around, shaking his head. ‘This is not good ground, and with Lord George relieved of command –’ His thought faded away into silence.

‘But she expects you to fight for this idiot Prince.’

He spun round, looking intensely at her. ‘Is that what she said?’

Elizabeth had only meant to point out how little Anne cared for his survival.

‘She doesn’t call the Prince an idiot,’ she corrected. ‘That’s my opinion.’

‘But she intends we should fight?’

‘Of course she does.’ Elizabeth put her hand against his chest. ‘That’s all she wants you for, isn’t it? Aeneas wouldn’t do it.’ How could her sister risk such a man? He should be a lover not a warrior. ‘If you’d listen to me instead, I’d take you off this field right now, to a warmer, better place.’

‘You could make that offer once too often,’ he warned, smiling.

Elizabeth’s stomach turned over. This was the MacGillivray she wanted, the one who laughed and joked and flirted, the man who looked at her with such naked cheek.

‘Then take me up on it,’ she suggested, glancing flirtatiously at him.

But he’d become serious again. ‘A better place is what we’re fighting for,’ he said. ‘To be a free people living as we choose.’ He put his hands on her shoulders, smiling again. ‘So that spirited women like you can offer loving to men like me, and be safe to do so.’ He tilted her chin, bent down and kissed her mouth lightly.

Every thought and word scattered from Elizabeth’s head. He could be hers if Anne wasn’t always in the way.

‘Are you chasing after both my sisters?’ a voice interrupted, none too happy. It was James, her brother. She’d forgotten he’d be here too. Baron Bàn, her cousin Francis, strode over with him.

‘It was just thanks,’ MacGillivray answered. ‘She came to wish us well.’

‘That could be timely,’ Francis said, greeting Elizabeth with another kiss. ‘Lord George has suggested we attack Cumberland in his camp after dark.’

‘I thought George was out of favour,’ MacGillivray said.

‘Then he’s hoping to win it back before tomorrow,’ Francis answered. ‘The Prince has agreed. He likes the idea of delivering defeat for the royal birthday, and while they’re in their cups celebrating it. O’sullivan is none too pleased.’

‘That’s good enough for me,’ MacGillivray said. ‘We’ll lead the way.’ He called Donald Fraser over and gave him instructions to ready the regiment.

‘You should be in Invercauld,’ James said to Elizabeth. ‘It’s safer there.’

‘I’m going home tomorrow,’ she told him, but she made a face at his back as he walked off with Francis to get the Farquharsons ready for the night raid.

‘That’s good advice,’ MacGillivray said. ‘Cumberland is only ten miles from here. If his army is broken up, you don’t want to contend with fleeing soldiers.’

‘So you’d care what happens to me?’ Elizabeth tilted her head, coquettishly, looking into his eyes as she ran her hand up his arm.

‘Of course I care.’

That was all she needed to hear. She slid her arms round his waist, pushing his weapons and sporran round from between them, her face against his chest.

‘Then stay with me.’ She spoke softly, her voice heavy, stretching up, lips brushing his throat. ‘Let the rest of them go play at war.’ Her hips pressed against him, moved against him. ‘I can love you better than you imagine.’

‘I would only be taking advantage.’

‘Who can that hurt?’ Under his plaid, he was becoming aroused. ‘We’re both free to fuck whoever we please.’ She put her hand down to raise the hem of his kilt. He really wanted her.

‘Come,
trobhad
.’ He pulled her into the supply tent and ordered the startled storesman out.

As soon as they were safely and privately enclosed by the canvas, Elizabeth wrapped herself against MacGillivray again, reaching up to kiss his mouth, pulling his kilt out of the way with her other hand so she could touch him. He caught hold of her arms, gentle but firm, pushed her away.

‘Can you not be let down easy?’ he asked.

‘But you want me.’

‘My body’s an instrument of desire and wants ease,’ he said.
‘But put a rope round my neck, make me fear or want to hurt, you might get the same response.’

‘Is that why you brought me in here, to say no?’

‘I wouldn’t embarrass you before everyone,’ he said quietly, then he gave a little smile. ‘Would you have your brother fight to make me fuck with you?’ He stepped closer to her again, put out his hand, stroked her hair. ‘Elizabeth, I love your sister. Understand what that means.’

She pushed his hand away, angry tears welling in her eyes. ‘Well, she doesn’t love you!’ she shouted at him. ‘That’s why she’s not here, she’s too busy fucking with her husband!’

He flinched then. There was at least some satisfaction in knowing she had hurt him. But when he looked up at her again, the bleakness in his eyes made her want to take it back.

‘Then everything’s as it should be.’ He swallowed, hard, as if something was stuck in his throat. ‘Were you sent to console me?’

She dropped her gaze, staring down at the muddy grass round their feet, feeling shame, hot shame, and shook her head.

‘Anne doesn’t know I’m here.’

He took a step towards the doorway and stopped level with her. ‘Go home, Elizabeth,’ he said, his voice rough, breaking. ‘And before you take a husband –’ he cleared his throat ‘– learn that men are more than soulless fucks.’ The tent flap slapped behind him as he went out.

Anne was fastening the strap around the last kist when she heard Elizabeth come running up the stairs, go into her own room and shut the door. She wondered if she should go to her but decided not. It would be kinder to let her sister think she hadn’t guessed, kinder not to make her confess MacGillivray’s rejection. Had it been otherwise, her sister would have bounced into Anne’s room to announce she had just bedded Alexander. Poor Elizabeth, as if she’d ride to Inverness to serve anyone except herself.

Anne stood and looked around the room. Apart from her riding clothes, ready for tomorrow, everything was packed. She didn’t
blame her sister. She’d been the same, wanting to change the world so it fitted instead of fitting into it. Downstairs were other boxes. Everything she’d brought with her when she married was going. Next day, when Aeneas was released from the cellar, nothing of her would remain. She went downstairs. With Will gone, Elizabeth’s horse would need stripped, rubbed down and fed. It was growing dark out and a wet April snow had just begun to fall.

On the morning of that day, Anne woke to the grey light of driving sleet. She had left the shutters open so the sky would wake her early, but the dullness meant it was already later than it seemed. Icy rain streaked across the window like thin, sharp blades. She lay and watched it for some time, the hypnotic shafts, the flakes of iced snow in it running down the panes, gathering white then washing away. There was no triumph in what she was about to do, only grim determination. The weather suited. Relief would come when everything was done and cleared away. Spring would follow this last spit of winter. It would bring new life with it, as it should.

In the wine cellar, Aeneas turned uneasily in a half-sleep; the shadow of wine racks and barrels made tricky companions. Donald Fraser had shackled one chain to his right ankle, another to his left wrist, the workmanship solid. He’d need a smith to get out of them. Strong enough to hold him, not heavy enough to weigh him down, they rattled as he turned, moved or stood. Chains put on him by his wife. How long would they keep this up? He thought himself done with his own anger. When Jessie came with breakfast, he’d ask for Anne, apologize, admit himself wrong. She had bested him, not because she chained him but because she did no worse. Anne was true to herself. Even when that angered him most, he admired it. At the top of the cellar, a fanlight window at ground level let in a thin, grey light. It was early yet.

It was not so early, the light cheating. In the sparse woods and rough buildings around Culloden House, thousands of exhausted Highlanders slept in whatever cover they could find. Bodies crammed supply tents, lay under wagons and the few light cannon.
Those with nothing to keep the sleet off huddled together under plaids. MacGillivray had chosen to be outside, near his men. Knowing the terrain, they had led the march to Nairn last night, to within two miles of Cumberland’s sleeping camp. Unbelievably, the tail of their forces had not kept up. Constantly, he stopped with Lord George, waiting for the Prince and O’sullivan to bring up the rear. The delay meant it was too late to go on and attack before daylight. They turned around, marched back again. Sleep hadn’t come till dawn. Now, feet hurried past. A Cameron hand shook him awake.