“Or relieved that he’s gone.” Alisabeth stood at the door, dressed simply with her thick umber waves pulled back with a pretty ribbon. He recognized the remorse in her eyes as she scanned his face. “Does it hurt?”
“Only if I wink at pretty ladies.”
“I do believe my son is acquiring a sense of humor. Thank ye, Lissie.” His mother chortled. “So, my dear, will ye be joining us for the winter?”
They were both surprised at her immediate response. “I will if ye’ll still have me.”
Gideon watched her walk to the sideboard and ladle some porridge into a bowl. He wanted to howl and kiss her sweet swollen mouth. Maybe he had inherited more than just his grandfather’s physical traits.
“Excellent. It will be a blessing for me to have the company.” Maeve sighed. “I didn’t realize how much I missed female companionship until my girls married and left.”
“We plan on departing the day after tomorrow. Will that give you enough time? We can delay a few days, but Grandfather feels we shouldn’t dally.” Gideon didn’t want to rush her into a decision and regret it once in England.
“I dinna have much to bring. I’ve told my parents and will be able to say my farewells before they leave.” She hesitated. “I’m afraid I willna be dressed as well as the ladies in England. I dinna want to embarrass ye, but I’ve had no need of fineries here at Naught Castle.”
Maeve beamed. “It will be my pleasure to take ye shopping in London. My dressmaker will be delighted to have such a beautiful customer.”
“Do ye think I should wear my mourning veil while we travel? There may be questions when people see the condition of our faces.” Alisabeth smirked. “They’ll be saying Gideon got worse than he gave.”
He let out a loud guffaw, happy to see her humor back. “Just until we reach Glasgow. Lachlan wants me to check on the mill since he’ll be delayed. I arranged for my solicitor to purchase a townhouse there, so we’ll have only staff to worry about. Your lip should be quite healed by then.”
Gideon was determined to keep his promise and maintain a respectable distance from Lissie. He preferred to ride anyway and knew his mother would enjoy the female conversation. She would educate her new companion on London society and the best ways to navigate the treacherous maze of the beau monde.
As the hours then days passed and the Highlands faded behind them, a melancholy overtook him. A part of him did belong to this land. His stomach knotted as he wondered how this trip, and all he learned, would affect his future. But he’d enjoyed his time in Scotland and promised Mama a return visit. Would Lissie be eager to go back or come to love Stanfeld Manor as he did? Only time would tell.
The sight of Glasgow in the distance cheered him. A comfortable bed, good food, and excellent brandy should be waiting for them. They entered the city, and his mother poked her head out of the carriage. The groom sitting in the rear box smiled and shook his head. The servants were used to the countess’ unusual ways. It was late morning and the city was bustling.
It had been several years since he’d visited. He was surprised and pleased at the growth. New streets had been added, accommodating thriving businesses. People crowded the main thoroughfares and alleyways. As they made their way to the residential area, they came upon new housing under construction. Investments were prime, and it seemed business-minded men were getting in on the boom. The once small town of Glasgow would soon challenge Edinburgh in commerce and population.
The three-story townhouse of red brick overlooked the fashionable west-end neighborhood. Gideon had sent one of the liverymen ahead to warn the staff of their arrival. A butler and housemaid opened the front door and two grooms waited on the steps. Dismounting, he tossed his reins to one of the boys and watched as the ladies exited the carriage.
His mother shaded her eyes with one hand and peered up. “So this is our new house?”
“Yes, I hope you approve. Shall we go in?” Gideon inclined his head to the staff and made introductions. Maeve began giving orders and Gideon extended his arm to Alisabeth. “Have you been to Glasgow before?”
“I’ve never been more than twenty-five miles from my home or Naught Castle. There are so many people and carriages and horses.” She shook her head. “I think it’s verra grand for a visit, but I prefer the countryside.”
“I can only imagine what you’ll think of London.” Inside the entryway, staff took their hats and coats while servants began unloading baggage. “We’ll be here a couple days and then continue our journey. Would you like to visit the mill with me? I’m sure Mama will not let me out the door without her.”
“I would love to see it. I’ve also read the new Botanic Gardens are beautiful.”
“Then I will be certain you do not miss it.”
The carriage wound its way through the city streets toward the great Clive River, stopping in front of a huge warehouse. It was Alisabeth’s first look at the MacNaughton Textile Company. The dreary building, tinged with smoke and age, resembled more of a prison on the outside. Inside it was a hectic production. Two rows of power looms filled the huge space with mostly men manning the machines. Older children scurried in the aisles carrying buckets or baskets of bobbins. Lissie had only seen weaving done by hand, and marveled at the speed of the looms. The compact steel frames glinted in the sunlight pouring in from the large floor windows, their deafening mechanical clickety-clack drowning out any conversation by the employees.
“Welcome! It’s good to see ye again, lass,” boomed a voice over the machinery. Colin, one of the weavers who had brought Ian’s body home, waited while Alisabeth made introductions. After explaining how the looms worked, he held out his arms and shooed them down the aisle. “This side of the factory is the wool shed, with two other sections for cotton and flax.”
Alisabeth noticed several very young boys fetching items for the adults or standing by the shuttles, ready to replace the wefts with more thread. “Those wee ones canna be more than six or seven years old,” she murmured to Maeve as they entered a hallway. Colin shut a thick oak door, muffling the clamor of the workroom.
The older woman’s eyes narrowed as she questioned the supervisor. “Ye employ such wee ones?”
Colin nodded to Maeve and pushed a roughened hand through his silver-streaked hair. “Families need the income, my lady. Contrary to the last supervisor, I make sure they’re in positions that willna cause them harm. There are enough accidents in the workplace without adding a child’s death to my conscience.”
They proceeded up a flight of stairs and another large room. Rows of handlooms filled the space and all the workers were women. “They used to do the weaving at home, but it’s cheaper to have them here. We get a solid day’s work and higher productivity, and they receive a steady income.”
The back of the warehouse was filled with bolts of cloth. “Before you leave, I’d like to discuss expanding into silk. It’s extremely profitable…”
Lissie wandered away from the conversation and over to a dusty window, wiped at it with the side of her fist, and peered out. Below to her left, a ship bobbed in the choppy waves of the Clyde. Workers loaded crates and bags onto carts and wheeled them off the dock. To her right, she could see part of the giant water wheel, churning the river to produce the energy needed for production. It was so much more fascinating to see the process rather than read or be told about it.
Alisabeth vaguely heard Gideon retelling the events that led to Lachlan’s injury and felt three pairs of eyes on her when she turned from the window. One drop of sympathy would be too much. She was tired of pity and wanted to put it behind her. Instead, the tall Scot grinned at her.
Relief swept over her and she replied tartly, “He tells ye I almost get my throat cut and ye’re laughing? I hate to think what we need to do to make ye cry, mon.”
“The image of Alisabeth Craigg, brandishing a gun like a highwayman, will be stuck in my head for a week. Ye do us proud, lass. I’m sorry to have missed it.” He winked at her. “They dinn
a enjoy the same adventures down here in the Lowlands. Too much like the English, ye ken.”
“I feel I should take offense to that,” laughed Gideon. “It was quite an evening. I’ll admit it stirred my blood.” His gaze caught hers, sharing a memory between them that warmed her. “I seem to be more my mother’s son than I realized.”
“I hate knowing the scoundrel is out there,” Maeve said. “If they find him, he’ll be on the end of rope or a boat to the penal colonies.”
“Shall we go down to the office?” Colin asked. “I can show ye the accounts and last year’s profits. Our bookkeeper is quite good and she already has an estimate for the rest of this year’s income.” His pride in the factory brought a smile to her lips. The man knew his job and worked hard.
“She?” asked Maeve. “Ye have a woman working on the books?”
“Aye, Miss Franklin is a quandary.” He shook his head. “She can figure numbers in her head quicker than a spider spins a web.”
The office was large with a chipped walnut desk and several mismatching chairs. One wall held shelves lined with books on textiles, weaving, and dyes. There were texts filled with illustrations of different types of machinery and others with various cloth samples. She and Maeve flipped through the squares of linen, cotton, and wool fabric as the men looked over the accounts.
“Lachlan will be another few weeks, but it seems you have everything in order. Well done, sir.” Gideon shook the supervisor’s hand.
“May I take some samples with me?” asked Maeve. “I plan on making some changes at the townhouse my son purchased.”
“Of course. Let me know what ye like, and I’ll arrange for the locals to take care of any work ye decide to do.”
The ladies tied their hats on as they prepared to leave. A pretty young woman with black hair and soft gray eyes knocked at the office entrance. “Fenella, I’m just seeing the owners out. I’ll be with ye in a moment.” She nodded and retreated from the doorway.
Alisabeth studied the woman as they passed, searching her memory for that name. Climbing into the carriage, she snapped her finger. “That’s it!”
“That’s what?” asked Gideon.
“Remember when Lachlan was incoherent with fever? He called out the name Fenella several times.” She tapped her lip. “I wonder…”
Maeve laughed. “There may be more than one Fenella in Scotland, my dear. Are ye matchmaking?”
“I have a hunch there’s been a match already.”
She and Gideon exchanged a look then a grin. So Lachlan’s mystery woman was a clerk for the MacNaughtons. And a pretty one at that.
They enjoyed a quiet meal at the townhouse that evening. Maeve asked Lissie’s opinion of fabrics and other changes to the townhouse. “I hope to spend more time here. It’s a perfect halfway point for my parents when I canna go all the way home.”
* * *
During the next two days, Gideon met with Colin and learned more of the “dull” aspects of the MacNaughton Textiles, as he put it. He also took her and Maeve to the Botanic Gardens as promised. The last day, Colin arrived and the foursome went to Glasgow Green. It was a beautiful park, renovated after the war to provide hundreds of jobs for the unemployed. Traveling actors had set up a geggy, and small boys crisscrossed through the crowd announcing the showtime. The large wood frame covered with canvas would hold a large crowd.
“Are you interested in watching the performance?” asked Gideon. “I realize this may come as a surprise, but I enjoy comedies.”
Alisabeth giggled. “Then ye’ll be disappointed. These troupes act out Scotland’s great stories and portray our most tragic historical figures.” She took his arm, following Colin and Maeve into the tent. “So ye’ll enjoy it even more, I’m certain.”
However, the opening act had everyone laughing as a man in a short kilt attempted to play the bagpipes and dance a jig at the same time. He slipped, fell onto his side, his legs still pumping to the beat and never missing a note. He followed the act with a melancholy ballad describing the rise and fall of William Wallace. A pretty young girl of around twelve joined him to sing the lyrics and left half the crowd wiping away a tear.
That evening, Maeve kissed her son’s cheek and retired, leaving them alone in the library. Gideon sipped brandy and they both sat in comfortable silence, gazes and thoughts lost in the crackling fire.
His voice startled her after the long quiet spell. “Are you enjoying yourself so far?”
“Aye, verra much. I enjoy seeing the world outside my childhood home.” She smiled. “As a girl, I dreamt of becoming a pirate and sailing around the world. Silly, I know.”
“My father would agree with you. And at one time, I may have also. But my views seem to be shifting in my old age.” He gave her a wicked smile. “I believe you may be the culprit behind my change of heart.”
“So I should become a pirate and raid ships and collect booty?”
“I believe you are an intelligent and clever woman, who is capable of anything she sets her mind to. And I hope I’m around to see you accomplish whatever that may be, sweet Lissie.” His blue eyes sparkled with warmth and affection but when he spoke her name, they darkened to midnight blue.
As she closed her eyes that night, his voice whispered to her. Sweet Lissie. It caressed her skin, enveloped her until she felt safe and protected and drifted into a dreamless sleep. Sweet Lissie.
Chapter 10
“He that climbs the tall tree has won right to the fruit, he that leaps the wide gulf should prevail in his suit.”
—Sir Walter Scott
Late October
Stanfeld Manor
His heart swelled as Alisabeth gazed upon Stanfeld Manor. She and Gideon had ridden to his favorite hilltop, overlooking the property and the best view of the house. It had been two weeks since they’d returned to England. Two weeks of walks and rides and evenings full of lively and intelligent conversation. Two weeks of getting to know Lissie, and through her, a side of his mother he’d never known. Two weeks of pure joy and pure torment. He’d give his title to make the earth stop turning, to suspend this time with the woman who was becoming more dear to him than life itself. Yet soon the world would crash in on their idyllic sanctuary. His sister arrived at the end of the week, and the dressmaker would call in the morning.
Strangers might create tension, cause her smile to falter or her confidence to waver. Gideon didn’t want anything to break the fragile bond he’d worked so hard to forge. He had watched Alisabeth bloom like a winter rose, peeking out at first, testing the air, and then spreading those glorious petals. She filled his neat and tidy world with color he hadn’t realized was lacking. In return, she trusted him to introduce her to new things, new adventures without condescension. His arrogance vanished in her presence.
“It is the opposite of Naught Castle, so fairytale-like. Each time I cross that bridge, I feel as if I’m a princess entering my royal courtyard.” She smiled at him, those honey eyes warm and soft. “I can see why ye are so proud of it.”
“Ah, that is where we differ. I do love this place. It’s my childhood home. But there is something steady and dependable, practical really, that draws me to Grandfather’s keep.” He enjoyed these discussions. Her opinions were thoughtful and often revealed another irresistible layer of her personality. “Perhaps it’s what the place symbolizes—centuries of survival and family. So much history imbedded in that stone.”
“And voices demanding to be heard still whisper in those walls, if ye take the time to listen. Unhappy souls needing their stories told so they may be at peace.” She tilted her head and eyed him thoughtfully. “Do ye believe in such things?”
“I really don’t know anymore. The last months have taught me that things are not always what they seem.” He shrugged. “Mama says an open mind would serve me well. Yet it’s hard to ignore the foundation on which you were raised.”
“Aren’t we the philosophical ones so early in the day?” Lissie pulled lightly on the reins,
squeezed the mare’s sides, and expertly turned the horse on its hindquarters to face him. She gave him a brilliant smile. “I’ll race ye down the hill and to that modern bridge. Ready, set—”
Little Bit, his tail in the air and his paws digging furiously at something under a large oak, stopped at the familiar words and joined the pair. Gideon chuckled. “He thinks he can win, you know. I must admit the mongrel is surprisingly fast for his size. Do you miss the deerhounds?”
“Terribly, though this wee scruff is a fine substitute. And he fits on my lap, which was never an option with Brownie or Black Angus.” Her eyes went wide, and her mouth made an “O.”
“And when was Little Bit on your lap?” The dog slept in the barn and wasn’t allowed inside. At least, not before the arrival of one dark-haired, golden-eyed Scot.
“Weel, I may have let him sneak past Sanders once or twice. And I may have let him keep me company while ye were out with yer steward, and yer ma was busy with correspondence.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief, her long slender finger tapping her full lips as if in concentration. “But I canna say for sure.”
Gideon laughed and shook his head. “You have a short memory for one so young. I’ll be surprised if you can remember your name by next year.”
The dog barked, his tail wagging so fast Gideon almost felt a breeze. “Fine, we’ll race. Ready, set,”—he kicked Verity and bolted ahead—“go!”
“Ah, the devil take ye and yer cheatin’ ways,” she cried from behind him.
The two horses galloped down the hill and raced across the field. Both took the hedge without issue, but as they neared the bridge, Gideon heard a scream. His heart plunged into his stomach, and he pulled Verity up. Lissie and her mare flew past him, laughter drifting behind her. With a curse and a reluctant grin, he clucked to the gelding and caught up to the girl and the dog waiting under the yew tree.
When a Rogue Falls Page 97
