It hadn’t occurred to her that anyone would know. Her stomach twisted with fear. Could he be trusted? He was of the clergy. Of course, he could be trusted. Because Robert had betrayed them didn’t mean others would. Her stomach twisted with guilt. Had Robert betrayed them? He’d told Mister Haywood and Aunt Davina that his supposed betrayal was a ruse. They believed him. Why couldn’t she?
Through the corner of her eye, she looked his way. Great-grandmother Saundra spoke in low tones with the bishop, while Robert and Mister Haywood stood near the door, as if to bar anyone who might dare attempt to interfere with their mission. For a mission was exactly what her marriage had become.
Had Robert’s gaze strayed in her direction even once since his brother’s death? She was certain not, for she would have felt those dark eyes on her. He would do his duty and marry her, but any tender feelings he might have once held for her had no place in their union. What right had she to lament? Was it not the duty of a princess to set aside her private desires for the good of her people? Her wishes no longer mattered.
Margarette released Elizbeth’s hand and jumped to her feet with what Elizbeth recognized as nervous energy. Her sister looked about, then crossed to one of the strangers. In moments, Margarette chatted animatedly with the matronly woman, but Aunt Davina sat silently beside Elizbeth. Great-grandmother turned from the bishop and approached with Bishop Leeds at her side.
Great-grandmother Saundra halted before Elizbeth and reached out two delicate, long-fingered hands. Aunt Davina released her grip so Elizbeth might clasp her great-grandmother’s hands and the older woman drew Elizbeth to her feet.
“Do you trust me?” her great-grandmother asked.
Elizbeth blinked. “Of course.”
She smiled. “Good. Time is short, so I ask you to sign the marriage contract without the benefit of your father or attorney.”
Elizbeth started. In all the turmoil, she hadn’t given the marriage contract a thought. And…Robert was her father’s attorney—her attorney. She looked at Aunt Davina
Her aunt stood. “Aunt Saundra is right. Time is short. I have every confidence she has your best interest at heart.”
“As do I,” Bishop Leeds said. “Her ladyship consulted with me on the contract.”
“But how?” Elizbeth looked from him to her great-grandmother. “How did you know?”
Her great-grandmother’s eyes lit. “Your great-grandfather was a man who understood the need to be ready at all times.”
Elizbeth’s heart squeezed. “I wish I had known him.”
Moisture appeared in the older woman’s eyes. “You would have liked him.” She leaned closer and murmured, “And he would have liked you.”
Elizbeth hugged her, then drew back and allowed herself to be led to a small desk against the far wall. The bishop motioned for Robert to approach.
“Everyone gather round,” Bishop Leeds said once Robert stood alongside her.
Elizbeth didn’t allow herself a sideways glance at Robert, being too aware of his large body only inches from her.
“You will sign first, Mister Matland,” the bishop said.
Without hesitation, Robert took the quill the bishop extended and signed.
“Now, Miss Elizbeth,” Bishop Leeds instructed.
Robert’s hand jerked, the motion so slight as to make Elizbeth wonder if she’d seen it. Expression blank, he extended the quill toward her. She tried to grasp it without touching him, but the edge of her hand brushed his and she jerked as if scalded. His gaze snapped onto her face and she looked up at him in surprise.
He stared, eyes dark with an emotion she couldn’t name. Butterflies skittered across the insides of her stomach once more. Elizbeth broke the stare and signed with painstaking precision, in an effort to keep the tremble in her body from reaching her hand. Then, with care, she returned the quill to its stand.
“The ceremony shall take place in the chapel,” Bishop Leeds announced.
He came around his desk and offered his arm to Elizbeth’s great-grandmother and the two led the way from the room. Elizbeth’s feet seemed glued to the carpet. Her aunt and sister linked their arms with hers and pulled Elizbeth toward the hall. A quick glance over her shoulder showed the guests followed, with the men taking up the rear. They wound through the hallways and exited a side door onto a manicured lawn whose path was lit by torches. Elizbeth immediately caught sight of the small chapel beyond a flower garden, lovely even by moonlight. Full light flickered inside the windows on each side of the chapel. Her heart skipped a beat. Had it truly only been two days since she’d been that naïve girl who fantasized about this very moment?
They entered the small chapel, which seemed to glow with light from the many candles that lined the shelves and dais.
“Please, honored guests, be seated,” Bishop Leeds said, then guided Great-grandmother Saundra to a seat.
Aunt Davina and Margarette each gave Elizbeth a hug. Then left her alone in the aisle. People filed in to sit, their movements little more than a tromp of boots and a swish of skirts. Elizbeth, frozen, couldn’t turn to look.
“Mister Matland, Miss Elizbeth.” Bishop Leeds gestured them forward.
Elizbeth willed her legs to carry her to the front of the chapel. She would not embarrass herself in front of the Queen of Scotland. Elizabeth came to a stiff halt beside Robert. She didn’t dare look at him. She knew he didn’t look at her.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God,” the bishop began.
Elizbeth’s chest squeezed. This was all wrong. She didn’t even have the little things. The ones of which she’d dreamed. The things she and Margarette whispered about when Margarette snuck into her room in the middle of night. There was no lovely gown. No flowers. No joy. Not her mother. Not even her father.
Never, in a thousand years, could she have dreamed of being married without her father present. Would she ever see him again? Would he hate her? By wedding Robert, she cemented her place as one with her father’s enemies. She bit back the tears that stung her eyes. He must hate her already.
The bishop turned to Robert. “Robert Daniel Matland, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?
Silence filled the chapel. Her heart slammed against the inside of her chest.
“I will,” Robert spoke true and clear.
Dizzying relief washed through Elizbeth.
“…live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
Elizbeth realized the bishop spoke to her now. Her mouth went dry as whispered, “I will.”
“Who giveth this woman to be married?” Bishop Leeds asked.
Her great-grandmother rose, a steadying hand on the pew arm rest. “I do.”
She lowered herself back onto her seat as the bishop said, “Mister Matland, take Miss Elizbeth’s right hand in yours.”
A too-familiar warm hand grasped hers. The room tilted. The bishop spoke. Elizbeth tried to concentrate, to comprehend his words.
“I Robert Daniel Matland, take thee, Elizbeth Susan McKinley as my wedded wife…”
By the time Robert finished repeating the vows, her heart thudded so loudly, Elizbeth feared everyone could hear. The bishop said her vows, and her voice shook when she swore a lifetime of love and obedience with a promise to treasure her husband.
“Have you the ring?” Bishop Leeds asked.
Robert’s expression morphed into startlement.
“I have the ring.” Great-grandmother Saundra again stood.
Elizbeth turned in surprise as her great-grandmother approached. She halted beside Robert and grasped his right hand. Gold
glinted in the instant before she closed his fingers around the ring. The older woman pressed a kiss to his cheek, then returned to her seat.
The bishop recited the vow, and Robert repeated in a clear, deep voice, “With this ring, I thee wed. With my body, I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods, I thee endow. In the name of the Father and the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
He grasped her left hand and slipped a thick gold band with a large emerald onto her finger. Elizbeth’s breath caught. Were his fingers trembling just a little?
“Those whom God had joined together, let no man put asunder,” Bishop Leeds intoned.
Elizbeth blinked up at Robert. Were they really married? The world spun so, she thought she might faint. The bishop spoke on, but Elizbeth couldn’t bring sense to the buzz of words. Suddenly, Robert grasped her shoulders and lowered his mouth toward hers. In the instant before she closed her eyes, Elizbeth glimpsed the haunted look in his eyes. Eyes she would look into the rest of her life. His mouth unexpectedly firmed on hers. She leaned into him before realizing the action. His eyes snapped open. She glimpsed shock as he jerked back.
“Go, greet the assemblage as husband and wife.” Bishop Leeds gestured.
Robert grasped her arm and started them down the aisle. Fresh tears threatened, then she found herself enfolded in Aunt Davina’s embrace. Her aunt said nothing, but her fierce hug nearly brought a different sort of tears to Elizbeth’s eyes. Aunt Davina released her and Margarette took her place, eyes sparkling.
She hugged Elizbeth. “See,” she whispered into Elizbeth’s ear. “I told you he loves you.”
Elizbeth started. She pulled back to ask Margarette what she meant, but Great- grandmother Saundra stepped up, drew her close and gently hugged her.
The older woman pulled back and Elizbeth glimpsed the moisture in her eyes. “I always hoped to see my great granddaughters wed.”
Elizbeth nodded, still fighting tears.
“He is a good man,” her great-grandmother said.
Was he?
***
They had no wedding feast. When the guests—witnesses, Elizbeth came to realize—left, then the bishop saw them safely bundled into their carriage and said a prayer before the conveyance jolted into motion. As he had on the journey to the bishop’s home, Robert rode alongside the carriage with Mister Haywood
“Never fear, Elizbeth,” her great-grandmother broke the silence inside the dark carriage. “I have arranged for bedchambers to be prepared for you and your husband.”
Elizbeth started. “But where?” She had been sure the wedding night would be postponed while they placed as much distance as possible between their party and her father.
“At the home of trusted friends, but an hour’s drive,” her great-grandmother replied. “It is late, but there will still be a touch of night left.”
“Shouldn’t we press on to the home you mentioned? The secret one? My father—his men—” Elizbeth’s heart pounded.
Her great-grandmother shifted. Elizbeth could imagine those clear, intelligent eyes regarding her.
“There can be no question that your marriage is valid,” Great-grandmother said.
Fully aware what act would finalize her union, Elizbeth felt heat race to her cheeks.
“But what about Father’s men?” Margarette asked.
“You need not fear,” Great-grandmother replied. “We have men patrolling the roads. If James gets too near, they will deal with him.”
“Surely, they will not kill Father,” Margarette cried.
“Nae, they would not dare kill the true King of Scotland,” Great-grandmother replied, but Elizbeth wasn’t sure she spoke the truth. A hand patted her knee. “Worry not, Elizbeth. Everything has been arranged. Your sister and aunt will be able to help you prepare for your wedding night.”
“You will join us, will you not, Grandmother?” Aunt Davina said.
A heartbeat of silence passed. “It is a joy to hear you call me grandmother.” She sighed. “However, for safety’s sake, it is best if you continue to call me Aunt Saundra. But I pray you always remember I am your family.”
“Of course,” Aunt Davina said. “We always thought of you as family. It is simply a formality to know you are blood kin. As such, you must help us prepare Elizbeth for her wedding night.”
“It really isn’t necessary,” Elizbeth blurted. God help her, she didn’t need to share such awkwardness with more people than necessary.
“It is tradition, Elizbeth,” Aunt Davina said in that tone that brooked no argument. “Your husband will celebrate with his companions while his bride is being prepared.”
“Celebrate?” Elizbeth shot back. “He lost his brother mere hours ago. How could he possibly celebrate?”
Her great-grandmother slipped an arm around her shoulder. “I know this isn’t how you envisioned your wedding night. No girl expects to marry mere hours after her husband’s brother has died—or to marry in order to save her country from war. But that is what you have done.” She squeezed Elizbeth. “You have a great deal of power, you know.”
“I do?” Elizbeth asked. She felt anything but powerful.
Great-grandmother Saundra withdrew her arm and captured Elizbeth’s hand. “You have the power to change the life of someone very important to you.”
Elizbeth could barely breathe. “Who?”
The hand that covered hers squeezed gently. “Your husband.”
Elizbeth blinked in surprise. “I— But I changed his life for the worse. It is my fault his brother died.” A sob caught in her throat.
“Nae, child.” Great-grandmother Saundra patted her hand. “You are not to blame for young Daniel’s death. That is a risk both brothers chose to bear. You may rest assured that your husband understands the fault lies with the traitors who forsook their oaths, even sacrifice the lives of their countrymen, in order to gain power.”
Elizbeth shook her head. Through tears, she described how she’d tried to manipulate Robert. How her wayward behavior had ruined Mister Haywood’s rescue and endangered her sister and aunt. How her mistakes had perpetuated the series of events that led to Daniel Matland’s death.
At some point during her confession, Aunt Davina squeezed onto the seat with her and Great-grandmother Saundra, and put an arm about Elizbeth’s shoulder. Margarette knelt before Elizbeth on the carriage floor, clasping her hands.
“My poor dear,” Great-grandmother soothed. “You have had a difficult time.”
“It is all my fault,” Elizbeth blubbered. She buried her face against the older woman’s shoulder.
“That is an old oversimplification of the situation,” Great-grandmother said. “You are no more responsible for the young man’s death than is your aunt for stopping at that coaching inn.”
Elizbeth lifted her head. “I do not understand.”
“Consider what might’ve happened had your aunt not stopped at the inn. Mister Matland and your father’s men tracked them to that inn. Do you blame your aunt for the young man’s death?”
“Of course not,” Elizbeth said, but a stab of guilt made her wonder if she didn’t blame her aunt just a little.
Were they all not partly responsible? Mister Haywood gave the orders. If Daniel had been guarding them, he wouldn’t have died. Would Mister Haywood have died in Daniel’s stead? Elizbeth became acutely aware of Aunt Davina’s arm comfortingly encircling her shoulders. Elizbeth had yet to ask Aunt Davina how she knew Mister Haywood.
“Elizbeth, none of us chose this,” Margarette said. “If Father’s men catch us, Scotland will be plunged into war and thousands will die. We must do anything to stop the madness.” Margarette slipped back into her seat. “And another thing,” Margarette hovered between anger and tears, “stop wallowing. You have married the man you love, who loves you. Three days ago, you would have been in ecstasy.”
“But you don’t—” Elizbeth began.
“Don’t be a ninny,” Margarette cut in, and Elizbeth could almost hear her r
oll her eyes.
“When did you grow up, Margarette?” Aunt Davina left Elizbeth’s side and retook her seat, as well.
“Just because I don’t like French lessons doesn’t mean I am not grown up,” Margarette replied.
“Quite right,” their great-grandmother said. Her hand found Elizbeth’s. “We all mourn the death of Daniel Matland. Now, we do what we must to make sure his death was not in vain.”
Elizbeth drew a deep breath. On that point, she agreed. She returned her great-grandmother’s squeeze. “How I wish we had known you were our great-grandmother. We should have had more time with you.”
The older woman chuckled. “I am not yet gone. There may still be time for us. But,” she added in more sober tones, “not tonight. I understand the mingle of terror and joy that can encompass a young woman’s wedding night. At the risk of being indelicate, I must emphasize that your marriage must be consummated, and you and your husband must take every opportunity to begin a family. I would you could do this for love, but if not, do it for Scotland.”
Elizbeth swallowed.
For Scotland.
Chapter Twenty-Two
For risk of being seen, they traveled without lanterns. Moonlight had lit the road on the way to the chapel, but clouds now covered the moon. Without moonlight, their anticipated hour-long ride turned into two, and passed with agonizing slowness. Still, when they halted in front of a large manor, their arrival seemed far too soon.
No lanterns burned on the front steps of the home and, when the carriage door opened, Elizbeth barely discerned Mister Haywood as he reached in and helped Great-grandmother out. Robert took his place, just as obscured by darkness, yet bright in Elizbeth’s senses. She reached out a hand and his fingers clasped hers, warm and firm, as he helped her alight. Heat suffused her cheeks—doubly so when Robert dropped her hand and turned back for Aunt Davina, then Margarette.
Several young men arrived to care for the carriage and horses, and an older man ushered them inside. Great-grandmother and the gentleman embraced, but no introductions were made. Great-grandmother left the foyer with the man and a footman directed the gentlemen to follow him. A maid arrived and lead Elizbeth, Margarette and their aunt to the sitting room of a private apartment.
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