01 - Captured Dreams

by May McGoldrick

  Colonel Kilmaine sat silently, rubbing his chin for few minutes before looking up. “Wait outside, Captain Turner. I need to consider.”

  *****

  Pierce opened the door of his bedchamber and walked directly into Portia, who was hurrying down the corridor. He immediately reached out a hand to steady her. Her face was wan and her eyes red rimmed.

  “You are unwell,” he said, worried.

  “No. I am fine.” She smiled weakly. “I had this little problem, though. I could not find you. And I could not ask anyone in which room you were staying. So I walked the corridors of the West Wing without any success, and then came back to this floor. I should have guessed you would be near us.”

  “You were looking for me?” he asked, his hands moving gently up and down her arms.

  She nodded.

  “For how long?”

  “For most of the night,” she said shyly.

  “You did not sleep at all?”

  She shook her head.

  Pierce brushed his lips against her brow and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Turning her, they began to walk toward her own bedchamber.

  “So you are no longer angry?” she asked.

  “I was never angry. Frustrated? Yes. Disappointed? Very.” He pushed her door open and ushered her in. “But determined to change your mind? Absolutely.” He closed the door behind them and lifted her chin. Her color was returning. “I am not giving up, my love. I shall do whatever I need to do. I shall play the rogue if I need to and trick you if I must. I shall abduct you, carry you off, keep you tied to my bed—”

  Her laughter was the most beautiful sound. He smiled. “Now you are forcing me to reconsider…yet again.”

  “What do you mean ‘again’?” He glared at her suspiciously.

  Portia threw her arms around his neck and lifted herself on her tiptoes until their faces were an inch apart. “I was searching for you all night to say…yes.”

  “Yes?” He lifted her off the ground. “Yes…you will marry me?”

  “Yes.” She laughed when he whirled her around. “But that was before you talked of tying me to your bed.”

  “But you should know that comes with marrying me anyway. But have no fear, ‘tis I who am helpless when it comes to you.” He kissed her deeply, and then whirled her again. He could not think of a happier moment in his life.

  There was a knock on the door. Pierce put her back on the ground. Portia cast a nervous glance toward it. “I do not think ‘twould be proper for anyone to find you here this early in the morning.”

  Pierce shook his head. They were completely clothed…and he didn’t particularly give a damn anyway.

  “I do not think anyone will give it a second thought, my love, since I plan to let not only this household but the entire countryside know about our engagement this morning.”

  Holding her hand, he opened the door. It was Lyon’s clerk, Peter Howitt.

  “Good morning, Miss Edwards,” he said politely, turning to Pierce “Excuse me, sir, but his lordship has a matter of great import that he needs to discuss with ye. He awaits in the library, sir.”

  “Bad news?” he asked, immediately concerned about their mother.

  “Nay, sir. Or at least, I do not believe so.”

  “Do not go anywhere. Get some rest,” Pierce whispered into Portia’s ear, stealing a kiss before following the man down. “How did you know where to find me?”

  “His lordship said to look in your bedchamber first and if ye were not there, then knock on Miss Edwards’ door.”

  Pierce was amused that Lyon knew, and he couldn’t wait to tell his brother about their news. Last night, after Portia had left him in the garden, he and Lyon had stayed up long into the night talking. He had told his brother everything about her. He’d poured out his heart about what he felt for her. Curiously, Lyon had been confident that Portia would give in. They just needed to rely on Pierce’s stubbornness and a little time. It had been the encouragement he’d needed.

  Lyon was alone in his study, and Howitt closed the door, leaving the two men. There was nothing gloomy in the earl’s expression, so Pierce decided to make his announcement first.

  “Portia has agreed to marry me.”

  The older brother’s blue eyes shone with the excitement as he pushed himself to his feet and came toward him. “That is indeed wonderful news.”

  “I think so. Would you mind very much, sending someone up to awaken your wife and tell her, as well? She was the first one who hinted at it, I believe, when we decided to join the ladies after dinner.”

  “Not on your life. I want that pleasure all for myself.” Lyon clapped him on the back and shook his hand.

  “Of course, I haven’t discussed it with Portia yet, but if you think Millicent would be agreeable, I would like to have the wedding here at Baronsford.”

  “She would be delighted with that, I am quite certain. But before you become too distracted with such things, I believe we should prepare ourselves for another visit.” Lyon picked up a letter from his desk and handed it to Pierce. “A messenger arrived with this only a few minutes ago.”

  Pierce read the letter, reread it, then looked up in shock.

  “Have no fear. Baronsford shall be ready to receive him.”

  ****

  Portia couldn’t understand what was going on. Only minutes after he’d left, Pierce stormed back into her bedchamber. Taking her b the arm, he led her to Helena’s room.

  When she responded affirmatively to his knock, they entered and he handed a letter to her surprised mother. Helena was, luckily, awake and dressed and sitting on a settee by the window with the young attendant Bess.

  “’Tis time you explained this, madam,” he said to Helena as soon as the attendant left the room.

  “What is this all about?” Portia asked him, trying to go to her mother. “She cannot see to read it.”

  Pierce held her back. “Would you care to try, madam?”

  “Of course,” Helena replied.

  “Really, Pierce.”

  “Do not fret so, daughter,” Helena said. “Let me see.”

  Getting up and going to the window, she stood in the bright sunlight and held the paper close to her face. Portia watched in amazement as her mother slowly worked her way through the words on the sheet, and then sat down again on the settee with the prettiest of smiles on her face. When she looked up at Portia, she had tears in her eyes.

  “What is in that letter?” Portia asked, now completely confused. She looked from her mother to Pierce. “Who is it from?”

  Pierce would not answer, continuing to keep his gaze on the older woman.

  Helena stretched a hand toward her, and she took it, sitting down beside her. Her mother laid the letter on her lap and took Portia’s cheeks with both hands. “He is coming. He will arrive next week. He wants to meet you.”

  “Who?” Portia asked.

  “My prince, of course. Charles Edward Stewart. The true King of Scotland and England. Your father.”

  *****

  Lieutenant Huske, a company of twenty-five foot soldiers, and four wagons to carry the men and supplies were all that Colonel Kilmaine grudgingly spared to help Turner on his mission at Baronsford. The colonel’s instructions were precise. Huske was in charge of the mission. Turner was only to accompany them as an advisor. It would take several days to prepare to leave, but the company would still be in Scotland before the date the “supposed” Stewart royal was scheduled to arrive. Kilmaine made it clear that he only was making his men available as a gesture to honor Turner’s father, not because he was convinced of any Jacobite plots.

  Turner accepted with as much decorum as he could muster. He knew he had no time to go anywhere else for troops. These would have to do. In any event, if things went as planned, the final triumph would be his. He would take Helena and Portia, and he would make sure everyone in England knew that he alone was responsible for the capture of the Young Pretender.

  “The colonel di
scussed the appropriate strategy for this mission,” Huske told Turner as they set up camp alongside the Tweed two days later. They were only a three hour march from Baronsford. “We shall time our arrival at Baronsford for the late afternoon, though I shall have a scout there at dawn. If we go too early, he may see us and our efforts will be in vain anyway.”

  A mist, thick and ghostly, was rising from the river, and Turner found himself hoping for foul weather—the better for surprising the traitors.

  “I must repeat to you that when we arrive, I am in charge. I shall do all the talking that needs to be done and give all orders. Colonel Kilmaine’s instructions were clear that we are to treat the Earl of Aytoun and his family with the utmost respect. We have no indication that they are in any way cognizant of any visits. They may not even be in residence at this time. And you will keep in mind, Captain, we are here only for your Bonnie Prince and no one else.”

  Turner nodded curtly and moved off toward the river. He could hear the sarcasm in the pup’s voice. Still, he was not about to rebuke Huske for his insolence now. There would be time enough for that later.

  Right now, Turner only wanted to focus on tomorrow. No matter what, he had every attention of taking Helena and Portia into his custody. And he knew in the excitement surrounding the capture of the exiled Pretender, he could do whatever he wished.

  ****

  She tried, but it was just not the same. Oddly, Portia found she could feel none of the excitement that had taken hold of her upon the discovery of her mother.

  She was not naïve enough to think of this as a family reunion. After his defeat at Culloden, the Stewart prince had gone off to France and Italy to live his life in exile. Charles Edward had shown genius as a financier and a campaigner, and many in Scotland and England still held out hope that he would someday return and replace the unpopular Hanover now occupying the throne. After the death of his father, “the Old Pretender,” Bonnie Prince Charlie had proclaimed himself king, but he was still only the “King over the Waters” to his most fervent supporters.

  As she thought about the reason for his coming, Portia came to the conclusion that this visit must be politically—or financially—motivated. The Earl of Aytoun, in addition to being rich, was well respected by many Scottish leaders. She doubted that her father would make such a dangerous journey just to see her. He was just using her presence there as a way of cultivating the support of another wealthy Scottish family. What surprised her to no end, however, was Lady Primrose’s connection with the Stewart prince.

  When the day finally arrived, though, Portia realized that all her worries centered on Helena. Charles, past fifty now, had this past March married the nineteen-year-old Princess Louise Emmanuelle Maximilienne de Stolberg-Guedern, a young woman of German extraction with Scottish blood through the Bruces of Elgin. Apparently, everyone in Scotland knew of the marriage, but Millicent was gentle in breaking the news to Portia.

  Portia didn’t think her mother was aware of this marriage, either. In fact, she found herself wondering if the letter Helena had sent to Lady Primrose had been for the purpose of arranging to see the man she’d loved her entire life just one more time.

  Lady Primrose arrived in a coach mid-morning, and after a warm reunion with Portia, told her that Louise was not traveling with Charles, but was waiting for him in France before they returned to Italy.

  “I do not wish to see him,” Helena announced when Portia came to get her.

  “But Mother, Lady Primrose is already here. Everyone is expecting him, He could arrive at any moment.”

  Helena smiled and shook her head. “I should be delighted to meet with Lady Primrose in private, later, as I owe a great debt to that kind lady for what she has done for you. But…as to seeing Charles…that is out of the question.”

  Portia sat down next to her. “But you are still in love with him.”

  “I am in love with the dashing prince I have kept in my mind and in my heart. I am in love with the man he once was. I always will be. But I want nothing to alter those memories for me.” Helena held on to Portia’s hands. “I know about his life, my love. I understand his need to marry and produce a male heir that can carry on his dreams. At the same time, I have my own dreams. I have you and Pierce and the beautiful life you two will build together.”

  “But you asked him to come.”

  Helena shook her head again. “In the letter I sent to Lady Primrose, I said ‘twas time for him to acknowledge you as his daughter. I knew then that it would be important for you to know how noble is the blood in your veins.”

  “But now I realize how unimportant that is. The fact that he is my true father does not mean to me what you think it does. You are the one that I have come to love and respect as my parent.”

  “And I love you, too.” Helena kissed Portia’s cheek. “I have everything I could ever ask for. Now go, give your father a chance to claim the greatest treasure he will ever know.”

  ****

  There were enough physical resemblances between them to make it obvious they were kin. As they stood in the Grand Salon, what Pierce found most charming, though, was that Portia’s ways of expressing herself, the regal way she introduced herself, and even her hand gestures resembled her father’s. And then, of course, there was the matter of her willfulness and her reckless passion. She was certainly the daughter of Bonnie Prince Charlie, Pierce thought, and it was clear she captured the fancy of the exiled king.

  And as he had anticipated, Charles Edward was as interested in him as he was with Portia. When the two of them told him of their engagement, the news was greeted with immediate approval.

  The visitor wanted to talk politics, though, and the discussion soon turned to the colonies. Not surprisingly, Charles Edward truly enjoyed the trouble the American colonists were making for “that fat Hanover farmer.” He wanted to know what he could do to support such rebellious behavior.

  As Pierce answered his questions, he glanced at Portia, concerned that this might not be what she had expected this day to be. Her expression told him, though, that she was content. He even wondered if she weren’t a little restless to be rid of their guest.

  When she looked into his eyes, he suddenly realized that the Charles Edward had not inquired at all about Helena. For that reason alone, Pierce knew beyond a doubt, the Bonnie Prince would never be more to his daughter than a guest.

  CHAPTER 27

  There was no entourage the courtyard of the monstrous castle. No guards in place. No carriages at all in evidence. Turner was not discouraged, though. He doubted Charles Edward would do anything so stupid as to draw attention to his presence.

  The sky was steel gray, and though there had been no rain all day, the mists were already beginning to rise from the lowlands and the river. The scout sent ahead informed them that there was no sign of any visitors yet.

  “Do not forget our orders, Captain,” Lieutenant Huske reiterated as the two men dismounted from their horses. The rest of the men formed a line in the courtyard, awaiting further instructions. “I will do any speaking that needs to be done.”

  Turner was becoming extremely tired of the junior officer’s impertinence, but they were so close to their quarry now that, for one last time, he let the comment pass.

  As they approached the impressive main entrance, the door opened and a short, wiry man stepped past a doorman and introduced himself without any hint of hospitality as steward.

  “We are here to see the Earl of Aytoun on Crown business,” the lieutenant announced. “Will you take us to him?”

  “Very sorry, sir, but his lordship is not at home at the moment.”

  Turner stifled an urge to order the soldiers to fan out around the castle to make certain no one fled. Huske, sensing his impatience, shot him a warning look.

  “I understand that the Lord Aytoun’s brother is here. We would like to see him, then.”

  “Mr. Pennington is with his lordship, sir. If you wish to speak to anyone, I can see if Lady Ayt
oun is available.”

  “Very well.” Huske called two of his men to accompany them into the castle and started in behind the steward.

  Turner hung back, thinking he take the opportunity to issue some brief orders to the soldiers remaining outside. He knew Pennington and wanted them to be alert to any trickery.

  “This way, Captain Turner,” Huske snapped.

  Ignoring the curious glances of the servants and the steward, Turner entered. It was truly a fine house, obviously well-kept and modern in every convenience. As they were led in, however, Turner refused to be impressed by the lavish furnishings as the lieutenant clearly was.

  They were here. He knew it. All of them. Bonnie Prince Charlie, Portia, Helena.

  He walked impatiently to a window looking out over the Tweed and pushed it open wide. They were being played for fools at this very moment. While they were waiting on this Lady Aytoun, Pennington and his brother were no doubt spiriting the traitors to safety. He scanned the gardens and the fields beyond.

  “How can I help you, gentlemen?”

  Turner turned and was somewhat taken aback by the pleasant face of a pregnant woman who entered, the steward in tow. Huske, suddenly apologetic and humble, quickly introduced himf and Turner.

  “Mr. Campbell here says that you are looking for my husband. I am afraid he and his brother have been out visiting the farms for most of the day, and I don’t know when exactly they shall return. You are welcome to stay, however, and wait for them.”

  “Actually, milady,” Huske replied politely. “You might be able to assist us. We have been sent here to investigate a rumor that you are to entertain a certain…well, high-ranking Jacobite here at Baronsford today.”

  “A high-ranking Jacobite?” she repeated with a smile. “I am very sorry Lieutenant Huske, but in Oxford, where I was raised, we entertain in a very different manner than what you see here. Does it look to you as if we are entertaining today?”