“Do yer part, Mistress McKie,” Duncan chided, motioning the silent Leana to join them and handing her a sharpened dirk. “If Jamie's done right by ye, cut him free.”
Leana took the dirk in one hand and the cord tighdy wrapped around his shoulder in the other, keeping her pale gaze fixed on his.
Please, Leana. His eyes pleaded with her. Cut me free.
Sixty-Two
A maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
Daughter, a word, if you please.”
Lachlan was waiting for Leana inside the front door. Without preamble he steered her through the house and into the spence, latching the door behind them. “I have met with the kirk session and explained the situation to them.”
Her cheeks, flushed from Jamie's creelin, suddenly cooled. “The… situation?”
“Aye.” He regarded her evenly. “I told them you convinced Jamie to marry you instead of your sister, knowing there would not be sufficient time to change the kirk records before the vows were read.”
“But, Father, I—”
“I also told them God had revealed his will on the matter, demonstrated by the ill weather and Roses providential delay.”
“Do you really think—”
“Finally I assured them the marriage was swiftly consummated and legally binding.”
“Then, I'm…” Her mouth dropped open in astonishment. Her father had managed the impossible. “I truly am married to Jamie?” Dazed, she pulled off her cape, longing to run up the stair and hang it on a hook in Jamie's room, claiming a small corner of his world. “You are sure, Father, that Jamie and I are bound by God's law and man's as well?”
“Sit down, lass, for you look about to faint.” He gestured toward a chair, then folded his arms across his chest. “Almighty God sees that you are married for the moment, Leana; that much is true. As to man's opinion, Jamie requested before he left for Dumfries that you be moved as far away from his bedroom as possible. He is my nephew, my guest, and my son-in-law. I could hardly refuse him. It seems he has a healthy fear of you, Leana. Is it any wonder?”
“But in Dumfries—”
“Och! You know as well as I do that those seven days were his punishment for not recognizing you in his bed. One week of forced husbandry, no better than a tup put to the ewes.” Her father eyed her, curiosity in his gaze. “Was it a…fruitful week?”
She lifted her chin, unwilling to give him any hint. “I wont know for a litde while.”
“See that you dont keep the news to yourself. Whatever the outcome, others’ lives will be greatly affected.”
“I know, Father.” She took a deep breath, fearing what his next answer might be. “Will I be permitted to attend kirk on the Sabbath?”
“Permitted?” He snorted. “Your presence will be required at both morning and afternoon services and a weekday sermon as well.”
The shadow of the repentance stool fell across her heart. “And will I be publicly—”
“Nae. Nothing so harsh as that. The kirk session was willing to overlook the irregularities, but not without some…ah, consequences. I assured the session that I would see that you and Jamie are disciplined here at home, as is my rightful duty.”
“Disciplined?” Her breath caught for a brief chilling moment. Discipline could mean anything, from hours spent reciting the Shorter Catechism to scrubbing out the scullery. She prayed her father would be merciful, even as she asked, “For how long?”
He shrugged. “For as long as it takes for you both to be sorry.”
“Sorry?” Leana clasped her hands, anxiety creeping along her limbs. “I could not be sorrier than I already am.” She could not speak for Jamie, but she was certain of her own remorse.
He poked his forefinger at the cover of the Buik. “God Almighty is the only one who knows the heart, wicked as it is. He alone will say when you two are sorry enough.”
Without thinking, she cried out, “Are you not sorry too, Father? For sending me to Jamie's room on his wedding night?”
His brow knit together in a dark line, like storm clouds moving in from the west. Thunder rumbled through his voice. “I did not send you, Leana. You walked into that room of your own accord.”
Beneath her skirts, her knees began to shake. She'd accused him, however foolishly, and he would demand that she prove herself or beg his forgiveness. “Father, you clearly said, ‘Do what you must.’ You sent me. You said, ‘It is Jamie, or it is no one,’ remember?” She bit her tongue to keep from adding an old proverb of Neda's: Liars should have guid memories.
“Aye, I said those words. But you alone decided what ‘must’ be done.”
She pressed her hands to her knees, willing them to be still. “Father, you gave me litde choice. You wanted me in Jamie's bed, I know not why.”
He regarded her for a moment, as though weighing his words. When he spoke, his voice was cold and his words more so. “I will not lie to you, Daughter. I wanted you to marry Jamie. Don't pretend you did not want that as well.” She hung her head, stung by the truth, and he continued. “I wanted you off my hands and firmly placed in his so there would be no question of which woman he'd married, come morning. And I wanted some means of tying your cousin to Auchengray for another term of labor, for the lad is verra skilled, and his willingness to work without being paid in silver is…ah, difficult to resist.”
With Lachlan McBride, it always came down to what a thing cost.
Oh, Rose. You were right.
“But what of Jamie?” Leana's voice grew as thin as the wool on her great wheel, pulled taut by pain. “Have you not considered what he might want?”
Lachlan's shoulders did not shrug, but his words did. “What Jamie McKie wants is to marry your sister. Perhaps he might still get his wish. Unless you carry his child, which means Auchengray will be his someday.” He spread his hands out, as though the matter were finished. “The lad has no cause to complain.”
No cause to compUin. Leana felt suddenly ill. “Where am I to sleep, then, if not with Jamie?” After Dumfries, might he be willing to change his mind? She would know soon enough. “Shall I sleep in my own bed with Rose?”
Lachlan scratched the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze. “Nae, Rose has declared you unfit company. Anger's a thirsty passion, they say. I fear you 11 be a long time regaining your sisters trust.” He gestured toward the door. “Willie's in the hall, waiting. He will show you to your new quarters.”
Quarters?
Eyes full of apology, Willie walked her up one staircase, then another, to a storage room under one of the third-floor eaves. The narrow space had been fitted with a low dresser and a hurlie bed, which trundled about on wheels, more suitable for a child than a grown woman. Willie explained, with much blushing and stammering, that her own bedroom—hers since she'd moved from the nursery fifteen years ago—now belonged to Rose.
“I'm sorry, lass.” Willie spread out his hands, the picture of helplessness. “When I moved yer things up here, yer sisters words to me were…well, I canna bear to repeat what she called you.”
She swallowed, tasting the cruel word in her mouth. “I think I know.”
Numb with shock, Leana sent Willie on his way, then unpacked her bag from Dumfries, moving with wooden gestures like a puppet on a string. She washed her face and hands in a plain porcelain bowl that sat in the dormer, glancing out the small window, its cracked panes stuffed with rags. With some difficulty she brushed her hair and pinned it up without a mirror to guide her, certain she looked exacdy as she felt: ugly and unkempt, no longer wanted by the people she knew and loved. And trusted.
Help me, Neda.
Neda would not put her aside, declaring her—how had Rose put it?—unfit company. Neda understood what it meant to forgive someone. But when Leana hastened down the stair to find the housekeeper, the dinner bell was already ringing, and Neda had her hands full in the kitchen. The housekeeper only had time for a compassionate ga
ze in her direction before turning to attend to the meal. With a weary sigh, Leana let the kitchen door swing shut. She would seek out the older woman later for comfort and wise counsel.
Leana turned toward the dining room, her spirits lifted by the aroma of haddock in brown sauce, only to discover her place at the table had been moved. Jamie and Rose sat side by side, while she sat alone, some distance from them. Conversation would be difficult, by intent.
She took her place without a word, waiting for someone to notice her, beseeching each of them with a lengthy gaze, praying someone might simply look at her. Welcome her. Acknowledge her.
Please. Please see me.
None of them turned a head in her direction.
After Lachlan's solemn prayer, Leana poked at the haddock with her fork, unable to find the appetite for a single bite. Even the apples picked by her own hand and sliced into one of Nedas tasty pies did not tempt her at meals end. The others ate quiedy as well. Perhaps they stole glances at her, just as she did when their heads were bowed over their plates. The wedding was not mentioned, nor was Dumfries, nor the kirk session. It was as though none of it had ever taken place.
No longer content to keep secrets, Auchengray was now steeped in lies.
A rhyme from her childhood rang through her head like a clanging gong.
Liar, liar lickspit,
In behind the candlestick!
What's guid for liars?
Brimstone and fires.
The family Buik, waiting in the wooden box by the hearth, cried out for a hand of mercy to fall upon its pages. Was there one to be found at Auchengray? Leana rose from her chair, unsteady on her feet. “Please…excuse me, Father.” She bolted for the kitchen, not waiting for his permission, not watching to see how the others might respond.
Neda.
The housekeeper waited for her inside die stillroom, as diough she knew Leana would come running, just as she had as a child. “Come, lass.” Neda gathered her up in her arms, sticky from cooking, fragrant with herbs, a proper homecoming. Leana sank into Nedas warm embrace and breathed a grateful prayer as the housekeeper brushed her hair back from her brow. Tears sprang to her eyes from the gendeness of Nedas touch.
“What am I to do, Neda?” Leana leaned back and sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve, not caring. “Rose has banished me to the third floor.”
“For a wee while perhaps.” Neda produced a cotton handkerchief from her hanging pocket and tucked it into Leana's hand. “Rose will weary of havin to tramp up tae the third floor every time she's needin yer advice.”
Leana shook her head, dabbing at her tears. “My sister wont come to me for the time of day, let alone advice about Jamie or marriage or anything that matters.” She paused to eye Neda more closely. “Were you able to…comfort her while we were in Dumfries?”
Nedas thin lips disappeared into a firm line. “Nae,” she said at last with a weary sigh, “she was too hurt and too angry tae listen. Blamed herself, she did, for not tellin Jamie how she felt afore she left for Twyneholm.”
“Rose said that?” Leana gasped in dismay. “She's the innocent party in all of this.”
“Och! No one is innocent, Leana. The Buik tells us that.” Neda moved to the cabinet in the stillroom and began straightening botdes. The woman never sat still except in kirk. “Yer sister said mony an unkind word about ye these last seven days. Yer new bedroom was the least of her curses. She's not without her own sins tae repent of, lass.”
Leana absendy plucked a stem of dried lavender hanging over her head and pinched off the flowers with her thumbnail, dropping them into her waiting palm. “Did you know of all this when we dined in Dumfries on the Sabbath?”
“Aye.” Neda ducked her head, trying to hide the color in her cheeks. “But Duncan and I were not aboot tae spoil yer time with Jamie, not for anythin. Mr. McBride was waiting for us when we returned though. Standin in the stables. Chastised us for visitin ye, he did.”
When Leana tried to apologize, Neda hushed her with a shake of her copper head. “Hoot! We were pleased to come.” She patted her arm, her freckled features brimming with sympathy. “Ye must understand, yer faither does not know the word forgiveness. He insists ye both pay for yer sins.”
“How much?” Leana sank onto a stool. “How much must we pay?”
Neda closed the cabinet door with a muted bang. “Yer father sets the price, I'm afraid.”
Exhausted, Leana leaned her head against the damp stone wall behind her. “I thought God set the price long ago. You taught me that, didn't you? That the price was the spilling of innocent blood.” Hot tears, held at bay through dinner, pooled in her eyes. “I've already spilled mine…on Jamie's bed.” Leana pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from sobbing, but it was too late. Her face crumpled and her hopes with it. “I have…nothing…left. Nothing”
“Now, now.” Neda gathered the lavender from her palm and put it aside, then smoothed her hand over Leana's with tender strokes. “It was not our blood God wanted. It was his sons. No matter what yer faither may say, yer sins have already been paid for, Leana. All of them.” Neda ran a finger along Leanas chin, collecting tears. A wry smile creased her face. “D'ye remember the task I gave ye when ye went tae Dumfries?”
Leana nodded with a noisy sniff. “You told me, ‘Think on the Lord Almighty and your new husband, in that order.’ ”
“And did ye?”
Leana nodded but averted her eyes, giving her secret away.
“Ye thought more about yer new husband, didn't ye, dearie? Well, then, think of yer first love now, yer first Bridegroom. The Buik says we're tae go tae him in prayer. Tell God where it hurts, lass, and tell him what ye need. He loves ye more than Jamie ever could.”
“So you say, Neda.” Leana pressed the hem of her apron against her cheeks and stood, bound for the third floor. “So you say.”
But Jamie did not love her at all, a fact that became more evident as each dreary January day unfolded. He was polite to her, even kind, but there was no spark of love in his eyes. She wore his wedding ring, and they sat together at kirk to quell the gossips. But within the walls of Auchengray, Jamie and Rose were inseparable and Jamie's love for Rose unbearable. Leana kept her eyes down as she went about her endless tasks, feeling unwatched and invisible.
Curled up in her bed, in a lonely corner of the house that creaked in the stiff breeze and groaned from the cold, Leana warmed herself with her prayers. “Almighty God, do you see me? Do you see my emptiness?” The wind moaned but did not speak. “Fill me with his child, Lord.” She whispered into the dimly lit closet that was her refuge, her eyes on the window that looked toward the heavens. “Let a son be growing beneath my heart. Maybe then Jamie will love me.”
When her courses, dependable as the full moon, did not appear that month, Leana kept the news to herself and did not breathe a word to a soul, not even to Neda. It was too soon to be sure and too deep a secret to tell. She would wait. Aye, and she would pray.
Sixty-Three
Thorny rose! that always costeth
Beatings at the heart.
JEAN INGELOW
Rose stole a furtive glance up and down the third floor hall, then ducked into the room beneath the eaves where her sister had been exiled. She'd heard from the servants that it was a cramped and gloomy space, and they'd not exaggerated one bit. Seeing the poorly lit closet— for that was all that it was—almost made her feel sorry for Leana, until she reminded herself that it was Leana's fault and not hers. Shehaa not thrown herself at Jamie and thrown away her innocence.
Father was right to chastise Leana, hard as it was to watch. And it was very hard.
Now it was her turn, for Leana had wronged her as well. Leana, the sister who'd once loved her, cherished her, mothered her. A lump rose in her throat, but she pushed it down, refusing to let herself care too much.
It was the last day of January, the day Rose should have been celebrating one month of marriage to Jamie. Instead she had six long months of waiti
ng, six more months of wondering if Jamie would manage to stay away from her sister's bed and avoid getting her with child, an unthinkable outcome that would ruin everything. Leana never looked at Jamie, but Jamie looked at Leana when he thought Rose's thoughts were occupied elsewhere. His eyes were filled with longing. Not love, but longing. It frightened Rose to see it, to know that her sister had some claim on Jamie's affections, however base it might be.
She had to do something. She had to.
Rose tiptoed over to Leana's hurlie bed and lifted the thin mattress. From her reticule, she pulled a handful of hawthorn leaves she'd found among Leana's herbs in the stillroom, pressed flat between the pages of a physic book. They looked harmless enough, but Rose knew better. The leaves of the thorn held a special power. Placed under Leanas mattress, they would keep any man from her bed, though only one man mattered. Jamie. She spread out the leaves from one end of the bed to the other, sobered by the sight of them. Some said it was dangerous to bring hawthorn into the house.
There was more in her reticule—dried myrde leaves and willow sap in a tiny bottle—which Rose intended to put to good use as soon as she reached the kitchen. She smoothed the cover on Leanas bed, then backed out of the room, latching the door behind her with a sigh of relief. Stay away, Jamie.
She hastened down the stair, wondering if Neda was using her teapot at the moment. The kitchen was quieter than usual, which made things easier. Ah. The empty teapot was sitting on the shelf waiting for her, and a pot of water was boiling on the hearth. After pouring the hot liquid over the myrde leaves, she added a drip of the willow sap, then dropped the lid onto the pot while it steeped. Three days in a row, that's what the old wives said. Three days in a row to keep a babe from a woman's womb. From now until Candlemas, Rose would see that her sister had tea each afternoon, served by her own hand.
Thorn in My Heart Page 41
