by Karen Ranney
What a pity that Harrison hadn’t fitted into his role of father.
For over a year, Jennifer had thought that Lauren was a sweet, biddable young thing, so in love with Harrison that she would forgive any of his sins. She’d also anticipated that the journey to Edinburgh would be spent with Lauren in tears, inconsolable at her father’s actions.
Instead, the woman in the carriage was steely eyed and seemingly unperturbed about the fact that her husband had already returned to London.
Mr. Campbell, however, was doing his utmost to comfort his daughter. More than once Jennifer saw him patting Lauren’s arm or hand. He’d only spoken about Harrison in passing, and that comment elicited a surprising response from Lauren.
“I’m so sorry, my dear,” Mr. Campbell said.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Papa. It isn’t your fault that my husband is devoid of character.”
Jennifer hadn’t said a word. In all honesty, there was nothing she could say to counter Lauren’s assessment of her husband. If he’d showed any interest whatsoever in his daughter or demonstrated a little kindness toward Lauren, it might be a different situation.
She was simply grateful that she had somewhere to go and someone to be with. Everything about her life had been turned on its head. Perhaps that’s why she needed Ellen. She wanted to be around someone familiar, someone who had known her since she was a child. Someone to whom she could say, “Do you remember . . .” and have that person match her memories. She had no doubt of Ellen’s affection for her, and maybe she needed that right now as well.
The journey to Edinburgh was interminable, giving her too much time to think. Her mind danced through the years. She was a child, racing through Adaire Hall, chasing Gordon in a forbidden game of tag. Or hiding from him, only to dart out and startle him, then burst into laughter at his expression.
Her childhood had been, for the most part, punctuated by laughter. There were times when she was sad, of course, when thinking of her father or even her mother’s injuries. Yet children never stayed somber for long. There was always too much to see, do, and learn.
She and Gordon explored the hills beyond Adaire Hall. They’d made their own path through the woods. They fished in the loch and chased the sheep in the glen, earning a lecture from both the shepherd and her mother.
They’d had a bond, a closeness ever since she was a child. She had known that she could always go to Gordon if Harrison was being cruel. If she’d seen something funny or read something she wanted to share, Gordon was the first person she thought of.
She would need to alter her thoughts, expunge her memories, learn to think of him as someone else. Not the man she loved. Nor even her brother. It would be easier to not think of him at all.
How did she do that?
For the first time in her life she’d walked away from all her responsibilities. Let the housekeeper and the majordomo write Harrison and ask about the numerous and never-ending daily issues. What kind of punishment would be apt for the third-floor maid who had absconded with another maid’s brooch? What were they to do with a fourteen-year-old horse that had gone lame? The roof in one area desperately needed repair. Should they send to Inverness for the materials to do the work?
Let Harrison answer those questions. Let him—for once—assume some responsibility. Until such time, of course, as Gordon proved himself to be the true Earl of Burfield.
Thankfully, the other occupants of the coach did not seem inclined to talk. Mr. Campbell was making notations in a small notebook. His two secretaries had been sent back to Edinburgh the day after their arrival, but he seemed to have taken up the slack in note-taking. For a number of hours, Lauren had her eyes closed and either feigned sleep or dozed. Whenever baby Mary fussed, however, she took the infant from the nursemaid and calmed her with just a touch.
Seeing them made her heart ache. Unless Harrison drastically altered his character, Lauren was destined to be without a husband and Mary without a father.
Her eyes met Mr. Campbell’s once, and she knew that he had the same thought. She wanted to apologize for Harrison, but there was nothing she could say to make the situation better than it was. If she could have changed Harrison’s behavior, she would have done so years ago, before he began to waste so much money on his London pursuits.
Finally, she began to recognize landmarks that indicated they were nearing Edinburgh. Ellen’s home, which had been owned by Colin’s family since the seventeenth century, was located about two miles from the center of the city. The lands on which it stood had been granted to the monks of Holyrood Abbey in the fifteenth century. The first time she’d visited Ellen and her new husband, Colin had given her a tour of the expansive property.
The original house, an L-shaped structure, dated from the late seventeenth century. However, because of extensive renovations and additions, none of the earlier house was visible on the exterior.
One of Colin’s ancestors had surrounded the house with an expansive brick wall complete with towers. To enter, visitors had to come in through an impressive iron gate that was kept closed most of the time and opened by a man whose only duty was to maintain security for the family.
Colin had added his own touches to the property, which included a conservatory in the rear of the house and modernizing the interior with bathrooms and a cistern on the roof. In addition, Colin had added a series of ponds throughout the grounds.
“I’ve never seen a man so entranced with fish,” Ellen told her on one visit. “We have a different variety of fish in each pond, and the silly man goes to check on each one of them every morning. He’s even named some of them.”
Although there had been exasperation in Ellen’s tone, her eyes told a different story. It was easy to see that she adored her husband and that Colin felt the same about her.
Evidently, Mr. Campbell was well-known to the man at the gate, because they were waved through to the courtyard without any delay. As soon as they approached the wide steps, the double doors at the top opened, and Ellen emerged.
As they pulled up and stopped, Mr. Campbell looked at Jennifer.
“I understand why you would wish to stay with your godmother, Lady Jennifer. However, I hope that you will find time to call on us before returning to Adaire Hall.”
She forced a smile to her face. All she truly wanted to do was enter Ellen’s house, close the door behind her, and forget about the rest of the world.
Yet because of his kindness, she only said, “That would be nice.”
She glanced at Lauren. Even though Mary had an idiot for a father, she was blessed by having a devoted mother.
Although Ellen invited the occupants of the carriage to come inside, rest, and have some refreshments, they declined.
“Thank you for your kind invitation,” Mr. Campbell said. “However, I think that my daughter would benefit by shortly being in her bed.”
He was probably right. Lauren did look a little pale. It was unusual for a new mother to embark on a long carriage ride only weeks following a birth. Evidently, Lauren had been so desperate to leave Adaire Hall that she was willing to put up with a little misery.
Jennifer kissed Lauren on the cheek, promised to call on her shortly, and thanked Mr. Campbell for his kindness before exiting the carriage. It was only due to him that she was here at all. Mr. Campbell’s driver surrendered her valises to Ellen’s footman.
She and Ellen waved goodbye until the carriage made it through the gates.
“I’m thinking that Lauren isn’t the only young woman who needs to seek her bed,” Ellen said, turning to her. “You, my dear, are looking exceedingly pale. Are you feeling all right?”
She was enfolded in a perfumed hug and suddenly wanted to cry. Ellen had always been a source of comfort to her, especially after her mother died.
Ellen pulled back and looked at Jennifer. “Are you certain you’re feeling well?”
Jennifer nodded, forcing a smile to her face. She could feel her defenses falling too quickly
to prepare herself. If Ellen said anything else, she might burst into tears.
In moments she was whisked inside the house, her cloak removed, and she was led into one of the oddest rooms in Ellen’s home. Ellen called it Colin’s Aerie. In addition to being fascinated with fish, Colin had also been interested in birds. There were a great many stuffed specimens in the sitting room, and they never failed to disconcert Jennifer. Each one of the birds had been encased in a glass dome, but that didn’t lessen the effect of a dozen pairs of beady eyes staring at her as she sat on one of the sofas.
“If you are ill, my dear girl, I shall summon my physician immediately.”
“I’m not ill, Ellen, truthfully. I’m just tired.”
She didn’t think Ellen believed her, but her godmother didn’t question her further. Ellen did, however, insist that Jennifer have a restorative cup of tea. The maid also brought in a tray filled with delicacies. Ellen’s cook made exquisite pastries, and it was a miracle she didn’t gain several pounds whenever she came to stay with her godmother.
Although she wasn’t hungry, she made a point of taking a small cake. Either that or have Ellen watch her with eyes just as sharp as one of the specimens on the shelves around them.
“Will you tell me what’s bothering you?”
She wasn’t the least surprised that Ellen knew something was wrong. The older woman had a sixth sense where she was concerned.
“There won’t be a wedding, Ellen. That’s all I’ll say.”
“Not a wedding? Why?”
She simply looked at Ellen. She had no intention of discussing the matter any further.
“Not right now,” she said. “Please.”
Thankfully, Ellen only nodded, but there was a look in her eyes that said Jennifer had only been given a reprieve. Ellen would have the full story.
Jennifer couldn’t give it to her. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to speak the words.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Gordon waited a week before visiting his solicitor. He knew why he delayed: the moment he went to see Blackthorne, he’d make it real. Sean’s words would no longer simply be a deathbed confession, they would become a legal matter.
He expected his solicitor to listen patiently, but tell him that, since he had no documented proof or witnesses, the tale of switching infants would be just a story.
Thomas Blackthorne, a man with whom he’d done business for four years, surprised him by nodding sagely when Gordon was finished.
“It’s not the first time a title has been in dispute,” Blackthorne said. “You’d be surprised how many there are about. Yours is simply one of many.”
“So, you think I have a claim?”
“Most assuredly you have a claim. However, that’s not the issue. It’s a Scottish title and therefore would be adjudicated in Scotland.”
“Which means?” Gordon asked.
“You need to go to Edinburgh to do it. I know a number of advocates in Scotland and would be pleased to provide you with some recommendations if you wish.”
Armed with a list of three Scottish solicitors, he left Blackthorne’s office and headed back to the Mayfair Club.
He didn’t look forward to telling Maggie that he was leaving for Scotland again, especially since he wasn’t going to divulge the reason why. She didn’t need to know everything about his life, although she’d dispute that.
There was every possibility that he wouldn’t succeed. He wasn’t foolish enough to think that justice prevailed in every situation. He didn’t have any corroborating proof. Margaret McBride was not going to say anything. There weren’t any other people at Adaire Hall who’d been there at the time of the fire. Or, if they had, no one had seen both infants.
All he had were the words of a man who wanted to clear his conscience.
He was going to leave in a few days. Time enough to take care of any lingering business matters and attempt to calm Maggie’s ruffled feathers.
Days passed. Days during which Jennifer tried not to think or feel. She woke in the morning and got through the day, then finally retired to her suite to sleep.
Ellen spoke to her, tried to engage her in conversation, but she had nothing to say. Nor did she care anything about fashion, flowers, politics, the weather, or Adaire Hall. She couldn’t even feign an interest in discussing Harrison, Lauren, or baby Mary.
What she truly wanted was to be left alone and allowed to sit in the grayness of the world around her. She didn’t want to hear laughter or conversation or even the wind. Everything felt like an intrusion.
She was inside somewhere, down deep, buried where no one else could find her. She knew, in an odd way, that she was protecting herself. That if she didn’t feel or didn’t think or didn’t remember anything that she might survive this.
Or she might not.
Even if she could turn back time and change Betty’s actions, it wouldn’t give Gordon back to her. She would be raised with him as his sister. She wouldn’t have fallen in love with him. He was forever gone. He was no longer hers. Whatever they felt for each other would be labeled wrong and a sin against God.
The most terrible part was that she knew that, but how did she convince her heart?
She couldn’t forget the look on Gordon’s face when he’d told her what Sean had said. He’d had a few days to absorb the words. Yet the stunned expression in his eyes revealed that he felt the same about the news as she did.
They’d been sweethearts. She loved him like a woman loves a man, not a brother. Would she have to do penance for that love or did ignorance mitigate her actions? She would not confess her sin to a minister for fear that he would pronounce some horrible verdict on her immortal soul.
How did she do this? The endless stream of days stretched out before her, none of them holding any significance or joy. Somehow, she was going to have to find meaning in something. How, though? How was she supposed to forget Gordon? Was there a tonic she could take to induce a loss of memory?
It was easier to sleep than to endure each day.
Ellen didn’t know what was wrong with Jennifer, but something obviously was. First of all, she’d never left Adaire Hall for an extended visit without some coaxing on Ellen’s part. Secondly, Jennifer was not the kind of woman who sat in a window seat and stared out at the world. No, she was the type of person other people watched.
Something had happened. Something drastic enough to have canceled the wedding and altered Jennifer’s demeanor. She accompanied Ellen shopping, but she wasn’t interested in purchasing anything. She didn’t seem involved in their conversations. She rarely smiled. She was sleeping late and retiring early.
The past week had been a guessing game, and so far, Ellen hadn’t come up with any answers. Harrison had returned to London, which wasn’t a surprise. However, his young wife had come back to Edinburgh, which was. Since she’d introduced Harrison to Lauren, she felt a sense of guilt that was difficult to banish.
Jennifer wasn’t ill, at least according to the answers she’d given Ellen. There was something weighing her down. That wasn’t difficult to figure out. However, her goddaughter wasn’t confiding in her.
The sad fact was that Ellen didn’t know how to handle this situation. She didn’t have anyone to go to for advice. This was Jennifer, after all, and she didn’t discuss Jennifer with anyone.
Something had to be done. Colin had often said that in the case of difficult situations, assume the mantle of confidence and barge on through.
The only problem was that she didn’t know what to say or do.
Although the wedding was off, Jennifer hadn’t said why. Nor had she spoken Gordon’s name once.
She had to admit that Gordon was a fascinating man. He reminded her of Colin, and it wasn’t difficult to see why. Colin, too, had come from humble beginnings, but he’d prospered in his life, accomplishing more than most men she knew. Gordon struck her as having the same kind of determination and drive.
Mary had often spoken of the gardener’
s son in admiring tones. As far as Ellen was concerned, Gordon had impressed her because of his care and concern for Jennifer. She was more than willing to overlook his antecedents because Jennifer loved him.
However, something drastic had happened and Jennifer hadn’t explained. Why was the wedding canceled?
Hamish Campbell had invited them to a luncheon. She would like to see Hamish again, renew their acquaintance, and see the baby as well. Mary would be so pleased to know that she had a granddaughter.
When Harrison had been smart enough to offer for Lauren, Ellen had been overjoyed. She’d given up thinking that he was going to do something right. However, he’d managed to be married only a year and the young couple was already having problems. She didn’t doubt that Harrison’s living in London was the reason.
The distraction of a visit to the Campbells would do Jennifer good. If nothing else, perhaps she would confide in Lauren. When she informed Jennifer of the invitation and the fact that she was going to accept it, her goddaughter didn’t say a word to her. She didn’t even nod. All she did was smile wanly in her direction.
Ellen hated feeling inept. Nor was she happy about being unable to help Jennifer. She loved that girl more than anyone else on earth. Sometimes, she thought that Colin had been jealous of her affection for Jennifer. More than once he’d made the comment that she should’ve had her own children. She wished she could have had his child, but regrets were foolish, a lesson she’d learned long ago.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Gordon had always been proud to be a Scot. In fact, he even accentuated his brogue in conversations with obstreperous Englishmen. Yet he felt a curious reluctance to cross the border into Scotland.
He was too close to Jennifer.
He still hadn’t called in Harrison’s markers, but the moment he did, he would essentially destroy Adaire Hall. The estate might be entailed, but if there wasn’t any money to operate and maintain it, it would only be a matter of time until the servants were disbanded, the house emptied of its treasures, and it became a home for ghosts.
