Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy Two 02]

by Border Lass

  “You won’t marry him then. But take care to keep out of his way. He has only to enter a room to give me a bad feeling all over.”

  Amalie promised to be careful, and a few minutes later Sibylla left.

  Amalie went to bed but did not sleep well, waking in the small hours from another dream of the old mill and its prickling, scattered grain. As a result, she arose later than usual on Sunday, but managed to make it downstairs in time for prayers.

  It being her turn again to make Isabel’s bed, with the lady Nancy, and having a long list of other duties to perform afterward, she scarcely gave thought to Garth or anyone else until Isabel sent for her late in the afternoon.

  The princess looked somber when Amalie entered the hall, making her fear at once that she had learned of the private anteroom scene with Garth the previous day. But Isabel said only, “You have a visitor, my dear.”

  “Who, madam?”

  “Your brother Tom. He thinks it best to tell you his news privately, and I agree, so he is waiting for you in the anteroom.”

  “But I don’t want to speak with him privately,” Amalie declared. “Pray, madam, if you already know what he means to say, can you not tell me?”

  “It is his duty to tell you, but I’ll go in with you if you like,” Isabel said.

  Amalie agreed, and they went into the anteroom to find Tom pacing. He shot Isabel a questioning look but did not object to her presence.

  “What is it?” Amalie said. “Why have you come?”

  With more gentleness than she might ever have expected from him, he said, “Our father is dead, lass. He died yesterday or late Friday.”

  Chapter 14

  Amalie stared at Tom in stark disbelief. “What are you saying? How could such a thing happen? Who would kill him?”

  Tom grimaced. “No one killed him, Amalie. It was plain enough when we found him that he’d fallen from his horse and hit his head on a rock.”

  Tears welled in her eyes, and a painful knot formed in her stomach. “How can you be so sure? He was a fine horseman! And why do you say when you found him? Surely, his men—”

  “The lads at the gate said he got a message Friday afternoon and rode out fast, without his usual tail,” Tom said. “I was away, and—”

  “Doing what?” Anger stirred, and she recalled that he had acted as Simon’s toady before, and that Simon acted for Fife. And, worse, that Fife had said—

  Ruthlessly interrupting that unpleasant thought, she told herself fiercely that neither of her brothers would willingly help kill his own father.

  “Father sent me to look into reports of English raiders near Kelso, so I spent Friday night with some of our people there. When I got back, Jed Hay was on the gate and told me about the message. He said Father rode out minutes after it arrived and had not returned. W-we found him late yestereve, so I spent much of last night in the saddle, first getting him home and then riding from Elishaw to Jedburgh.”

  “But why go out without his men?” Amalie demanded. To Isabel, she said, “Father never went out without a half score of men-at-arms or more in his tail.”

  Tom shook his head. “No one knows the answer to that. Our captain of the guard asked how many he wanted to take and got his head bitten off for asking, he said. Father said nowt to anyone about the contents of his message.”

  Struggling to control intensifying grief, not wanting to give way to it, Amalie looked blindly at Tom, unable to think of anything sensible to say to him.

  Sir Iagan had been the only member of her family on whose affection she could rely, casual though it had been. Like most men, he had been reluctant to show his gentler feelings, and his temper was uncertain at best. But she loved him and had felt closer to him during their last visit than she ever had before.

  He had promised to stand up for her, and although she had doubted he could succeed against her mother’s arguments and Simon’s, he had taken her part. And now he was gone. Tears spilled unheeded down her cheeks.

  Tom said, “Princess, with respect, I would have a short time alone with her.”

  Isabel said, “Amalie?”

  Gathering her wits, brushing away tears, Amalie glowered at Tom. “No.”

  “Please, lass.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to be alone with you. Rosalie—”

  “Amalie, I swear to you”—he darted a glance at Isabel—“Rosalie has nowt to fear. I failed you, I admit that. But I’ll not fail her. I swear I won’t! And Simon dotes on her. If . . . if anything happened, he’d kill to protect her. Moreover, I . . . I just didn’t know . . .” He glanced at Isabel again. “Please, I must speak plainly with you.”

  She hesitated, but Isabel said, “You have a duty to listen, my dear. I will be on the other side of that door. If you need me, just call out. As for you, sir,” she added. “If she does call for me, you will answer for it in a way you will not like.”

  “She won’t need you, madam, and I thank you,” Tom said.

  As soon as Isabel had shut the hall door behind her, he moved toward Amalie, spreading his hands when she stepped back. “I meant what I said, lass. I did not know until Simon told me today that they mean to force you to marry Boyd because he’ll marry you despite your history.”

  “You spoke with Simon already today?”

  “Aye, of course,” he said. “It was my duty to tell him before anyone else. He is Murray of Elishaw now. I was up at first light to ride to Lauder, and we talked at length before I came here. Tomorrow, I’m off to Scott’s Hall to tell Mother and Rosalie. I’d go at once, but with all the riding I’ve done, I’m nigh spent.”

  “I won’t ride to the Hall with you.”

  “There is no need for that. Simon will collect you on his way to Elishaw for Father’s burial. You must go home for that, though.”

  “Aye, I want to go,” she agreed. “Are you truly sorry, Tom?”

  “Aye, lass, I am. I never stopped to consider that a husband could legally return you on your wedding night because of it. I did you a great disservice.”

  “Does Simon agree?”

  “We did not speak of it, because I did most of my thinking on the way here.”

  “Will you talk to him?”

  He swallowed visibly. “I doubt it would help you avoid marrying Boyd, because Fife is the one most set on that. Simon said so. I don’t think he even likes Boyd as much as he seemed to before. But he does admire Fife, and he believes strongly that it will benefit you to marry someone who enjoys Fife’s favor.”

  “Father told me Boyd expects Elishaw land as part of my dowry.”

  “Simon said they’d discussed settling some of Wauchope Forest on you, aye, that section between Carlin Tooth and Catcleuch. ’Tis a pretty property and will produce a good income as long as we remain at peace. Doubtless, that is why Boyd is so eager to wed you. Also, if trouble comes again, it puts an ally between us and the border crossing at Carter Bar, which is good for us.”

  She sighed. “I won’t marry that man, Tom, no matter what it gains us or what Simon says. Father promised to support my decision. Will you?”

  “It won’t help, lass. Simon is head of the family now. It is his support you need, not mine. I’ll speak to him if he’ll listen, but that’s all I can do.”

  With a sigh, she said, “I’m going to rejoin Isabel now. You will sleep in the north wing, because that is where male guests sleep here. Someone will show you.”

  Although he looked as if he wanted to talk more, she ignored the look and went into the hall, where Isabel met her with a searching gaze and a sympathetic smile. When Tom followed, the princess motioned to a gillie and said, “We sup in an hour, sir. Meantime, the lad will take you to your room to refresh yourself.”

  After the two had gone, Isabel said quietly, “I’m sorry about your father, my dear. You will miss him, I know.”

  “Thank you, madam. Will you excuse me for a short time? I’d like to walk before we take supper.”

  Isabel nodded,
and Amalie went outside into the walled garden.

  Garth, too, had spent a busy day. Along with his duties to the men-at-arms at Sweethope Hill, he had to prepare for his journey to Hawick to meet Archie.

  Earlier, he had seen more riders in the distance, approaching from the north. But there were five of them, too many to be Tam’s lads riding from Lauder.

  Sir Kenneth and two of their men met them and escorted their helmeted, mail-clad leader to the house. When he had gone inside, Garth returned to his duties but kept an eye on the other four as they rode into the yard.

  He was amused when young Sym Elliot ran to help with their horses.

  Sym came to him a quarter hour later and said with a frown, “That were Tom Murray wi’ them men, sir, the lady Amalie’s brother. Sithee, Tam told me I should make m’self useful whilst we’re here, and he said I should tell ye now that one o’ them said the lady Amalie’s da’s been killed.”

  “Sir Iagan Murray? Murdered?” Garth glanced toward the house.

  Sym was shaking his head. “Nay, sir, he did fall off his horse, the man said. Sithee, I met him once, Sir Iagan. Capernicious old coof, he were, too—”

  “You will keep that opinion to yourself,” Garth warned him.

  “Aye, sure,” Sym said, nodding. “Him being dead and all. I expect since he were her da’, she’ll be sorrowful. Me lady will be, too,” he added with a sigh.

  He was right, Garth knew. For all Amalie’s irritation at her father’s choice of a husband for her, his death would hit her hard. He knew as much from his own experience. To Sym, he said, “You’ll be going home soon, lad.”

  “Aye, and Tam did say we’d be riding wi’ ye to Hawick,” Sym said, looking more cheerful. “He said mayhap I’d see the Douglas there, too.”

  Tam strode up behind him, saying, “Here, what are ye plaguin’ his lord— Ai-de-mi,” he went on with a glinting look at Garth, “but ye should be findin’ work to do, lad, to help out, as I told ye.”

  “Aye, well, I were,” Sym said. “Ye also said I should come to tell ’im the lady Amalie’s da’ died. Sithee, I canna be in two places at once, can I?”

  Leaving Tam to deal with Sym, Garth returned to his own preparations, noting as he did that Boyd was talking with one of Murray’s men instead of seeing to his duties. He wished he could ask Tam to deal with Boyd, too.

  Keeping an eye on him, Garth saw him frown as he turned from Murray’s man and headed for the dormer. The path also took him toward the garden wall, and as he neared the dormer, the garden gate opened and Amalie stepped out.

  She looked Garth’s way as she pulled the gate shut. But if his presence registered with her, he could see no sign of it. He saw only sadness and perhaps a touch of emotional exhaustion.

  When Boyd turned abruptly toward her, she did not see him either.

  She continued to follow the pebbled path toward the stableyard.

  Realizing that Boyd meant to intercept her again, Garth shoved the sumpter basket he was holding into the arms of the lad helping him and strode toward them.

  Amalie’s attention remained fixed on the path, and Boyd’s was on Amalie, so neither saw him.

  Boyd reached her before Garth could stop him, but Garth had already seen that the distance was too great to do so without breaking into a run. And he could not run without calling more attention to the pair than necessary.

  Boyd spoke to her, because her head snapped up and she looked at him. But she did not react other than to nod in response to whatever he had said.

  Garth lengthened his stride, and Boyd saw him.

  With a slight bow to the lass, he walked away from her, and she stood where she had stopped until Garth reached her.

  “I heard about Sir Iagan’s death,” he said. “ ’Tis a great loss, I know.”

  “It is, aye,” she said. “I don’t know why I came out of the garden. I wanted to walk, and I do love the garden, but it seemed so empty and lonely that . . .” She shrugged, and then said abruptly, “I just came here.”

  “What did that devil Boyd say to you?”

  “Only what you said, or some such. He had heard, too.”

  “Sym said it was your brother Tom who brought the news.”

  “It was Tom,” she said. “Sir Harald just said he was sorry and walked away.”

  “It must be close to suppertime,” he said gently. “Mayhap you should return to the garden if that is where Isabel expects to find you.”

  She hesitated, and he remembered what she had said about the garden.

  “Would you like me to go with you? Or are you still vexed with me?”

  She looked bewildered, but her expression cleared quickly. “Yesterday morning seems so long ago, and ‘vexed’ is a poor description of what I felt then. But Tammy and Sym came, and now Tom, and I don’t feel like the same person I was then. I cannot think, sir, but I never thought my father would be the one to die.”

  A tingling chill stirred somewhere deep within him at those words. “Sakes, lass, you aren’t thinking that the conversation you overheard—”

  “Don’t you see? I don’t know what to think. If it was Simon with him, then it cannot have been my father they discussed.”

  “But you said you did think it was Simon,” he said.

  “Nay, only that I thought at first that it might be. I tried to explain that, but you said we’d talk of it later. The fact is that I cannot be sure. I had not heard Simon’s voice for months, and I first heard that voice through the closed door as I reached the landing. That’s when I thought it sounded like Simon, but when I got closer and listened right at the door, it could have been any man, even you.”

  “You know it was not I.”

  Amusement stirred in her eyes, and he knew that for a moment at least, he had eased her sorrow. Then she said, “I do know that much, aye. But that is all I know for certain.”

  “Could the voice have been Tom’s?”

  “Anyone’s,” she said again. “Wait, though. Tom was at Scone, but I saw him walking with his friends just moments before I went into Abbots’ House. I don’t see how he could have reached that room before I did.”

  “Not if you saw him outside,” Garth said. “I was right behind you, after all, so I’d have seen him if you had not.” It occurred to him that they were still standing in plain sight of anyone in the yard, so he said, “You should go back into the garden, lass. If you are not still furious with me, I’ll walk with you.”

  “I barely feel anything, let alone fury,” she admitted. “I expect I ought to go with Tom to the Hall tomorrow, to be with the others when they hear the awful news. But he says no, and truly . . .” She sighed.

  Urging her back toward the gate with a light hand, first on her shoulder and then her back, he said, “You need not ride so far. They will go to Elishaw as soon as they hear—your mother and the lady Rosalie, that is,” he added. Meg would not be traveling anywhere yet if Wat had anything to say about it.

  “Tom said Simon will collect me, like a bundle or such, on his way home,” she said. “I expect he’ll come tomorrow, since he did not ride with Tom. Naught will happen at Elishaw, anyway, until my mother arrives. But it is still warm, so she will not delay. In any event, I shall have time to pack things to take with me.”

  “Do you have a maidservant to go with you?” he asked, stepping ahead to push open the gate and hold it for her.

  “Nay, but Isabel will provide someone.”

  “I could arrange for some of our men to ride with you, too,” he said. “But doubtless your brother keeps some of his own men with him whilst he serves Fife.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, waiting while he shut the gate. Then she said, “But you’ll be riding to meet Douglas tomorrow, won’t you? I expect you’ll ride at least partway with Tom and his men, since you will go much the same way.”

  “I doubt we’ll leave as early as he will,” Garth said as they walked along the path toward the trellis pavilion. “He’ll want to reach your mother as
soon as he can, and I need not be in Hawick before midmorning Tuesday to meet Douglas.”

  “Might he not arrive earlier?”

  “Nay, for Tam said he’d be at least two days behind him and traveling with a large contingent of Douglas men. I doubt Fife will leave Lauder soon anyway. He will want to know all he can about the Border strongholds he means to visit before he visits them. That is his usual way, if all I’ve heard these past months is true.”

  She nodded, and he realized she did not care a whit what Fife did, or why.

  The vine-covered pavilion stood ahead of them. He would have liked to take her into it, sit her down, and let her cry herself silly if it would make her feel better. But she would not thank him for suggesting it, and he could not stay there with her for even a minute without harming her reputation if anyone saw them.

  Chances were good that someone would, too. If Boyd had seen them enter the garden together, he could come in himself at any moment. And Boyd would like nothing better, Garth was sure, than to report such misbehavior.

  Amalie looked both thoughtful and forlorn, and as the pavilion would conceal them from the house unless someone stood on the roof, the temptation to take her in his arms and hold her close to comfort her became nearly overwhelming, but he was unsure that she would welcome his comforting.

  She looked up at him and said, “We should go in, sir. Supper will be ready soon, and I must go up and wash my face before we eat.”

  He nodded and walked silently with her into the house.

  Supper, always the lesser of the two primary meals, was no grander than usual despite their guest. But afterward, Tom Murray revealed that he had brought his lute along and offered to play for the princess and her ladies.

  Lady Averil gave him a look that Garth could not decipher unless perhaps she thought it unsuitable entertainment after such news as Tom had brought Amalie.

  But Borderers rarely indulged long in bereavement, and Stewarts were even less inclined to do so. Isabel said politely that she was sure they would all enjoy the entertainment, whereupon Lady Averil held her peace.