Wedgewick Woman

by Patricia Strefling

  “I’m…I’m sorry…I did not hear you knock.” He stuttered.

  “I need not knock.”

  “You do not. I forget I’m not in England…more formal there…” James said by way of explanation that which was already known. “What is it you need from me?” he asked cordially.

  Laird Carmichael noted James’ nervousness and calmed his face, else the man would read his true thoughts.

  “I have need of the journals showing what is still owed on my wife’s invoices.” He pulled up a chair.

  After a bit of scrambling James pulled one or two papers from the ones he had just stuffed into the shelves. The Laird watched through narrow eyes keeping his face passive.

  “How do we stand?” He read the numbers on the well-kept sheets, and noted James’ trembling hand when he handed them over.

  “We have done well, Sir. Very well indeed.”

  Lord Carmichael studied them for a few extra moments, watching his accountant’s facial musings. First fear, then trembling, now anxiety. Something was amiss.

  “Have you anything to tell me James?” he asked quietly perusing the papers.

  “No sir.” James answered too quickly.

  “Then why are you jumping about like a wayward child.”

  “Oh, ‘tis my way, I say.” He said and turned away, shuffling more papers.

  “What is this amount? And whose name is this?” His voice remained deceptively normal as he pointed out a figure.

  James dropped his fistful of papers on the ground as soon as he saw the name and made great work of picking them up and rearranging.

  “Oh, just a minor fund for Helen’s sister.” He lied.

  “Helen’s sister? What has Meredith to do with anything?” His voice began to raise.

  “Tis not Meredith, but Annabel.”

  “Annabel…the young one?” he started to shout, then calmed himself.

  “Yes. The young one. She saw after Helen while she was at Dunbeernton. I…well I assumed that you, being a kind Laird, would want me to give Helen’s young sister, who is alone in the world a small stipend each month…for small needs….” His voice wavered.

  “You assumed wrongly. And you call this amount small?” he questioned.

  “But Annabel…Miss Wedgewick needs it.” he offered too quickly.

  “What for?” He shot back, trying to bring James to the truth. “She has the Mulhannon land from her inheritance has she not?”

  “I do not know Miss Annabel Wedgewick’s affairs.” He stated standing to his full height.

  The name of Wedgewick burned his ears. “Why does a Wedgewick woman need my money. That you surely must know?”

  “Uh…why gowns, of course.” He finished, trying to smile. “Women rather love their Paris creations, and we men well know it.” He tried a bit of light humor, but failed.

  “Gowns…from Paris?” The shout could be heard down the hallway, to which Ross hurried to his master’s assistance.

  “Is all well?” He bellowed from behind the heavy door.

  It took a moment for the Laird to settle. “All is well, Ross.”

  “I have given you more money for those lavish silks than any woman could want in a lifetime. Paris…indeed! Why was I not consulted? I could have had a hundred gowns sewn from that silk, which we are now indebted for…” he reminded James sternly. What need have we to supply more gowns for this…this Annabel?” He shouted again.

  James’ nervousness became more apparent. He had chosen his words badly. He wrung his hands and tried to explain.

  “Not just gowns, my lord, but living expenses…for a young girl…surely you understand…” he whispered. “She was Lady Carmichael’s assistant.”

  “Bring this woman to me at once.” He shouted once more, quit the room and was halfway down the long hall before he realized he still held the papers in his hand. He stared at the figures once more, turned abruptly and stormed back into the room. “See that you keep these at the ready. I shall need them.”

  And he’d thought by placing that kiss on her lips in full view of the people, she would disappear in shame, never to show her face in his castle again. What a fool he had been.

  He did not note that James was already shriveling up in his chair, shaking.

  “This is the end for me.” James whispered. “The end. I shall probably be hung.”

  Chapter 10

  “Ross, I am going to rest and do not wish to be disturbed.” Lee ordered.

  “As you wish.” His guard answered calmly and knew he was not to get a wink’s sleep this eve.

  “Tell Blithers to stay abed. I will not need his services.” He commanded and shut himself in his room.

  Instantly he tripped over something. “What is it?” He righted himself.

  “’Tis I, Cork.” Came the sleepy reply.

  “And what would ye be up to in my quarters.” He yelled at the top of his lungs.

  “I would be…be…”

  “Well speak out, boy.”

  “I would be watching for you.” Cork answered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

  “Have you no cot?” His voice was stern. The boy must learn that his place is among the men.

  “No sir.” But I don’t need one. I sleep fair on the ground every night, so ‘tis a good thing to have a blanket to lay upon.”

  Instantly he was sorry for his outbursts. “Take your blanket and find Blithers. Tell him to spot you a cot.”

  Cork did as he was told but before he left the Laird noticed that the boy’s stockings that had more holes than fabric. Further, he nearly tripped over his boots, newly shined and at the ready, located in their proper place at the foot of his bed.

  Tomorrow he would get Cork a change of clothes from the woolery merchant. But for now there was a difficulty to be dealt with. James.

  Lord Carmichael argued with himself. There is a time for patience and a time to let it be known we are not about waste and cheating in this clan. My father closed his eyes to it, but I will not.

  Thus promising himself he would come to the end of this tale, he laid hands on a book of poetry but found he could not read, so tossing it aside, paced to and fro. He had let Helen get to him again, he realized an hour later. Reasoning it was best to put the anger away and go to sleep, for tomorrow would bring its own troubles he fell into a fitful sleep only to be awakened by a knock some few hours later.

  “Enter.” He called out. Provoked, he brushed his thick brown hair from his face, sat up quickly and pulled a blanket around himself.

  “Tis only me, Sir.” Blithers whispered. “I am to inform you that James has lit out these eve.”

  “James?” he mumbled, pulling on trousers and a shirt, Blithers had quickly laid out. Then pulling on his boots he said aloud, “Whatever for?” and then remembered. “What a fool.” His voice was hoarse from sleep.

  “My terms exactly.” Blithers agreed.

  “Did anyone see him depart?”

  “Ross kept guard all night and did not hear him.” Blithers admitted reluctantly.

  Lord Carmichael stopped a moment and stared. “Ross did not hear?” For well he knew Ross had the ears of an elephant. He could be trusted to hear all and had been trained to see into the dark of night when needed. He was his best guard.

  Even more anxious to be about this business, he quickly opened the thick door and whispered. “Tell no one of my whereabouts except The Four.”

  “Yessir.” Blithers held the door motionless and then shut it without a sound, while he looked over his shoulder as the young man slipped down the wide stone stairs and sought out Ross.

  “I am ashamed. I should have heard.” Ross explained quickly. “When I saw the light under James’ door, long into the eve, I walked there to see to it and found him gone. He was not in his bed, so we summoned you.”

  “Think of it no more, Ross. Get several men from the stables together and go after him. James is not a horseman and will be easily found, I daresay.” He smiled.

 
“You smile in the midst of this?” Ross’ face was concerned.

  “What of it? James is a fool. He has played the fool and will now pay the price of a fool.”

  Ross tipped his hand in a salute and bowed slightly, “Aye, you have it right.” And turned to his duties.

  “Report to me. I am returning to my bed.”

  “As you wish.” He answered quietly. “We will return shortly.”

  “I have it that you will.” The Laird laughed lightly. James was about to own up to his cheatings, he mused and pulling off his boots, fell fast asleep across the bed fully dressed.

  When he awoke some hours later he jumped up and found Blithers still asleep on his cot in the adjoining room. Shaking him to wakefulness they went below stairs and found that Ross had not yet returned.

  “Fergus,” he shouted, “come with me and Cameron. Ewan you stay here and gather several of the second guard to protect the castle. It seems our James has taken off with Ross.” He laughed, but inside his thoughts were not good ones.

  Knight and the other horses were brought to the courtyard. Knight danced and pranced about eager for a run. The horses were mounted and the three went outside the gates.

  “For care.” The soldier at the gate saluted and gave the Carmichael sign, a fist over the heart.

  Laird Carmichael saluted and the three galloped roughshod over the dry, dusty roadway.

  In just under the hour they spotted Ross riding alone on his way back. Tiredly he lifted his arm and waved. “He is gone.” He stated flatly. I found his horse stabled in the village and the man said he’d been gone for, at the minimum, four hours.

  “Four hours?” Lord Carmichael was stunned. “He must have left immediately after we spoke.”

  “Well said.” Ross agreed. “I asked around but it was barely dawn. Only one man saw the mail stage come and go and that was the stage officer. He said it left at the fifth hour.”

  “Then we will find the stage. Ross head back, get sleep. Fergus, you are a man of your word. You and Ewan check the village and find out all. He’s probably headed back to London.”

  They saluted and before the words were fully out of their Laird’s mouth they were gone.

  “They are anxious to find James, I see.” Laird Carmichael commented to Ross.

  “It seems so.”

  They rode back in silence, each wondering how James had managed to escape unseen and unheard.

  When they neared the castle gate, it swung open and the banner was lifted so they could enter. “We have other work that must be attended today. The entourage is packed; cart, horse and attendants. We must prepare to send them off. The Bothwells are waiting.”

  As they entered the courtyard both noticed a disturbance.

  “What is the problem? Ross’ bellow was even louder than his own apparently in no mood to be attending to minor incidents.

  Keeping his peace, Lord Carmichael waited for them to answer his guard. He had enough to do to handle Knight…he was prancing in circles, anxious to head back to the hills.

  “She stole my wee one’s shoes.” One woman cried.

  “I did not steal them. You told me I could have them for my child and I wanted to send them to the Bothwell children, that is all.” She said quietly.

  “Have you no shoes for your child?” Lord Carmichael asked the first woman, when Ross turned to him in deference.

  “I have.” She admitted.

  “Then let the woman do as she wishes with the shoes. Now be off with you.” He warned. Both women scuttled away, but not before they exchanged glances with each other that would have been called nothing less than murderous.

  “Are women always so jealous?” Lord Carmichael mumbled, turning his horse toward the barns.

  “Mostly.” Ross’ answer surprised him.

  “And you and Bria?” He questioned mildly.

  “The same. Except my wife does not share her jealousies with me; but I see them on her face.” He admitted.

  “Will women ever be satisfied with men?” Lord Carmichael asked, knowing he was admitting his own fears. “Or must they continually be about the duty of trying to change a man’s heart and soul?”

  Ross noted the turn of topic and wondered that the young Laird had put thought to the question many times before asking it of him; so his answer was guarded.

  “I daresay it is the way of things between men and women.” Ross allowed. “Women have their own ways and best we see to understanding them…if that is possible.” He smiled, then added, “All women are not like Lady Helen.”

  “I fully intend to be a man of my own means, without a woman.”

  Ross raised his eyebrows but to his honor, said nothing. His Laird was young yet and had much to learn. But what a fast and sure way to cure a fellow of marriage with a sniveling brat like Helen, he concluded. Yet there must be an heir.

  “I have one daughter yet of three to be married off,” Ross grinned.

  “And well you would to see to that.” Lord Carmichael pulled up his horse and dismounted, ignoring his guard’s hinting words. Even his best guard was trying to throw his own daughter across his path.

  Ross shrugged. “Bria would be most happy to be rid of the last one, if I know my wife. She has long been wanting to spend more time with the weavers but finds she must care for her last child and two of the new little heirs from the other daughters.”

  “It worsens then?” Lord Carmichael looked up, hopelessness written across his face.

  “Not so.” Ross admitted, but said nothing further, knowing the young Laird must learn the way of women in his own time.

  Chapter 11

  After breakfast, the entourage had been sent off to Greenoche. The Bothwells would soon see help coming their way. Breathing a sigh of satisfaction, Lord Carmichael turned to find several of the women whispering behind their hands and staring at his backside.

  Turning his back to Blithers he wondered aloud. “Have I a tear in my breeches? The women are staring.”

  Blithers pretended to look around then peeked ever so carefully at his master’s backside.

  “Indeed, your breeches are quite soiled. Something brown.” Blithers reported.

  “Brown? What could it be? Get me a way out before I make a fool of myself.” He ordered.

  Blithers backed away and suggested he follow him, walking as it were, backwards.

  “Backwards? Won’t that be an unworthy sight? The Laird walking backwards. I am to be somewhat sophisticated am I not?” He whispered impatiently.

  Instantly a loud shout was heard and when the women turned to see the source, Lord Carmichael and Blithers ran for cover.

  “This is most unusual sir.” I laid out your outfit early this morn. It was all right, then.” He said by way of explanation, leaning closer to inspect the stain.

  “Well, see me to my room and we shall divest of these breeches and get some clean ones. Perhaps I will be able to make amends, although I doubt it will do any good. Aye, I will be the talk at the table of the peasants this eve.” He laughed.

  Blithers retrieved the discarded britches and put them to his nose.

  “Boot shine oil.” He identified it immediately.

  “Cork!”

  Cork came running from the next room at the Laird’s bellow. Lord Carmichael retrieved the pants from his valet and swinging them in the air said, “Did you use these to shine my boots?”

  “Yessir, I did.” He admitted, happy to be of assistance.

  “These were my outer clothes for the day.” He watched the young face melt into dismay.

  “Have no fear, Cork…in future ask before you use my trousers to shine my boots.”

  Cork bowed slightly, and red-faced turned.

  “’Tis not a warning, only a lesson.” He said quietly and patted the boy’s shoulder which quickly returned the look of ease the Laird was rather willing to see on the young one’s face.

  At sunset, the gates were once again opened and Fergus and Ewan returned empty-handed. “Ja
mes has walked off the world.” Ewan exclaimed. “We followed the trail, but did not catch up to the stage. He’ll be in London by now, if I have my guess; among his English friends, at the gaming tables, no doubt.” He exaggerated, stunned that they had failed.

  “’Tis not important. We are best rid of him. Mark my words, the young Miss Wedgewick will appear when she runs out of money.” He said and turned. “Come, eat. Tomorrow we must begin the task of shearing the sheep.”

  * * *

  At dawn, the Laird shut himself in James’ office and searched the desk…shelves and drawers…for anything which might be meaningful. He found the outrageous invoice that only reminded him they had a cart-load of excruciatingly expensive silk, for which payment had not yet been fully apportioned. Never again would he let a woman have her way, such as he had Helen.

  Had it not been for his own boyish foolishness he would never have been forced to wed. Throwing himself back in the large seat, he let his mind wander remembering the beginning of his demise.

  One early spring day, sunny and full of promise, he had been riding Knight around the poles and practicing battle strategies. Lee decided to play Switch with two of his young friends, which was a favorite entertainment for the crowd that had gathered. All three raced for the goal, threw their swords through the air one to another and then raced again, the first arriving declared the winner.

  That’s when it happened. He saw a fluff of silky blue fabric from the corner of his eye but paid no mind. His eyes were on the goal post. Ignoring it he made his goal only to look back waiting for the shouts of victory from the crowd to find they had all converged upon a heap of blue silk.

  “What is it?” He had asked unkindly as he rode Knight back to the gathering group.

  “You have injured my daughter.” One woman shouted at him. “She lays nearly dead.”

  “Dead?” he said stupidly.

  Indeed, once he made his way through the crowd, saw a young woman lying on the ground with closed eyes and instantly felt sick to his stomach. She had the most beautiful face he’d ever seen. Thick blond hair lay wrapped in neat coils about her head. They were examining the girl’s ankle.