Wedgewick Woman

by Patricia Strefling

  “I think it is none of my affair, Blithers. It is foolhardy to think that a Scottish Laird would even consider an English lady, not to mention the fact that my last name is Wedgewick…which you know he despises.”

  “Aye, tis the truth.” He shrugged. “But I cannot do anything about it. For he holds true to his heritage and is stubborn.”

  “That he is.” She laughed and lifted herself from her chair. “I have been refreshed with our conversation Blithers…and your good pastries, Mrs. Calvert.” she called out.

  “You’d best be taking advantage of your time since your employer is gone.” She thought she saw Blithers’ face redden the tiniest bit.

  “Lass…come again to me, should you need an ear.” Blithers bowed.

  They went to their separate chambers, the book forgotten.

  The next three days were filled with Eleanor’s care and a few hours each evening reading by the fire in the library and lessons with Cork.

  The following night echoes of men’s voices filled the hallway. Annabel had shut the door to the library and now knew they were headed her way.

  The door flew open and the Laird stepped inside tossing his gloves on a nearby table and his coat on a chair. The Four followed and did the same. He had not seen her for she was ensconced in the large chair facing the hearth.

  “What say you Ross? Will we have trouble from the Campbells?”

  She stood immediately to make her presence known before they could get into a conversation that was not supposed to be privy to her ears.

  “Gentleman.” She said and hurried away, dropping the book in her haste. Ross retrieved it and handed it back. “So sorry to be of any trouble…” her voice trailed off.

  Laird Carmichael watched her dress as it swung bell-like back and forth as she hurried away. Something pinched at his heart.

  Chapter 27

  Annabel rose early and dressed on the appointed day. After breakfast she waited in the library for him to call. He had said to be ready to leave immediately after breakfast but she had not seen him.

  “Cork have you seen the Laird?” she inquired as the boy hurried by to bring in sticks for the fires.

  “Aye he is waiting for ye in the stables. He’s blustering about…ye’d best be on your way.” He warned and was gone.

  “Stables? He never said anything about the stables…he said the library.” She talked to herself as she gathered her skirts and began at a run out the door, through the courtyard and over the worn path to the barns.

  As soon as she appeared, he shouted, “Where ‘ave ye been? We’ve been waiting for ye.”

  “I must have misunderstood…I thought you said the library.”

  “”Aye, women hear what they want to hear.” He grumbled and lifted her into the carriage.”

  “No one else is going?” She asked looking around. “I…cannot.”

  “I know the ways of the English…you cannot go without your maid. She is supposed to be long here…but if I know my guard, Fergus is kissing the wits out of her this very minute.” He looked out the window, tapping his fingers on his knee.

  “Ah…as I thought.” He said as Phoebe, looking quite flushed, stepped inside.

  “It is sorry I am to be holding you up.” She apologized, but Annabel noted she did not look either of them in the eye. The Laird had been right.

  “Let’s be about the day’s business.” He tapped the driver’s shoulder with a stick then stared morosely out the windows.

  Left to themselves, Phoebe and Annabel thought it best to be quiet for as long as they could and then began to whisper behind their hands so as not to disturb the Laird, who had promptly fallen asleep.

  “Phoebe, what were you doing?”

  “Oh, m’ lady, it is my heart. It has been given over to a Scot.” She sighed.

  “Phoebe!”

  “Tis true, I’m afraid. My father would turn over in his grave.”

  “You should not say such things especially when you are in Scotland.” Annabel scolded her.

  Oh never mind. I shall become a Scot’s wife, I daresay.” She whispered and giggled.

  “Oh my.” Annabel’s voice was amazed. “I am happy for you. But whatever shall I do without you?”

  “Oh…” she groaned…”I did not think of it! Here I am in my own good fortunes and not thinking about you.”

  “You are always thinking about me and everyone else, Phoebe.” Annabel stated emphatically.

  “Yes, but it is time you thought of your own life. Now that Eleanor’s gone what will you do Annabel?”

  Phoebe’s forthright statement caused Annabel a long pause. “I do not know.” She admitted.

  “You are a lady of the highest quality. Of good English stock…and royal blood. Why you’ve never even been kissed I’d wager.”

  “Well, I have. Once. But it was not like you think.”

  Phoebe’s eyes brightened. “You have and you never told me a word of it? Tell me all.” She leaned closer.

  Annabel turned to Phoebe and whispered. “The Laird kissed me.”

  Phoebe’s hand flew to her mouth and a smile was behind it. “No!”

  “Well, yes, it was the only kiss I’ve ever had, but he was angry…very angry with me and sought to embarrass me.”

  “What?” she looked fair affronted.

  “It was at a dance some months ago. Here at Dunbeernton. Blithers insisted I come to the ball Laird Carmichael was holding. One thing led to another and he stepped in front of me in the middle of the room and kissed me…like…like I was his lover…in front of everyone.”

  “How dare he?” Phoebe’s ire raised to boiling point. “Did you clap him upside the ear to prove him a rake?”

  “No. It did not matter to me. If he had done that in London, I would have been banned from society, but no one in that room knew me. That was why I was more hurt than angry.” She admitted. “I knew he hated me for the fact that I was…am…a Wedgewick. He thought me like Helen.”

  Phoebe looked over at the sleeping Laird and made a face. “He is stubborn and does not see what is before his very face. Why if he were smart he’d snap you up and marry you himself. After all you’re the only mother Eleanor has ever known.”

  “Phoebe, don’t say such things. He would never consider it. I cannot be compared to Helen, in beauty nor in stature, nor in talent.”

  “Puffery, all. You’d make a better wife and mother than Helen ever was, Annabel…you just don’t see it.”

  “Thank you Phoebe. But you mustn’t say such things.”

  “I shall marry Fergus if he asks me. I want you to know.” Phoebe said softly. “Would you perhaps come and stay with us? I know we wouldn’t have the worldly goods that you are accustomed to but you would be welcome. I know I speak for Fergus, too.”

  “Oh Phoebe, you are such a silly. Of course I could not stay with you. I’ll go back to London and live in mother’s house. Perhaps I’ll meet someone.”

  Suddenly the coach lurched to a stop then started forward again. Laird Carmichael came awake instantly.

  “Have we arrived?” he shouted up to the driver.

  “Aye. We have Sir.”

  The coach finally rolled to a stop and Annabel looked out into the ancient stone streets of Edinburgh. “I have never been here before.” She whispered as the Laird gave him her hand, then helped Phoebe down.

  The three walked together admiring the beautiful city. “It’s beautiful here.” Annabel whispered.

  “Aye…Scotland’s best.” The Laird agreed. “Here we are.” He stopped in front of the solicitor’s door identified with gold and black letters on the milky glass.

  Phoebe waited in the small room out front and Annabel and the Laird were shown to the solicitor’s private office. “I have the papers here, Miss Wedgewick.” He turned them to her and handed her a writing instrument. She looked up for explanation.

  “This states that Laird Leon Charles William Carmichael is the true father of one Eleanor Helen Wedgewick. The mot
her’s name is…was…Helen Diana Wedgewick, now deceased. Is that correct and true?”

  “Yes.” she whispered, her hand shaking as she signed her name.

  “And Laird, these are for you. The record of birth has been changed for now and eternity to read as I have just said. Is this correct and true?”

  “Aye.” He said emphatically. He wrote with a flourish and the deed was done.

  “Is that all there is?” Annabel heard herself ask.

  “That is all.” The solicitor, suddenly in a hurry, rushed her out to have a private word with the Laird. As he came from the office the Laird seemed angrier than ever. Suddenly, she felt overcome.

  “Excuse me.” She whispered and shot through the front door, the bell tinkling loudly at its most recent disturbance, leaving Phoebe and the Laird to stare after her…for it was most unlike Annabel to lose control of her emotions.

  They stepped outside in time to see her fleeing up the street, her skirts flying wildly. Phoebe turned, hands on hips. “Well, what did you expect?” she forgot her manners.

  The Laird said nothing, just stared back. “She knew why we came.”

  Phoebe threw her hands up. “And…so you think that makes losing Eleanor, the child she loved, planned to raise as her own…that makes it all right?”

  “Eleanor was never hers, Miss Gervase.”

  Now Phoebe ran up the street to look after Annabel leaving the Laird to his own good fortunes.

  He found his driver and they walked into a pub nearby to await the return of the wayward women. Half an hour later, he saw their skirts as they flitted by the dusty window and ran out to retrieve them.

  He called and waved his arm. “Come. It’s past time to get back.”

  “Horse.” Phoebe said under her breath, which nearly had Annabel in hysterics. She had already lost control of her emotions once and was for the first time in her life, on the edge of losing them again. She dreaded facing the Laird as they drove in the small carriage all the way back to Dunbeernton Castle.

  “Here. Get in.” he ordered, not looking into the women’s faces.

  He ignored them for most of the trip, for which Annabel was most thankful. She closed her eyes and let her head fall against the seat so she would not break down. When they pulled up to the castle and he let her down, she made her way quickly above stairs to her chamber with Phoebe close behind her.

  “There now. Cry it all out.” She put her arms around Annabel who shook in sobs. Outside the door, the Laird had stopped and heard the goings-on. Something in his heart pinched. Again.

  Two days passed. Both women knew he had been called away. There had been another problem with the Campbells, this time on the Mulhannon lands. Annabel remembered that she herself owned the smallest tract of land that lay between the Laird’s lands and the Campbells. Her father had willed it to her. Although it was her mother’s English royal blood that it belonged to, her father oversaw his wife’s affairs. He had always been a fair man…and she had loved him. She knew that he had loved her, too. How important that seemed at the moment.

  Helen and Meredith had their own dowries. The largest piece of Mulhannon lands had belonged to Helen the eldest and then went to the Laird when they married. Whereas Meredith had gained a large section of land from her mother’s great grandfather up in the northern tip of Scotland…the beautiful highlands.

  Annabel knew she got the smaller tract of land because both girls had been more forceful with their father. She had not cared a whit to own properties and had told him so, making his life easier. She and her father knew mother favored both Helen and Meredith.

  Chapter 28

  “What are you wearing to the dance this eve, Annabel?” Mrs. Calvert asked as she bustled about the kitchen.

  “The women are all going to gaze doe-eyed at the handsome Laird and I do not wish to be among them.” She laughed lightly.

  “If I know my name is Emerald Calvert, sure as the day I was born, you will be going.” The woman dropped her knife on the table, called for a servant girl to finish her duties and took Annabel by the arm.

  “Up with ye. We are about to be above stairs looking at Helen’s gowns.” Her stern tone caused Annabel a slight pause before she could think of a quick retort that would not injure the woman’s good intentions.

  “Please Mrs. Calvert…you are so kind…but my head aches…and with Mrs. Donaldson gone now, I wish to spend my time with Eleanor.”

  “I will see to the child myself. Read to her, rock her, say her prayers with her this one night…same as ye lass.”

  “Now, look, there is a lovely dress. Silk straight from China. If you knew how much the Laird spent…”

  “Oh I can imagine,” she started, then to her amazement, spotted the dresses he had sent to her. She was surprised that he had kept them.

  “Look Mrs. Calvert. These dresses.” she stopped.

  “What is it child?” Her eyes followed Annabel’s gaze.

  “Ah, now this is what ye’d be needin’. This yellow, pretty as a buttercup, is just the color for ye, what with your brown eyes and hair.” She held the dress up. “And sure enough it looks to be short enough…hmmm…Helen was so tall…I wonder how…oh well…no time for dawdling.”

  Annabel allowed herself this one excitement…how she would look in the dress. She didn’t really have to go…just see how she looked. Mrs. Calvert helped her out of her old day dress and into the yellow silk. She heard the rustle of the layers, felt the heaviness of it as it fell around her ankles.

  “There now, spin. Oh yes. It’s made just for you. “Ye’re a bit on the light side, but we can tighten the ribbon about your waist with a stitch or two…” She smiled, picked up Annabel’s heavy hair and held it so. Now see, I can arrange your hair…I’ve plenty of experience and you need not to wear it at your nape, you can wear it higher at the back of your head, like this.” she showed her. Annabel smiled.

  “Truly it is a beautiful dress. Come now, we’ll get it off and toss ye into the bath.”

  “Really, Mrs. Calvert, I do not wish…”

  “I’ll not hear another word.” She said and Annabel knew she wouldn’t.

  Her hair freshly washed and scented Annabel lifted herself from the warm fragrant waters and dried herself. She allowed the cook to towel her hair dry by the fire. ‘Ye have heavy hair…and beautiful…” she added. Within moments Mrs. Calvert was back with the dress and slipped it over her head.

  “Now, then sit while I put up your hair. Aye, let’s use this brooch and hold it back. It needs more than pins to keep this shank of hair from falling down about your shoulders.” She laughed as she worked on her coiffure.

  “Bring the looking glass and see what we have created.” She said proudly.

  Annabel was shocked. Having her hair higher on her head was more becoming. The brooch sparkled in the folds of her thick hair. The yellow complimented her dark hair; her skin was pink and flushed. She felt beautiful.

  “Now there. Was not this old Scot woman right?” she strutted about, shirring the ruffles in back and setting the dress to rights. “I’ll see to the babe…be off now. It’s already started for I hear the pipes playing loud and clear.” She mused. “Brings back memories to an old woman.”

  Nervously, Annabel made her way below stairs. Walking slowly toward the music, she stayed far enough away not to be seen. Suddenly she heard whispers and came upon Fergus and Phoebe in a darkened corner wrapped in each other’s arms, kissing.

  “Oh, I am so sorry.” She turned quickly.

  “Annabel is that you?” Phoebe came from the shadows, her cheeks pink. “You…you look so…so beautiful.” She turned Annabel around. “Your hair.”

  Annabel’s hand went to her head. ”Mrs. Calvert fixed it up.”

  Fergus smiled. “Miss Wedgewick, I’d say you’re as pretty as I ever saw you.” And Phoebe poked him with her elbow.

  “She’s always been beautiful, Fergus.” Phoebe cried.

  “Yes.” Fergus was gazing into his s
weetheart’s eyes.

  “Oh stop.” She slapped his hand away as he reached for her again. “Let’s take Annabel in with us so she won’t have to enter alone.”

  Fergus offered each woman an arm and they appeared at the entryway. Heads turned and whispers started like a wave coming to shore. Annabel sought to find green plants she knew were near one of the big stone pillars. But before she could find her way through the crowded room, two men approached at once. Cameron and Ewan talked at the same time.

  “Miss Wedgewick,” Ewan nudged in first. “You look lovely this evening.” His red hair shone in the lights and he was tall and handsomely dressed in full Scot regalia, the green and blue paid with the red stripe, the Carmichael tartan.

  “Thank you. You look quite the elegant gentleman yourself.” She offered and watched his face turn nearly as red as his hair.

  “Would you care to try a step?”

  “Oh I am not familiar with the Scottish dance.” She shied away.

  “I will take your hand and show you.” And before she knew it she was on the floor learning the steps with Ewan, looking up into his face for instructions and then down at her feet to follow his.

  “You do well.” He complimented and bowed. “I must dance with my lass or she will club me about the shoulders.” He smiled.

  Immediately, Cameron took his place again. Annabel knew that he was the most quiet of the four. She had stopped many times to watch him at his boot-making whenever he was free to do so.

  He took her hand and led her in some new steps.

  Annabel was so engrossed in her steps she did not notice when the Laird approached and tapped Cameron’s shoulder. She found her self without a partner and then the Laird stepped into the space where Cameron had stood only a moment before.

  “Oh, I…I was trying to learn the steps.” She felt her breath leave her when she felt one warm hand at her waist.

  “Let me take you round…just follow…” he swirled her away and she could do nothing but pray that her feet hit the floor every now and again…for the Laird was so tall that he nearly had her in the air most of the time.

  When the music stopped for a moment, she finally caught her breath.