by Julia London
“Are you sad today, uncle?” asked Nira, Vivienne’s youngest daughter.
“No’ today, lass. No’ today. Who’s this?” he asked, and picked up Georgina to kiss her cheek. Georgina screwed up her face and turned her head.
“I’m your uncle, lass, do you know me, then?”
“No,” she said. “I want down.”
“Come, on then,” Maira said, reaching for Georgina. His nieces and nephews had already tired of him, and they had raced back to the green. Maira took Georgina by the hand and ran behind them.
Rabbie noticed Fiona had come forward, tentatively. He gestured for her to come to him. She ran forward, eager to be included. Rabbie caressed her head and thought of what Aulay had said—that he ought to acquaint himself with these two children. “A bonny lass you are, Fiona,” he said. “You look so much like your mother, aye?”
“Do I?” She had Seona’s eyes, he thought, and they were shining at him. Rabbie felt a peculiar whisper sweep through him, almost as if it was Seona looking at him now. Did she know that he’d pleasured another woman and had fiercely wanted to find his own pleasure in her?
“Do you know more about my mother?” Fiona asked. “Was her hair as long as mine?”
“Aye, as long as yours.”
“Did she have a dog?”
“Two,” he said, and the lass smiled with delight.
“What else?”
“I’ve an idea,” he said. “We’ll have a wee walk, we will, and I’ll tell you all that I know of your mother and father. Where is your brother, then?”
Fiona pointed.
The lad hung back, separate from the rest of them, watching them all with hooded eyes. It struck Rabbie that he seemed uncertain of his place. He motioned him forward, and when Ualan reached him, Rabbie put his arm around his shoulders. “Ciamar a tha thu?” he asked.
“Verra well,” Ualan muttered, and looked at his feet.
“Bonny day, is it no’?” Rabbie asked.
Ualan shrugged.
“Fiona and I mean to have a wee walk so that I might tell her what I recall about your parents, aye? Will you join us?”
Ualan nodded. He did not smile like his sister. His dark eyes looked haunted. Bleak. Much the way Rabbie often felt inside, and it made him ache for the lad. For himself, as well. He tousled Ualan’s hair. “It’s all right, lad,” Rabbie said, apropos of nothing, other than a kindred feeling of despair. “It’s all right.”
If Ualan wondered what, precisely, was all right, he did not inquire. Rabbie didn’t know why he’d said it, for nothing would ever be all right for a wee lad who’d lost his family and now had a sister to look after. But something in him wanted this child to have a modicum of hope.
“Aye, then, let’s have a walk,” he said, and turned about and began to move.
Fiona skipped alongside him. Ualan took great strides, his head down, saying very little.
Rabbie proceeded to tell them all he could recall of Gavina MacLeod. He regretted that he couldn’t recall more than he did, and that everything he said felt inadequate. He toyed with the thought of bringing them to Arrandale until some decision was made as to their future. But then he thought of how often he couldn’t seem to keep the darkness from swallowing his thoughts, how often it led to drinking and brooding. They didn’t deserve that.
They didn’t deserve what had happened to them. They didn’t deserve to be orphans.
He spent more than an hour with them, saying more than he guessed he might have said in the last year. He answered Fiona’s many questions, surreptitiously watching Ualan for any sign of good humor. But then Ualan said they were expected in the kitchens, and carefully pocketed the sweetmeat Rabbie had bought them when they’d passed the inn.
He didn’t like to think of them toiling in the kitchen. “And how do you find it there?” he asked as they headed up the high road.
“Barabel is teaching us to make cakes,” Fiona said. “When I grow up, I shall make cakes. Barabel is teaching us everything.”
“You’ll no’ remember it,” Ualan said, saying more than he’d said in Rabbie’s presence yet.
“I will!”
“You will no’, Fiona. We are going to Inverness soon, and there will be no cakes there.”
“I donna believe you!” she said.
“Inverness?” Rabbie asked, catching Fiona’s hand before she struck her brother.
“Aye,” Ualan said, and shifted his gaze to the ground again. “We’re to go to Mr. and Mrs. Tawley. They knew our father,” he muttered. They’d come to the bailey and the lad glanced away from Rabbie. “We must be gone now, sir. We’re to work now.”
“Aye, go on,” Rabbie said.
Ualan began striding for the service door. Fiona’s ire was forgotten, and she skipped behind him.
Rabbie watched them go until they had disappeared inside. He didn’t like the sound of it, this distant Mr. Tawley.
He carried on into the great hall. It gave him no small amount of happiness to hear the sound of his oldest brother’s laughter booming in the great hall. He walked inside and stood a moment, surveying the familial scene. It reminded him of a time when the Mackenzies had prospered, when they were all young and happy and had no fears for the future.
His parents were here, of course. Catriona was sitting on the dais table, her legs swinging underneath her. Vivienne as well, and Marcas, too, his arm around his wife’s shoulders. Aulay was seated lazily at the end of the table, his boots propped on a chair, and Cailean and Daisy were eating from plates laden with food. Daisy’s son Ellis, Lord Chatwick, had finished his plate and was sitting by Rabbie’s father, and was the first to notice Rabbie.
“Uncle Rabbie!” he cried, and rose up. Diah, but the lad had grown, standing almost as tall as Rabbie. He bounced off the dais and hurried down the aisle to embrace Rabbie, his arms tight. He was as tall as a man, but as thin as a reed, and still very much a lad.
“Feasgar mhath, Ellis,” he said, patting his back. “Look at you, then, you’ve grown a foot since last I saw you, aye?”
“Aye,” Ellis said. He’d picked up a bit of Highlander talk through the years, although it always sounded strange to Rabbie’s ear when spoken with an English accent. “I’ll be seventeen years old next month,” he proudly reported.
“As old as that?” Rabbie said, smiling. He walked with Ellis to the dais.
His beautiful sister-in-law rose from her seat, her smile warm, her eyes shining. “Rabbie!” she said, opening her arms to him as she came off the dais. “How very well you look!”
Rabbie kissed her cheek.
“Aye, that he does,” Cailean agreed, following his wife. He embraced Rabbie, too, giving him a hearty shake before letting go. “It would seem the summer agrees with you. The last I saw you, I worried for your health, I did.”
The last time they met, Cailean had brought the news of Avaline Kent’s agreement to marry him. Rabbie had been a shell of himself then, nothing but bones and flesh waiting to die. He was struck with the sudden idea that today he was not waiting to die. That in fact, something else other than death had filled his thoughts.
“I wasna expecting you so soon,” he said to Cailean.
“We’d no’ risk missing your nuptials, lad,” Cailean said, and grinned.
Rabbie joined the rest of his family on the dais and listened as Cailean filled them in on the events at Chatwick Hall. Daisy asked after the Mackenzies, listening intently as Aulay and Vivienne spoke about who had left Scotland, who had gone to Glasgow and Edinburgh to find work, and how their numbers continued to dwindle.
“Well, then,” Cailean said, and turned to clap Rabbie on the shoulder. “You’re to be wed.”
Rabbie tried to muster a bit of enthusiasm for his observation, but it was pointless. He felt nothing but dread.
“Aye.”
“He doesna want to wed,” Catriona offered.
“Cat, darling,” Rabbie’s mother said. “Do allow Rabbie to speak for himself.”
“It’s all right,” Rabbie said with a lazy flick of his wrist. “Let the lass say what she wants. It’s hard for me to speak of it...but Cat excels at it.”
Vivienne snickered, but Catriona glared at him. “Who will speak of it, then? You pretend as if it willna happen.”
That seemed to surprise Cailean. “What’s this? But you’ve agreed to it.”
“Aye, aye, I’ve agreed,” Rabbie said, sighing. “I will honor my word, donna doubt it.” Except that he hadn’t honored his word. He hadn’t honored himself, his family, his word—anything. The knowledge made him feel cross, and he abruptly stood from the table and strode to the sideboard, where Frang had laid out a meal for Cailean and his family. He poured a generous serving of ale. When he turned around, he discovered that Cailean had followed him.
“Leave him be, Cailean,” Catriona said lightly. “He’s always foul of temper. He’s like an old bailey cat, that lad. You’ll see.”
“Diah, Cat!” It was Vivienne’s turn to chastise her sister. “Donna speak another word! It’s none of your affair.”
“None of my affair? Am I no’ the one who must chaperone him every time he is to ride to Killeaven? On my word, it’s a wee bit like pulling a large rock behind me, it is.”
Rabbie shrugged. “It’s true,” he said lazily.
Cailean said quietly, “Let’s have a walk, you and I.”
“I poured the ale—” His brother gave him such a sharp look that Rabbie sighed again. He sipped from the tankard, then put it aside. “Aye, then, let’s have it done.”
“You needna sound as if I’m leading you to the gallows,” Cailean muttered as they walked out of the great hall together.
“It feels a wee bit like it.”
Cailean halted his march toward the front door. “Diah, Rabbie—you didna have to agree to the betrothal. If you donna want to marry the lass, then say it.”
“I donna want to marry the lass, then,” he said throwing his arms wide. “But I must. You know it as well as I do.” He said those words to Cailean, knowing them to be true, but at the same moment, his heart was searching for any idea of how to end this engagement. His blood churned with the discomfort of being at odds with what his family needed of him and what he wanted. He shoved a hand through his unkempt hair and looked wildly about, avoiding Cailean’s gaze. He wished he knew what to do, he wished he could think of a way to save them all without tethering himself for all his days.
Cailean was staring at him with concern.
“Och, donna look at me as if I am mad,” Rabbie said. “What will become of Balhaire if I donna honor the agreement? We’ve Sassenach to the west and east of us now. We’ve no’ enough men to keep Balhaire. Our trade is threatened, our land is unsuitable for herding large numbers and yet there are enough sheep to overrun our arable fields...” He shrugged morosely. “We’ll be ruined if I donna go through with it.” He waited for his brother’s response, hoping, praying, that Cailean would miraculously offer him an out and say none of that was true.
But Cailean didn’t say that. He said, “In the worst of circumstances, you could all come to Chatwick Hall, aye? There’s room enough there for an army.”
“All of us?” Rabbie asked uncertainly.
“The Mackenzies,” Cailean said.
“Take our father from the Highlands? Our children?”
“If need be to survive,” Cailean said. “That’s more important than pride, is it no’?”
“No,” Rabbie said flatly. He’d not be responsible for the Mackenzies leaving the Highlands like scores of Highlanders had already done. “It’s too late for it. The banns have been posted. I’m to wed in four days, Cailean.”
Cailean pressed his lips together and studied the floor a moment, idly scratching the head of a dog that had wandered in between them. “Is she so bad, then?” he asked softly. “She’s no’ plain. She’s comely.”
Rabbie shook his head. “It’s no’ the lass, Cailean. Aye, she’s comely. She’s far too young, she is...but it’s no’ her.”
He didn’t have to say more than that, because Cailean understood him. “We oft must lie with the devil to save our souls,” he muttered, and began to walk, gesturing for Rabbie to follow him.
They walked out onto the bailey, where the children were still playing. Georgina, seeing her father, raced on her squat little legs for him. “Pappa, Pappa!” she cried gleefully, and Cailean’s face shone with so much joy, so much pride.
Perhaps, Rabbie thought wistfully, he might have that. Perhaps that would be his consolation in this wretched affair. Sons and daughters to raise as Scots. Perhaps he’d bring Fiona and Ualan into their fold, too. He’d have a score of children to think about and keep his mind from his wife.
“We best take you to your Mamma, aye?” Cailean said to Georgina, kissing her cheek.
They returned to the great hall at a snail’s pace, so that Georgina might walk, too, and stop to examine everything in her path. By the time they reached the hall, the family had dispersed. Frang had accompanied Daisy up to the rooms they would use while at Balhaire. Rabbie’s sisters had left, and Aulay was speaking with their father about his next voyage. He planned to depart for Norway the day after the wedding. The ship’s repairs had been made, and he was eager to be at sea.
“Rabbie, darling, I’ve sent a messenger round to Killeaven to invite the Kents for supper tomorrow,” his mother said. “They’ll want to greet Cailean and Daisy. But tonight, we’ll dine with the Mackenzies only,” she said, and patted his cheek. “One last time I might have my boy all to myself.”
Rabbie snorted. “You’ll have me more than you think, Maither.”
* * *
THE NEXT DAY, Rabbie rode with Cailean, Daisy and Lord Chatwick to have a look at Arrandale and Auchenard. At Arrandale, Rabbie took Cailean down to the cave to see what goods they had.
Cailean examined the contents of the crates and was speaking of how they might sell it to Inverness or Glasgow, as there wasn’t enough market in the Highlands now.
Rabbie tried to listen, but he was distracted. Just yesterday, he’d made up his mind to do what he must for his family. He’d made a conscious effort to remove any thoughts of giving Avaline Kent a reason to end their engagement. He’d spent a long night of restlessness, trying to rid his mind of Bernadette. But today, he and Cailean had walked up to the hanging tree, and all of Rabbie’s pleading with himself was for naught—all he could think of was Bernadette, of what had happened between them here, on this hill. He recalled how he’d kissed her, and the way she’d responded to him, making him mad with want.
Perhaps he would make her his mistress, he mused idly. Perhaps he would bring her to Arrandale while his wife remained at Killeaven, just as he’d threatened to do. Oh, he had no hope that Bernadette would ever agree to it, but for now, the fantasy sustained him.
“Are you listening?” Cailean asked, cuffing him on the shoulder.
“De?” Rabbie said, startled out of his rumination.
“Have you heard a bloody word I’ve said, then?”
“Aye, of course,” Rabbie said. “It’s growing late. Let’s carry on to Auchenard, aye?”
Cailean’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he didn’t argue and returned with Rabbie to the house.
Daisy was especially happy to see Auchenard, and praised Rabbie for keeping the garden she’d started eight years ago when she’d first come to the Highlands.
“Donna thank me,” he said, leaning lazing against the ivy-covered arched entrance to the garden. “Mr. Brock has done it.”
“It’s beautiful,” she said, turning slowly about. “You cannot imagine the state of disrepai
r when we arrived. Remember your dog, darling?” she said to Cailean.
“Aye. Fabienne was fine hunter, she was,” Cailean said nostalgically. Like so many of their dogs, Fabienne had gone missing.
“I saw you kissing the laird here,” Ellis said as he idly felt the petals of a rose. “I saw it from my window,” he added, pointing to one above the garden.
Daisy laughed brightly, but her cheeks turned pink.
“Bloody good he didna see more than that,” Cailean muttered.
“I mean to spend all my summers here when I’m of age,” Ellis declared.
“Do you?” Daisy asked, and smiled indulgently at her son. “I hope that you do. Auchenard will always hold a special place in our hearts, will it not?”
Rabbie suspected Ellis would never return here, not really—only for a visit now and again. But Ellis was a viscount, and when he reached his majority, he would want what all English lords and ladies wanted—a proper society. Lassies in silk dresses. Drink and gaming.
No, he’d not return here.
“We never stalked the red stags,” Ellis said to Cailean. “You promised.”
“Aye, that I did,” Cailean said, laughing. “And you’ve reminded me time and again, you have. We will, lad, we will. If you have a desire for something, you reach for it, aye? Your mother taught me that.”
Daisy smiled so brilliantly at her husband that Rabbie felt a small tug in his chest. It was envy he felt. Pure, simple envy.
“It had to be taught, my darling husband.”
He laughed and pulled her into his embrace. “You are right, leannan. Again.”
The two of them laughed as if they shared a private jest about this, and then kissed.
Rabbie groaned at the sight of them. “Aye, all right, then,” he said, and pushed away from the arch. “If you find all in order, we best return to Balhaire, aye? The Kents will arrive in a few hours.”
