Highlander Unbound
Page 33
“Beggin’ yer pardon, miss, but she’s…Sassenach.”
Mared gasped.
Dudley nodded feverishly; his nose wrinkled with his distaste, and whispered, “English! And high born, by the sound of it.”
“Dear God!” Mared exclaimed. This could not be good—Liam’s letters home had been…well, in a word, odd. They all suspected something was dreadfully amiss—a spot of trouble for Liam (such as he had written in the last letter they received) usually meant a matter rather stupendous in consequence for mere mortals. No, this was not good, not good at all, and Mared stood again and marched for the door.
“I’ll see to it,” she said with great authority, and sailed down the long, narrow corridor to the front door, which was, in actuality, an old fortress entrance, which meant that it was extremely narrow, so no more than one attacker could enter at a time. Highlanders were really so very clever.
She opened the thick wood-planked door, stepped through the narrow entrance, and caught a breath in her throat. It was a woman all right, a bonny one. Tall and willowy, blond (she was missing a bonnet, actually), and fair complexioned (which made Mared instantly aware of how starkly different she was, with her own thick black hair and rather pink complexion, what with all the walking around Loch Chon). Even more startling was that the woman looked very refined, as if she’d never seen a day of the bloody sun. Which would not have surprised her, as she was English, and Mared had the distinct impression that English ladies sat about all day fanning themselves.
But this one surprised her because, first, she was calling on Liam, not Griffin, and second, her hair and clothing were in disarray. She looked, quite literally, as if she had been dragged to Loch Chon. Even more astounding, there were two of them, for standing beside her was a smaller version of the woman, just as mussed.
“Ah…how do you do? Might I introduce myself?” the woman asked in clipped, proper English.
“Aye,” Mared said, peering cautiously at her. She had lovely blue eyes, didn’t she? Not the green moldy color that she and her brothers were cursed with.
“Ahem.” The woman smiled, nervously tried to smooth her horribly ratted hair. “I’m afraid I look a dreadful fright. I had no idea how…arduous it would be to come here.”
And why wouldn’t she know that? Mared instantly wondered.
“Um…I am Miss Ellen Farnsworth. And this is my daughter, Natalie.” She paused and looked at the girl, who was staring at Mared as if she were seeing a ghost. “Say ‘Good day,’ Natalie.”
“Good day.”
Mared nodded at her and was a little unnerved by the way the girl stared at her, as if she were in some kind of shock.
“You…you must be Mared—er, Miss Lockhart—”
Mared jerked her gaze back to the woman so quickly that it startled her. But not nearly as much as she startled Mared. How could she possibly know who she was?
“I…well, I know you have no idea who I am, and why should you?” She nervously cleared her throat again. “But, you see, it happens that I am acquainted with Captain Lockhart, and he described you perfectly. And it happens that I…I have something I should like to give him.” She paused, shook her head as she thought about what she’d said. “I don’t mean I have a gift, but rather something that belongs to him.”
Instantly, Mared suspected a trick. She could hardly be the younger sister of Liam Lockhart without learning a thing or two about intrigue and sneaking about and all that. And Liam’s letters had been very enigmatic. What could a woman like this possibly have of Liam’s? Reinforcements, that’s what Liam would say. If one is on sinking ground, one should seek reinforcements.
Mared instantly stepped back into the narrow door passage. “Beg yer pardon, Miss Farnsworth, but I…” But she what—needed to get reinforcements? “Ah…a moment, please,” she said, and hastily shut the door in front of her, even debated locking it, lest this Farnsworth lady thought to come in.
“’Tis odd, eh?” Dudley whispered.
At the very least! Mared whirled about, grabbed Dudley by the sleeve, and raced for the study where she knew Griffin to be, going over the estate accounts. Not bothering to knock, she burst through the door, startling him.
“Mary Queen of Scots, Mared, can ye at least attempt to enter a room like a lady, then?” he said irritably.
“There’s an Englishwoman at the door who has come for Liam. She claims to have something belonging to him, she does.”
“What?” Griffin said, looking equally alarmed, and coming to his feet.
“A bonny Englishwoman!” Mared added excitedly. “With a lass!”
Griffin did not need to hear more. He strode past Mared and Dudley, down the narrow corridor. When he swung the front door open, with Mared practically glued to his back, the woman was still standing there, but the girl had seated herself on the stone steps, and quickly clambered to her feet.
“Oh!” Miss Farnsworth said brightly when she saw Griffin. “My, you look something alike, don’t you? There’s a resemblance, certainly.”
Mared and Griffin exchanged a wary look.
“Oh, no, I see what you think of that. I didn’t mean the two of you, although there is certainly a resemblance there, too. I meant that you, sir, look a bit like Captain Lockhart.”
The girl nodded in agreement, then resumed her ogling of Mared.
“Then…then ye’ve seen our brother, eh?” Griffin asked carefully.
Miss Farnsworth broke into a wreath of smiles. “Many times! We were, ah…acquainted in London. I am Miss Ellen Farnsworth, and this is my daughter, Natalie.”
The girl dipped into an instant curtsy and bounced back up again, her eyes still on Mared.
Again Mared and Griffin exchanged a look, and Mared could see her brother was wondering (just as she was) what in God’s name Liam had gotten himself into this time.
“Might I at least speak with him? I’ve something that belongs to him,” Miss Farnsworth added.
“He’s no’ here presently,” Griffin said.
“Not here?” she asked, her eyes widening with surprise.
“Aye. He’s away just now.”
“Away?” she said, her voice going higher. “As in away for the day? Or could you possibly mean…could you possibly mean that he hasn’t yet returned?”
“Maybe he’s still in King’s Lynn,” the girl calmly suggested, still looking at Mared.
What was King’s Lynn? Mared wondered, frowning at the girl. There was something very wrong about this, and Griffin obviously agreed, for he said, “Perhaps ye could leave yer card then, Miss Farnsworth. But he’s no’ here and he’s no’ expected for some time yet. We’ll pass it along to him, we will.”
“But…but…” Her voice trailed off, and honestly, she looked to be in a bit of shock for a moment before looking down and covering her eyes with one hand.
Griffin turned, looked at Mared over his shoulder, and made a bobbing motion with his head toward the woman in a silent question as to what she was doing.
Mared shrugged, just as confused.
But then she made a sound, and startled, Mared and Griffin jerked their gaze to her again. The woman was crying.
“I beg your pardon,” she said, sniffing, and swiping at the tears with her dirty gloves. “I’m appalled that I should present myself on your doorstep in such horrible attire and…and weep. But it’s just that…that we’ve come so far, and we’ve no place to go, and we just wanted to give it back—”
“Give what back?” Griffin asked.
“Oh, dear, I’m afraid I can’t tell you!” she sobbed.
“It’s all right, Mother,” the lass said, and wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist and began to cry, too.
There were four of them, standing at one end of the impossibly long dining table, underneath an elaborate and obviously old coat of arms of some sort, flanked by swords and sabers of varying design. All of them were silent for the most part, staring curiously at Ellen and Natalie, who were seated at the
opposite end of the table, and whispering in Liam’s language to one another from time to time. At least, Ellen thought, wryly, she didn’t have to worry about Natalie, for she seemed right at home. She was sitting in a huge oak chair, looking around the room with great interest, her feet swinging beneath the table.
Finally, the elder Lockhart cleared his voice, looked at his wife (this Ellen knew because they had at last introduced themselves to her after a long and whispered consultation). “Ah…Miss Farnsworth, is it?”
She nodded.
“Aye. Well, then. We find ourselves in a wee spot of…of…”
“It’s rather unusual,” Lady Lockhart interjected helpfully.
“Aye,” the old man agreed. “Ah…ye see, Miss Farnsworth, our son, he went to London on…on, er…”
“A family matter,” Mared offered.
“Aye. That,” the old man agreed again. “And…he did no’ mention in his letters that we were to expect a caller—”
“Oh, no, of course not, my lord, for he didn’t know I would be calling, you see,” Ellen tried. But her several attempts at explanation—without just admitting, out and out, that she had stolen the blasted beastie—seemed almost ludicrous. To suggest that she knew their son well enough to travel all the way to Scotland to call on him was absurd, particularly when he had never mentioned her. Particularly when she could not admit why she had come, other than to say she had something that belonged to their son. If the shoe were on the other foot, it would seem to her to be rather ominous, too. Rather brilliant plan, Ellen. Not quite the conniver you determined yourself to be, are you?
“Aye, aye,” the man said carefully. “But ye see, can ye now, what a perplexing situation we find ourselves in?”
“Yes, but I—”
“If ye might just tell us what it is ye have for him, so that we might clear it all up,” Griffin kindly suggested.
Beside her, Natalie sneezed.
“Bless ye,” they all murmured in unison.
Ellen absently patted Natalie’s hand. “I beg you to trust me, sir. I know you’ve no reason to do so, and this is all quite unusual, but I assure you, your son is on his way home, and what I have of his I could not possibly trust with another person. It’s something I must give him personally, and—”
Natalie sneezed again; Ellen stopped her plea and looked down at her daughter. Natalie smiled up at her mother with bright eyes, and Ellen instantly put her hand on Natalie’s forehead, felt the warmth of fever there. “Dear God,” she said, and looked at the four Lockharts. “I shan’t ask any longer, I shall beg and plead for you to see your way to giving us shelter, if just for the night. I thought Captain Lockhart was here, for at least that is what he said, and as it happens, I have not a farthing to my name, and unfortunately, I fear my daughter is ill.”
The four of them exchanged suspicious looks with one another.
That was it, then.
Too weary to beg, it seemed as if her extraordinary journey had finally caught up to her, and Ellen felt all the will bleed right out of her. She hardly cared what they did to her any longer; she just wanted it all to end. She just wanted a bed for herself and Natalie, just the chance to sleep, and suddenly, without thought or care, she folded her arms on the table, put her forehead on them, and began to sob like a newborn baby, unable to stop.
And it was in that haze of frightful, gut-wrenching sobs that she felt the hand on her forehead and heard the kind Lady Lockhart say, “Carson, she’s burning with fever.”
“What a sweet lass ye are,” Ellen heard through the haze of sleep. “But I’m no’ a princess. Would that I were, for I’d make some changes around here, I would, beginning with the immediate removal of a certain Douglas from the—Oh, look now, she’s awake!”
Ellen blinked at the sight of Mared, seated at the end of a massive four-poster bed with Natalie, who was wearing a clean and pressed frock. How had that happened? She didn’t remember much of anything after Lady Lockhart had made her sit up and wiped her tears with the hem of her shawl, and had only a vague recollection of being forced upstairs, Grif (they called him) on one side, Lady Lockhart on the other, insisting that she lie down for a time. She came up on her elbows and felt a dizziness in her head. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Mo creach! Ye sleep like the dead, ye do. All through the night and here it is, twelve o’clock,” Mared said, coming to her feet. She walked to the side of the bed and casually peered down at Ellen, her arms folded across her middle. “Still a wee peaked, I’d wager. What do ye make of it, Nattie?”
Nattie. That’s what Liam had called her.
“Aye, she looks rather pale, doesn’t she?” Natalie answered.
“I thought so from the start,” Mared said, nodding. A long tail of braided black hair fell over her shoulder. “How are ye feeling, then, Miss Farnsworth?”
“Exhausted,” Ellen answered truthfully, and looked at Natalie. “But what of you Natalie? Do you still have a fever?”
Natalie shook her head. “Mared gave me some tea this morning and said I was quite all right.”
“Miss Lockhart, darling,” Ellen muttered weakly.
Mared laughed. “We donna stand on much ceremony here, Miss Farnsworth. Ye might as well call me by me Christian name, for it looks as if ye’ll stay a while yet.”
“It does?” she asked, lifting a hand to her forehead.
“Aye. The post came early this morning, and there was a letter from Liam. I wasna privy to what it said, exactly, but Mother said that ye’d stay until he came home, for she thought he wanted it back, whatever it is ye have.”
“Ooh,” Ellen said, wincing a little.
That caused Mared to laugh—she smiled broadly, her smile as warm and inviting as Liam’s. “And she said ye’re to stay abed until ye’re better. In the meantime, if ye donna mind it, I’ll take Nattie for a tour of a real castle.”
Ellen smiled at Natalie, but her daughter hardly noticed, for she was looking up at Mared with great awe. “That would be lovely, Mared. You’ve no idea how lovely. And please, call me Ellie.”
“The lass will be quite all right while ye rest, Ellie,” she said, and held out her hand for Natalie. Ellen sank back against the goose-down pillows, glad for once someone had ordered her to bed. “Thank you,” she murmured, and as her eyelids were sliding shut, she saw Mared and Natalie walk away, hand in hand, and she thought how lovely it was in Laria.
Liam left for Edinburgh with his pockets near to empty and his heart overwhelmingly heavy, detouring from his course only once, to speak with the Peasedowns.
No, they had not heard from Ellie. But a letter had arrived from her father, telling her to come home at once or risk complete estrangement. Lady Peasedown was distraught, sobbing quite vociferously, now blaming herself for Ellie’s running away. There was nothing Liam could say to appease her, so he promised, should he cross Miss Farnsworth’s path again, that he himself would write and let them know of her welfare. Lady Peasedown promised to do the same, and very carefully took down the direction of Talla Dileas.
Liam never expected to hear from the Peasedowns again, actually. He never expected to see Ellie again, a notion that left him feeling empty and old. Fate was cruel, he thought, to give a man like him a taste of a woman like that and then take her away. He had all but forgotten what she had done, and thought he’d trade a thousand beasties just to look at her lovely face one more time.
But he would not, and there was not a happier man in all of England when, in Kingston-upon-Hull, Liam talked his way onto a packet ship bound for Edinburgh. Fortunately, the week it took to reach Edinburgh went by quickly, in spite of the one incident with a sailor who attempted to take the dirty, crumpled kerchief that had belonged to Ellie. It was the only thing that Liam had to keep close to his heart, and the attempted theft proved to be all he could endure for one long journey to England. It was as if all his frustrations (and Diah, there were a frightening lot of frustrations of late) came bubbling up all at once.
When they at last docked in Edinburgh, Liam was the first off the ship, and immediately set out for Loch Chon, where he expected nothing when he arrived but to hear his father’s roar over his bungling of the beastie. He just hoped he hadn’t missed the deployment of his new regiment, for the farther away from this mess he could take himself, the better he’d be.
Ellen improved rapidly, thanks foremost to a concoction of medicinal herbs Lady Lockhart gave her twice daily. In a few days, she was walking the grounds of Talla Dileas with Mared, awed by the wild beauty of it, even beneath a light dusting of snow.
Mared was quite colorful, she thought, seemingly without inhibition and free to do as she pleased. Ellen admired Mared for it. The only thing that seemed to annoy Mared was their neighbor, “the Douglas,” as she called him, and she spoke frequently of how vexing the man was. He sounded like a dreadful ogre, really. But beyond that, Mared was enormously entertaining and seemed happy for the company. How wonderful, Ellen thought, that women enjoyed such social freedom here. How stifled she had felt in London. And the more she was in and around Talla Dileas, the more she could see why Liam was so attached to it. This was Laria.
Certainly she had never seen Natalie happier. The girl’s fever had come and gone quickly, and she blossomed in a few short days, always laughing, always eager to help one of the Lockharts. Mared took quite a liking to her, and so did Griffin, although Ellen sensed his patience for young children was more closely aligned with Liam’s. The Laird and Lady Lockhart were very kind, but were quite curious about what had gone on in England. Lady Lockhart in particular asked several times if she had met the English Lockharts, or if Liam had mentioned them. Each time the subject came up, Ellen was as vague as she could be, but felt herself color with shame all the same, feeling more and more horridly guilty for what she’d done, particularly seeing with her own eyes what the beastie might have done for them.