Border Storm

by Amanda Scott

  Blanche said grimly, “In my family, husband, daughters obey their fathers in everything.”

  “Aye, madam, but your father was fostered in an English household. Indeed, he was half English himself, but English ways are not my ways.”

  “If you would permit me to speak freely…”

  When Blanche paused meaningfully, Sir William sighed and said, “Say what you will, madam. You generally do.”

  “Very well; then, I say ’tis folly to allow one daughter to wind you round her thumb whilst you cast obstacles in the paths of your other daughters’ happiness,” Blanche said bluntly.

  “Godamercy, Blanche, what—?”

  “What if Laura should never marry? Have you thought about that?”

  “Aye, every time you cast the prospect in my teeth, I think on it,” he retorted.

  “She is nearly twenty, sir. Girls normally marry as early as fourteen!”

  “I’ll admit that she’s getting a bit old,” he said. “If she’s not married by the time she’s one-and-twenty, I’ll think on the matter again.”

  “But—”

  “That is enough,” he said sternly. “I’ve made my decision. Moreover, I’ll remind you and your daughters that the same law that lets Laurie say aye or nay to a husband gives me full authority to forbid any daughter’s marriage. Do not think you will get round me on that, madam, because you won’t.”

  He scowled at Blanche and then at May.

  May did not meet his gaze. She had finished eating and was sitting with her hands in her lap, looking down. Her demeanor appeared to be submissive, but Laurie saw Isabel give her yet another searching look.

  Feeling guilty, Laurie wondered if May was simply trying to conceal irritation at Sir William’s stubbornness, or hers.

  She would have liked to tell May that she was sorry if her waywardness was causing difficulty. Had she been able to explain her aversion to marrying, she would have liked to do that, too. However, she could not explain it beyond saying she had never met a man she wanted to marry, so she sat quietly instead, saying nothing and hoping that no one would command her to speak.

  A mental picture of the red-haired man in Tarras Wood suddenly filled her mind. So clear was it that she glanced hastily around to see if anyone had noted a change in her demeanor.

  No one was looking at her. Blanche’s gaze was drifting toward May, who was still looking down at her lap. Isabel was watching Blanche.

  Turning to Sir William, Isabel said, “Sir, when will the English attack again? Will they murder us all, do you think?”

  Sir William regarded his youngest daughter fondly and said, “They may attack again, lassie, but here at Aylewood we are as safe as mice in a mill. Our tower, sitting as it does on its rocky crag with only the one track approaching it and with someone always keeping watch, must be well nigh impregnable.”

  “But if the Laird of Buccleuch and Rabbie Redcloak go after those men who attacked today, Lord Scrope’s men will attack Liddesdale again,” Isabel said. “That frightens me, because dreadful things will happen and more people will die. And Bridget says that perhaps next time the raiders will come all the way to Aylewood.”

  Blanche said gently, “You must not listen to servants’ gossip, Isabel.”

  “But Bridget kept crying all day. She said that she heard those horrid men had killed her brother and two of her uncles—even one of her brother’s bairns!”

  “Who the devil is Bridget?” Sir William demanded.

  “Your daughters’ maidservant, of course,” Blanche said. “I will speak to her directly after we have finished here, I promise you. She may have received dreadful news, but she should not repeat such sordid tales to the child, nor should she speak of persons who do not exist, like that Rabbie Redcloak.”

  “Does he not exist, then?” Isabel demanded, wide-eyed. “Laurie said he does. She said that Sir Quinton Scott of Broadhaugh knows him. That is why Rabbie’s Bairns helped Lady Scott rescue Sir Quinton from Carlisle, and that is why they call her ‘Janet the Bold.’ Also, Bridget says—”

  “That will do, Isabel,” Blanche said sternly. “If you cannot hold your tongue, you must retire to your bedchamber.”

  “I’m sorry, Mama,” Isabel said in a small voice. “Must I go now?”

  “The one who really should leave the table is Laura,” Blanche said, giving her husband a look of irritation. “She should be ashamed of telling such untruths to the child, particularly tales like that utter nonsense about Janet Scott.”

  “That story is true,” Laurie said quietly. “Everyone knows that she rode to Carlisle Castle. And that is why they call her ‘Janet the Bold.’”

  “You forget that I have become acquainted with Lady Scott,” Blanche said. “There can be no doubt that she is a gentlewoman. Moreover, you seem to forget that she is English. Her brother is England’s deputy warden for the western march.”

  “Still, she—”

  “Be silent,” Blanche commanded. “Doubtless people hereabouts tell foolish tales about her simply because she has the misfortune to be English and was raised in an odd way. Her mother and father died when she was small, and her brother, who they say is a harsh man, raised her himself. If she sometimes says or does odd things, ’tis doubtless because she had no mother to teach her how to go on.”

  Laurie had never met Janet Scott, but she had admired her bravery from the moment she first heard about it. Now she found herself envying Janet, as well.

  “There will be no more such talk,” Sir William said with a stern look at her. “Not of Janet the Bold or of Rabbie Redcloak. Do you hear me, lass?”

  “Yes, sir,” Laurie said meekly as she tried to imagine what it would be like to hear herself called Laurie the Bold.

  Instead, however—and particularly if Blanche had anything to say about it—people were more likely to call her Laurie the Stubbornly Unwed.

  Blanche seemed to have forgotten about Isabel’s lapse, for she returned to the subject of Fast Castle, and the rest of the meal passed without incident.

  As soon as Sir William excused Laurie and her sisters from the table, Laurie hurried to her bedchamber. She thought briefly of speaking to May. Then she remembered that Blanche had promised to have a talk with Bridget. At this hour, Bridget was likely to be in the bedchamber that May shared with Isabel, waiting to help them prepare to retire.

  Having no wish to encounter Blanche again until time had done what it could to lessen that lady’s displeasure with her, Laurie decided she would be wiser to wait until she and May could talk privately.

  Six

  There came an old lady

  Running out of the wood…

  “YE’VE GOT COMPANY, SIR Hugh,” Ned Rowan said over the noise of ponies’ hooves clattering on cobblestones, as Hugh and his men rode into the inner bailey at Brackengill Castle a short time later.

  Hugh grunted in response, for the unusual activity in the yard had already informed him that company had arrived. Unfamiliar lackeys tended unfamiliar horses, and some of his lads were dragging baggage through the main entrance. He had no idea who it could be, but unexpected company was common in the Borders. Frequently, passing travelers requested hospitality, and hosts rarely denied them.

  “I’d better see who it is,” he said to Rowan, adding in a louder voice, “Andrew, come and take charge of my lad here.”

  A thin, wiry little boy came running to take the dun’s reins, saying cheerfully, “Aye, Sir Hugh, I’ll look after him.”

  “See that you do, lad,” Rowan said, dismounting and reaching out a hand to tousle the boy’s dark, curly hair.

  Andrew nodded without comment.

  As the boy turned away toward the stable with the dun gelding, Hugh strode to the stone steps leading to the castle entrance. Taking them and the spiral stairs inside two at a time, he entered the great hall, where he found serving lads scurrying about in response to sharp commands issued by a frail-looking lady of indeterminate years who sat rigidly upright in his armchair
at the high table.

  Her elaborately dressed hair was such an improbable shade of red as to make him suspect that, like the Queen, she wore a wig. Her face was heavily made up to look fashionably pale with pink cheeks, red lips, and dark lashes and brows. Her clothing was rich looking and fashionable with beaded and jeweled trim.

  She peered toward him myopically, frowned as if to reprove his hasty entrance. Then she smiled, saying in a high, bright, carefully cultured voice, “Why, you must be Sir Hugh!”

  “I am Hugh Graham, madam,” he affirmed with a nod, adding as he doffed his steel helmet and handed it, along with his steel-and-leather gauntlets and his sword belt, to a lackey, “May I inquire who escorted you here to Brackengill?”

  “Why, I escorted myself, sir.”

  “Perhaps my people did not explain that this house lacks a proper hostess, madam. Indeed, there are no women here, barring the cook and her small daughter. I’ll gladly provide you with an escort to Bewcastle, where I am persuaded that Lady Nixon will see to your every comfort.”

  “It is your lack of a hostess that brings me here,” the lady replied.

  Hugh stared at her, wondering if she was mad.

  “But, there,” she said, “I can see that you do not know who I am, and I warrant no one could blame you for that, since it must be fifteen years since you last clapped eyes on me.”

  She paused with birdlike expectancy, clearly assuming that she had provided sufficient information about her identity for him to deduce it.

  Bewildered, he said, “I crave pardon, madam, but I have no idea who you are. It does not matter, in any event, since it is patently unsuitable for you to remain overnight. I will have my lads carry your things outside to your sumpter ponies, although perhaps I should provide fresh ones if you’ve traveled any distance today.”

  “Today I traveled from Carlisle, sir. I traveled there from London in my coach, however, with a wagon to bear my baggage. A dreadful, rough journey it was, too. I feel obliged to inform you that your roads hereabouts are deplorable—where you have roads—but I have resolved not to complain about them.”

  “They are tracks rather than roads, I’m afraid,” Hugh admitted.

  “Yes, and because of them, although the distance I traveled today is not so great, I had to leave my coach in Carlisle and hire sumpters, saddle horses, and two men-at-arms to protect me and my tirewoman. Thus, I am worn to the bone from riding, and I am persuaded that you will not wish to turn your own aunt out again under such circumstances. Now, will you, sir?” She smiled sweetly.

  Hugh had all he could do to conceal his shock. “My aunt? Lady Marjory? But how can that be, madam? Surely, my uncle Brampton—”

  “Dead, I’m afraid,” Lady Marjory Brampton said with a sigh.

  “When?”

  She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I am afraid I have lost track of time during this dreadful trip, my dear sir. I believe it must be quite four months now, though.”

  Hugh stared at her, speechless. At last, he said, “If it has been as long as that, someone should have informed me. Do you not know the date of his death?”

  “Why, yes, how clever of you to think of that! It was the fourth of April. Moreover, it was a Sunday. I remember the day distinctly, because I had just got home from services when they told me that your uncle had collapsed and died. So, you see, it has been more than four months. I did think that someone would have informed you by now, but of course, there always are complex matters to attend to in such cases, and being a man of law himself and so often with the Queen, Brampton was not accustomed to putting his own affairs in anyone else’s hands.”

  “But I have written to him twice in that time,” Hugh protested. “The second time was scarcely a month ago! I am surprised that you did not reply to my letters yourself, madam, if only to explain why my uncle was unable to do so.”

  “Oh, I could not. I would never presume to read his letters, you see, and I was quite utterly devastated. For a fortnight, I was unable even to see people. My daughters live with their husbands in places quite distant from London, and—”

  “Surely, not so distant as Cumberland,” Hugh muttered.

  She had quick ears, for she said, “Oh, no, not so far as this! Still, they were unable to come to my support at once, you see, and although I did return to Southampton with my daughter Sarah, that situation did not prosper. I discovered that Brampton and I had been quite mistaken about her husband, who proved to be a frightfully quarrelsome man. I am not quarrelsome myself and simply cannot abide the quarreling of others, so I left and went to my younger daughter, Philadelphia. She lives in Cornwall.”

  “I see.”

  “Yes, but I did not find Cornwall appealing, either. So when I learned that your dear sister, Janet, had married a Scotsman—Really, my dear sir, I quite feel for you! For your sister to have married right out of her own country! But I shall say no more about that. I came to be a solace to you, so that is that.”

  Since it was clearly ineligible to tell her to go away again, Hugh said with an unfamiliar sense of creeping desperation, “But this household is bound to prove more distressing for you than any in Cornwall, madam. I would not have you sacrifice your comfort for my sake.”

  “’Tis a measure of your character that you can say that, my dear sir, but you need not concern yourself one whit with my comfort. The boot is on the other foot, as my dear Brampton was used to say.”

  Again at a loss to guess her meaning, he said weakly, “Is it?”

  “Yes, certainly, for I intend to concern myself solely with your comfort.”

  “Ah.”

  “As to maidservants, we need not consider them, for I have brought my own woman with me, of course, and Griselda will see to all that I require. You will find that I have no wish to turn everything upside down, either. Indeed, I shall be no trouble to you or your people, for I am quite accustomed to managing a large establishment.”

  “I believe you, madam, but truly—”

  “I’ll warrant that, by virtue of my many years of experience, I know a great deal more about it than our dear Janet did.” She smiled hopefully. “Speak frankly now, sir. Do you not miss a woman’s touch about the place?”

  “In truth, madam, I have been going on admirably for some time now without a female to run things,” Hugh said, forgetting how often he had cursed his sister’s absence. He wondered what unforgivable sin he had committed to bring such a penance upon himself.

  “I think that you will find you have not known comfort at all, sir. But where are my manners?” she exclaimed, springing up from the armchair and smoothing her wide skirts. “I promise you, I know my place, and it is not to be sitting in your chair when you are present. Do sit down, Sir Hugh. You have been in the saddle many hours today, for your people were kind enough to inform me that you had ridden out with Thomas Scrope’s army. I know something about that, you see, for I was at Carlisle yesterday when they rode away. A most impressive array it was, too. How colorful and soul stirring it was to see all those handsome men-at-arms with their banners waving! I trust the outcome was as his lordship hoped it would be.”

  “We prevailed, madam. An army of two thousand could hardly have failed in such a mission against unsuspecting citizens fast asleep in their beds.”

  “Those dreadful Scots deserved to be trounced in their beds,” Lady Marjory said. “Do not waste another moment’s thought on them, my dear sir. Think instead about the delicious haunch of beef that your people have been roasting over the kitchen fire for your supper. Can you not smell it?”

  He could, and he was hungry enough to eat the whole thing by himself.

  He said politely, “Since you have your woman with you, I will offer no more objection, madam, but do not fear to offend me if you decide before long to leave Brackengill. I’ll understand if you should prefer to return to one of your daughters.”

  “I shan’t do that,” she said. “You clearly need me far more than Sarah or Philadelphia. Here, you,” she a
dded more briskly, gesturing to one of the lackeys. “Bring Sir Hugh a cushion for his chair, and see what is keeping that fellow I sent to find herbs for the rushes in here.”

  Turning back to Sir Hugh, she added, “I find them rather malodorous, do not you? I believe some fresh herbs will help. But do sit down now, sir, and take your ease. Would you not like a mug of ale to slake the dust of travel from your throat?”

  “Aye, I would,” Hugh admitted, too tired to resist any longer and deciding that he would drink the ale and then go upstairs to change into something more suitable for eating his supper.

  His sleeveless jack of plate was flexible enough to be comfortable while riding into battle, but worn over a shirt of chain mail, it felt damned cumbersome by day’s end. He would be glad to exchange it for some comfortable clothing.

  Shoving a hand through his thick hair, he moved to sit in the now cushioned chair, smiling politely when Lady Marjory asked him to sit just a little forward so that she could readjust the cushion.

  “There, now,” she said, giving it a final pat. “That will be more comfortable.”

  “Thank you, madam,” he said. “Do not let me keep you, though. You must have things that you wish to attend to before you take your supper.”

  “Nothing that is more important than seeing to your needs, my dear sir.”

  “I require nothing presently save to drink my ale,” Hugh insisted, hoping that he did not sound as desperate as he was beginning to feel. “Surely you want to tidy your hair, at least. My lads were still bringing in your baggage when I arrived.”

  “The sumpter ponies fell behind,” she said. “I am quite tidy enough, I promise you. Shall I tell your kitchen people that you want your supper at once? Since you need not wait on my account, I believe you will be glad of it.”

  “No, thank you, for I want to take off this armor before I sup. My people know when to serve me. Moreover, madam, it is not necessary for you to eat here in the hall with me. Brackengill boasts no ladies’ parlor, but Meggie, my cook, will be happy to serve you in your bedchamber. I am persuaded that you will enjoy a degree more comfort there than here in the hall with me and my men-at-arms.”