Whence Came a Prince

by Liz Curtis Higgs

  Jamie stared at him. Wait on the Lord? Hadn’t he waited long enough? He glanced over Duncan’s shoulder in time to see dust rising along the road from Lochend. “They’re here.”

  “I’ll be prayin’ for ye, lad,” Duncan called after him as Jamie started down the hill, nearly losing his footing in his haste.

  He tried to pray, though his thoughts were disjointed and his motives at odds. Keep me from the hands of the wicked. Did he simply want free of the man? Or did he want revenge? Let not mine enemy triumph over me. Was it his lambs that mattered most? Or his wounded pride? Lead me in a plain path. The one prayer, the true prayer, that counted.

  His heart banged in his chest like a drum as he lengthened his stride across the garden, bound for the back door. The jingle of the harnesses drew closer, and the driver called out, bidding the horses stop, as Jamie crossed the threshold. He found Leana and Rose waiting in the entrance hall, neatly dressed in their printed cotton gowns, a look of resolve on both their faces.

  “Jamie.” Rose held out her hand and drew him to her side. “We should stand together. As a family. But Leana must speak first, for her … situation is more … pressing.”

  Leana’s chin was steady, he noticed, and her gaze clear. The hands clasped above the fullness of their unborn child did not tremble. This gracie woman would not cower beneath Lachlan’s harsh demeanor nor bend at his bidding. Whatever Leana intended to say, their bairn would boldly go before her. Our son. Our daughter. Jamie nodded toward her once in silent affirmation. The Lord be with thee, lass.

  All three of them turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. The clock on the dining room mantel struck the first of twelve chimes when the front door swung open and Lachlan guided Morna into the hall. Dust from the road clung to their hats, and their clothes were wrinkled from traveling. Morna’s weary smile looked pasted in place.

  “Just as I expected, Mistress McBride.” Lachlan’s expression was grim. “Your new family is here to greet you.”

  “Welcome home, Father.” Leana offered the couple a deep curtsy. When she straightened, utterly revealing her condition, Lachlan’s face reddened, while Morna’s paled to ash.

  “Leana!” Her father closed in on her. “What have you done?”

  “I have told the truth. Everyone in the household knows I am carrying Jamie McKie’s child. Reverend Gordon knows as well.” Leana gave a graceful shrug. “Father, I’m afraid our secret is out.”

  “Our secret?” Morna’s words were faint, as if whispered through linen. “And this is…your child, James?”

  “It is, Mistress McBride.” Jamie gave her a slight bow. “Or am I to call you Aunt Morna?”

  “You are not to call her…anything!” Lachlan sputtered. “James, I would speak with you at once. In private. Morna, make yourself at home in the parlor. Neda?” He found her standing dutifully by the stair. “Fetch my wife something cool to drink.” Lachlan turned and glowered at Jamie. “Now, Nephew. In the spence.”

  Summoning his courage, Jamie followed Lachlan through the house, aware of Rose and Leana close behind. When the men reached the spence, Lachlan turned to shut the door in his daughters’ faces.

  “Nae, Father.” Rose grasped the latch, her elbow pressed against the door. “I have an important matter to discuss with you. As it involves my sister, she, too, belongs in the room.” Without waiting for his permission, Rose swept into the small spence with Leana.

  “Fine.” Lachlan slammed the door behind them, rattling the pewter cups on his desk. “Sit,” he ordered, though they remained standing. His face a mottled red, he yanked the lid off the whisky decanter and poured himself a dram.

  “I won’t be having any,” Jamie said evenly.

  Lachlan downed the pewter cupful in a single gulp. “And I won’t be offering you any.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his manners reduced to those of a brute. “What is it you want, Rose?”

  Despite the quaver in her voice, she answered him at once. “I want to know why the children my sister and I bear will not be counted among your heirs.”

  Lachlan took his time pouring a second dram. He sipped the fiery liquid, licking his lips as he eyed the family Bible on his desk. “Because ‘I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy.’ ” Taking another sip, he pointed his sharp gaze toward Jamie. “And whom I will, I harden.” His words dropped like rocks clattering against the walls of the too-quiet room.

  Jamie finally spoke. “You have indeed hardened me, Uncle. And turned me to stone.” He longed for his dirk. Wished for his sword. “A stone on which you’ve sharpened the blade of your tongue long enough.” When Lachlan started to speak, Jamie cut him off. “You may keep your precious land and your thrifite full of silver. Auchengray and its riches mean nothing to me.”

  “Really?” Lachlan stared at him, his eyes bright from the whisky. “Is there nothing of mine you want then?”

  “Nothing of yours. I want only my own lambs. All of them. Including the ones at Edingham.”

  “ ’Tis only fair,” Rose was quick to add. “They are Jamie’s.”

  “Your lambs, Nephew?” Lachlan banged his dram on the desk, splashing whisky on the polished wood, where it beaded up and glistened in the candlelight. “How can those sheep possibly be yours when they are grazing on my property? Do you have any proof of this ownership? A contract of some sort? A letter prepared by a solicitor? Nae, for they are in fact not your lambs at all. They are mine—”

  “They are mine.”

  “—just as Auchengray is mine, and that woman sitting in the parlor is mine, and Edingham is mine.”

  Jamie could barely see straight, could barely think straight. “Two months ago we sat at your table—”

  “Wheesht!” The word hissed through the air like a blade. Glaring at him, Lachlan yanked a silver key out from its hiding place beneath his shirt. He bent forward long enough to jam the key in the lock of his money box, then threw back the lid, sending it crashing against the desk top. “All of this is mine as well, Nephew. A goodly sum, wouldn’t you say?”

  When both sisters gasped, Jamie forced himself to look at the open thrifite. Instead of silver shillings, the box now overflowed with gold sovereigns. The knotted gold cord tucked among the coins was barely visible, so brightly did the sovereigns gleam.

  Lachlan’s gray eyes took on a silvery sheen of their own. “Mistress McBride agreed her inheritance was far safer with me.”

  “Safer? With you?” Jamie felt sorry for the woman. Heaven help her if she ever wanted any of her fortune back, for it surely belonged to Lachlan McBride now.

  “Edingham is to be sold on Wednesday,” Lachlan said bluntly, eying the wooden chest. “My, my. What’s to be done with all that Douglas gold? For ’twill ne’er fit in this small chest.” He shrugged. “I suppose I must chop my money box into firewood and build a larger one.”

  Jamie said nothing for a moment, sickened by the man’s avarice.

  “Father?” Leana’s gentle voice. “If Edingham is sold, where will your … sons live?”

  “They’ll be welcomed here, of course. For they are far kinder to me than my own blood.”

  Jamie bit back an oath. “Why should we be kind to a man who is unkind and unfair? You promised me those lambs in payment for my labors. I will not let you swick me—”

  “Swick you?” Lachlan’s gaze narrowed. “You’re a fine one to speak of deceit.”

  “You will not grind the axe of my sin against me any longer.” Jamie threw back his shoulders. “I have sought the forgiveness of my father, my brother, and my God. I have little need of your mercy, Uncle, for I have not sinned against you. Yet you have greatly wronged me. And hurt both your daughters.”

  Lachlan closed his money box as vehemently as he’d opened it, his hands shaking with rage. “This family has vexed me past bearing. All the lambs are mine, do you hear? You forfeited your rights to them months ago when you planted this untimely bairn in Leana’s wame. Furthermore, you will not be leaving for
Glentrool as planned.”

  “What?” The room began to tilt. “You cannot stop—”

  “I most certainly can. You have robbed me of a marriageable daughter, a crime in any corner of Scotland.” He nodded at Leana, as though she’d been privy to his scheme all along. “No man in the ten parishes will have her. I’ve made inquiries since the hour I learned this unwelcome news of hers, to no avail.”

  Bewildered, Jamie turned round. “Is this true, Leana? Did you … wish to marry?” Her stunned expression provided his answer. When he faced Lachlan again, Jamie’s ire was rekindled. “ ’Twould appear your daughter was not apprised of any efforts to procure a husband.”

  “Do you think I seek my daughter’s blessing on all that I do?”

  “Blessing?” Jamie nearly spat at the man. “You do not ken the meaning of the word.”

  Lachlan ignored his charge, draining what remained of his whisky. “Since I cannot find another man to take Leana off my hands, then you must remain in my employ to support your bystart.” Lachlan put aside his empty cup. “My sons and I will see that you do.”

  “You cannot threaten me on that score, Uncle.” Jamie drew Leana forward. “I have already told Leana that I will send sufficient silver for the child. And for her.” His gaze searched hers. Is it enough, Leana? Will you be safe here?

  “I shall be well provided for.” She directed her words toward her father, though Jamie knew they were for his benefit as well. “I have no desire to marry and want only to raise my child at Auchengray.”

  “There you have it.” Jamie jutted out his chin, his confidence renewed. “This charge of yours has no basis, Lachlan, for her needs will be well met. Rose and I depart on the first, as planned.”

  “You would leave your child without a father? With naught but silver to keep him warm?” Lachlan’s voice rose with indignation. “And abandon his mother to fend for herself, bearing the sole burden of raising this child?” He shook his head. “Your callousness toward Leana surprises me, Nephew. Did you not once proclaim your undying love for my older daughter before God and all this parish on the first Sunday she warmed the cutty stool?”

  Jamie could not deny the truth. “I did.” Gladly.

  “Well, then. There must be some remnant of affection in that deceitful heart of yours. Enough to see that all of Leana’s needs are met.” Lachlan picked up one of the thick ledgers that lined his desk, then opened the leather volume to a column of numbers and studied them intently. “For I do not intend to provide for the woman nor her child in any manner. Neither bed nor board. Neither shelter nor clothing.” He lifted his gaze. “Do I make myself clear?”

  “Father!” Leana fell back a step.

  Jamie held out his arm to steady her. “Sir, whatever are you suggesting?”

  “Not suggesting, Nephew. Insisting. If you do not remain and support Leana and her child in every regard, I will cast them out of this house without a shilling.”

  “But …” Rose gripped Leana’s arm. “How will my sister manage?”

  “Someone will take pity on her, I suppose. ’Tis the kirk’s business to provide for those without means. No doubt Reverend Gordon has a few spare pennies in the collection box.”

  “You cannot do this!” Jamie knocked the heavy ledger from Lachlan’s hands, sending it tumbling to the floor. “What father would turn his back on his own child?”

  Lachlan feigned surprise. “But isn’t that what you’re doing? Turning your back on your child and the woman you once loved?” He retrieved his ledger, frowning at the broken binding before he put the book aside. “Once again, Jamie, I fear you’ve brought this on yourself. As your uncle, ’tis my charge to see that you behave like a Christian and a gentleman.”

  Undone by the sound of Leana’s soft weeping, Jamie used the only weapon in his possession. “A Christian? A gentleman? You, sir, are neither.”

  “And you, sir, have a choice.” Lachlan folded his arms across his chest like a shield. “Stay and do your duty by Leana. Or leave Auchengray and condemn her to the life of an outcast.”

  Forty-Three

  Life often presents us with a choice of evils,

  rather than of goods.

  CHARLES CALEB COLTON

  Leana looked at the man she loved through tear-washed eyes. “You cannot stay, Jamie.”

  “And I cannot go.” He clasped her hands in his, as if no one else were in the room. As if her father were not standing there gloating over their misery. As if Rose’s hand did not linger on her sleeve to console her. “Leana, I cannot abandon you to this … monster.”

  “Monster?” Lachlan scoffed, unfolding his arms as if preparing for a fight. “I am only a bonnet laird guarding his interests.”

  Jamie made no comment, giving Leana his undivided attention.

  When he looked at her that way—his green eyes intent, his mouth set in a firm line—she believed he could and would do anything to protect her. Oh, dear Jamie. Though he held her hands, he could not hold the shattered pieces of her heart.

  Would Father truly see her name added to the poor roll? And a beggar’s badge pinned to her gown when her time of confinement came and she could no longer work for her bread? Did he mean to send her knocking on doors, seeking lodging? Perhaps he believed his newfound riches would cushion him from his neighbors’ scorn. Or perhaps Lachlan McBride simply did not care.

  Whatever his intentions, he was not her true Father. I will receive you, and will be a Father unto you. The reminder was like an iron brace, strengthening her back, shoring up her courage. Thou art my strong refuge.

  As she blinked away her tears, the planes and shadows of Jamie’s face came into focus. She drew in a steadying breath and said what she must. “Do not change your plans on my behalf—”

  “Leana.” His grip tightened. “How can—”

  “I am not afraid, Jamie.” She had to convince him before he did something rash. “The Lord will shelter me, and so will the kirk. Our child will have a roof over his head.” She lowered her gaze. His touch was too warm. His eyes said too much.

  “There, you see.” Lachlan clapped his hands together, abruptly drawing the meeting to a close. “Your cousin has released you, Nephew. Glentrool awaits.” He gestured toward the door. “You will leave Auchengray, empty-handed of course. No lambs. No silver. But you will have my daughter Rose. Most men would consider that a sufficient reward for their labors.”

  “I am not a reward!” Rose stamped her foot when she said it. Not like a spoiled child demanding her own way; rather, like an angry woman who refused to be discounted. “And my sister will not be driven from her own home.”

  Lachlan turned his back on them, shuffling the papers on his desk. “That will be Jamie’s decision.”

  Leana would not allow such a burden to fall on Jamie’s shoulders, however broad they might be. “Let us away, Rose.” She slipped her hands from Jamie’s fervent grasp and took her sister’s arm. “Your husband may prefer to finish this discussion without us.”

  “ ’Tis finished. For now.” Jamie strode past the sisters and yanked open the door, then held it for them as they exited, his gaze fixed on Lachlan. “As to the dubious choices offered me, I refuse to honor either one.”

  “Honor was never your forte, James.”

  “Nor yours.” The sharp bang of the door was fitting punctuation.

  Up and down the back corridor, servants scurried like mice seeking their nest holes. The threesome stood for a moment, as if regaining their balance. Despite the tension, Rose managed a weak smile. “Secret matters seldom remain so at Auchengray.”

  Jamie guided them toward the front door, a hand on each of their elbows. “The orchard should afford us more privacy. We’ve much to discuss.”

  Averting her gaze from the too-bright sky above, Leana hurried to keep up with Jamie as they made their way toward the orchards east of the house. The trio found a secluded spot in which to stand among the fruit-laden apple trees, though Leana feared her legs might not hold her.
Her father’s words prodded at her, bruised her. Condemn her to the life of an outcast.

  “Can he mean what he says?” Rose twisted the ribbon dangling from her gown round her fingers, her back propped against a tree that would drop russet apples come October. “Whatever are we to do?”

  Dappled light fell across Jamie’s muslin work shirt and traced his furrowed brow. “Your father must have had this … this choice in mind for some time, Leana. When did he learn you were with child?”

  “A month ago. I was returning an almanac to his bookshelf when he found me. When he … saw me.” She still tasted the fear he’d stirred inside her that gray Monday. Take off your apron. Turn toward the hearth.

  Rose shuddered. “I can only imagine how he treated you. Och, what a hatesome man!”

  Jamie picked one of the unripe apples from the branches bending near his shoulder, then absently rolled the small hard fruit back and forth between his palms. “No doubt he was seeking some excuse to break his promise to me and reclaim my lambs. Our child provided that.”

  When her shoulders slumped, he was quick to console her. “This bairn is a blessing from God, no matter how your father might twist things.”

  Leana sensed the child moving inside her, as though vying to be included. “Aye, little one.” She touched the tender spot where she’d felt an elbow or foot jab her. “You are the one we’re discussing.”

  Jamie’s gaze followed her hand, then lifted to her face, his features softening. “What names do you favor?” When she told him, his smile was genuine. “Well done, lass. We’ve not had a David born to the McKies in many a generation. Nor any lass named Davina.”

  Leana dared not confess the truth: Davina always came to mind when she prayed for their child, not David. Would Jamie welcome a daughter? And be a good father to her, even from a distance?