“The manse.” He would not have their conversation overheard by itching ears. Lachlan and Morna had visited Urr that morning for a proper kirkin, the bride’s first appearance at her parish church after the wedding. Jamie knew he would have no better opportunity to speak with Newabbey’s minister than this one. He sent Rose and the others on their way, promising to catch up with them. Leana’s plaintive expression and murmured thanks fueled his resolve; he would not fail her.
Swinging open the low gate to the manse, Reverend Gordon bade Jamie follow him withindoors. A maidservant brought them tea in the spence, poured two cupfuls, then disappeared with a curtsy. The minister regarded him solemnly across his steaming teacup. “This concerns Leana, I presume? And your child?”
“And my uncle.”
“I see.” As Jamie described Lachlan’s cruel plans for Leana, Reverend Gordon’s bushy eyebrows signaled his displeasure. When Jamie finished, the minister put his teacup down with a decisive clink. “The Buik tells us that if any man does not provide for his own, and in particular for those of his own house, he has denied the faith and is worse than an infidel.”
Infidel. The harsh term suited Lachlan McBride. “Can anything be done, sir?”
Reverend Gordon shifted in his chair. Lachlan McBride’s tithe was no doubt a generous one; landowners were handled with care, however ill-kindit their ways. “Unfortunately, your uncle is a man who maintains the letter of the law but not the spirit. He breaks none of the Ten Commandments openly, even as he confounds those who live beneath his roof.”
The minister knew him well. Jamie had watched Lachlan choose his words with care—not to avoid wounding someone, but so the wounds would not show—all the while protecting his reputation as a righteous man. “Is there nothing he might be charged with? No sin of which he is guilty?”
“We are all sinners, Jamie.” Reverend Gordon fell silent, pursing his lips. “Alas, the kirk session would be hard pressed to charge him with anything. You see, as laird of his household, Lachlan may discipline his family however he chooses.”
“Discipline?” Jamie ground out, incensed at the notion. “Leana has done nothing wrong—”
“Enough, lad.” Reverend Gordon held up his hand, stemming the flow of words. “I ken her situation. Your child was legitimately conceived yet will be born to an unmarried woman who has reached her majority. As such, the law does not require your father to provide lodging for her nor for her bairn.”
Jamie thrust out his chin. “The love of God requires it.”
“Indeed it does.”
“Which is why I will send sufficient silver for her care and for the child’s. But ’tis a home she needs. A place of refuge far from Lachlan’s … influence.”
“Indeed.” With a heavy sigh, the reverend stood, ending their meeting. “I will look into the matter and see what might be done for her. As to your uncle, I cannot promise you the justice you seek. That rests in God’s hands alone.” He steered Jamie toward the door. “You can be certain the parish will look after Leana. Some good soul will take her in. Isabella Callender or Janet Sloan, I imagine. What are Leana’s particular skills?”
“Sewing. Gardening. Spinning.” Loving me. Mothering our children. Honoring God. Jamie sank beneath the weight of her gifts. He could not tally half so many for himself. “She writes with a fine hand, and her baking rivals that of any French chef. None of the womanly arts are beyond her abilities, Reverend.”
“Then Leana will surely find enough work to keep her hands busy and her roof secure.”
Jamie pressed him. “You are certain of this?” The minister made it sound as though her father’s disownment were a problem easily solved. Could that be true? Might he leave for Glentrool without being hounded by guilt?
Reverend Gordon’s hand rested on the latch. “After the child is born and some time has passed, a man in the parish may notice what a competent woman Leana is and make her an offer of marriage.”
Jamie stared at him. “Is that … likely?”
The minister shrugged. “One can hope for such an outcome. For her sake.”
Jamie’s gaze fell to the door latch. Why did his stomach clench whenever someone mentioned Leana marrying? She deserved to be happy. To be provided for, to be loved.
“We will care for her as best we can, Jamie. I cannot pretend her station will not be reduced, for our collection box depends upon the generosity of our neighbors. Any silver you send will be put to good use.”
“I will send all I can, sir.”
Reverend Gordon eased open the door, the savory aroma from the dining room across the hall clearly beckoning him. “These … ah, changes will be quite difficult for Leana after all she’s been through. Not having a home of her own or a family to support her.”
Jamie studied a slender crack in the wooden door. Leave for Glentrool without guilt? Impossible.
“Will you join us at table?” Reverend Gordon gestured across the hall. “We’ve more than enough food to bid you welcome.”
“I’m afraid my family expects me.” Though the minister asked again, Jamie resisted.
“Away with you, then.” The older man waved him toward the door. “You’ve much on your mind and many decisions to make. Trust in the Almighty. He will not forsake you, lad.”
I will not fail thee, nor forsake thee. Jamie knew the words were true. He had read them, spoken them, prayed them, and at last believed them. Now he longed for something more: proof.
Forty-Six
Is this a dream? O, if it be a dream,
Let me sleep on, and do not wake me yet!
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
Jamie?” Rose’s voice. Floating above him in the dim recesses of their box bed.
“Here,” he answered, slowly opening his eyes. “Here I am.”
Rose leaned over him, her white teeth gleaming in the candlelight. “I know where you are, dear man. But where have you been? Sleeping or dreaming?”
“Both.” He raised himself onto his elbows, squinting at his surroundings. Aye, there were the familiar wooden walls and linen sheets. The heather mattress, freshly stuffed, smelled as fragrant as Auchengray Hill on a summer night. Yet it was the hills of home that had filled his dreams—Mulldonach, Buchan, Eschoncan—steeply sloped, covered with purple heath, and etched with frothy linns tumbling into the heart of the glen.
Loch Trool. Home.
He dragged his hand across his rough beard. “Why did you stir me, lass?”
“You were moaning.” She leaned back, giving him room to breathe. “I feared you were in pain or lost in a nightmare.”
He sank onto the mattress, not truly awake. The threads of his dream tugged at him, wooing him back to sleep. His eyelids drifted shut. “The Sabbath day was long, and the hour is late, Rose. Will you mind if I …”
“Sleep, Jamie.” She leaned across him and extinguished the candle by their bedside. “Pleasant dreams.”
Darkness enveloped him.
His body drifted into a blessed numbness.
When Jamie opened his eyes—or so it seemed, though he knew it was a dream—the sky was lit by the morning sun, the air cooled by a mountain breeze. His bed had turned into a familiar slab of rock, holding him high above the ground.
His name poured forth from the heavens.
“Here I am,” Jamie called, not caring if he sounded foolish.
The voice in his dream rang out. “I am the God of the place where you slept and woke and made your vow.”
Turning round, Jamie discovered the loose rock that had served as his pillow one night long ago when another dream had unfolded much like this one. May this stone be my witness. He knelt before it, remembering his promise. A portion of all that I have will belong to you. Had the time come to make good on his vow? He had nothing to offer, not even a lamb.
“Arise.”
Jamie scrambled to his feet, fear jolting through him. His hands, his purse, were empty. Forgive me. He could not bring himself to say the words aloud,
dreading to think what his admission might cost him. Forgive me, Lord.
“Return.”
One word, and all doubt vanished. Return. Even with his hands empty, he could go home. Must go home.
“Return with your children to the land of your father.”
Aye, he would return to Glentrool. And not with empty hands at all but with full ones. With his children. All of them.
The Almighty had proved himself faithful.
Jamie knew he must do the same.
He opened his eyes slowly, waking to a new day not yet dawned.
A slumbering Rose lay next to him. Her dark lashes fanned across her cheeks. Her thick braid, pulled loose while she’d tossed and turned in the night, lay curled round her neck like a napping cat. And tucked beneath her head, her small hands were pressed together as if she’d fallen asleep in supplication.
“If you prayed for me last night, Rose, I am grateful.” He lightly brushed her cheek, then ran his thumb round her sweet mouth, longing to kiss her, yet not wanting to wake her. She stirred, though only a little. “I ken what is to be done.” His dream, still vivid in his mind, had provided the answer he needed.
He would tell Rose as soon as she awakened: They would return to Glentrool. With Leana.
The decision made, doubt crept in, like the tendrils of light starting to curl round the curtains. Would Rose accept his decision? Or question his motives? Even if she agreed now, she might grow resentful once they settled in the glen. Her fears and insecurities, which had eased over the summer, could rise to a fever pitch.
And what of Leana? Would she welcome such a life? If he insisted Leana accompany them, if he exerted his will over both sisters without regard for their feelings, he would be no better than Lachlan McBride.
Jamie rose from his bed, more determined than ever. I am not my uncle. He splashed water on his face, then pulled on his clothes, the hours ahead clear in his mind. He would meet with Leana and Rose together, well away from the house. Describe his dream. Let them hear the truth for themselves. And let them make their own decisions.
God had revealed his will to him. Could he not also reveal it to them?
Jamie slipped from the room and down the stair, stepping lightly as he went, not wanting to wake the household. When he reached the hall, he heard amiable voices coming from the kitchen. Duncan. Neda. Jamie called ahead to them, lest his unexpected entrance scare them senseless.
“Guid day tae ye, Mr. McKie.” Neda’s hands were covered with oatmeal, though she still dropped a slight curtsy. “What brings ye tae me kitchen door sae early in the morn?”
“I can answer that,” Duncan boasted. “The smell o’ oatcakes bakin’ on the girdle.”
“Aye.” It was as fine a reason as any, Jamie decided, and far easier to explain than his dream. While he waited for Leana and Rose to begin their day, perhaps he should broach the subject with the Hastingses. Return. The Almighty had clearly spoken; surely his friends would concur.
Duncan claimed a toasted cake while his wife was busy rolling out the next one. He finished his prize in a few bites, then winked at Jamie. “Did ye sleep weel, lad?”
“More than that, I dreamed well.” Jamie straddled a tall stool. “If you can listen while you bake, Neda, I’ll tell you both a story you’ve not likely heard.”
A cock crowed twice before Jamie finished relating his dream and the message it conveyed. “It seems I am to leave Auchengray whether my uncle approves or not.”
Neda’s voice was thin. “And take Leana wi’ ye.”
The sorrow in her eyes was almost more than Jamie could bear. “We cannot leave Leana in her father’s hands.”
“Nae, ye canna do that.” Neda wiped her hands on her apron, then dabbed her eyes with a dry corner of the fabric. “Leana is like me ain dochter. Rose as weel.”
“I’ve not spoken with either of them yet,” he cautioned her. “I trust you’ll keep my plans to yourself.”
“Not a wird, lad.”
Duncan folded his arms across his chest, his bright blue eyes assessing Jamie. “Ye’ll take the sisters and yer bairns, aye. But will ye take yer lambs?”
“I’ll not play the part of a reiver, if that’s what you mean, and steal another man’s sheep.”
“ ’Tis not stealin’ whan they’re yer ain flocks.” Duncan’s voice was full of mettle. “I heard Lachlan McBride call them yers mony a time. They say a man’s wird is his bond.” The overseer yanked on his bonnet with a sharp nod. “Ye have a richt tae claim yer lambs. And I’ll be glad tae help ye.”
“Duncan, you cannot involve yourself—”
“Wheesht!” A wry grin spread across his face. “I’ll not have a green herd like yerself tellin’ me what I can and canna do. Let me think aboot how tae arrange sic a thing.”
“Think about it?” Jamie threw his hands in the air. “Neda, can you talk some sense into this auld man?”
She chuckled softly, sliding her hand in the crook of her husband’s elbow. “We’re a pair, the twa o’ us. If Duncan says he’ll help ye, then I will too.”
“But Lachlan—”
“Doesna ken what I’m aboot tae tell ye.” Duncan motioned him closer until the three of them formed a loose knot in the center of the kitchen. “At Kingsgrange, the farm whaur our dochter Mary is in service, the laird has offered tae fee me as o’erseer and Neda as hoosekeeper. I’ve yet to gie the man an answer, but I will if ye say the wird.”
“You would … leave Auchengray?” Jamie’s mind reeled at the thought of all of them departing in quick succession. “Lachlan cannot handle this place on his own. The flocks … the steading …”
Duncan shrugged, clearly unconcerned. “His new sons arrive in a day or twa. ’Twill take all three o’ them tae fill our shoes, aye?”
Jamie sat back, stunned at the possibility. His family. And his lambs. Was it too much to hope for?
“Nae matter what happens, ye maun go tae Glentrool,” Duncan said firmly. “I’ll see what can be done aboot takin’ yer flocks wi’ ye.”
Jamie stood and clasped Duncan’s hand. “You’re a better friend than I deserve.”
“Do as ye’d be done tae, me faither told me.”
Jamie laughed, releasing his grip. “A good rule, that.” He turned to Neda, hoping she sensed his gratitude as well. “When Rose and Leana appear for breakfast, kindly send them out to the far pasture to meet me. After they’ve eaten, mind you, for I’ll not see my bairns go hungry.”
Neda’s smile was kindness itself. “Ye’re a guid faither, Mr. McKie.”
Forty-Seven
Things of today?
Deeds which are harvest for Eternity!
EBENEZER ELLIOTT
Monday’s child is fair of face. Rose smiled to herself, spreading a thick layer of strawberry jam across her toasted oatcake. It was a Monday, and she’d tried to look her bonniest. She’d not meant to sleep quite so late, however. Leana was probably knee-deep in her garden by now and Jamie lost among his sheep. She would find them both and tell them her plan.
When Neda appeared with a fresh rasher of bacon, Rose scolded her. “You’ve no need to serve me, Neda. I am capable of putting my own food on a plate.”
“Noo, lass.” She placed the meat on the table. “Ye maun let me make a fuss o’er ye while I can. Afore ye leave for Glentrool and forget yer auld Neda.”
“Leave?” Rose paused, her oatcake halfway to her mouth. “Do you know something that I do not?”
Neda’s ruddy cheeks turned scarlet. “Pardon me, mistress. I spoke oot o’ turn. Whan ye finish yer breakfast, ye’ll be wantin’ tae join Mr. McKie in the far pasture. Yer husband wishes tae speak wi’ ye and yer sister.”
Rose stood in haste, her meal forgotten. “Why did you not tell me at once?”
“He wanted ye tae eat first. For the sake o’ yer babe.” Neda eased her back into the chair. “Have a bite o’ yer guid bacon. Mr. McKie can wait anither minute or twa. If ye’ve not eaten, it’s me head he’ll be askin’ fo
r on a plate.”
Rose bolted down her food, barely tasting it. Had Jamie come to some resolution? She had yet to approach him with her own audacious notion. Could she tell Jamie and Leana together? Aye, and pray Jamie would not be livid with her when he heard what his heidie wife had in mind.
She left the table moments later, her discarded linen fluttering to the floor as she hurried out the back door in search of Leana. Just as she’d envisioned, her sister was kneeling in her garden, poking seeds into the tilled soil.
“There you are.” Rose hovered over her, reluctant to sit on the grass lest she soil her gown. Instead she clasped her hands and tried to curb her anxious thoughts. “Have you seen Jamie?”
Leana straightened, brushing the dirt from her hands. “You and I are to meet him in the far pasture. If you don’t mind, I’d like to finish here first. It won’t take a minute.”
Rose waited—quite patiently, she thought—standing on the spongy grass while her sister emptied the seed packet into the palm of her hand.
“These are the last I’ll sow this season.” Leana pushed each one firmly in place. “I’ve been waiting for tonight’s full moon. It pulls the water in the ground toward the surface so the seeds sprout more quickly. And at night the moonlight helps the leaves grow. Auld gardeners say that, after Lammas, corn ripens as much by night as by day.”
Rose watched the plain, dun-colored seeds disappear into the ground. If Neda’s slip of the tongue proved true, and she and Jamie were indeed headed for Glentrool, she would not see this crop harvested. As for her sister, Rose knew what must be done; now she needed the courage to do it.
“Come, Leana.” The sooner they found Jamie, the sooner all could be resolved.
Leana stood without mishap, then slipped off her dirt-covered apron. “Father has yet to put me out of the house, and I already look like a poor gaberlunzie begging for bread.”
“Nonsense.” Rose took her apron and tossed it aside, then pointed them toward the fields. “You look like my sister.”
Whence Came a Prince Page 30
