Just Beyond Tomorrow

by Bertrice Small

  Mary burst out laughing at the big man’s acknowledgment. “I think,” she said, “ye can leave that to the duke. He canna ignore her like her sire did. He doesna understand that he is already in love wi’ her, and she wi’ him. I’ve seen them looking at each other when they dinna think anyone notices. I’m looking forward to a new generation of Leslies, Angus. His mother would be verra happy.”

  “Even if Flanna is a bit wild?” the big man teased the housekeeper.

  “Nae all Glenkirk’s ladies can be born princesses, and most werena,” Mary said calmly. “Ah, Angus, I hope that one day ye will meet her, our Duchess Jasmine, but she couldna remain here wi’out her Jemmie Leslie. Still, wi’ them gone, there is a void at Glenkirk Duke Patrick and his wife will hae to fill.” She sighed and wiped her eyes again with her apron. Then, straightening up, she said briskly, “Now, Angus Gordon, what else do we hae to do to make this a happy Christmas for us all?”

  When Angus told his niece how helpful Mary More-Leslie had become, the young duchess was openly grateful to the older woman. She took her suggestion, and with the three young Stuarts in tow, and in the company of a group of clansmen, they rode into the forest surrounding the castle to find the perfect Yule log for their celebrations. The day was unusually sunny and mild for a December morning. There was no wind.

  “We canna linger,” Flanna told the children. “There will be a storm before tomorrow. Nor should we go too far from the castle.”

  “How do you know there will be a storm?” Brie asked her aunt. “I wish it would be like this all winter. I haven’t seen the sun a great deal since we came north.”

  “It should nae be sunny now, nor should we hae the warmth,” Flanna explained. “Then, too, there is nae wind, lassie. All this portends a coming storm.” She sniffed. “Smell the air,” she told the three children. “Can ye nae scent the snow? And while the air is soft, there is an underlying chill to it.”

  “How do you know all of that?” Freddie Stuart asked her.

  “This land is where I was born and where I was bred,” Flanna replied. “I hae nae been a prim lass to sit by my loom, Freddie. I was out wi’ Angus learning how to hunt and track my quarry. Ye canna depend upon the weather to remain constant, so ye must learn how to understand the signs it gives ye.”

  “I want to learn,” Freddie said.

  “If ye stay wi’ us long enough, Freddie, I’ll teach ye,” Flanna promised him. “And yer sister and wee brother.” Then she kicked Glaise into a trot. “Come along now, bairns. Angus says Cook is making scones today. The sooner we find our Yule log, the sooner we’ll be home to eat them. And Mary says there is plum conserves.”

  They searched through the forest for over an hour before they came across a great oak that had fallen only recently. The clansmen dismounted and, taking their saws, began to cut off the bottom of the trunk where the roots were still in evidence. When the stump had fallen away, they cut several great logs, each one destined to fill a fireplace in the Great Hall. The largest piece would serve as an official Yule log. Ropes were wrapped about it, and it was dragged back to Glenkirk in triumph and stored outside the hall until Christmas Eve when it would be brought in with much ceremony. Several parties of men returned to the forest to drag back the rest of the oak logs before the storm.

  Flanna shepherded the children to the kitchens from where the scent of baking was coming. Seeing them enter, the assistant cook smiled and drew forth a tray of freshly baked scones from the brick oven next to a great fireplace. She set the tray upon the wooden table in the center of her domain. Then, carefully splitting three of the scones, she buttered them lavishly and spread plum conserves upon them. With much formality she handed each child a scone. The look on the three young faces caused her to chuckle.

  “Thank ye, Cook,” Flanna said to the woman. “The bairns are already looking healthier and plumper because of ye.”

  “And thanks to yer good mothering,” the cook replied. “Puir Master Charlie to lose his wife and be left alone. I remember him when I was but a scullery maid in this kitchen, and he a wee lad like this angel.” She ruffled Willy’s hair, beaming down at the youngest Stuart, whose face was liberally smeared with purple jam.

  “Everyone here hae history wi’ it,” Flanna said softly.

  “And did ye nae at Killiecairn?” the cook replied.

  “Aye, but ’twas different,” Flanna responded.

  “I should think so,” the cook said. “This is Glenkirk. There is nae place like it, m’lady, on the face of the earth. And when ’tis gone one day, for all things fade eventually, there will nae be anything like it again.”

  In the next few days that followed, Flanna, the children, and several of the servants decorated the hall with greenery, boughs of pine, and bunches of holly. Flanna knew the Christmas customs that were to take place from Christmas Eve until Twelfth Night. The number twelve played an important part in the festival. Twelve candelabrums were set about the hall. Each bunch of holly was made up of twelve sprigs. Gifts, totaling twelve, would be exchanged over the twelve days of Christmas. There would be Yule dolls made of gingerbread. On the afternoon of December twenty-fourth, a green line was drawn about the hall. At the appointed hour, the guests would enter the Great Hall, being careful not to disturb the green line. No feasting would begin until the lucky bird stepped across that threshold.

  “We do not have such a custom at Queen’s Malvern,” Brie told Flanna when her aunt explained.

  “Is it a real bird?” Freddie wondered aloud.

  “Ohhhh!” Little Willy cried, and pointed his fat finger toward the door.

  There stood on auburn-haired man, dressed all in green clothing sewn with bells and wearing a bird’s mask. With a great leap he crossed the threshold and began to dance about the hall to a tune played by reeds and drums and flute. Going first to the high board, he flourished a bow and tipped his cap. The duke gave him a silver coin. The lucky bird continued to dance about the hall, greeting all the guests and receiving pennies from each table. When he had visited everyone, he brought the purse of coins to Mr. Edie, the Presbyterian cleric, saying, “For the puir, guid sir,” and then danced gaily from the hall.

  “Papa missed the lucky bird,” Brie said, disappointed.

  “He had to guard the Yule log,” Freddie replied.

  “It can come into the hall now,” the duke said. “Would ye three like to escort it since ye found it?”

  The three children scrambled from their places and ran from the high board.

  “Will Charlie hae time to change?” Flanna wondered.

  “He hae done this before,” Patrick explained to her. “When my brothers and I were small. I canna think of the lucky bird wi’out thinking of Charlie. Henry wanted to do it one year, but he canna dance like Charlie. Even now he leaps higher than any.”

  Flanna reached out and placed her hand over her husband’s. “Ye miss them, I know, but we will make new memories, my lord.”

  His eyes met hers, and he smiled. “Aye, lass, we will,” he promised her. “Now, tell me how it is ye’re so damned intuitive, Flanna Leslie. I am nae certain I am comfortable wi’ a wife who understands my deepest thoughts so well.” He took her hand up and kissed it.

  “Christmas was always a special time at Brae,” she said. “My mother and Angus told me all about it. It wasna so special at Killiecairn, and I know that she missed it. She never complained, but I could see it in her eyes. She loved my father, but Killiecairn was never really home for her. Perhaps that is why I love Brae and want to restore it to its former glory.”

  “And what will ye do wi’ it when ’tis habitable again?” he asked her with a small smile.

  “It shall be there for me should ye become impossible to live wi’, my lord,” she told him pertly. “Glenkirk is yers; but Brae will be mine, and one day one of our bairns will hae it. Ye may own the land now, but the castle is mine alone.”

  “Ye would leave me, lass?” His look was amused.

  “If we
dinna get on, I would, indeed,” she responded.

  “Ye’re an independent woman, Flanna Leslie,” he said, chuckling.

  “Look, my lord, here is the Yule log,” Flanna answered him, neatly changing the subject. She had no intention of getting into a discussion with him about Brae. He had returned it to her and said she might make it habitable again. It would be from there that she would marshal men for King Charles Stuart. Patrick did not want Glenkirk or his Leslies involved, and she would respect that as he had respected her love for Brae.

  The guests began to cheer the passage of the great Yule log as it was dragged into the hall to the fireplace above which hung the portrait of the first Patrick Leslie. The three Stuart children sat atop the log as it was brought along, singing an ancient Christmas song in Latin that traditionally accompanied the Yule log. They jumped off the huge timber as it reached the great hearth and helped push it into place. Then Lady Sabrina Stuart took the flame handed to her by Angus and lit the kindling beneath the log. A great shout went up from those present in the Great Hall of Glenkirk.

  “Well done, daughter!” Charlie said, and he picked Sabrina up and carried her about the hall, laughing before depositing her once more at the high board with the rest of the family.

  “Papa, you missed the lucky bird,” Sabrina said. “He was quite wonderful in his green and his bells, and he jumped every bit as high as you do when he danced.”

  “Did he?” Charlie pretended surprise. “I thought that no one could leap as I do. ’Tis a Stuart trait, or so I am told. My father, Prince Henry, was a fine dancer with a nicely turned leg, my mother has said. Your Uncle Henry would remember, as would your Aunt India.”

  “I miss the family,” Sabrina said wistfully. “I wish you didn’t have to go away, Papa, but I know that cousin Charles needs you.”

  “I hae been given to understand that the gentlemen who came wi’ the king from France were nae welcome any longer. They are said to be ungodly, Lady Sabrina,” Mr. Edie ventured, and he looked toward the Duke of Lundy. “Is it so, sir?”

  “There are those who are not pleased with the king’s lifelong companions, it is true, Mr. Edie,” the duke replied, “but they cannot expect the king, who is a loyal and good man, to send away those who have supported him faithfully. Many have grown up with my cousin. I believe it is up to the kirk to lead these men into the ways of righteousness rather than flinging them out into the darkness of their continuing sins. Would you not agree?”

  There was a gleam of humor in Mr. Edie’s eye as he answered the duke. “I am a simple country parson, my lord. I cannot judge my betters, nor can I instruct them in their behavior.”

  “You are a wise man, sir,” the duke replied with a chuckle.

  “We live in difficult times,” the minister said quietly, “but here at Glenkirk we are isolated from evil, and we follow the laws of our land. That is all, I believe, God requires of us.”

  Around them, and below the high board, the guests ate heartily of the beef, and capon, and salmon that was served up. There was venison, and game pies, and platters of roasted rabbits passed around. Each table had breads, crocks of creamy butter, and small wheels of cheese. The high board had bowls of carrots and peas, and a platter of artichokes that had been steamed in wine. There was wine, ale, and cider aplenty. Then the apple tarts were brought in along with bowls of clotted cream. As Mary had predicted, the children were delirious with their delight at this special treat. And when the food was cleared away, Patrick and Flanna stood before the high board, and distributed the presents to the clansmen, the clanswomen, and the children.

  More ale and wine was drunk. A piper began to play. The men began to dance. At first the dances were careful and studied, but then they grew wilder and more passionate. Finally Patrick and Charlie arose. Swords were placed upon the stone floor of the hall. The two brothers began to dance. Patrick was the taller by an inch. His black hair was cropped close. His green-gold eyes glittered as, wrapped in his green kilt with its narrow red and white stripes, he danced amid the crossed swords. A sardonic smile upon his equally handsome face, Charlie Stuart, his dark auburn hair tied back, his amber eyes sparkling, danced with his younger brother wrapped in his red Stuart plaid. The music grew fiercer as the brothers danced in concert until with a final shriek the pipes stopped as suddenly as they had begun. The siblings fell into each other’s arms, laughing as the hall erupted into cheers of congratulations, and the clansmen spilled out onto the floor to clap the two men on their backs and shake their hands.

  Promptly at midnight the feasting ended, and the hall emptied as the inhabitants of Glenkirk made their way to the village church where Mr. Edie was prepared to preside over the first service of the day.

  “Pray God he doesna sermonize long tonight,” the duke murmured to his wife, patting her on her bottom through her skirts. “ ’Tis cold, and I’ve a fancy to bed ye, Flanna Leslie.”

  “ ’Tis hardly a godly thought, my lord,” she whispered back.

  “But is it ungodly, wife?” he asked her.

  “Hush!” she scolded him. “Mr. Edie is about to begin.”

  To their surprise the minister spoke but briefly. The sacrament was dispensed, and they were once again outside in the night. It had begun to snow.

  “Aunt Flanna said it would,” Sabrina said smugly.

  “That was three days ago,” Freddie said half scornfully.

  “Ah, laddie, it takes time for the snow to come on the wind from the north,” Flanna told them. “ ’Tis right on time.”

  “Thank you for my pearwood comb,” Sabrina said as they reentered the castle. “I love the red deer carved on it. I have never seen a comb like it.”

  “That is because I made it for ye,” Flanna told the child. “Angus taught me to carve years ago when I was yer age.”

  Patrick listened with interest. Here was something he wouldn’t have imagined about Flanna. That she could carve and was artistic. When they lay together abed afterward he asked her about it.

  “What made ye want to learn such a common skill?” he wondered.

  “My mother had died,” she replied. “I couldna stop thinking about it, or believing it would nae hae happened if she had nae nursed her niece who died, and from whom she had caught the contagion. I believe I was slowly going mad. Angus saw it, and he took me in hand. My mother had carved little figures of birds and animals. He said she had always hoped I would learn her skill. So I began to learn. I had to concentrate so hard upon what I was doing that I could nae longer think about my mother, or how she had died. It was very clever of Angus, dinna ye think?”

  “He is yer blood, isna he?” Patrick said.

  “He was my grandfather Andrew Gordon’s bastard,” Flanna said. “My grandmother Gordon raised him. He was seven when my mother was born. I never knew until Mama was about to die. She told me then because she said she didna want me to be alone. My grandfather educated him as if he were his heir. My mother, of course, was his only legitimate offspring. She and my uncle loved each other dearly.”

  Patrick nodded. “The More-Leslies descend from a bastard line,” he said. “They hae always been loyal to us. Yer uncle is a good man.”

  “Aye, he is,” Flanna said. Then she burrowed into his shoulder. “Ye dinna gie me my present yet,” she said to him.

  “Is the deed to Brae nae enough for ye?” he teased her.

  “Ye would gie me what was already mine, my lord? I canna believe ye’re a pinchpenny. Fie!” She hit him a light blow to the shoulder.

  He chortled. “Get up, madame, and remove yer night garment,” he instructed her.

  “What, sir, is this ye demand of me?” she asked him.

  “If ye want yer giftie, lass, ye’ll obey yer man, or must I beat ye into obedience?” he said, a smile touching the corners of his lips.

  Curious now, Flanna arose from their warm bed and pulled off her simple white night garment.

  “Now unbraid yer hair,” he commanded her. “I want to see that fi
ery mass spilling over yer shoulders and down yer back.”

  Even more fascinated, Flanna complied, her fingers unweaving her thick plait, combing through her tresses until her long hair flowed all about her. “Well, my lord?” she queried him.

  Patrick Leslie climbed from their bed and, reaching beneath the pillows, drew forth a long strand of black pearls which he looped over her head. Then, setting her back, he stared, pleased, at the round ebony beads upon her milky white skin, its pureness broken only by the brilliant red-gold of her hair. He felt himself hardening, his lust fully engaged at the seductive picture she made, naked, with those pearls.

  Flanna had never before seen black pearls, but from the look of them, she realized whatever they were they were valuable. They were smooth to the touch and slid through her fingers like liquid silk as she examined them. “What are they called?” she asked as her eyes met his.

  “Pearls,” he said. He wanted her!

  “I hae a wee strand of pearls that were Mam’s,” Flanna said, “but they are white.” She could see his manhood poking out beneath his nightshirt. “These are magnificent, my lord, thank ye,” she told him, and slipping her arms about his neck, she kissed him.