“We have not seen Papa since Christmas. He left almost immediately afterward to go to Perth to be with the king when he was crowned,” Sabrina explained. “He must be very busy, for he has not been back.”
“You and your brothers are happy here?” Henry asked her. Had it been safe, he would have offered his niece and his two nephews a home at Cadby; but Charlie’s in-laws were sour-faced Puritans who wanted to take his three children to raise themselves, and his brother could not allow it. His late sister-in-law’s parents were not aware of Glenkirk.
“We love it here,” Brie said, “but we miss Queen’s Malvern. Of course, since Aunt Flanna has been at Brae, it hasn’t been as much fun as when she is here; but she wants to have Brae for her second son, and it needed to be refurbished,” Brie explained.
“Who is your Aunt Flanna?” Henry Lindley asked his niece, puzzled.
“Why, she is Uncle Patrick’s wife, and she’s having a baby in a few more weeks,” Sabrina informed him. “She’s very fair, and she is the best archer I have ever seen. She has taught me to use the longbow, but I am not nearly as good at it as she is. I don’t think I will ever be,” Sabrina sighed.
Henry Lindley sought a chair and sat down heavily. He surely hadn’t heard the young girl correctly. When had Patrick found himself a wife? And why had their mother not mentioned it in her letters to him from France? It was all very confusing, and then his younger brother entered the hall. The marquis immediately arose.
“Henry! Welcome to Glenkirk, and what the hell are ye doing here?” Patrick greeted his eldest brother. The two men embraced.
“Send Brie from the hall,” Henry Lindley said softly. “We need to talk, and I would not frighten her.” Then he sat down again.
“Brie, go and find yer brothers,” the duke told his niece. “And make certain they come into the hall looking respectable, nae wi’ torn garments and dirt on their faces.” He chuckled. “We dinna want yer uncle to think they hae gone wild in my care, eh?”
“Aye, uncle, I’ll see them washed up and properly garbed,” Brie promised. She bustled from the hall to do his bidding.
The duke turned to Henry Lindley, sitting down opposite him as a servant offered them each a goblet of Archambault wine. “To our mam,” Patrick said, raising his goblet.
“To Mam,” Henry agreed, and raised his goblet in toast.
“Now,” the duke said, “why are ye here, Henry? It canna hae been an easy trip. Is Mam all right?”
“She is fine,” Henry assured his brother. “And, aye, it was not an easy trip. You have no idea what it is like in England now, Patrick. There is an air of fear that permeates everything and everyone. You can trust no one any longer, even your own servants. Every word must be carefully thought over before it is spoken lest someone misconstrue its meaning. There is no decent society any longer, for we all fear to meet. We keep to ourselves, pay our taxes, and make a public show of prayer in church each week. Our dress and demeanor have to be modest, and we speak of nothing of any consequence but for the weather, our health, and the farming. Those who have been foolish enough to speak out against Cromwell and his ilk have found their estates confiscated, their families thrown out of their homes and set to wander upon the high road, shunned by friends and relations alike, all of whom are afraid of the same fate.
“In order to come to Glenkirk, I had to go to the local authorities. I told them our mother was very ill in France, that I must notify you and feared to send a messenger lest he be stopped by the Scots rebels once he crossed the border. They understood that only a gentleman of my rank, with a half brother in Scotland, could avoid such a situation. So, I was finally given the proper documents, which I have had to show a dozen times daily as I rode north.” Henry Lindley ran his hand through his dark hair, now showing silver threads here and there, and he sighed deeply.
“If Mam is all right, then why are ye here?” Patrick asked him.
“Mama is very worried about Charlie. Half of all she writes concerns her fears for him,” Henry said. “She understands his loyalty to his Stuart family. From the moment of his birth he was treated as one of them, despite coming into this world on the wrong side of the blanket. Both old King James and his queen doted on Charlie and made no secret of it. I have always thought if they might have made him their heir, they would have. But Charlie has always avoided politics, never pushing himself forward. Even the late king’s French queen adores him for his deferential manners. And had Bess not been murdered by Cromwell’s people, Charlie would have done what I am doing. He would have kept his lips sealed and his head low, waiting for better times to come again to England. But mama is now afraid for our brother. While she knows he cannot return home to Queen’s Malvern, she wants him to remain at Glenkirk with you and his children until this chaos is over and done with and reasonable men rule once again.”
“Charlie is wi’ the king, Henry,” Patrick said.
“I know, Brie told me,” the marquis answered. “You have to go and fetch him back, make him understand that he cannot throw his life away in this civil strife. God only knows if this particular Stuart will ever again sit on England’s throne, but our brother must not throw away his life in this struggle, Patrick!”
“Why do ye ask me to go?” Patrick demanded of his elder. “Why can ye nae fetch him back to Cadby?”
“If I am found to have visited this king, I will be considered a traitor to Cromwell’s regime. Most people do not even know that my half brother is Prince Henry Stuart’s only child. If they did, it would be even worse for my family than it is now, Patrick. Mama is frightened that Charlie will be killed, or worse, that he will not be killed, but captured and made an example as a traitor to Cromwell’s government. I have not a doubt that our brother would go gallantly to his death as other Stuarts before him have, but do we really want that?”
“I hae other responsibilities now, Henry,” Patrick said. “I hae a wife, and we will soon hae a bairn. And I hae Charlie’s bairns to shelter and protect.”
“Brie told me that you wed. Who is she? I did not think you would ever marry, little brother,” Henry chuckled.
“Her name is Flanna. She was a Brodie of Killiecairn. They are simple Highlanders. Flanna had something that I wanted. I offered Lachlann Brodie double its value. But the old laird, her father, would only gie it to me if I took her to wife. So I did! Our mother advised me to marry before she left England for France. She said I had a duty to Glenkirk.” He grinned. “Flanna’s uncle, the great fellow who welcomed ye, is Angus Gordon. His da was the last Earl of Brae. He was, of course, born on the wrong side of the blanket like Charlie,” Patrick explained. “And to make things even more interesting, Henry, Angus’s grandfather, was my grandfather Leslie. The Patrick for whom I am named. Angus was a part of my wife’s dowry.” The duke chuckled.
“When do I get to meet your wife?” Henry asked, quite curious.
“Tomorrow, when ye’re rested, we’ll go to Brae. Ye can meet her then,” Patrick promised.
“Why is she at Brae?” Henry queried.
“The lands that belong to Brae were what Flanna possessed that I so desired. She has always wanted to restore the castle. She has been at Brae since late April doing just that. She wants it for a second son one day. But she is rightly angry wi’ me. I shall soon hae to apologize to her if my heir is to be born at Glenkirk where he should be born,” Patrick explained.
“What did you do?” Henry wondered.
“ ’Tis between us, brother,” Patrick responded, “but I shall hae to make it right wi’ her verra soon. So, ye can certainly see, I canna go after Charlie.”
“You must,” Henry Lindley said. “You can get through the lines because you are a Scot. You have to do this for Mama, Patrick.”
“Charlie will go down into England wi’ the king, and all will be well, Henry. Ye worry too much,” Patrick gently mocked his brother. “And the English royalists will join wi’ their king as he marches south. There is little danger that I can see,
and Charlie will hae put the king in his debt for the future by his loyalty.”
“You don’t understand,” Henry said grimly. “Few, if any, will join the king, Patrick. The Scots do not now have a big enough army, and the English lords, like me, do not want to endanger what they still retain to fight for Charles II. There is also, and you well know it, a prejudice against the Scots. The English have never liked the Stuarts, but they had no other choice but to accept them. As for your countrymen, Patrick, they have lost too many battles of late despite the fact they had the superior odds. This time it is Cromwell who has the greater force. You must believe me, Patrick, the English will not rise up for the king! He is on his own, may God have mercy on him and all who foolishly follow him right now.”
“Are the Stuarts finished in England, then?” Patrick queried.
“I don’t know,” Henry answered his sibling. “I honestly don’t know. If the king won a great victory, then perhaps some would flock to him. And if he then won a second victory, the momentum would grow. Then perhaps he might retake his kingdom, and the royalists would rise up once again and crowd to his banner, but not now. He must prove himself worthy first, and he has not the forces to do so. You have to find Charlie and make him see reason. If he will only return to Glenkirk, I can deal with him myself, but I cannot be seen anywhere near the king and his forces, Patrick. And let me assure you that there are spies everywhere these days.”
“I dinna know, Henry. Wi’ Flanna so near her time, I hesitate to leave her,” the duke said. “We will resolve our dispute when I take ye to meet her. Then she will come home, and our first child will be born here, which is as it should be. I am nae even certain that I know where the king’s forces are right now.”
“They are massing at the border,” Henry said. “Cromwell’s forces have outflanked the king’s people to the east, keeping them in the west. They must go south now. There is no other choice. The Scots have not exactly rallied to the Stuart banner either, so they can’t go north. I don’t know when the king plans to advance, but surely if you travel alone, you can reach Charlie before he ruins himself. Then bring him back, and you will be in time for the birth of your child. Patrick, I did not come this far to fail. We must do this for Charlie, for his children, for Mama.”
“Uncle Henry!” The marquis’s nephews ran into the hall.
“We will discuss this again when we are alone,” the duke said. “I dinna want the bairns frightened. Say ye came to bring them news from Mam. They need nae know how difficult things are in England now.”
Henry Lindley nodded in agreement and then, reaching out, enfolded his two nephews in a bear hug. “Bless my soul, lads, you have grown. Willy! You are out of skirts, eh? And what has happened to your curls?”
Lord William Stuart grinned proudly at his uncle. “Gone!” he said triumphantly. He did not mention to his Uncle Henry that he had cut them off himself for they kept getting tangled in the brambles. Nor did he mention how his old nurse, Biddy, cried when she discovered what he had done.
“Why, you are a wee manikin now,” the marquis remarked with a smile. “And, Freddie, how are you, my boy? Keeping up with your lessons, I hope.”
“Aye, uncle. The Anglican priest teaches us each day but Sunday. And we hae a Scots boy, Fingal Brodie, who learns with us,” Freddie told his English uncle. “He is Aunt Flanna’s nephew and would read the law one day. Uncle Patrick says he will send him to university in Aberdeen when he is old enough. He is a grand fellow!”
“Indeed,” the marquis said. “Well, it is never a bad thing to have a barrister in one’s family.”
“Why are you here, Uncle Henry?” Sabrina, who had just returned to join them, asked.
“I have come to bring you news from your grandmother Leslie, my dears,” the marquis replied smoothly.
“Oh, yes!” the children chorused, and they settled themselves on the floor in the space between the duke and the marquis.
“Your grandmother and Lady Autumn reached France safely,” Henry began. “They were made most welcome by our French relations and settled themselves at Belle Fleurs. That is a charming little chateau that your grandmother possesses. When young King Louis came to a nearby chateau, your grandmother and Aunt Autumn went to meet him.”
“Oh,” Sabrina exclaimed. “Autumn is so fortunate!”
“Why, Brie,” the duke said. “You have met a king.”
“But not a French king,” Sabrina replied. “Besides, King Charles is not much of a king these days, Uncle Henry.”
Her two uncles laughed, and Henry continued on with his recitation.
“Three noble gentlemen have courted your Aunt Autumn. A duke, a count, and a marquis. Now she is to be married, my dears!” he told them all. “Your grandmother writes that at the end of September, Autumn will wed with the Marquis d’Auriville. She is very pleased.”
“So,” Patrick mused, “the bairn of the family will be a wife. Damn, I wish we could all be there, Henry! And I wish she did nae hae to wed wi’ a foreigner. We’ll nae see her again. At least Mam will return home to Glenkirk now.”
“Mama intends remaining in France with Autumn and her husband,” Henry informed his younger brother. “I do not expect we will see her back in England, or Scotland, until this civil disturbance is concluded.”
“We live in peace here at Glenkirk,” Patrick replied stubbornly.
“Only by virtue of your isolation, brother, but one day you may not have that security,” Henry advised his sibling. “If war engulfed Scotland as completely as it has done in England, you could not even hide here at Glenkirk.”
“May it never come to that,” Patrick Leslie said.
“Amen!” his brother responded.
In the morning, the duke sent a messenger to his wife at Brae, telling her that his brother had arrived from England, and they would come to visit with her permission. The messenger returned in late afternoon to say the duchess would welcome her husband and his brother on the following day, and the children must come along, too.
“She likes the youngsters,” Henry observed to his brother as they sat late that night alone in the hall.
“Aye, she loves Charlie’s bairns and hae been a good foster mam to them since they arrived here late last year,” the duke said.
“Do you love her?” the marquis asked frankly.
Patrick smiled softly. “Aye, I hae come to love her for all she is a stubborn and hot-tempered wench. I hae never known such an independent and difficult creature as my wife, but aye, Henry, I do love her.”
“Does she love you?” was the next query.
Again the duke chuckled. “Aye, she does, despite the fact that I vex her sorely,” he told his brother.
“Tell me now, what has caused this rift between you?” Henry coaxed quietly.
“When Charlie was here, he filled her full of nonsense about the king and his noble quest to regain his throne,” Patrick finally began. “Flanna is unsophisticated and ingenuous. I doubt she ever ventured far from Brae or Killiecairn in all her life. I certainly dinna know of her existence. She was intimidated by all the stories our housekeeper, Mary More-Leslie, told her of previous ladies of Glenkirk, so when Charlie departed Glenkirk, my wife followed after him. She wanted to make her mark so, as she so charmingly put it, she wouldnae be remembered as the do-naught duchess.”
“Damn me, the wench must be clever,” the Marquis of Westleigh noted admiringly. “Why did Charlie not return her?”
“He dinna know she was on his trail,” Patrick admitted. “She sent to her family for her nephew, a lad wi’ a talent for mischief himself. Then she gained the aid of one of my men-at-arms, a guileless lad who admires her. Together they followed after Charlie, having convinced me that her nephew came from Killiecairn by himself to bring her back for a visit to her da. It wasna until Charlie arrived in Perth that she revealed herself and her purpose to him. Flanna had come to meet the king and to pledge her loyalty to him. She wanted to raise a levy for him, she said.”
Henry chortled. “It sounds just like something Mama or Madame Skye would have done,” he said. “Well, continue on, little brother, and tell me what happened. You obviously quickly discovered the deception, but how?”
“My brother-in-law, the eldest of six of them, came to Glenkirk. It was his son who was wi’ my wife,” Patrick explained. “It was then I realized where she had really gone.”
“She bloody well might have succeeded if you hadn’t had that piece of good fortune,” Henry noted. “Continue on.”
“I immediately went after her, of course. By the time I reached Perth, the king was crowned, and Flanna had met him not once, but twice. When I arrived, she was alone wi’ him, in her shift, a blanket wrapped about her. I dinna know who the man was, and I drew my weapon. Only Charlie’s timely intervention saved us all,” Patrick said.
“My God! You drew your sword on the king?” Henry Lindley was absolutely horrified. Such an action was a treasonable offense.
“Calm yourself, brother. I was forgiven my ignorance, but what would ye hae done if ye found yer wife in such a situation?” Patrick demanded. “In her shift?”
“Where were they?” Henry said. “And what were they doing?”
“In the dayroom, and both were on their feet, and he was kissing her hand,” Patrick replied.
“Did your wife seem as if she had been assaulted or tumbled willingly?” Henry inquired.
“Nay,” Patrick answered his elder sibling. “She was like a young queen, I tell ye, wi’ her hand being kissed. She stood tall, and elegant, that blanket wrapped about her, holding it to her modestly wi’ one hand while he kissed the other.”
“And you asked your wife afterward what had happened?” Henry was beginning to understand, he thought.
“Nay, we fought, but then we finally made it up. Our difficulties stem from the fact that when Flanna told me she was expecting our bairn, I asked her if it was mine or the king’s,” Patrick admitted.
Just Beyond Tomorrow Page 28
