The Border Trilogy

by Amanda Scott

  “Oh, no!” Mary Kate cried. “He cannot be here so soon.”

  “’Tisna the master,” Ellen replied practically. “He wouldna knock on his ain door. ’Tis more likely Mistress Margaret and Sir Patrick come tae call.”

  “Well, they must not see Gillespie. Quickly, Ellen, help me move him.”

  Spurred on by repeated pounding on the door, they seized Gillespie by the shoulders, dumped him unceremoniously off the window seat, then dragged him any way they could into a small adjoining antechamber, where they shut the door upon him. He hadn’t so much as stirred.

  Mary Kate hurriedly relaced her bodice, noting that it had been ripped between two of the eyelets. The rip was not serious, however, and she tucked the ragged edges under, saying, “Hurry, Ellen. No one else is here to answer the door.”

  Smoothing her apron, Ellen ran into the hall, pausing at the door long enough to sweep loose strands of her blond hair under her cap before admitting the visitors. Laughing merrily and demanding to know why they had been kept standing upon the stoop, Margaret and her new husband entered, accompanied by Ned Lumsden, whom they had met on the pavement below.

  Mary Kate stared at the three of them, feeling as though she had had a narrow escape in more ways than one. The others went on laughing and chatting, and she made mechanical responses, unable to keep her thoughts off the possible corpse lying in the antechamber as she listened to her guests with one ear while keeping the other cocked for sounds of her husband’s return. Certain as she was that the gillie had gone to fetch him, she did not have to tax her vivid imagination to suppose what sort of tale the lad would tell him or what his reaction would be.

  “Mary Kate, what is it?” Margaret’s voice broke through her thoughts, and she looked up to find all three of her visitors staring at her with open curiosity.

  “What is what?” she replied vaguely.

  “Ned has spoken to you three times and you have not answered him once. And you never explained, now that I come to think about it, why it took Ellen so long to answer the door. Something is amiss. I know it is. Where is Adam?”

  “At Holyrood, I suppose.” It was too much to hope that the king had sent him on a mission into England or to some more distant land.

  “Well,” Margaret said indignantly, “I think it is shameful that he is not here to greet us when he must have known we would be paying our bride visits today.”

  “Do not trouble your head unnecessarily,” Mary Kate said wretchedly. “He will be home soon enough.” She strove to keep her voice steady, but thinking of Douglas just then sent shivers shooting up her spine. When he heard that she had been making love to Gillespie, he would be enraged again, and just when things had been going well between them at last. If she escaped this time with a whole skin, it would be marvelous indeed, and it would be even more marvelous if he did not send her home to Tornary in disgrace. Then Gillespie would tell his awful tale of treason, and since she wouldn’t even be in Edinburgh to plead for the king’s mercy, Douglas would be hanged, drawn, and quartered.

  “Mary Kate!” Though Mary Kate had not been aware of movement, Margaret was kneeling now in front of her.

  Mary Kate shook herself. “Forgive me. I am not myself today.”

  “No, that you are not,” Margaret agreed. “Have you quarreled with Adam again?”

  “Not yet,” Mary Kate replied without thinking.

  “Not yet!” Margaret grabbed her by the shoulders none too gently and gave her a shake. “Mary Kate, collect your wits at once and tell me what has happened. At once, do you hear me? There is no use prevaricating, either, for I shall not rest until I know exactly what has happened. If you want Patrick and Ned to leave, I will send them away, but you will tell me. Come now, at once. I mean what I say.”

  Mary Kate knew that much very well. She looked first at one anxious face and then at another, wishing she knew what was best to do. It occurred to her then that with Douglas no doubt on his way at that very moment, they would all know the whole sorry business soon enough anyway. She shrugged, then said simply, “Kenneth Gillespie is behind that door yonder.”

  In disbelief, her three guests stared at her, then turned as one to look at the antechamber door and back at her again, before all three in a chorus demanded immediate explanation.

  She described the matter as clearly as she could without betraying Douglas completely, and when she had finished, Margaret and Ned both exclaimed their dismay, while Sir Patrick remained silent, thinking.

  After a long moment, he smiled at Mary Kate. “It appears to me,” he said mildly, “that the most immediate problem is the disposal of Gillespie, regardless of whether he is dead or alive. That business will be a good deal simpler if he is alive, of course, so perhaps, young Lumsden, you will ascertain his present condition for us.”

  Ned complied with alacrity, soon returning with the information that, although Gillespie was still unconscious, he was breathing normally.

  “Then I have a plan,” Sir Patrick said. He appeared to Mary Kate to be more amused than dismayed. “It would be best, I think, if we were to remove the primary cause of Adam’s annoyance before his return, since it can serve no good purpose for him to kill Gillespie. Such an act would cause a scandal, and Jamie dislikes scandal.”

  “But what about when Gillespie talks?” Mary Kate cried. “For I doubt that anything will stop him now. And I must tell you, sir, though I cannot explain the difficulty fully, that there is a certain amount of truth in what he will say. Adam’s life will be in danger.”

  Sir Patrick became serious again, though he still did not seem overly concerned. “I know your husband like I know myself, my lady. Not only have we lived near each other all our lives, but I was at university with him, and I promise you by my faith as a borderer that whatever Gillespie knows, the telling will not endanger Adam’s life. I think you have been spun a fairy tale, but even if you have not, you will find your husband well able to take care of himself once he knows what the danger is against which he must guard himself. I counsel you to tell him all that Gillespie has told you. Do not leave out a single word, no matter how unpleasant the telling may be for you. I know it will be difficult, for I agree that he will be in a thundering temper when he arrives. But if you care for him, niggle not with your pride or your conscience. You must make him listen to you.”

  If she cared? No one could know how much. But how, she wondered, could she make Adam listen? The doing sounded simple enough when Sir Patrick commanded it, but she knew it would not be simple at all.

  Margaret understood her difficulty. “Good sir,” she said, smiling wryly at her husband, “pray tell us all just how Mary Kate is to make my brother listen to her. Since he has already suspected an improper relationship between her and that dreadful Gillespie person, he will be in a perfect frame of mind to believe every word his impetuous gillie chooses to prattle to him. I tell you here and now that there will be a wretched, long time passing before Mary Kate is able to make Adam do anything but shout at her, or worse. She must needs see him bound and gagged if she would make him listen!”

  “Be that as it may,” Sir Patrick replied firmly, watching Mary Kate, “it is her duty to prepare him for what trouble lies ahead, and so she must. I do not know how you will manage it, my lady, but truly, you must.” He turned then to his wife. “Stay with her, lass. Ned and I will return as quickly as we may. Perhaps, if we can get back before Adam does—”

  “He can then have the pleasure of pitching us all out into the street before he deals with poor Mary Kate,” Margaret interjected with an ironic laugh.

  “Mistress!” Ellen called from the front hall, sending a chill of anticipation racing down Mary Kate’s spine. The maid appeared upon the threshold, twisting her hands and glancing in anxious dismay at the open antechamber door, where Gillespie’s leather-shod feet were clearly visible. “Mistress, ’tis your aunt’s coach! Her manservant be a-coming up yon steps the noo. Whatever will we do?”

  Sir Patrick murmured
irrepressibly, “A pity we cannot ask her to lend her coach to us to transport Gillespie’s carcass.” Then, when a knock at the door goaded both men to hasty action, he added reassuringly over his shoulder, “We’ll take him out the back way, my lady. Have no fear. Just attend to your visitor. Little though you may think it now, she may well prove to be a blessing in disguise.”

  Mary Kate thought both his levity and this last odd notion of his completely irrelevant to the matter at hand, but she dared say nothing to delay him. Instead, trying desperately to compose herself, she told Ellen to admit Lady Aberfoyle at once. How, she wondered as she moved swiftly to take her seat again, had Gillespie ever thought he could have his way with her in a house as busy as a village square on market day?

  Looking down quickly, she saw that the tear in her bodice was noticeable again and tucked the ragged edges under, tightening the lacing with a hope that her sharp-eyed aunt would fail to notice the damage.

  Sounds of bumping and thumping in the antechamber had barely died away into the distance when her ladyship entered briskly with her usual silken rustle and clicking heels.

  “Good morrow, good morrow, my dear ones. What a pleasure to see you, Lady Ferguson, but where is that handsome new husband of yours?” Presenting her cheek to each of them, she allowed them to kiss her as they rose to make their curtsies, then seated herself with a swirl of her huge farthingale. Her sharp, birdlike gaze settled closely upon Margaret as she waited with parted lips for that young lady’s reply.

  Margaret smiled sweetly. “It is pleasant to see you, my lady. We scarcely had an opportunity to exchange words with you yesterday. I regret that Sir Patrick was unexpectedly called away, but he did not believe his business would occupy him overlong. My brother will also return soon, I believe.”

  “I did not think we should enjoy the pleasure of your company today, Aunt,” Mary Kate put in quickly, knowing that if she were not diverted, Lady Aberfoyle was perfectly capable of demanding to know the precise details of any business that could occupy Sir Patrick on the Sabbath.

  The old lady nodded at Margaret. “I came hoping to see the bride, of course. I knew they would not choose to include a dreary old woman in their first bride visits, but they were certain to call here, so not being so high in the instep as to take offense where none is intended, I came here to await their arrival with you. ’Tis my pleasant good fortune to find Margaret here with you now.”

  “My dear lady,” Margaret exclaimed, laughing, “had we but known you wished it, we would certainly have included you and Lord Aberfoyle in our visits. Sir Patrick and I are very fond of you both.”

  Mary Kate thought her aunt blushed, but the old lady recovered rapidly, snapping out her next words. “Pish tush, let us have none of your butter sauce, miss. I know your cozening ways well enough. And why, may I ask,” she added tartly, turning a gimlet eye upon her niece, “am I always kept waiting for refreshment in this seemingly well-appointed house?”

  Mary Kate smiled at the familiar reproof and called through the open doorway to Ellen, still on guard in the front hall, to fetch Lady Aberfoyle a cup of her favorite spiced ale. Ellen bobbed a curtsy and left, coming back into the room a short time later, just as sounds from the antechamber heralded the imminent reappearance of Sir Patrick and Ned. Mary Kate was astounded by the speed with which they had dispatched their errand, for they had been gone less than a quarter hour. They entered as Ellen was about to take away the tray.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Aberfoyle,” Sir Patrick said cheerfully, adding, “Hold there, Ellen lass. If that’s ale you’re serving, Ned and I would be right glad of a cappie.”

  Ellen bobbed and turned away, only to stop short again when the sound of the front door crashing back on its hinges froze everyone in place.

  Douglas strode in rapidly, his face flushed with fury. He cast a swift glance around the room. “Begone, all of you,” he ordered harshly. “I would be private with my wife.”

  “Your imminent ascension to the peerage,” Lady Aberfoyle declared in chillingly haughty accents, “has adversely affected your manners, young man. Or is it perhaps your common practice to eject your guests so rudely?”

  Her chair faced away from the entry, so Douglas had not seen her immediately, and her frigid tone brought him whirling to face her. He bowed curtly. “I beg your pardon, madam, if I seem wanting in grace. I assure you that were the matter not an urgent one I should never behave so to family or to guest. I trust you will forgive me.”

  “Don’t be tiresome,” she replied frigidly. “I have only this moment received refreshment, and I have no intention of allowing you or anyone else to throw me out of this house until I have drunk my ale, unless, of course, you intend to do so yourself, sir, bodily.” She glared at him, daring him to reply. “No? Then it will do you no harm to contain your soul in patience and your temper in pretense of calm until I take my leave. No good ever came of losing control over one’s emotions.”

  When Douglas straightened, his jaw tightening ominously, she added sternly, “Sit down, sir, and let Ellen fetch you something to mellow your spleen. Then, when our visit has come to its natural conclusion, we shall depart with our dignity intact and you may say all that you wish to say to your wife. That, in case you have forgotten your manners altogether, is how such matters are conducted by civilized persons in this modern age of reason.”

  The color drained from his cheeks as she spoke, and when she had finished, he brusquely begged her pardon for his incivility before turning away toward the front window in undisguised embarrassment and frustration.

  Margaret and Ned stared at Lady Aberfoyle in awe, but Mary Kate noted that although he had turned away from the rest of them, Sir Patrick’s shoulders showed a suspicious tendency to quake with suppressed laughter. Realizing that her aunt had momentarily stemmed the tide of Douglas’s fury, she set her thoughts to racing.

  “Will ye tak’ a dram then, master?”

  Ellen’s question, spoken timidly, planted the seed of an idea in her mistress’s quick thoughts. Glancing at Douglas, who seemed not to have heard the maid’s question, Mary Kate gathered her courage.

  “Bring Sir Adam a mug of that excellent punch we had earlier, Ellen,” she ordered, her voice shaking despite all she did to control it. “That will be just the thing to quench his thirst and calm his mind.”

  Ellen’s eyes grew round with horrified dismay, but now that the decision was made, Mary Kate nodded firmly.

  “Quickly! He does not wish to be kept waiting.”

  She dared not look at any of the others, but she knew from someone’s sharply indrawn breath that her intent was understood in at least one quarter. The others avoided looking at her, too, although in Sir Patrick’s case this was clearly not due to shock. Though he had turned toward her again, he still had to fight to keep his merriment under control, and he showed signs now of being in dire straits.

  For a long moment no one moved; then, with a shrug and a sigh, Douglas turned from the window, drew up a chair, and sat down, stretching his long legs out before him.

  Lady Aberfoyle instantly engaged him in small talk, soon dragging the others into the conversation whether they wished to participate or not.

  When Ellen returned with the drinks, she served her master first. Her hands were trembling and her face was chalk white, but Mary Kate noted thankfully that Douglas was too preoccupied with his own concerns to notice, and the maidservant escaped as quickly as she could to serve the other men their ale.

  Douglas took the first sip from his cup. He noticed nothing out of the ordinary and swilled the drink down thirstily, as though by such an action he hoped to hurry Lady Aberfoyle.

  The old lady would not be rushed, however, and the whole scene took on an oddly dreamlike quality for Mary Kate. She replied when spoken to directly but watched her husband’s growing impatience with rising alarm. Time stretched out, and what was actually less than five minutes or so seemed nothing less than an eternity. But finally, just as suddenly
as Gillespie had succumbed, so did Douglas. His eyes glazed over, and he slumped in his chair, his head lolling sideways.

  Lady Aberfoyle snorted. “Swine-drunk! As bad as an Englishman. I ought to have known. No wonder his manners were so disgusting.”

  Mary Kate didn’t deny the accusation but watched anxiously as Sir Patrick hurried to her husband’s side.

  After a hasty examination, he grinned up at her. “He’ll do, lassie. Just taken a wee drap over the mark, I expect, as her ladyship suggested.”

  “This is no occasion for mirth, Sir Patrick,” scolded Lady Aberfoyle. “You men. All the same or worse.” She got to her feet and twitched her wide skirts into place, nodding regally to Mary Kate. “I will take my leave now, my dear. The good Lord knows you are safe enough whilst he remains in that disgusting condition, and the head he will have when he awakens ought certainly to make him more tractable then.” She turned imperiously to Ned. “You may see me to my coach, Mr. Lumsden.”

  Then she was gone, leaving the other three to stare at one another, their countenances expressing a myriad of emotions, ranging from horror and surprise to unrestrained amusement.

  “She stayed to protect me from Adam,” Mary Kate said in hushed astonishment. “Who would ever have thought it?” She directed her gaze at Sir Patrick. “What did you do with Mr. Gillespie, sir?”

  “Rolled him in the dust, stripped him of his purse and jewelry, and turned him over to the watch for a vagrant,” that gentleman replied, chuckling. “The watchman thought much the same of him as your aunt thought of Adam, so he will no doubt leave him in solitude to sleep it off before he is questioned. Then I fear it may take the good Gillespie some time to establish his identity, though I trust he will manage to do so before they flog him out of the city at the cart’s tail.”

  Mary Kate’s eyes twinkled in response to his unholy amusement, but before she could make a comment, Margaret interrupted them.

  “Never mind that now,” she said. “Mary Kate, how did you dare to do such a thing to Adam? I could scarce believe my ears when I heard you order that punch. You will be amazingly fortunate now to get out of this affair with your head tight upon your shoulders, let alone with a whole skin. Ellen, too!”