by Amanda Scott
Fin chuckled. “I suppose she also claims to have the gift of second sight then,” he said mildly.
“She has claimed no such thing, so I beg you, do not put the notion in her head. It is bad enough that I’ll have to explain her conduct to Lady Chisholm. She noticed at Stirling that it had altered considerably, because she told me so.”
“What did you say to that?” Molly asked.
“Only that I was a little worried but thought Stirling had done her good. Now, I am not so sure about that, and I doubt that her ladyship will think so if she hears her talking about little women and imaginary wildcats. More likely, she will think me the worst of daughters to have persuaded Mother to make the journey.”
“Don’t puff things up to be worse than they are, Bab,” Fin said. “Is it only the fairies she sees that distress you, or have there been other things?”
Glancing back again to make sure that Ada and Giorsal were keeping a close eye on Lady MacRae, she said, “There is a good deal more. Although she talks to people who are not there, she rarely talks to me or to the servants, and she sits up on the battlement walk day in and day out, watching for a ship that will never come.”
“She conversed with me quite sensibly yesterday,” he pointed out.
“Aye, and she has occasionally spoken sensibly to me, too, but those occasions are the exception, sir, not the rule. For the most part, she seems to live in another world, taking notice of this one only in passing. I live in constant fear that she will stop noticing this one altogether.”
“Then keep her occupied at Dundreggan,” Molly said. “I agree with Fin, though, that the case may not be as bad as you fear. You are so close to her and care so much, I think, that you tend to fear the worst. Do not dismiss her beliefs out of hand. Many people believe in the wee folk, and who is to say they are wrong?”
“But she is planning my wedding,” Bab protested. “What am I to do about that, if you please?”
“Speak to Lady Chisholm,” Fin said again. “If planning a wedding will bring your mother more into this world and out of the other, you should encourage her. You could do much worse than to marry Alex Chisholm, after all.”
“But I don’t want to marry him!”
“If your father had made the agreement with his father, you would have little choice in the matter,” Fin reminded her. “For that matter, if Patrick were to decide that marrying you to Alex is the appropriate thing to do—”
“He wouldn’t dare!”
Fin gave her a look that warned her to guard her tongue, but she was too angry to be silent. “Patrick would not force me to marry a man I do not love.”
“No, he would not, nor have I suggested that he should. I merely point out to you that you could do worse. Chisholm has only the one heir now, and Chisholm is very well to pass. Moreover, he has always been an ally of ours, and his lands abound mine. If Patrick were to ask my opinion, I’d certainly support the match.”
Bab swallowed hard. The last thing she wanted was for Fin to tell Patrick that when they met at Dunsithe.
She liked Sir Alex well enough. He was a kind host and an excellent dancer. He would certainly take his wife to court at least once a year, and his wife would dress well and would have all the pin money she required. But asset though he might be at court, his general behavior was far too tame and Frenchified for her. Moreover, Sir Alex was not the man who invaded her dreams, and Sir Alex was not the man she wanted to find standing beside her bed when she awoke suddenly in the night thinking someone was in her room.
She could say none of this to Fin or Molly, however, lest they think her as demented as her mother. Indeed, if she were so daft as to tell them of her meetings with the Fox, they might assume that she had behaved in such a way as to ruin her reputation and thus make any good marriage impossible. She did not want to endure the sort of interview with Fin that such a suspicion would generate, so she held her tongue and hoped consultation with Lady Chisholm would prove more fruitful.
The rest of the journey passed without incident, and they arrived at Dundreggan late Thursday afternoon. If the servants and men-at-arms who greeted them in the bailey were surprised to see them, they were too well trained to show it. They helped the women dismount and began immediately to unload the sumpter ponies, which were doubtless happy to see their home stables again.
Chisholm’s steward greeted them inside and suggested that Giorsal and Lady MacRae’s Ada be shown at once to suitable bedchambers where they could begin to stow their ladies’ baggage as soon as gillies had carried it upstairs. In the meantime, he showed Fin, Molly, Lady MacRae, and Bab into the great hall, where he bade them make themselves comfortable while he went to inform Lord and Lady Chisholm of their arrival.
Lady MacRae went directly to a settle near the fire, where she sat, carefully arranged her skirts, and stared calmly into the flames.
Bab shot Fin a speaking look, but Molly smiled at her and sat beside Lady MacRae, holding out her hands to warm them and speaking quietly to her.
“What will you tell them?” Bab muttered to Fin in an undertone.
“The truth, of course,” he said, and then there was no more time to talk, for Lady Chisholm bustled in, full of delight at having company again.
“Oh, my dear, you cannot imagine how much I have missed you this past fortnight,” she said to Bab after she had greeted Fin and Molly. “It has been as dull as can be without you. And you, madam, are as welcome to Dundreggan as the springtime,” she added, moving to hug Lady MacRae. “How very delightful that you have chosen to pay us a visit.”
Lady MacRae acknowledged her hug with little more than a nod but said matter-of-factly, “Why, Nora, I could do nothing less. If we put our heads together, you know, they can easily be married by Trinity Sunday.”
Lady Chisholm blinked, then looked to Bab for enlightenment.
Knowing her face must be as red as fire, for it certainly felt as hot, Bab looked at Fin.
He said matter-of-factly, “I would have sent word to you of our intended arrival, madam, but I knew you would not fail me and believed I could explain matters more frankly in person.”
“I am sure you can,” her ladyship said, casting another, more speculative glance at Lady MacRae. “My dearest Arabella, you must have a mug of something hot to refresh yourself and I know you will want to wash before we take supper.”
“Oh, yes, that would be pleasant,” Lady MacRae said.
“Let me show you to your bedchamber, so I may be sure you will be comfortable. I’ll have something sent in for the rest of you, too, if someone has not already arranged it,” she added as she gently urged her chief guest from the room.
Lucy began to follow them, but Claud grabbed the back of her gown and held tight. “Where be ye going?” he demanded, “Kintail might see ye.”
“Nay, I’ll keep clear o’ him, but your lass’s mam be going tae plan her wedding, Claud, and I’m thinking one o’ us should keep an eye on her.”
“Aye, well, remember me mam’s somewhere about and keep clear o’ her, too, or we’ll both find ourselves in the suds.”
“I will,” Lucy assured him. “Ye just keep watch o’er your lass.”
Claud nodded but when she was gone, he found it hard to focus on Mistress Bab, because he was worried about what Lucy might be up to, and still worried, too, about Catriona.
He had not seen a sign of her since she had suggested trading information, and much as Lucy fascinated and delighted him, he knew he would do better not to trust her, particularly where Catriona was concerned. Even so, he did not know where else he could look for his Highland lass, especially since he had a duty to watch over Mistress Bab, and since his temperamental mother was nearby.
All in all, he decided, women made a chap’s life very difficult.
“How much of the truth will you tell Lady Chisholm?” Bab asked once she was alone with Fin and Molly.
“As much as necessary,” he replied with a touch of impatience.
“
But she is bound to think—”
“What she will think is no more than what is perfectly true,” he said, his tone gentler now. “Nora Chisholm is fond of your mother, Bab, and she can help both of you more if she understands from the outset how matters stand.”
Bab knew he was right, but she felt all control of her life slipping away again just as she had begun to think she might regain it, and she did not know how she could do that at Dundreggan. Perhaps, though, Chisholm would have other plans now that Sir Alex was his heir, for that could not have been the case when the two fathers talked—if they had. Before Sir Robert Chisholm and his brother Michael had died, any such discussion must have referred to the alliance of a youngest son. That Chisholm might look higher for his son’s wife now that Sir Alex would one day own Dundreggan and all Chisholm’s other estates could not astonish anyone.
Her ladyship soon returned, saying, “My people are bringing ale and apple juice for us, and Arabella and her woman are getting nicely settled in her rooms.”
“Thank you, madam,” Bab said. “I fear we have imposed upon your good nature to a shocking degree.”
“Nonsense, my dear, I am delighted to see you all. But perhaps, Kintail, you would like to tell me now what brings you all to us like this, for although Arabella is full of wedding plans, I do not think that can be it. Chisholm has mentioned nothing to me about any wedding, and nor has Alexander.”
“No, madam, and I will explain,” he said. “But first, I bring bad news that I doubt you can have heard yet. Sunday morning, one of my boats arrived from Dumbarton, carrying word that both of the young princes have died.”
“Mercy on us,” she exclaimed. “How dreadful for James and his Queen, and just when we all had hoped two healthy heirs would bring peace to the realm!”
“Just so,” Fin said. “I had supposed that Lady MacRae and Bab would be safe at Ardintoul whilst Patrick and I stay at Dunsithe, but this news alters things, especially in light of the recent troubles in Inverness-shire.”
“Yes, I understand,” Lady Chisholm said. “If James falls to Henry, all will be at risk. You are quite right to bring them here, sir. Chisholm has sent only a few men to support the King, because he worries about what the Dalcrosses may do here. We are but a minority against them as it is. So far we follow the law, of course—at least, most of us do,” she added with a smile.
“Aye, I’ve heard that Sionnach Dubh has been active again,” Kintail said.
Lady Chisholm smiled at Bab. “Then you did tell him. I realized after you had gone that the subject never came up and feared you might fail to tell him.”
“Tell me what?” Fin demanded, looking at Bab.
She shut her eyes, wishing she could snap her fingers and magically whisk herself back to Stirling, well out of his reach.
“Well?” Fin’s tone indicated his rapidly diminishing patience.
Bab opened her eyes but avoided his gaze, saying to Lady Chisholm instead, “I did not tell him, madam, but only because I thought you or Sir Alex must have done so.” Then, risking a wary look at Fin, she added, “When neither he nor Molly mentioned it, I thought they were being tactful. I should have known better.”
“What is this?” he demanded. “What did you fail to tell me?”
“We did not converse a great deal, sir, if you will recall, neither here nor on the way home. Our journey was swift, and when we stopped at night, we were all so tired that we scarcely spoke over supper and fell asleep directly afterward.”
“Don’t prevaricate, lass. If there was aught of import to tell me, you should have done so straightaway.”
“Truly, sir, I thought you knew.”
“You salved your conscience thus, at all events,” he retorted, unappeased.
Molly said, “What is it, Bab? What happened?”
With a sigh, she said, “Francis Dalcross abducted me on the way here, but—”
“Bab!” Molly exclaimed. “How could you possibly imagine that we might learn of such a dreadful event and not mention it? Did he… that is—”
“He did not harm me,” Bab said, still eyeing Fin.
“You want beating,” he said grimly. “You didn’t tell us because you did not want to hear what I’d say about it and very likely feared what I might do about it. I think you had better tell us the whole tale, my lass, and right quickly, too.”
Meeting a sympathetic look from Lady Chisholm, Bab hastened to describe her abduction and its aftermath, sliding glibly over Francis’s behavior at the cottage and the Fox’s behavior after Francis’s departure, emphasizing her rescuer’s heroism instead. But if Fin was pleased to learn of her rescue, he showed no sign of it.
“What makes you think this fellow is any better than Dalcross or that he could really be Sionnach Dubh?” he demanded when she finished. “The Fox is no more than a bairn’s tale, lass. Some prankster has been making game of the Dalcrosses, and now it seems that he has made one of you, too.”
“Pray, do not scold her, sir,” Molly said. “Whoever the man is, he rescued her from what must have been a shocking ordeal. Recall that she greatly admired Francis Dalcross at Stirling.”
“I do recall it, and although I did not encounter him at court myself, I recall perfectly well that Patrick did not admire him.”
Lady Chisholm said diplomatically, “I cannot express the relief I felt when she assured us she had suffered no harm at that villain’s hands.”
“Someone ought to thrash him, too,” Fin said grimly.
“Oh, indeed, sir,” Lady Chisholm agreed. “I wish someone would, and his father, too, but we of Dundreggan cannot say much on that head, you know.”
“Why not?” Fin asked. “Chisholm was our previous sheriff. I should think he might say quite a lot.”
“Aye, and so he did at first, but Sheriff Dalcross just shrugged it off and said that different men handle being sheriff in different ways. He said that since Chisholm had done naught to curb the excesses of the Kirk in these parts whilst he was sheriff, he should hold his tongue and not criticize others.”
“At least with Chisholm, life was peaceful hereabouts,” Kintail said.
“Aye, it was,” she agreed.
“He must have retained considerable influence.”
“You forget, sir, how devastated he was by the deaths of our sons,” Lady Chisholm said with tears welling into her eyes.
“Forgive me, my lady. I did not intend to distress you.”
“My point is that he lost interest in everything after Rob and Michael were killed,” she said, quickly recovering her usual poise. “That is how Sheriff Dalcross came to take over so quickly, you see.”
“It was quick,” Fin agreed.
“Less than a fortnight,” she said, nodding. “The arrest and confession made all the difference, of course.”
“What confession? I heard nothing of this.”
“It was the final straw for my husband,” she said with a sigh. “Francis Dalcross caught young Christopher Chisholm, you see, and when Christopher admitted killing his cousins, declaring that he hoped thereby to inherit more of the Chisholm wealth than what he stood to inherit from his own father—”
“By our lady,” Fin breathed. “He said that?”
“Francis Dalcross and his men all swore to it,” she said, “and no one was able to ask Christopher, because they said he escaped from them that very night and no one has seen him since. But the confession was all Francis Dalcross needed to persuade James to appoint his father in Chisholm’s place. Their seat, Bothyn Castle, lies near Inverness, and they have many men to support their authority. Moreover, they are kin to the Sinclairs, and Francis is particularly friendly with Oliver Sinclair, who as you know is the King’s present favorite.”
“In that event, I’m surprised James did not name Francis himself sheriff.”
Lady Chisholm smiled wryly. “I believe Francis would have liked that, but he is certainly too young for such a large and important job.”
Fin shook his he
ad. “We may think so, madam, knowing him, but recall that James himself is not yet thirty. I just wish I had known all this at the time.”
“Recall, sir, that you were still dealing with Macdonalds then, and soon afterward you became a royal hostage. There was naught you could have done. Indeed, Chisholm was out and Dalcross in so quickly that practically no one noticed until it was over. Chisholm told no one. He was just grateful that the Dalcrosses managed everything about Christopher with as little scandal as they did.”
“I do recall that, and I don’t know that they can claim credit for it,” Kintail said. “Folks were so shocked that they scarcely spoke of the tragedy except to express astonishment. Christopher Chisholm was well liked hereabouts, and many believe to this day that he must have been killed, too. As for Rob and Michael…”
“They were much beloved,” Lady Chisholm said with a sad smile.
“Aye, madam, I believe they were.”
A brief silence fell, and although Bab was grateful for any diversion that took Fin’s mind off her abduction and his clear if unreasonable desire to scold her for it, she was relieved when Molly said gently, “Forgive me, but should we not discuss this notion Lady MacRae has taken regarding Bab’s wedding?”
“We must explain to her that she has made a mistake,” Bab said firmly.
“Is there to be no wedding, then?” Lady Chisholm asked, smiling wistfully.
Bab stared. “Surely, you did not think there would be!”
“I certainly would not object to one, my dear. I think you would make our Alexander a wonderful wife.”
“He has not even asked me!”
“I do seem to recall now, however, that your father and Chisholm did once discuss some such possibility.”
