by Amanda Scott
“Sakes, d’ye hear what that lass be thinking?” Maggie demanded of her two companions. “Why ha’ we taken nae notice o’ that afore?”
“Notice o’ what?” the still-invisible Fergus demanded. “Ye shouldna peer into me lass’s mind like that.”
“Whisst now, let me think,” Maggie snapped. “ ’Tis true, she does do that.”
“Who does what?” Catriona asked. “You are making my head spin, Maggie. I don’t know what she is thinking. Indeed, I can rarely tell what Kit is thinking.”
“Then I’ll tell ye,” Maggie said. “She were thinking how Olivia, the black-draped widow wi’ her megrims and fusses, has only tae look at a man tae flirt wi’ him. I’d no be surprised but one touch o’ a man’s finger would stir her tae forget things as easily as any member o’ the Forgetful People.”
“Here now,” Fergus protested. “There be nae need tae cast stones, Maggie Malloch. I havena forgotten anything o’ importance in centuries.”
“Only how tae keep yourself visible tae us,” she retorted. Turning to Catriona, she said, “Ye see where me thoughts be taking me, for when ye wiggle one o’ your wee fingers at our Claud…” She paused expectantly.
“Aye, that’s right, his mind turns instantly to lust,” Catriona said, her eyes widening. “Oh, Maggie, do you think it’s possible we’ve found him at last?”
“But ye canna just murder the widow and hope her death frees your Claud,” Fergus said, showing himself at last. “Ye ken what’ll happen if ye’re wrong!”
“Aye, now there’s the rub,” Maggie said with a sigh.
“Aye, sure,” Catriona agreed. “Recall that if you kill the wrong one, Jonah’s spell will allow the Evil Host to claim Claud for all time, and quite likely yourself and anyone else who touches upon that spell, right along with him.”
“What?” shrieked Fergus. “Ye never told me we could go, too!”
“Pish tush,” Maggie said. “There be nae reason tae think—”
“And ye call me the forgetful one!” Fergus snapped, still in high dudgeon. “Did ye chance tae think that if ye kill any mortal, the High Circle will most likely blame all three o’ us for it? If we’re banished, we’ll all be fair game for the Host!”
“Ye leave that tae me,” Maggie said. “I can manage the Circle. Nobbut I’ll agree this would all be much easier if I could just snap me fingers and the right mortal would just perish on the spot without anyone else being the wiser!”
Kit and Eustace returned to Hawks Rig the next day, taking the jester with them, but when the anticipated message from Branxholme arrived late Tuesday morning, Olivia sent a rider at once to Hawks Rig to request their return.
“His eminence is coming here on Thursday,” she informed Anne and Fiona when she had read the message, “and Buccleuch will come with him. That gives us less than two full days to prepare, and I imagine they will bring a large party, because the cardinal enjoys puffing off his importance. Find Malcolm, and send him to me. We must be sure they find nothing amiss at Mute Hill House.”
Anne had been only fourteen when James, King of Scots, had stayed at Ellyson Towers during his second visit to the Borders, but she recalled the bustle and uproar that preceded his visit. Her mother had remained calm, however, saying that the King was a young man like any other, and would doubtless enjoy his stay very much. And so it had proved.
Since she could not imagine that Cardinal Beaton would be any more difficult to please than the King of Scots, she set about with her usual calm doing all she could to help prepare for the visit. Since Olivia sincerely believed that his eminence must be looking forward to visiting such a fine place as Mute Hill House, she was content to let Anne and Malcolm carry the burden, offering occasional casual suggestions that sent servants scurrying. Fiona helped, too, although she seemed to be looking forward to the return of the jester more than to the return of her suitors or to meeting the powerful cardinal and learning of his decision.
The party from Hawks Rig returned Wednesday evening in time for supper, and to Toby and Fiona’s delight, Mad Jake accompanied them.
By the time the cardinal’s party rode into the yard the following afternoon, all was in order, and although Anne was astonished at the number of visitors, she knew that everyone could be comfortably accommodated.
Malcolm had been nearly civil to her throughout the bustle, clearly grateful for several of her suggestions, particularly after she mentioned that she had gleaned her knowledge through watching her mother prepare for a royal visit.
“We have never received his grace at Mute Hill House,” Malcolm admitted. “I’m told, though, that ’tis the cardinal who is the most powerful man in Scotland.”
“I think perhaps his grace would disagree,” Anne said with a smile, “but doubtless his eminence believes as you do.”
When the party from Branxholme entered the house, she saw at once that Cardinal David Beaton knew his worth. Dressed in red from head to toe, he led the way, looking as magnificent as he might have for an appearance at court. The trumpets were missing, but Malcolm’s stentorian announcement of his entrance surely rivaled that of any court chamberlain.
Buccleuch walked a few steps behind Beaton, followed by a colorful retinue, including several ladies. Lady Scott was not one of them, however, so it seemed that the rumormongers were right and she had returned to her parents’ home.
Olivia swept a deep curtsy as Beaton approached her, and kissed his ring when he held out his hand. Rising gracefully, she included Buccleuch in her smiling gaze as she welcomed them to Mute Hill House.
“We are honored, your eminence. For you to come here…” She paused, fluttering her lashes. “Indeed, sir, I am rendered speechless.”
He smiled, and Anne saw that he possessed great charm as well as an aura of great power. “I hope we do not inconvenience you, Lady Carmichael, but we shall not stay long. I am on a pilgrimage, as it were, visiting great lords here in the Borders, gathering their support to insure that we remain strong enough to keep the English out of Scotland. From here, I travel to Maxwell at Caerlaverock, so you see, Mute Hill provides a comfortable place along the way to spend a night. Allow me to present some of my companions. I’m told that you already know Buccleuch.”
“Indeed, yes,” Olivia said, turning to that gentleman. “Welcome, sir.”
Beaton went on to introduce other gentlemen in his train before he said casually, “I do not believe you know my cousin, Janet Beaton, but I trust she will find a good friend in you, madam.”
“Oh, yes, of course. Welcome, Mistress Beaton,” Olivia said, staring at the handsomely fair young woman Beaton drew forth.
If Olivia looked amazed, Anne could not blame her. Buccleuch’s marriage was not officially ended yet, and yet here he was, traveling in company with the woman who was apparently to be his next wife and expecting his hostess to welcome her—as indeed she must since the woman was Davy Beaton’s cousin.
Chapter 16
It soon became evident to everyone at Mute Hill House that the cardinal had a particular reason for including his cousin in his entourage, and Anne and Fiona learned what it was when Olivia commanded them to attend her in her bedchamber after they had finished dressing for supper.
“As you heard, his eminence desires to please his grace’s Border lords,” she said. “Eustace… that is, Sir Eustace tells me Buccleuch can raise thousands of men in just a few days’ time, so neither the King nor his eminence wants to put him out of temper just now when the royal need is so great.”
Anne and Fiona both nodded.
Buccleuch’s temper was said to rival that of the late Earl of Armadale, even to exceed it, and since he followed his own law, as nearly all powerful Border lords did, ruling as absolute monarch of his own domain, it did not matter a whit to him who claimed to be his king or the master of his kirk. Most Borderers were fickle about such matters, because they could see no reason to bend a knee to the Pope far away in Rome or the King miles away at Stirling.
“The cardinal desires us to treat his cousin with extraordinary courtesy,” Olivia continued. “He means to expedite Buccleuch’s divorce from Janet Kerr and open the way for him to marry Janet Beaton as soon as possible, but he fears some people might disapprove and loudly voice that disapproval. Therefore, he hopes to forestall such a reaction by showing at once that the finest people receive her.”
“But how can he show that?” Fiona asked. “I like Janet Kerr. I do not think Buccleuch should set her aside so easily. Surely, many others will agree with me.”
“Whether they do or not, you must not speak so critically of any guest in our home,” Olivia said severely. “You are about to bestow a signal honor upon Janet Beaton, my dear, so do not let me hear such hasty words from you again.”
“No, madam. I apologize.”
Anne said, “But what honor could Fiona bestow, Aunt Olivia?”
“It concerns you, too, Anne dear, for when his eminence suggested that perhaps Janet Beaton might serve as an attendant in Fiona’s wedding, you may be sure that I instantly said she must serve as her chief attendant. I know you will not mind giving up that position in such an excellent cause.”
“But I do not even know her,” Fiona protested. “Will not our friends stare to see her in Anne’s place?”
“All that matters is that it will please Buccleuch, whom we have no wish or cause to displease,” Olivia said with a stern look.
“I don’t even know whom I’m going to marry,” Fiona said with a sigh. “I suppose I should not quibble about my chief attendant being a total stranger.”
“Exactly so,” her mother said. “However, you will know your bridegroom by the time you go to bed tonight, for his eminence has said we will discuss that matter directly after supper.”
His eminence having requested that the discussion take place in the hall, which was of a more convenient size to contain his retinue than Olivia’s bower, everyone at the high table remained seated while Malcolm hustled his minions through their postprandial duties, leaving trestles up to accommodate those of the cardinal’s people for whom the high table lacked seating.
Beaton occupied the central place there. When the household servants and others who were not expected to remain, or chose not to, had departed, he said in a voice that easily carried to the back of the hall, “I had intended to hear from each person concerned in this difficulty before making my decision. However, I’ve come to see that the road I must follow is plain.”
A murmur of comment filled the chamber, and as Beaton waited pointedly for it to cease, Anne glanced at Kit, who was intently watching the cardinal. Beside her, Fiona stared into space as if the proceedings had nothing to do with her.
Eustace still looked supremely confident, as did Olivia.
Two places away from Anne, Berridge pared his nails with a knife someone had left on the table. He kept his hands below the tabletop, but she could easily see what he was doing. He glanced her way and winked.
Nearly startled into a laugh, she looked quickly down at her own lap.
Other than a brief shuffling of feet, the chamber fell silent again.
Beaton said, “I warrant everyone in this room knows the quandary we face. Sir Christopher Chisholm, son of the late Laird of Ashkirk and Torness, after disappearing for more than a year and being presumed dead, was officially declared so after his father’s unfortunate demise. Before his disappearance, Sir Christopher was betrothed to Mistress Fiona Carmichael, and as I understand the matter, those betrothal vows were exchanged by proxy. Is that not so, madam?”
Clearly taken aback when he turned abruptly to ask the question, Olivia recovered quickly. “Yes,” she said. “His father stood proxy for him.”
Beaton nodded. “Then the answer is plain. Despite the official declaration of his death, the original betrothal must stand, because the second one is rendered null and void by the obviously false declaration on which it was based. Mistress Fiona must marry Sir Christopher, whose lands and titles will certainly be restored to him, since he is undeniably the rightful heir and the true Laird of Ashkirk and Torness.”
A gasp sounded from somewhere to Anne’s right, but she could not at first discern the source. Then Eustace leaned forward as if to see the cardinal more clearly, and the plain, raw fury he displayed gave him away.
For a moment, she thought he would protest aloud, but he did not, and she decided he must at least possess his fair share of common sense. To argue with the man who spoke as the Pope in Scotland would be folly, if not madness.
Olivia, evidently oblivious to anything but the Cardinal’s words, said with a smile, “We would be honored, your eminence, if you would condescend to perform the wedding ceremony.”
“That will be my pleasure, madam,” Beaton said, as if they had not already discussed the matter and decided upon such details as Fiona’s chief attendant.
Olivia said, “Fiona, surely you must have something to say, my dear.”
Fiona looked as if her thoughts were miles away and the decision just announced had nothing whatsoever to do with her, and she continued to gaze into the distance until Anne pinched her.
Starting, Fiona looked at her indignantly and said, “What?”
Anne flicked a pointed glance toward Olivia and Beaton.
Still visibly confused, Fiona looked hesitantly in that direction.
Sir Toby said with a laugh, “Wake up, child. Your future has just been decided for ye, and your fond mother would like ye to thank his eminence.”
Confusion turned instantly to dismay as she fixed her attention upon her mother, saying, “I-I’m sorry, madam. I fear I was not… That is, I—”
To everyone’s surprise, Beaton came to her rescue, saying with his charming smile, “One cannot doubt that this misunderstanding has been a great trial to you, mistress. I warrant you must be relieved to have it resolved at last.”
“R-resolved? Oh, of course,” she stammered. “Thank you, your eminence.”
Kit nearly rolled his eyes. As if it were not infuriating enough to have his future decided for him so abruptly and without the slightest query as to his wishes or beliefs, to have his intended wife behave like the simpleton he thought her did not help. Or had the lass simply never been allowed to think for herself?
Lady Carmichael leaned close to Beaton, nodding as he murmured to her, but she caught Kit’s gaze and beamed fondly at him. That she would welcome him as her son-in-law could not have been clearer. He gritted his teeth.
He saw then that Lady Anne was also watching him and strove to keep his countenance from revealing his anger even to her. Revealing that anger to anyone would do him no good if the law decreed that the earlier betrothal must stand. He could scarcely rail against the law when it stood against him and then demand its support to regain his title and estates. His frustration was nearly overwhelming, however, and Anne was perceptive. He feared she could easily discern all he felt.
Just catching her eye and seeing her concern stirred tension in his loins even as it encouraged him to control his temper. Fiona was the loveliest girl he had ever clapped eyes on, but she did not hold a candle to her cousin when it came to feminine allure. All Anne Ellyson had to do was look at him. Indeed, even that was unnecessary. If she walked away, the desire to follow her was overwhelming.
When Tam caught his eye just then and winked, Kit’s jaw tightened. That one of his best friends found amusement in the lamentable business was infuriating, too. Willie, on the other hand, doubtless counting himself amongst the servants, had left the hall when they did. Kit only wished he might have joined them.
Beaton cleared his throat and the hall fell silent again.
“I have been conferring with her ladyship,” he said, “and we have decided the ceremony will take place tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. Although we must not linger longer at Mute Hill, and therefore Mistress Carmichael may find herself with fewer guests than she hoped,” he added, smiling at Fiona, who gazed blankly back at him, “we will do ou
r best to make the occasion a memorable one for her.”
Kit wished he could see his uncle’s face, but they sat at opposite ends of the table on the same side, and he could see only Eustace’s clenched hands on the table. Clearly, from the way they kept tightening, he was angry, too.
The only satisfaction as far as Kit was concerned was Beaton’s assurance that the titles and estates would be restored to him, but he doubted Eustace would submit tamely to that decision or any other. More likely, he would continue to cause trouble any way he could even after the wedding.
It occurred to him then to wonder how his eminence thought a man who was still officially dead could legally marry, but apparently that was a minor detail to everyone but Kit himself. Perhaps, he decided, the Pope in Scotland believed he also called the tune in secular law. In any event, Kit doubted that any mere magistrate would dare to oppose Davy Beaton.
Anne wished she were privy to Kit’s thoughts. He looked much as his uncle did, as if he were ripe for murder.
Fiona whispered, “Can we go now, Anne?”
“I think your mother will object if we ask to leave before his eminence does,” Anne said tactfully, knowing the threat of Olivia’s displeasure was usually sufficient to stifle any desire Fiona expressed to run counter to her wishes.
To her surprise, however, Fiona said, “But I want to go upstairs. I have the most awful headache. It’s just pounding behind my eyes, Anne. Please!”
“Very well, I’ll speak to her,” Anne said, pushing back her stool to stand.
To her surprise, Berridge stood and moved to assist her. “Are you ill, Lady Anne?” he asked quietly as he put a firm hand under her elbow.
“No, my lord, but my cousin is suffering from a bad headache,” she said, surprised by his concern. “She desires to retire to her chamber, so I mean to ask my aunt and his eminence to excuse her.”
