After New Year’s she would return to England, and she would let him go.
As Hugh and Mary led the way home, Lady Alison took a hold of her daughter’s arm. She smiled at Adelaide.
“It is lovely to have you home, my darling. And wonderful to be able to hold my new grandson. You and I need to catch up on so much.”
Adelaide raised an eyebrow. “Thank you, Mama. It is wonderful to be home in Scotland. Is there anything particularly pressing that you wish to discuss with me?”
Lady Alison leaned in close. “Well, since you asked. May I enquire as to whether you were able to secure a particular item in Edinburgh?”
Adelaide gently patted her mother’s arm. “You didn’t think I would dare to arrive without it, did you? Charles had it well hidden in our luggage.”
Lady Alison softly chortled. “Well done, my dear. Now it just remains to see if we can make magic happen a second time.”
Aunt Maude followed behind, tucking into her bag of boiled sweets before offering one to Charles who walked alongside her.
“Witchcraft at Christmas, hmm,” she gruffly remarked.
Chapter Eleven
The whisky hit the back of Mary’s throat, and she held a hand to her chest. Heat coursed through her body, right to her toes.
“I have had a hot toddy before, but never straight whisky. I can see why you would need a bottle or two of it here to see you through winter,” she said.
After their visit to the village, Mary had been stolen away from Hugh and pressed into service by the women. While the great hall was to be utilized by the family for a small Christmas gathering, its main purpose was as a place for all the castle staff and villagers to gather for Hogmanay at New Year’s.
“It is not officially Hogmanay until you can smell the wild boar roasting over the fire pits in the center of the castle courtyard,” said Lady Alison.
Aunt Maude rubbed her hands. “I cannae wait.”
Mary was surprised to see the Radley women dressed in simple brown woolen gowns with aprons. The dowager duchess held a broom in her hand, and she was sweeping ash from around the fireplace.
Maude was seated in a chair, tying together bundles of what appeared to be small branches of juniper. Beside her on the floor sat an impressive pile of completed work.
“Hogmanay traditions are to be kept. The first one is for the women of the family to clean the castle from top to bottom. It’s like spring cleaning in England, only the redding is done in preparation for New Year’s Day,” explained Lady Alison.
“Redding?” replied Mary.
“We clean the house now, then at Hogmanay we sweep all the ash from the fireplace so that our home is clean for the start of the new year. We light the juniper bundles and walk them around the castle to ward off bad spirits from the old year. The other bundles are for the villagers to take with them and perform the ceremony in their homes.”
Lady Alison handed Mary the broom and pointed to the back of the great hall. Mary was used to cleaning the small apartment at the university, so domestic work was not an issue. What did have her gripping the broom handle tight was the notion that she was considered a member of the family.
“If you would like to start sweeping from the back, I will get another broom and work in from the sides. Oh, and don’t fret over the rest of the castle; it was all done last week. I wouldn’t press you into service in such a way on your first Christmas here,” she said.
First Christmas.
Mary caught the remark. It sounded like Lady Alison expected to see her at Strathmore Castle in future years; not just this one. If only that could be.
Adelaide and Lady Caroline appeared at the foot of the stairs. Adelaide carried a red box in her hands, holding it with obvious reverence as she walked into the great hall. Mary could only imagine what precious treasure was contained within.
Adelaide set the box down on a table out of the way of where the women were working. “Nearly time,” she said.
Lady Caroline took a seat in a nearby chair while Adelaide picked up a dust cloth and began to bustle about the great hall, dusting and polishing every surface as she went. Lady Alison came and spoke to Lady Caroline, who said only a few words before rising from her chair and leaving the room.
As she passed, Mary could see that she was pale, and her features drawn. She gave Mary a wan smile as she made her way to the stairs. The duchess had been quiet the whole time, barely saying anything beyond the minimum required by good manners.
Two castle servants appeared at the front door of the great hall. One carried a wooden step and hammer, while his companion had a large coil of rope hanging over his shoulder and a piece of wood in his hand.
They bowed to Lady Alison, and she pointed toward a spot on the floor. “That should do nicely. If I recall, that is the same spot we used last year.”
The man with the rope took the piece of wood and tied them together. He then stood on the stool and began to throw the wood up toward one of the oak beams which supported the roof of the great hall. His colleague held onto the other end of the rope.
Mary stopped her sweeping and, along with the others, watched in silent fascination at the goings on. On the fourth attempt, the wood cleared the beam and then came rattling back toward the floor. The servant holding the rope pulled back, stopping the wood before it could hit the ground. He tied off a knot in the rope, but left the wood hanging.
With this piece of work now complete, the two men stood back from the stool.
Adelaide put down her dust cloth and retrieved the box she had brought with her. With a curtsy to her mother, she handed it over.
“Lady Caroline is indisposed this afternoon and has asked that I continue my role for this year,” announced Lady Alison.
Mary set her broom aside and walked over to where the others stood. She was eager to see what item of importance lay within the box that warranted such a ceremony.
Lady Alison removed the black ribbons which held the box closed and handed them to Adelaide. With great reverence, the lid was lifted. Mary and Aunt Maude both leaned in close, peaking over the side of the box.
A golden ball of mistletoe sat before them.
Aunt Maude and Lady Alison both gasped. The castle servants turned and bowed low to Adelaide.
Mary didn’t know where to look. All this had been for a branch of mistletoe. She stifled a nervous laugh.
“Absolutely magnificent. Adelaide, you have done your family proud,” whispered Lady Alison. A soft smile sat on Aunt Maude’s face.
Mary’s clear lack of understanding of the significance of the moment, together with her embarrassment, were saved by the arrival of Ewan, Hugh, and Charles through the front doors of the great hall.
With a solemn look on his face, the Duke of Strathmore strode over to where the mistletoe lay in the box. He looked down, paused for a moment, then nodded. “Near-perfect formation. Bright coloring. And just the right amount of branch on the end. I couldn’t have chosen better myself.”
“I know,” replied Adelaide.
Ewan chuckled at his sister’s words. “Now to get this beast up where it belongs.”
After the hammer and a nail were handed to him, Ewan set to work attaching the branch of the mistletoe to the piece of wood. Several more nails were added before he stood back and declared that the job was done.
Everyone watched while the wood was hauled back into the air, coming to rest some ten feet above the floor. The rope was then tied off a second time with a firm knot.
Hugh came to Mary’s side. “The hanging of the mistletoe is a very important part of the annual festivities. I am glad you were here to be able to witness it,” he said.
She felt safe enough to ask him the obvious question. “I know people in England see it as a fun part of Christmas—most everyone has kissed under the mistletoe — but why is it so important here?”
“Because it holds real magic,” he whispered.
She met his eyes. Hugh was about to become a
curate for the Church of England, and yet here he was talking about magic. She had never known him to be anything other than serious about matters of his faith and life’s calling.
“It’s alright; I won’t get thrown out of the church for respecting old customs and ways. All forms of religion have a degree of believing in something we don’t fully understand,” he said.
If her father could hear Hugh right now, he would be frowning with disapproval. Professor James Gray had been strict to the letter in his observance of the scriptures.
“This is Scotland; we do things a little differently here,” he added.
With the mistletoe now in place, eager looks passed between the members of the gathering.
Charles slipped an arm around Adelaide’s waist and drew her to him. She pretended to bat away his amorous advances but did not put up a fight when her husband steered her in the direction of the mistletoe.
“Just remember that with great power comes great responsibility. We expect to hear word of a new arrival from the two of you if you dare to kiss under the Strathmore mistletoe,” said Ewan.
Charles laughed, and taking his wife in his arms, he gave her a soft, loving kiss.
Applause rippled throughout the great hall. The mistletoe had captured its first couple.
“And there will be many more before it comes down after Hogmanay. I wonder who will be next,” said Adelaide.
Mary kept her gaze fixed on the rest of the group, quietly praying that Hugh did not see the heat which she felt burning on her cheeks. She could only pray that she was one of those whom the magic of the mistletoe would touch.
Chapter Twelve
Hugh hadn’t failed to see the bright red of Mary’s cheeks as she watched Charles and Adelaide embrace.
No one who witnessed the kiss could have been left unaffected. French-born Charles Alexandre wore his passion for his wife on his sleeve. Hugh sensed a small pang of jealousy toward his sister and her joyful union, but he chided himself for it. Adelaide had found Charles after a long period of heartbreak and deserved every moment of happiness.
After the mistletoe ceremony, Mary slipped from the great hall. Hugh spent the rest of the afternoon in Ewan’s study, discussing estate matters. He was not the duke, but as the second son of the house, and heir presumptive, he still had his duties to perform.
“Now I have tallied up the heads to receive Handsel Monday coin purses, and it stands at fifty-seven. Master Crowdie has confirmed the number,” said Ewan.
Hugh sat and stared at his hands; his mind was completely elsewhere. His thoughts focused solely on Mary.
“I thought we should give every man one hundred pounds.”
One hundred pounds.
“What?!” replied Hugh.
Ewan sat and stared at his brother. “I thought that might get your attention. I know you find estate matters a tad boring, but if you could just concentrate for a few minutes, then you can go back into the hall and continue to make doe eyes at Miss Mary Gray.”
Hugh had been caught daydreaming, a fact he could not deny. “Is it that obvious?”
Ewan chuckled. “Yes. Do you remember when I had a small thing for Lord Stirling’s daughter some years ago? Well, the look I wore on my face all that summer is the very same one you have had plastered to your face since you got here. I’m surprised that the two of you are not already betrothed.”
“Her father was my professor, and so pursuing his daughter would not have been proper. And now that she is alone, it is going to be difficult to convince her that I am acting beyond mere pity for her changed circumstances. Add to that the fact that I do not know if she holds any romantic feelings for me, and you will have an understanding of how complicated this situation actually is,” replied Hugh.
Ewan sat back in his chair with a look of serious contemplation on his face. If anyone had an appreciation of dealing with a complicated love life, it was him. He had thrown Lady Caroline Hastings over in order to marry her sister, only to be jilted by his fiancée who had died while giving birth to his illegitimate son. It was a miracle he had managed to win Caroline back and secure her hand in marriage.
“The only advice I can give you, if you are asking for it, is to be honest with her. It took some time for me to come to that realization when Caroline and I were estranged. Make a promise to yourself that before New Year’s, you will talk to Mary and tell her how you feel. It was the only thing that brought Caroline back to me in the end.”
“Yes.”
“Oh, and don’t let Mama or any of the others try to play cupid. They got away with it, last Christmas, but that is because they had my infant son David to wave under Caroline’s nose. You don’t have the luxury of a sweet-faced bairn to win Mary over to you.”
“Try just a bite.”
Mary looked at the ladle and screwed up her face. Hugh tried not to laugh. It had taken more than a little coaxing to get her to consider attempting a mouthful of haggis. But now that it sat before her on the spoon, she hesitated.
“Couldn’t I have another piece of the blackbun instead?” she said.
“No. The rest of the blackbun is for Hogmanay. We only got to try some today because cook had made an extra batch. Come on, you have to try a spot of haggis; it is the law.” He waved the ladle under her nose, laughing when she finally opened her mouth and let him feed her. She didn’t chew for a moment, a look of distaste evident on her face. Offal was not to everyone’s liking.
Then, to his delight, her face changed.
As she chewed, her eyes grew wide. She swallowed. “That was not at all what I expected. It was nutty and peppery.”
“Cook adds a lot of spices to it. Once you get over the idea that it is the heart, liver, and lungs of the sheep, it’s quite a good meat,” he replied.
He offered her a second spoonful and grinned when she accepted it without hesitation. For someone who had lived a sheltered life at the university, he was pleased to see that Mary was open to embracing new experiences.
The family were gathered in the great hall for supper. The great space had been cleaned from top to bottom. A roaring fire burned in the giant stone fireplace.
The room was a sea of Strathmore family tartan. One-year-old David was decked out in a kilt which had once been his father’s, while baby Will was wrapped up warmly in a tartan shawl. Everyone wore the family plaid. Everyone except Mary.
Hugh had broached the subject of giving Mary a Strathmore tartan stole to wear, but Ewan had refused. Only family could wear it. Hugh understood his brother’s message loud and clear. If he wanted Mary to wear the tartan, he had to make her one of the family.
Lady Caroline finally made an appearance in the great hall just before supper. She looked brighter than she had been earlier in the day but was still pale. As she came to her husband’s side, Ewan drew her in close and spoke to her. She smiled and nodded.
“Could I please have your attention for a moment,” announced Ewan.
He bent down and lifted David into his arms. Lady Caroline stood close.
“This time last year, I was fortunate to make Caroline my wife. In doing so, David gained a mother, and the castle its new duchess. Today, I am happy to announce that Caroline and I are to have our first child together in the new year.”
Ewan’s words had the immediate effect of Adelaide squealing with delight, Lady Alison giving a knowing nod of the head, and Aunt Maude searching her pockets for a handkerchief. Mary stood with her hands clasped together, held to her lips.
Before anyone had the chance to step forward and congratulate the expectant mother, her husband gently steered her to the place under the mistletoe. Charles took David from his father.
“You have made this first year of our marriage the happiest year of my life. Thank you for making me your husband.” Ewan placed his hands on Caroline’s cheeks and bent his head. Caroline wrapped her arms around his waist and gave herself up to the kiss.
Hugh discovered there was something in his eye and quickly wipe
d it away, noting that he was not the only one who had experienced a sudden eye irritation.
“Oh,” Mary softly sighed.
He tore his gaze from the amorous couple and looked at her. The longing he saw in her eyes had him swallowing the lump which had formed in his throat. She too wiped away tears.
“You have such a loving family,” she said, turning to him.
Hugh studied her face for a moment. How many times had he seen that same look on Mary’s countenance as she brought him toast and coffee? It was there every time she had encouraged him to study a little later, to make his university paper better.
And until this moment, he had not understood it. A bolt of sudden awareness hit him.
He was not alone in wishing for love.
He stayed close to Mary for the rest of the evening, ensuring she was included in all the family celebrations. He forced himself to maintain the faint smile on his face, with the result that by the time he retired for the night his cheeks hurt.
Once back in his room, the smile swiftly disappeared. He sent his valet away, unable to maintain his polite manner for a single minute longer.
The past few days had been a slow and uncomfortable revelation of how poorly he had treated Mary. While all the time she had looked at him with love and longing in her eyes, he had been more concerned with his studies and his career. He had kept her at arm’s length.
She deserved better than the mere thanks he had given her every time she had shown him kindness. And she should have received far more from him than the occasional “sorry” after her father’s death. Little wonder she had kept such an important issue as the loss of her home from him when he had shown so little regard for her feelings. He had made a mockery of the word love.
He looked down at his kilt, running his fingers along the lines of the tartan. The blue and black had been proudly taken back up by the family as soon as the ban on wearing tartan had been lifted. His hand dropped to his side; he was unworthy to wear the plaid.
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