"And Peter and Eleanor are going to Edinburgh." Mary cast a look at Peter. "Is there any family history of medical problems? Could you check into it?"
"I could, and I will," Peter said.
"This is very difficult to accept." Eleanor paced the polished wood floor of the library. "I look at William and I see the young boy I loved like a brother. He was the kindest, gentlest young man. There wasn't a mean bone in his body."
"That's William," Mary asserted. "I was eight when I saw him on a school holiday at the palace in Edinburgh. He was the handsomest boy I'd ever seen. He was sixteen and traveling with his school chums." She turned away from the group and stared at the fire, but she was seeing a time past. "He was standing on the battlement looking over the city, and he was completely oblivious to all of the tourists poking around."
"You were eight?" Eleanor spoke softly. There was something so fragile about the young woman. A unique blend of strength and vulnerability. Much like the William she remembered.
"Eight. I went up to him and asked his name. Then his address." She smiled. "I wrote him, and he wrote me back. We corresponded until he was sent away to London to school."
"When he was eighteen."
"Yes, and I was ten." Mary fell silent. Staring at the fire, she was able to momentarily forget the trauma that marred her life. She was back on that summer afternoon when she'd first seen William, dark hair windblown against the blue, blue sky.
"How did you meet again?" Eleanor asked.
"We'd just finished a performance with the Edinburgh Symphony." Sophie spoke up before Mary could answer. "It was the most romantic thing. He sent flowers backstage with a note that was signed 'Your old pen pal.' Mary knew immediately who he was and I thought she was going to die of excitement. She was that gone for him. All of those years, she'd still been thinking of him."
"Yes." Mary was completely unembarrassed to admit it. "I dated other men, but I never forgot William. This all seemed like a fairy tale, a dream come true. And now…" The light of pleasant memories left her eyes.
"Now it's like a nightmare," Sophie said sadly. "I know Mary loves him, but there's no way she can marry him."
"The trouble is, now I've learned that I don't really know him." Mary closed the ledger. "All of those years, it was as if we'd known each other for an eternity. Now I find I don't know him at all. And what's worse, he doesn't know himself."
Chapter Two
Mary stood beside the car as one of the staff loaded the picnic basket Abby had insisted on making into the trunk of Peter's rental car.
"Be safe," she said, impulsively hugging Eleanor. "And thank you for helping me— us. At least I don't feel so all alone in this."
"I don't know what we can do," Eleanor said. She shivered against the dawn cold. "Don't let Familiar be a bother. There are times when he can be helpful." She gave the black feline a speculative look. He was sitting at the doorway pretending he had no interest in Eleanor's leave-taking.
"Aye, he's a canny creature." Mary moved to pick him up, rubbing him behind the ears as she held him. "The entire staff is in love with him."
Eleanor bent and kissed the cat's head. "Stay out of trouble, you," she warned in a whisper.
"We're off." Peter gave Familiar a pat as he handed Eleanor into the car.
"And we're on our own," Mary said softly as she watched the car pull out of the courtyard and disappear down the tree-lined drive. When she was sure the car was out of sight, she allowed her shoulders to sag. "I'd give anything to be leaving with them," she said, "but I couldn't live with myself." She looked up at the enormous stone structure behind her. It's this blasted place. It's been remodeled three times and still hasn't been brought into the twentieth century. If William would only leave it behind, then things might get back to normal. But when he's in one of his possessed moods, he thinks he's Lord MacEachern, and when he's sane, he won't hear of giving up." She started toward the door. The cat's rough tongue licked her cheek, and for the first time that morning, Mary smiled.
"Thanks, Familiar. I only wish you were a witch's cat. I could stand a little help, even from the black arts."
"Meow!" Familiar's tone was commanding.
"Okay," she said, clucking softly at the cat. "You're right. We can't give up yet. Now let's go check on William. He didn't get to bed until nearly three o'clock this morning. I'd give anything to know where he goes."
As soon as Mary entered the castle, Familiar jumped out of her arms. He scurried toward the kitchen, and Mary smiled. He was one cat that liked his breakfast, and more than likely his lunch, dinner and snacks. She followed him into the kitchen and prepared a tray with tea and toast for William.
Bright sunlight spilled through the large kitchen windows— a modernization insisted upon by William's grandmother. Mary loved the kitchen in the early morning, and she enjoyed making the light breakfast she shared with William. She was smiling as she worked around the spotless room, thinking of the cook who would be in shortly after nine o'clock when the real cooking began.
Abby and her husband, John, who served as butler, lived in a small cottage on the grounds with their son, Kevin. Even though William had been absent from Mayfair for a number of years, his view of the Connerys was that of family rather than "hired help." Abby had been at Mayfair all of her life, and she'd been a source of MacEachern family history for Mary.
Kevin, an exceptionally talented man not much younger than William, was the horse trainer; he ran the stables that had always been the showcase of Mayfair. The house would not function without Abby's skilled hand in the kitchen and John's management of the other servants.
Although Abby prided herself on the meals she prepared at Mayfair, breakfast was the exception. For the first meal of the day, Abby stayed home with her small family. She might toil over the stove at Mayfair until well past midnight for a large and elegant dinner, but she served breakfast in her own kitchen with her husband and son.
Mary buttered the toast and spread it with marmalade, William's favorite. Taking a deep breath, she put a smile on her face and started toward the second-floor bedroom. No matter how late he stayed up, William never slept far beyond the dawn. An early riser herself, they'd spent a number of enjoyable hours together welcoming the new day. Before they'd come to Mayfair. At that thought, her hands trembled and she took several deep breaths.
The castle was quiet around her as she made her way up the curving stairs to the heavy oak door of William's room. Tapping lightly, she opened the door and walked in. One of the small consolations was that William hadn't turned the lock to shut her out. He'd not gotten that far away from her.
"Come in," he said softly.
"I've brought you some tea and toast." Mary felt her heart constrict at the sight of him. His dark hair tumbled over one eye, unkempt and unruly. But it was the dark circles beneath his fine gray eyes that alarmed her. He had not slept at all. He still wore riding clothes, and his bed was untouched.
"William…" Her voice broke, and she busied herself setting up the tray on a table beside the fireplace. "Maybe we should light a fire," she said. She found kindling and matches and set to work to get a cheerful blaze going. When her hands shook so that she couldn't strike the match, she felt William's close over hers.
"Let me," he said, gently leading her to a chair. "I see you've brought two cups. An excellent idea. I could use your company, Mary."
She fought back the useless questions as she watched his deft motions. William had no easy answers for her.
"I found myself at the old abbey last night. I rode in such a blind rage that I had no idea where I was going. At least I didn't ill-treat Blaze. When I came to my senses, he was grazing peacefully beside a stream about a hundred yards from the ruins."
"The old abbey is a beautiful place." Mary kept her voice level. The abbey, once an integral part of Mayfair, was a ruin now. Only a few weeks ago she and William had stood hand in hand admiring the arched windows and the magnificence of the remaining walls. Will
iam had teased her about the gargoyles still nestled in the stones, ugly creatures for which she'd invented stories. When they'd first come to Mayfair, William had laughed at her fancies. They had laughed together about the long dead past.
"I don't remember riding there." William started to touch her shoulders, but dropped his hands to his sides. "I don't remember anything about those hours, Mary."
She wanted to reach out to him, but the same constraint that had held him back also held her in check. "William, what if we went back to Edinburgh for a while?"
"No!"
She held herself very still and looked down at her cup of tea.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice torn with emotion. "I can't leave Mayfair now. I'm afraid…I'm afraid if I go, I won't ever return."
"Then we'll stay," she said softly. "We'll stay until we figure out what's happening."
* * *
THE AFTERNOON SUN was warm and inviting. Mary searched her pockets again to be sure she had her gloves as she started across the back courtyard toward the stables. Her life had been one of books and music. Nowhere had there been room for horses. Now it was time to change that. When the black mood came on William, he rode. She couldn't ask anyone else in the household to follow him. She would have to learn how to ride so that she could do it herself. Since he didn't remember what he did, she would follow. Maybe she could learn something that would help.
"Miss Mary," Kevin greeted her with surprise. "What are you doing out here?"
"I was hoping you might have time to give me a riding lesson." Mary fastened the top snap of her jacket. She couldn't be certain if she was cold or simply afraid. The horses at Mayfair were so large. There wasn't a pony or a small mare among them. They were all bred to carry the members of the MacEachern clan, long-legged men and women who seemed born to the saddle.
"Does William know you're about this?" Kevin looked puzzled. "He'd have my hide if anything happened to you."
"It's a surprise." She gave him a confident smile. "If I'm going to be part of the life here at Mayfair, I'm going to have to learn to ride. William loves it so much. I want to share this with him."
"I see." Kevin looked into the barn. "There's Suzy. She's getting on in years, a little arthritic, but smooth. She's not much of a challenge, but a good— "
"She sounds perfect!" Mary beamed. "I don't need a challenge for my very first lesson."
In fifteen minutes Kevin had shown her how to groom and saddle, and she was walking Suzy around a small open field, with Kevin watching sharply from the ground.
"Heels down, Miss Mary. If you stand on your toes, you're out of balance." He urged her to let Suzy trot.
Mary felt as if everything inside her were being jarred.
"Post!" Kevin said to encourage her. "You've good balance. You just need some muscle tone. There, now go up and down, keep it up."
Mary rode until she felt as if her legs had been pulled from her hip sockets. When she pulled Suzy back to a walk, Kevin was beaming. "You're not much of an outdoors lass, but you've balance and a cool head. You'll be an excellent rider if you work at it."
"I think I might die," Mary answered, afraid her legs wouldn't hold her if she tried to dismount from the gentle Suzy.
"So, William's bride-to-be is learning to ride." Sarcasm honeyed every word in the throaty feminine voice.
Mary swung around to find the owner of the sultry voice. She caught her breath at the sight of a tall, slender woman dressed immaculately in breeches, polished black boots, white shirt, stock tie and black wool jacket. A black riding crop dangled from her hand.
"I'm Chancey Darnel." The woman stepped forward as if she were the hostess and not the guest. "I'm an old friend of William's, and I came over to see if he might care for a ride. We used to tear up the fields and woods around Kelso when we were younger."
The implication that they'd torn up a lot more than fields was distinctly clear beneath her words.
"This is Mary Muir," Kevin stated to fill the awkward gap. "She's to marry William next month."
"So I've heard." Chancey smiled. "So I've heard."
"We haven't seen you around Mayfair in a long time," Kevin said deliberately. He walked over and held Suzy's bridle so that Mary knew she should dismount.
"Excuse me," Mary said, finally recovering. "I'm so jarred from my lesson that my brain is addled. Let me figure out how to get down from here, and we'll go inside for some tea. I believe Abby was making scones when I came out. I'll bet they're just out of the oven, and I do believe all of this exercise has given me an appetite."
"That's good," Chancey said, running a critical eye over Mary's figure. "You look a little anemic. It's critical to William that he produce an heir, as you no doubt know. You need to put a little meat on those bones. The winters here at Mayfair can be brutal."
Mary slid to the ground, stifling a wince as her feet hit terra firma. Chancey Darnel was either the rudest woman she'd ever met, or she was deliberately being abrasive. She caught a look at Kevin's face and saw the thunderclouds there. Chancey's abrasiveness was deliberate.
"William wants a child, and so do I," she said sweetly as she turned to Chancey. "He's often spoken of how simple it would be to reproduce if he were a stallion or bull. He'd simply pick out the biggest, strongest mare or cow and…well, let nature take its course." To her satisfaction she saw Kevin's wide grin. Chancey's lips were a thin line.
"You and William must have some blunt conversations."
"Indeed we do. When you're in love, you can say anything to each other." She extended her hand, delighted to see Chancey's anger. "So pleased to meet you, Miss Darnel. Won't you come in to Mayfair and have some tea?"
"I'd love to. Is William about?"
"He's with Erick, going over some of the books. I know he'd love to ride with you, but he rode this morning, and he's blocked out the rest of the day for estate meetings. Maybe another time."
"Of course." Chancey followed Mary into the castle. They passed through a long dark hall with ancient weapons lining the walls before Mary led her into a small room on the west side of the castle. A fire was burning brightly, creating an atmosphere of cozy warmth.
Mary took a chair in front of the fire, signaling the tall blond woman into another. "Abby will bring some tea. Like you, she's concerned that I'm too thin. Any chance she gets to put something hot and filling before me, she does."
Chancey smiled, her gaze roving the room. "There's something different here," she said.
"I rearranged the furniture." Mary smiled. "William's parents never used this room. I find it to be perfect for the afternoon. And in the summer, when the gardens are in bloom, I'll work here."
"Then you and William are intending to make your home at Mayfair?"
"Absolutely. Where do you live, Chancey?"
"About five miles from here." She looked up at the sound of a gentle knock at the door.
"Come in," Mary called as Abby entered bearing a tea tray, casting a glance over her shoulder.
"It seems half the country has decided to come visiting today," Abby said, giving Chancey an unfathomable look. "Miss Darnel, it's been such a long time. You must have heard William was back in residence." She stepped aside. "And our neighbors, Mrs. Clarissa McLeod and her son Darren have also come for tea."
A woman of average height with beautiful gray hair piled on top of her head stepped through the doorway. Behind her, a slender man in coat and tie smiled as he entered the room.
"And me," Sophie said as she hurried inside. "I watched Mary take her riding lesson from the upstairs window. I thought I would die of hunger before she came inside." There was a slight hint of disapproval in her tone.
Mary stood and went to greet her new guests. "It's wonderful to have my neighbors visiting," she said, wishing heartily that they'd all go home. Clarissa McLeod looked as if she could boss a frigate around, and Darren was a mere shadow. Chancey Darnel apparently had her sights set on William, and it would seem that everyone at Mayfair had lo
ng been aware of it. Sophie was the only truly welcome face in the room, and Mary went to her side.
"Everyone, please find a seat. Abby has— " she lifted the edge of a lace coverlet and the delicious aroma of freshly baked scones filled the room "— a wonderful surprise. I'll help with some more cups, and we can all sit and chat."
"Where's William?" Clarissa demanded as she settled herself in the chair Mary had just occupied. "I haven't seen him for years. I intend to have a look at him before I leave."
Mary felt Chancey's gaze shift to her. There was the hint of an amused smile on Chancey's lips.
"I'm sorry, but William is detained today," Mary said smoothly. She saw the worry cross Sophie's face, and she willed her friend to remain silent.
"Is he ill?" Clarissa asked. There was concern in her voice, but also a determination to probe into the business of Mayfair. "He's been home for over a month, and he hasn't paid a single visit. Behavior like that can start rumors. Ugly rumors. We'd begun to think that maybe he was ashamed of the selection he'd made for his bride." She smiled.
"William is perfectly fine. Mayfair demands a lot of his time. And mine." Mary ignored the insult. These might be landed gentry, but they were the most discourteous people she'd ever met.
"Clarissa knows the responsibilities of land ownership," Chancey said quickly. "The McLeods owned Mayfair before it was taken away from them for their amazing display of cowardice and given to the MacEacherns."
Mary drew in her breath. William had told her that Slaytor MacEachern was given the Mayfair keep because Slaytor was thought to be strong enough to hold the castle against invading British forces. It was also a reward for the horse lord's loyalty and valor to the Clan MacDonald. Mary had never stopped to think that to give Mayfair to the MacEacherns, it had to be taken away from someone else.
"That was three hundred years ago," Clarissa said. Her eyes glittered as sharply as the diamonds on her fingers. "Our holdings at Woodlands keep us plenty busy, right, Darren?"
"Absolutely, Mother." Darren's face expressed no emotion.
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