by Anne Greene
“Mums, I really need your help and permission!”
Mums stopped rocking and sat forward. “I may not always express my love for you, but you are precious to me.” Her warm fingers cupped Cailin’s face. “I don’t recall you’ve ever before come to me asking for help. You’re so capable. Whatever your need, my answer is yes.”
Unshed tears clogged Cailin’s throat. She rose, wrapped her arms around Mums’s slender shoulders and kissed her smooth cheek. “Oh, thank you. I knew I could count on your support. I love you, too.”
Would her request shake her mother’s love? She’d not realized her own self-reliance had pushed Mums away. In the future she’d make a point to ask Mums for help rather than muddle through her problems alone. And she really needed Mums to love Avondale. Perhaps when she explained his behavior, Mums would open her heart.
Avondale was far from a stiff, cold husband. Except for his injury, he pleased her well. Every thought of him melted her heart like ice beneath an early spring sun, leaving a warm puddle reflecting the life-giving rays.
Yet now she feared more than ever to ask Mums to understand him. One monumental task at a time. She’d hate so to break the fragile web of love Mums had spun to reach out to her.
But she must obtain her cooperation. She swallowed. “I…I wasn’t sure you loved me.” Her voice sounded thick.
“Of course, I love you.” Tears sparkled in Mums’s beautiful eyes. “You’ve always been the sweet, obedient daughter. How could I not love you?” She picked up her knitting and kept her eyes downcast. “But, after your marriage to Avondale fared so poorly, I feared you did not love me.” She gazed up. “Papa gave me no voice in your covenant with Avondale.”
“Oh, I do, Mums. More than you can ever know.” Cailin smiled. “And, we shall discuss my marriage at another time.”
Mums leaned forward and embraced her. “Whenever you are ready.”
Sweetness stirred inside her chest. She hugged Mums’s slender shoulders and yearned to cling to this moment and not let anything spoil it. Yet she must risk just that.
She must act with urgency. Explain to Mums. Lives hung in the balance.
Her heart tripled its beating. She twisted the square-cut engagement diamond on the gold chain around her neck. “So, this is the problem. Mikey brought word just this morning that lobsterbacks will soon patrol our Lowland borderlands. They will be setting up camp and moving from place to place.”
“Oh, dear. They’re sure to frighten the livestock.”
Cailin tipped her mother’s chin up so their eyes met. “Brody has more relatives whom I would really, really like to invite to live with us. There are eight bairns, and they are in danger.”
Mums’s brows shot to her forehead. Her mouth dropped open.
Cailin bit her lower lip.
“More bairns?”
“Seven more boys and one small girl. You know Brody’s two older brothers died in the Battle of Culloden?”
“Yes, of course. Mrs. MacCaulay speaks of little else, poor soul.”
“Duncan and Colin had wives and other bairns, besides the two older boys Megan rescued from slavery and Papa sent off to school.”
Mums’s rocking chair squeaked and teetered faster. She pulled off her spectacles, stuck the needles into the knitting, and stared out the window. “And the women and bairns need a place to stay for a season?” Her words dropped into the silence like beads clinking on a chain. Her hopeful tone as to a short stay wasn’t encouraging.
Cailin swallowed. “No. English soldiers took Brody’s sisters-in-law away somewhere. They’ve disappeared. Maybe they were carried to the coast or….” How could she tell her gentle mother that Brody’s in-laws had almost certainly been molested and were now being used as slaves, or might even be dead?
Mums gasped. “I’ve heard stories. Brutal stories. And Brody and Fiona’s relatives are missing?”
Cailin leaned forward, letting her eyes beg. “Yes. Duncan and Collin died, and their wives have been taken captive. The soldiers left their bairns to starve.”
“Gracious! And you want to bring the whole lot here?” Mums’s yarn ball fell to the floor and rolled across the room, leaving a long strand of light blue yarn trailing across the carpet. “But Cailin, the danger of harboring Highlanders! Think of your baby! Think of the danger to all of us.”
“I know. I know. But we have so many rooms inside the castle. And we already protect Mrs. MacCaulay and Fiona.”
Mums’s expression tightened, and a frown puckered her forehead. “You say there are eight of them?”
“A sweet, small baby girl who just barely toddles. Her name is Baby Fiona.”
Mums forehead smoothed, and she nodded. “Yes. By all means bring the baby here. We shall protect her.”
Cailin’s heart lightened. She smiled. “Thank you, Mums, but….”
“Oh dear. And there are seven boys?” Mums frowned and shook her head.
“Yes, Mums. There are eight children.”
Mums closed her eyes. “Eight orphans! Oh, dear God!” She raised her hands in supplication to Heaven.
Cailin nodded. “If we don’t take them in”—she gazed at the window—”soldiers will find them and cart them to prison…or sell them to be slaves.”
“Good heavens! I simply cannot believe the English are so cruel. I would not have expected them to be so inhumane.”
“Remember, the soldiers left the bairns to starve. The Crown wants no more rebellions from the Highlanders, so England is totally destroying them and their way of life.”
Mums rubbed her chin and hunched her shoulders, and then her expression brightened. “You’ve seen these bairns?”
“Mums, I love you.” She pressed her lips against her mother’s flushed cheek. “Fiona and I brought them to the broch two days past. Mikey and Elspeth are having a difficult time keeping them in that upstairs room.”
Mums’s eyes widened. She dropped her head and closed her eyes. “Dear God, help me accept all this!” She lifted her head. “What has Scotland become? I cannot believe all this.” Her eyes shimmered. “We must get to work, mustn’t we? I’ll break the news to your father. Just leave him to me.” She rose from the rocker, the blue yarn in her hands. “Lads! God knew how much I wanted a son. Now He’s done exceeding abundantly above all I ever asked, or thought.” Mums’s face looked young and eager.
Surely this was the lass Papa fell head over heels in love with, though their marriage had been arranged. Perhaps if he accepted the bairns, Mums would accept him? Their marriage might yet become loving.
Cailin’s heart warmed and expanded. Lightness replaced the fear in her mind. She lifted relaxed shoulders as if a burden had slipped from them. Calm that had so eluded her of late washed over her. “Thank you, Mums.” She would explain later that more homeless, hungry bairns wandered the Highlands.
Darkness slithered over her brightened spirit. More bairns seeking roots and berries to fill their empty stomachs and with no roof over their heads. More lads and lasses out in the chill of spring and rain. More broken hearts pining for lost Mums and Papas.
“Shall we call them cousins, kin to your father’s sister-in-law?” Mums sauntered to the window, pulled aside the thick drapery, and looked out.
“Yes, Papa’s in-laws.”
“I had so wanted to help the poor Highlanders. To sit idly by while evil is being committed is a sin. One must do what one can.”
“Even though the course is dangerous?”
Mums clutched the window sill. “Yes. We must do what we can.”
Cailin strode to hug her mother around the waist. “I love you so much!” She twirled Mums’s slender form around the nursery, barely missing the rocking chairs, cradles, and stools.
“You’re making me dizzy.” Mums smiled up at her and cocked her head. “Listen.”
The clip clop of a horse’s hooves on cobblestones three stories below sounded faintly through the window.
They both rushed to look down at the co
urtyard. A single horse walked slowly into the keep.
“Ah, Avondale returned from one of his haunts. I thought it might be an English soldier seeking Highland fugitives already.” Mums dropped the curtain and paced the nursery. “I think it’s time, dear heart.” She paused and the conflicted expression on her face showed she fought some emotional battle.
“Yes?”
“I never could force myself to tell you and Megan, but now seems timely.” Mums turned back to the window. The soft morning light streaming through the thick rippled glass made her skin glow. “You and Megan had an older brother.”
Cailin dropped the yarn she had bent to retrieve. “What!”
“Your Papa and I had a son.” Mums absently caressed her cheek with her knitting needle. “Our son passed away before he reached a month of age. Papa and I buried him beneath the gnarled rowan tree. We called him our sweet visitor, our baby of the mist.”
“I never knew.”
“It hurt me too much to tell you and Megan.”
“Oh, Mums.” The faraway look in Mums’s fixed gaze contracted Cailin’s heart. Even her mother carried secret pain.
“Every January on the fourteenth day, your Papa and I visit Aiden’s resting place. We planted a rambling rose near his headstone and purple heather at his feet. Each year Papa leaves a wooden sword, and I leave a wooden horse by his headstone.” Her mother smiled a wry little smile. “That’s silly, but it makes me feel better to think he’s not alone. That he has something to play with.” She sighed. “When Aiden left us, he took a part of my heart.”
Cailin brushed at the hot tears sliding down her cheeks. She buried her face in her mother’s shoulder. How could this be?
“Now, my dearest, you’ve given me seven boys to rear.” She smiled through tears making trails down her face. “I’ll have nine when the other two return from school.” She waved her knitting. “Nine fine lads.”
Cailin hugged Mums and their bittersweet tears mingled.
She would ask Elspeth and Mikey to make arrangements immediately for the bairns to move into the castle.
Especially since redcoats were beginning to dot the Lowlands.
She’d seen several already today. In case of emergency, she would also ask the two servants to whisk the bairns to six different crofters, so if soldiers did arrive at the castle, they would not wonder why so many bairns would be living with the MacMurrys.
“Oh, it will be so much fun to have bairns underfoot. And Baby Fiona can play older sister to my son.” Cailin caressed the small roundness of her stomach. She brushed wetness from her cheeks and shivered.
But what would Mums say about her plans for Avondale?
And would he agree to them?
27
The unborn baby insisted she eat breakfast early, so Cailin rolled out of bed.
Now the first rays of sunlight pushed inquisitive fingers into the dining room window. She wiped her mouth with a napkin, pushed back her empty bowl, rose from her chair, left the dining room, and rushed through the hall and up the grand staircase. Her heels clattered on the granite floor of the passageway, then stopped abruptly as she knocked lightly on their bedchamber door.
No answer. She knocked again.
When Avondale didn’t call for her to enter, she turned the decorative handle and slid the door open. No one looked up smiling from the overstuffed settee by the crackling fire. No one had partaken of the tray of inviting breakfast things waiting on the low table in front of the two couches. The sitting room was empty.
Perhaps he still slept.
She opened the door to the dressing room. Empty. She worried her lip as she walked through the room with the large clothes presses on both sides, and her hand touched the door handle to their bedroom.
Oh, God, please let him still be in bed.
She tiptoed inside. A shadow stole over her heart. The sunshine-filled room felt abandoned. But the privacy curtains were still down enclosing the bed. Oh, if only he still slept. She reached out and pulled the red velvet drape open.
Empty, rumpled bedclothes. She collapsed on the edge of the bed, cradled her womb, and rocked.
****
Hand on the banister, Cailin stood at the top of the staircase. All day she’d kept busy with tasks that must be done, and now she could barely stand with her shoulders back and her head held high. After their talk last night, she’d so expected to see Avondale today.
She only had dinner to endure. She would sneak her hand into her husband’s under the damask tablecloth and give him a silent message that she desired him to join her in their suite immediately after they dined.
And if he refused her invitation—what? Pain would rip into her heart again. She thinned her lips. But she would risk more suffering. After she forced herself to take the first step down, the remaining descent seemed easier.
The others, already gathered around the table, looked up with smiles and greetings.
The dining butler behind her chair seated her.
When Avondale strode to his place at the end of the long table, despite how tired he looked, she couldn’t keep the wide smile from her face.
“Hello, my love.” After he settled himself, his knee brushed hers. Hidden by the long tablecloth, his warm hand closed around hers.
She placed her other hand over his, gently squeezed, and gave him another bright smile.
Yet something was wrong.
His jaw was set. His face too ruddy. His frown too deep, the bruise on his forehead hidden by thick, mahogany hair. He nodded at her and smiled. “I trust you spent the day well.”
Though he acknowledged her publicly, he seemed troubled.
“Yes, well. But I had hoped to see you.”
“I’m sorry. I was called away on an urgent matter.” The moment his gaze left her, his smile faded, and a cleft deepened between his dark brows. The slight stubble on his cheeks shifted as the muscle in his jaw clenched.
She’d seen that tense expression before.
Oh, dear God, please, not another of his spells.
He barely tasted his soup and soon waved the server to remove his bowl. His back looked rigid as an iron post, and he shook his head as the waiter offered the lamb savory.
Her husband stared down the long table at Papa. He cleared his throat. His tense manner curtailed conversation among the family and various guests.
Heads turned in his direction.
Papa lowered his fork.
“This news comes straight from the lion’s mouth.” Avondale’s voice sounded raspy, as if the news hurt his throat. “A friend, a royalist in a government regiment, sent word via secret dispatch that the Duke of Cumberland ordered his dragoons and his Kingston Horse to widen the search for rebel Highlanders. He’s searching the Lowlands. Beginning tomorrow.”
Cailin’s heart sped. She glanced at Brody, sitting across the table.
According to Megan, he’d gotten the news late last night and had whisked the men hidden inside the broch away to some secret places—Brody thought best that none of them knew where. Fortunately the men’s wounds were healed enough they were now mobile.
The English guests barely nodded and went back to their eating, flirting, and conversations.
Avondale heaved a deep sigh and raised his voice. “Cumberland ordered the soldiers to search every square inch of the Lowlands, castles and cottages, burghs and farms, because three of their soldiers have recently been murdered.” He glanced at Brody and his mouth thinned. “The duke thinks some Lowlanders are abetting the rebels. He is searching every single cottage and castle for fugitive rebels.”
Cailin’s hands grew icy.
Brody chewed more slowly, his eyes downcast.
Megan’s face drained of color.
Fiona blushed wine red, dropped her fork, and arranged and rearranged the silver fork across her plate of uneaten food.
The English gentry gazed at Avondale. “Surely not our castles and estates,” several of his peers spoke together.
“You will need to fly your colors. But yes, they will search your estates. I suggest you return to your lands to guard your holdings in person.” Her husband’s shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world burdened him. “Cumberland believes the Highlanders are mounting a new irregular type of warfare, using ambush and murder.” Avondale’s strong hand trembled as he sipped water from his glass. Some spilled on the white ruffle of his shirt. “Cumberland means to track any fugitive Highlander who escaped after the battle and found refuge in other parts of Scotland. Since he’s already scoured and plundered the Highlands, he’ll begin tomorrow with the Lowlands.”
“Wasn’t destroying the Highlands enough for them?” Megan’s green eyes flashed. “Aren’t his soldiers tired of searching? Don’t they ever want to return home to their families?”
No one else spoke.
Red stained Fiona’s neck and face all the way to the roots of her hair.
Brody rose from the table and bowed. “Ye will please excuse me.” His boots clattered in the silence as he strode down the long table past the other diners, and then from the dining room.
Every servant craned his neck to watch, and then jerked back into attention.
Was her mouth filled with cotton? Cailin wet her lips. The napkin she put to her mouth trembled.
Papa picked up his fork, gave a meaningful glance at the servants, and stabbed his meat. Obviously, he meant for the family to take little notice of Brody’s leaving, so as not to bring more attention to him.
Several long minutes later Megan folded her napkin and glanced at each of them. “I love you all so very much.” She rose from the table and rushed from the dining room.
Cailin pushed her lamb with her fork, but couldn’t force another bite down her tight throat. Megan would follow Brody into hiding. Would she ever see her sister again? Oh, she hated this war!
Abruptly Papa dropped his napkin, rose from his place, bowed to Avondale, and, boots striking the granite floor like a blacksmith’s hammer on the anvil, he left the dining room.
Finally, the awkward dinner ended, and family and guests departed to wherever they fancied.
