Munro nodded, satisfied, then, as an afterthought, ‘How sweet is he? I thought to give him to Kate.’
‘She’ll handle him. She manages you well enough, and horse or man, it isn’t much different.’
The words were fine enough, but the intonation, the curl of Archie’s lip, was William’s.
Munro covered the momentary awkwardness, ‘Has mother any idea of your coming?’
‘I hadn’t any idea myself until yesterday, when William proposed the visit.’
‘William? For why?’
‘I’m not sure . . . he mentioned that there was need of another maid, and if I had a mind to bring one back with me, she would be welcome.’
‘And?’
‘I thought on my promise to Sybilla Boyd, but rumour has it that Lady Glencairn’s maid whose place it is, has been sent home with more than she came, and the blame lying at William’s door.’
‘That I can believe.’
Archie leant forward to slap at a clegg that had landed on the horse’s neck. ‘It isn’t the first time, and I wouldn’t like to be the means of sending Sybilla down that road.’
Kate would have known how to foster the finer feelings that Archie’s words betrayed, Munro, though recognizing them, did not.
‘There are other maids?’
‘Plenty.’
‘And are they all alike troubled?’
‘No.’
‘Well then. She has a head on her shoulders and I imagine can take care of herself.’
Archie was chewing at his lip.
‘You owe it to her at least to pass on the offer.’
‘I daresay. It’s just . . .’ he circled his shoulders as if to relieve stiffness, ‘. . . I’ll go and see her tomorrow.’
Munro held Sweet Briar to a walk. ‘Are you about much, or do you keep to Kilmaurs.’
‘Lately we have been most at home, though William chafes at it. And I with him. Visitors there are, but it isn’t the same as being abroad. Glencairn makes for the court, three or four times a year, but doesn’t often take many with him. He hasn’t forgiven William the loss of the pearls and doesn’t fail to remind him of his folly every time he thinks to suggest he represent the Cunninghame name. There are times . . .’ Archie was looking past Munro, ‘. . . when I fear Glencairn may push William too far. And who knows what would be the end of that?’
‘And if it comes to it, whose man are you?’
‘I trust it won’t come to it.’
‘But if it does?’
‘Glencairn is ageing. I haven’t a choice.’
And nor, thought Munro, have I.
When Archie continued the hard note was back in his voice. ‘I mean to rise, else my time at Kilmaurs is wasted.’
Mary Munro was resting when they arrived, but came to greet them readily enough, though there was an unhealthy pallor to her cheeks.
‘Archie!’ She reached up. ‘It’s good to see you and after such a time. I had thought you become a Cunninghame altogether.’
‘It’s not so easy to get away. Indeed, it was only that William had his own ends to serve that brings me now.’
‘And can you bide?’
‘A day or two only.’
Munro cut in, ‘Kate expects us back for supper-time. Archie is promised to the bairns and hasn’t yet seen the babe.’
‘You’ll not bide here then?’
Despite the disappointment in her voice, Munro had the feeling that she wasn’t altogether put out.
‘I’ll ride over in the morning, and if you can spare me a bite, I’ll take it then and gladly.’ Archie was deliberately casual. ‘Have you heard anything of the Boyds? I have a message for Sybilla.’
Mary looked up, a new light in her eyes, but Archie shook his head.
‘Don’t get excited. I’m not looking to wed. It’s a position she’s offered at Kilmaurs, if she’s a mind to take it.’
‘I haven’t heard that she has aught else, and if you’re there, I imagine she’ll be keen enough.’
‘Mother!’ For a moment, Archie sounded as he might have done at sixteen and she crying him to take care and ride easy as if he were but a bairn. ‘It’s only friendship between us, but I promised to help her to a good position if I could and Lady Glencairn’s not difficult to please.’
‘What then? You don’t seem entirely comfortable with the notion.’
Munro thought – she hasn’t lost her sharpness, whatever else ails her.
Mary rose, as if in dismissal. ‘If she goes with you I trust you know your duty to someone who has been long your friend and fond forbye.’
Munro had his back to the light and looked down at his mother, troubled afresh at the way she squinted up at him. On impulse he said, ‘Come back with Archie the morn and bide a day or two with us. You haven’t been properly introduced to the latest Munro. Kate thinks she favours you, though how anyone can tell and the child not two weeks old, I don’t know.’ He saw willingness and hesitation fighting in her face and kept his voice light. ‘Come and judge for yourself, and besides, Kate has some strange notion for the re-painting of the ceiling in our bed-chamber. An unnecessary expense that you could maybe discourage.’
An impish glint lit her eyes. ‘I’ll be ready the morn then, but shouldn’t you rather fear it’ll be encouragement I offer?’
The ride home didn’t take long, for Archie pressed the new horse as much as he could, and more than Munro thought reasonable, giving no chance for conversation. He would have welcomed the opportunity to test Archie’s reaction to their mother’s state of health, for the small changes that he saw, or thought he saw, each time he visited, worried him; though he found it hard to judge if his concern was justified. The proposed visit would give Kate the chance to have a good look at Mary. She’d know.
Archie set out early the next morning.
‘You’re surely desperate for a sight of Sybilla?’
‘How many times . . .’ Archie broke off as Kate appeared in the doorway, but his scowl remained.
Munro thought – this fear for Sybilla is more than a passing concern. Please God it isn’t justified as I encouraged him to give the lass the chance.
‘I merely mean to give her time to make whatever preparations she needs if she’s a mind to accompany me.’
‘Of course.’ Munro tried to sound matter of fact, but, judging by Archie’s flush, failed – it would be a fine thing not to have to walk on eggshells with his own brother. The twins erupted into the room with Maggie trailing placidly in their wake.
Anna flung herself at Archie, ‘We’ve been waiting and waiting and you didn’t come. And you promised to go fishing with us.’
‘I will. But later.’ I have a message or two to do first. There is the whole day ahead of us.’
His tone was patronizing, and Munro had the feeling that he paid attention to the bairns as much to avoid closer contact with himself and Kate as anything else.
Anna was not giving up. ‘Agnes says it will be sunny later.’
‘Well then, that’ll be fine for a jaunt to the loch.’
She looked at him, pity etched on her face. ‘You’re not much of a fisherman. They don’t bite in the sunshine. It’s much better when it’s mizzling.’
Archie glanced towards the window, ‘The sky is still gey grey. I doubt there’ll not be much sunshine the day.’
They were already at table when he returned with Mary. Munro noted that although there was colour in his mother’s cheeks from the ride, there was a looseness to her skin that the flush couldn’t hide and a weariness in her that belied the shortness of the journey. It was pleasing to see that she hadn’t lost her appetite, though he would have been a mite more concerned had he known that this was occasioned by her deliberately eating nothing since the previous afternoon. Robbie ate steadily, Maggie following his example, but Anna, periodically checking the gable window, picked at her food. A shaft of sunlight broke the dullness of the day, spilling the length of the table. When it reached her she squirmed
like a fly trapped in a web.
Munro saw the warning signs. ‘Run away and play till we are done.’ He lifted Maggie from her place, turning her towards the door, commanding the twins, ‘Do you two look to your sister.’
Anna’s small face was mutinous, ‘Archie promised to take us fishing and now the sun is out and it won’t be any good and it isn’t fair.’
‘It will be even less fair if I don’t let you go at all.’
Archie scraped at his plate. ‘By the time you’ve made ready, I’ll be there. Do you have a pole long enough for me?’
‘You’ll fish?’
‘Why not?’
Talk veered to the court and to the King’s jaunt: those who went with him, those who had been left at home.
Munro couldn’t resist bringing it back to the Montgomeries. ‘Did you say Alexander Montgomerie and Braidstane both were bid accompany the King?’
‘Aye. And a ween of others equally undeserving.’
‘How many are away?’
‘Five ships and Maitland, as the provider, with a hand in the filling of them.’
‘Is Braidstane thick with Maitland then?’ Munro didn’t think it a likely partnership, but it had been three years since his own last appearance at court and Braidstane, though but a newcomer then, might have bedded himself in since.
‘Alexander is James’ ‘Master Poet’ now and Braidstane aye hangs on his tail. William is fair scunnered that we don’t have anyone so close to the King to keep our name high.’
‘There are no poets among the Cunninghames?’
Despite himself, Archie laughed. ‘Poet? I don’t think it’s in the Cunninghame temperament, though William can spin a prosy tale or two when he’s a mind.’
‘To wriggle out of trouble?’
‘What else?’ Archie toyed with the cheese in front of him, turning the point of the knife round and round. ‘What is it with Braidstane? No-one dare mention the name in front of William unless it is in disparagement.’
Munro shifted in his seat. ‘The Cunninghames and the Montgomeries have aye been at each other’s throats as you know, but with William and Braidstane it’s a mite personal. Hugh, for all he is but a laird and therefore, in William’s book, not in the same league, has the advantage in having already gained his place and answers to himself. It doesn’t help that it was our doing that gave him his inheritance, small though it may be. Nor, I imagine, that he has found favour with James. Alexander was aye a good friend to him in that regard.’
‘I didn’t think you had dealings with the Montgomeries.’
‘Nor do I,’ Munro avoided Kate’s eye. ‘Except that I took the same road from Stirling, fresh from that charade of James, when you first came to court. I bided a night in Greenock with the Shaws – Elizabeth, that is now married on Hugh, the hostess and to tell the truth, I liked them fine.’
‘A liking you took care to hide.’ Kate’s voice was deceptively quiet. ‘For fear I wouldn’t share it?’
‘No! No. Had you been with me, Kate, you would have liked them too. But Hugh is all that William despises and I know the feeling is mutual. I admit I wouldn’t wish to be caught in the middle of them.’
‘Perhaps you should temper your liking with good sense then.’ Kate was warming to her theme, Munro regretting the turn of the conversation. Bickering voices floated up from the kitchen and switched Kate’s attention to Archie.
‘The bairns will be tired of waiting. It would be an idea to keep your promise, else we will all suffer Anna’s grumping the rest of the day.’ As his footsteps died away, she rounded on Munro. ‘I thought you’d have more sense than to rake over old quarrels. It’s not healthy to dwell on past troubles, unless it is to learn from them. And it won’t do Archie any good to fill his head with such notions.’
‘I can’t help taking some pleasure from William’s discomfiture. Besides, you aren’t any more enamoured of the Cunninghames than I.’
‘I’m not enamoured of anyone who brings ill to our door. Cunninghame or Montgomerie it makes no odds to me.’
To distract her, he cocked his head to one side. ‘Is that Ellie?’
She was on her feet in an instant and sticking her head into the stairwell, picking up the faint hiccuping cry.
As she disappeared Mary said, ‘You don’t deserve the luck. You should know fine that women aren’t quite themselves after a birth. And not the most sensible time to raise difficult memories. Besides, you are at peace the now. Why go looking to disturb it?’
‘It was talk among family only. What harm in that?’
Mary brushed at some crumbs that clung to her bodice. ‘You can’t depend on Archie to know what to speak and what to keep silent.’ She ran her fingers over her lips in an unconscious, nervous gesture. ‘Family we may be, but it’s William he serves at Kilmaurs and you would do well to remember it.’
Munro hesitated. ‘There are times I wish he didn’t. Indeed . . .’
She was ahead of him. ‘You wish you hadn’t introduced him in the first place.’
‘Aye.’
‘So I have thought times.’ Her eyes were troubled. ‘But what’s done is done.’
Silence stretched between them, broken by a shower of sparks that burst like a scattering of shot from the grate.
He sought to reassure her, ‘Archie is here only a day or two. I won’t give him anything worth repeating.’
‘See that you don’t. I have no wish to see my family tear itself apart; there are plenty others would do it for us.’
‘I neither.’ Kate reappeared in the doorway, bouncing the baby on her hip. She brought Ellie to her mother-in-law and held her out. ‘It’s a good time to dandle her when she’s newly fed, except . . .’
‘I’m not a stranger to a babe’s dribbles. Besides . . .’ Mary smiled down at the child, ‘one of the consolations of a grand-dame is that I can aye hand her back.’
Ellie had been fed and slept and fed again before the other children returned with Archie. They burst into the solar where Kate and Mary sat by the fire, Ellie asleep in the crib beside them. Mary was startled awake by the gleeful shouting as they ran to show Kate the five small trout that were the reward of their labours.
Though they wouldn’t go far, Kate, after admiring them, shooed Robbie to the kitchen. ‘Take them to Agnes, we can have them at supper if they’re gutted in time.’
Archie said, ‘They should have gone back by rights, but I didn’t have the heart.’
Robbie, part way to the door, turned.
Archie forestalled him. ‘They are a fine catch and I’m a dab hand at the gutting. Would you like to see how it’s done?’
‘I know already,’
‘Well you can show me then.’
Kate flashed a smile at Archie. ‘It will be helpful if you can try to see that there is some flesh left, so that the bairns at least will get a taste.’
Anna was hanging over the edge of the crib, poking Ellie.
‘Let be. She’s only just away.’ Kate touched Anna’s hair.
‘I want her to wake up.’
‘She will, soon enough.’
‘Me too.’ Maggie, who was scarce tall enough to see over the edge of the crib, was hanging on the side, tilting it, sliding Ellie towards her.
Mary picked Maggie up and she nestled in, her thumb slipping into her mouth. Kate thought on her children and on her husband, who had gone out shortly after Archie, to see to the bedding-in of the cattle. And hoped he would come back in different fettle. She shared his discomfort at their Cunninghame connection, but as Glencairn hadn’t troubled them in a while, it was her policy to concentrate on what they had, rather than fret after what they hadn’t. His discussion with Archie indicated a dangerous interest in the Montgomeries and their doings; perhaps a result of more recent, un-admitted contact with them. An unwelcome thought that wouldn’t be dislodged.
‘Why can he not just settle at home?’
Mary shook her head. ‘Men aye have a different view of things. It’s
as well to put up with it, or pretend to. If you don’t argue, it doesn’t give them any chance to try to persuade you to their way of thinking.’
‘I’m not afraid of his persuading me, but rather of what he may do, persuasion or not. We have four healthy bairns and a fine house and food and to spare. It should be enough.’
‘And so he told Archie. And so I’m sure he feels. I believe it is a fear that his brother may be too comfortable with Kilmaurs and their way of going that has brought him to wish the old bonds broken.’
‘And new ones forged in their stead,’ Kate’s voice was bitter. ‘Pray God we could be free of them all.’
‘As to that, it is a foolish thing to fight what cannot be altered. We have a place in life that puts us under obligation. Pray rather that it doesn’t weigh too hard and perhaps you may live as if free.’
Chapter Three
Archie stayed two more days at Broomelaw. Whether it was the presence of the children, who plagued him constantly, or the unseasonably mild weather, he gradually thawed, revealing in unguarded moments glimpses of the boy he once had been. Munro, mindful of his promise to his mother, avoided any chancy talk. Robbie became Archie in miniature: his hands clasped behind his back, his mop of curls subdued by saliva-slicked fingers into a semblance of Archie’s smoother head. It seemed the visit would, after all, be more a pleasure than the trial Munro had first feared.
He encouraged Kate and Mary to spend an hour in the middle of each afternoon on the south-facing bench in the barmkin. ‘It is only sense to shorten the winter where you can and it will be good for the bairn to have some air.’ From the hillside below the tower the girls’ squeals and Robbie’s high, piping version of Archie’s lower rumble made a happy counterpoint to the squabbling of the rooks who were their nearest and noisiest of neighbours.
Munro appeared as Mary leant into the basket to touch Ellie’s fine wisps of hair. ‘It’s a red-head she’ll be and maybe brighter than Anna.’
‘So I have thought and I don’t mind, except . . .’ Kate grimaced, ‘. . . two bairns with a temper to match their colour may be gey hard work.’
Turn of the Tide Page 14
