Through the Fire

by Elizabeth Johns

  She smiled. “I threatened to join a convent, so they brought me here, thinking I would change my mind. But I love Scotland.”

  He chuckled. “A convent?”

  She nodded. No one took her seriously. “Why not?” she asked defensively.

  “I suppose they think you may one day wish to be married.”

  “Working with the girls here will give me a worthy purpose,” she pointed out in what she hoped was a reasonable tone.

  “You might even wish to have children,” he continued.

  “Have you ever been to London, Lord Craig? To the Season?” She looked up into his eyes, willing him to understand.

  “I’ve never been a part of that world,” he answered.

  “Fortunate man. I swore to myself I would only marry for love and not settle for a cold, meaningless arrangement. Love like my parents have is one of a kind. I want a partnership with mutual respect. It is a sad reality to be raised with such expectations.”

  “Although you and I have not had good experiences in love, it does not mean all will be bad,” he reasoned softly, to himself as much as her, it seemed.

  “Lord Craig, I am content alone. I do not understand why no one can accept my decision. My worth is not based on being married.” She lifted her chin defiantly.

  “Of course not, lass.”

  “Forgive me. I realize I am fortunate to have a choice in the matter. I sound like a petulant child.” She sighed. “I should not be unburdening my problems to you. Thank you for listening.” She curtsied and walked back into the house.

  Chapter 3

  Gavin had not intended to confess his situation to his hosts, he reflected the next morning over breakfast. But there he had sat, at their elegant table, discussing the condition of his brother’s estate, and how he had taken over guardianship of the Douglas children and brought them to live with him. He had been shocked by the turn of the conversation, and Lady Margaux’s decision to retire to Lord Ashbury’s Scottish estate. He would certainly welcome her help with the girls, but she seemed made for fashionable society. Would she truly be happy as a spinster, at a remote estate in Scotland? He shook his head. He knew little about ladies and their tastes. Perhaps she had suffered another disappointment after Lord Vernon. She seemed genuine in her desire to retire from London. Little about society appealed to him either. He had a wonderful relationship with Lord and Lady Easton, but he did not have to go about in society to do so. He knew they were not typical of the tonnish set.

  His brother Iain had maintained a presence in London. He had been passionate about social reform and making laws to better conditions for the working poor. Gavin wanted to continue Iain’s work, but he knew nothing about how to achieve that aim. If Lady Margaux stayed, perhaps she would not mind guiding him on social niceties in London.

  He would not object to having Lady Margaux as a friend. She was intelligent and not afraid to speak her mind. She had certainly been frank with him last night, instead of batting her eyelashes at him as many females were wont to do. What was he thinking? They could not be friends, could they? He had to think differently now. As a doctor, he had been permitted unusual access to people’s homes; glimpses of what happened behind those closed doors. All the rules were changed now, and not for the better.

  He stood and walked toward the study, resolving to tackle the estate books today. He could no longer put it off. He probably needed to pension off old Wallace and hire a new estate manager, but first he needed to understand the condition and magnitude of what he was now responsible for. Lord Ashbury had offered to help. He would take Ashbury up on that offer once he had acquainted himself with his holdings and the situation they were in.

  The scent of the study and old books swarmed his senses with nostalgia. He stood for a moment in fond remembrance of his childhood here; and later, of engaging conversations with his father and brother. He dismissed his grief and walked forward to the desk—a desk that was piled high with unopened correspondence. He shook his head. His brother had never been organized, and apparently the steward’s duties did not include sorting through the post. He sat before the massive oak desk and felt acutely out of place. He remembered his brother and father sitting here before him. How life had changed; almost in the blink of an eye.

  “Papa Craig!”

  Gavin heard his name echo through the house, followed by the pitter-patter of feet running down the stairs and through the hallway, before a sprite burst through into the room.

  “Guid morning, Maili,” Gavin said, fondly looking up at the young girl.

  She climbed into his lap for a cuddle and kissed him on the cheek. Both girls seemed to need constant reassurance.

  “Maili!” they heard Catriona call and subsequently she came running down the stairs searching for her sister. When Catriona reached the door, she pulled up at the sight of Maili sitting innocently in Gavin’s arms.

  “Catriona. I doona think ye should be running through the house, yelling at your sister,” he chided softly.

  “But…but…” her chin and bottom lip began to quiver and she burst into tears.

  Oh, heavens above. He had no idea how to handle a crying female. He tried to correct her gently.

  “What is the matter, Catriona?” he asked.

  “M-M-Maili cut my doll’s hair off!” She held up the toy, which had stubs of hair sticking up all over its head, as evidence.

  “Is that true, Maili?”

  He looked down at Maili, whose face instantly told him the answer.

  “I thought she would look pretty with short hair,” she replied naïvely.

  “It was not your doll to decide!” Catriona wailed. “My mother gave her to me, and now she is ruined!” She ran away, crying.

  Gavin could not blame her. He would not mind running away just now. He had to find a governess soon.

  “Maili, go to your room until I decide what to do. You will have to apologize to your sister.”

  Hanging her head, the little girl slid from his lap. She looked at him with large tears in her eyes and then dramatically turned away to follow his command. He sighed loudly and put his head in his hands. Did all parents feel this incompetent?

  He decided a visit to Breconrae would be a welcome diversion. If the girls could find something useful to do there and even make some friends, it would be a blessing.

  There was a knock on the door, and his aged steward stood before him.

  “Guid morning, Wallace.”

  “Guid morning, Lord Craig. I couldna help but overhear yer situation.”

  “Yes, Wallace. We need to advertise more widely for a governess. Even in London, if necessary.”

  “Verra well. But what you need, m’lord, is a wife,” Wallace answered bluntly.

  “I beg your pardon?” Had he heard correctly?

  “Ye need to adjust to your new life. Get married. Make babies. Find someone to help. I had just retired and not a week later poor Lord Iain had his accident,” Wallace said sadly.

  “You retired? Why dinna you tell me?” Gavin held out his hands.

  “I couldna. But I’m too old to be here. It hurts to move. Takes me hours to move from my bed in the morning, m’lord.”

  “I see. And had Iain found someone to replace you?”

  “I doona think so. I doona think he was looking so verra hard, though.”

  Gavin muttered a curse and ran his fingers through his hair.

  “Ach, well, it canna be helped, I suppose. If you would be so kind as to go over everything with me, I will do my best until we can find a replacement. I will write to my friend, Lord Easton. He houses wounded soldiers until they are healed and ready to work.”

  Wallace shook his head. “I will assist you until you can find someone, but there are some things I canna do any more.”

  “I understand. I am grateful for anything you can do.”

  “I will advertise again for a governess. For now, I suggest you make the rounds to the tenants and become acquainted. They will inform y
our lordship of what needs to be done,” Wallace suggested.

  Gavin nodded. That sounded reasonable.

  “Yer brother had a very large whisky operation, and began farming the crops to sustain it. Did you ken of it?” Wallace asked sceptically.

  “I did. I doona suppose I understood it all. He mentioned he was fighting for legalization to distil it on a larger scale,” Gavin said, with a feeling that he was about to be shocked again.

  “Aye. He only distributed to a select few, and not publicly, although it was a dream of his. He oversaw all of the whisky-making himself,” the steward said with a proud gleam in his eye.

  “I doona wish to involve myself in something illegal,” Gavin protested.

  “I wouldna precisely phrase it as illegal. There will be some verra disappointed people if you were to cease the whisky operation, and a considerable number of workers would be unemployed should you wish to do so,” Wallace said. His voice held a challenge. “Though there would be those who would be pleased to see it fail.”

  Gavin raised an eyebrow, but the steward did not elaborate. “I will look into it later. Continue.”

  “Then there is the matter of the solstice ball.”

  “Aye, it has been a tradition in my family as long as we have held the barony.”

  “And the mistress is the one who puts it together,” Wallace reminded him.

  “And I have no mistress,” Gavin said, grimacing as the words left his mouth.

  “Indeed.” The old man nodded as if his pupil was finally mastering his lessons.

  “That is only a few weeks away. Is there anything done?”

  “Verra little. Perhaps you could enlist the aid of another lady this year,” Wallace suggested.

  Gavin looked dumbstruck.

  “Wouldna the vicar’s wife be a guid person to ask?”

  Wallace scoffed. “Ach. I wouldna, but I doona fancy hell-fire and brimstone. Queer lot, the vicar and his wife, but ye must do as ye see fit.” The old man shrugged.

  “I need a governess for my new children, a new steward to run the estate, I need to greet the tenants, I need to learn how to farm and make whisky, and I have a ball to put on by the solstice. Anything else?” Gavin asked in disgust.

  “A wife and an heir would not go amiss,” Wallace reminded him.

  “Of course,” Gavin said, making no attempt to hide his sarcasm.

  There was a knock on the door. Gavin looked up to see the familiar face of the housekeeper, who had been at the castle since he was a boy.

  “Come in, Mrs. Ennis.”

  “M’lord.” She gave a small curtsy.

  Gavin twitched his neckcloth. This was all so uncomfortable.

  “I need to go over menus and some household purchases with you, sir,” she stated.

  “Menus?” he asked with disbelief.

  “Yes, m’lord. There is no mistress to perform the duties…” Her voice trailed off.

  Not her, too.

  “I am certain you are quite up to the task, Mrs. Ennis. You certainly ken more than I.”

  “No, m’lord. I couldna.” She looked at him as if he had insulted her.

  “You could. Please. For me.” He pleaded. If he was given one more task he might snap.

  She looked terrified, but must have seen something in his expression that made her nod and quietly leave the room.

  “Wallace, how many other duties did the mistress perform?” he asked, though he did not really want to know.

  “Lady Craig always saw to the household, the tenants, the children, the ball, the accounts…” Wallace ticked off the list on his rheumatic fingers as he spoke.

  “Enough! Enough!” Gavin said feeling overwhelmed. “That will be all for today. If you wouldna mind seeing to the correspondence, I have someone I need to meet.”

  “Verra well, m’lord,” Wallace said with a loud sigh.

  Gavin sent word to the nurse to have the girls ready to leave in two hours.

  He burst through the front doors and headed for the stables. He needed to think. He hoped a quick ride would settle him, for all he wished to do was travel to the ends of the earth and forget these last few months had ever happened. As he took the horse through its paces, including a fierce gallop that nearly stole his breath, he felt his anger begin to ease. He knew his temper to be ill-placed, but he was aggrieved. At Iain. At God. At the children. At himself, and at the wife he now needed but didn’t want.

  Chapter 4

  Margaux decided that today she would dress the part her new life demanded. She knew it would anger her mother, but the more Lady Ashbury saw her in this role, the more she would become accustomed to the reality of it. Her mother was a force in society—holding extravagant parties and leading the ton. Donning a mob-cap to complement her plainest gown, Margaux wondered if perhaps she exaggerated the spinster costume for her mother’s benefit. She had instructed her maid to pull her hair into a severe knot, and the crisp muslin and lace hid the lustrous waves entirely from view. She chuckled and thought the cap would have to go once her parents left. She might wish for a more simple life, but that did not mean she had no taste.

  She wondered if Lord Craig would bring the Douglas girls to visit today, as she planned to make her way to the dower house to see how she could be useful.

  She paused outside the door when she overheard her parents in the breakfast room. Did she dare walk in on them and start the argument all over again? Or should she stay in the hallway with the picture of her grandfather staring at her?

  “What have we done wrong, ma chere? Anjou is dashing about with Charles, looking for Aidan, who is likely dead, and Margaux wishes to don her caps!” her mother said, exasperated.

  Margaux guiltily reached up and pulled the mob-cap from her head. She should let them know she was there, but she could not make herself go further.

  “It is a crime to waste her beauty,” her mother said in a pitying tone.

  “You do want her to be happy, no?” her father reasoned.

  “Bien sûr! How could you ask such a thing?”

  “She was not happy in society. Did you take no notice? Perhaps we should give her some time. Once she is away from everything she knows and has spent an interval alone here, she might change her mind. It is my belief she is not sure what she wants.”

  Thank God for her father, Margaux thought. She doubted she would change her mind, but she wanted more time without her mother’s constant harping. Once they saw she was happy they would have to accept it.

  “I understand what you are saying, chérie, but we cannot leave her alone here,” her mother protested.

  “Aunt Ida is here,” her father pointed out.

  Margaux could imagine her mother’s expression at the moment. Aunt Ida was senile and pleasant, but would no better chaperone her than a puppy.

  “Oui, she will make an excellent chaperone,” her mother said sarcastically.

  She heard her father laugh. “Margaux is old enough and has an excellent head on her shoulders. There is little harm to befall her here.”

  Her mother let out a sigh. “Perhaps we could return to London for Jolie’s sake?”

  “You believe Yardley or Summers will come up to scratch?”

  The Duke of Yardley was horrid, in Margaux’s opinion. She was not actually acquainted with him, but his reputation left her cold. He only wanted to acquire Jolie, not have a relationship with her. Summers was older than their father. But Jolie did not care. She had always wanted to be a duchess. Margaux hoped her father would intervene.

  “He is paying marked attention to her, according to what Lady Easton writes.” Lady Easton was the wife of Lady Ashbury’s nephew, and was chaperoning one of Margaux’s triplet sisters while Margaux and her parents were in Scotland.

  “I wish I knew more about him. I think it would be wise for us to be there while they are courting,” Lord Ashbury said. The concern in his voice was evident.

  “Every part of me is hurting to leave Margaux here. I cannot fee
l easy. However, if we may return soon, I will go if you think it best,” her mother responded. Margaux could hear the resignation.

  “I do. She will be perfectly well. Perhaps the good doctor will catch her eye.”

  “She would be blind to not notice the beautiful, brawny Scot with his blue eyes and delicious burr.” Lady Ashbury sighed in acquiescence. “Very well, mon ami.”

  Lord Ashbury laughed. “I suppose he is handsome.”

  Margaux nearly choked. That propelled her forward into the room.

  “Bonjour, Maman.” She kissed her cheek. “Good morning, Papa.” She walked around the table to kiss his cheek before filling her plate.

  “Margaux, your mother and I have decided to return to London for the remainder of the Season. We think it wise to be with Jolie.”

  Margaux turned and raised a questioning eyebrow, trying to look surprised.

  “That does not mean we are giving up,” her mother stated. “We are merely giving you some time to think. Though it will cause the tabbies’ tongues to wag.”

  Margaux nodded. “I will be quite content here. The girls at the dower house will keep me busy.”

  “But what of your own children?” her mother asked tenderly.

  “Not all of us are fortunate in love, Maman. I played that hand once and lost. I refuse to marry only to have children. Breconrae was good enough for Grand-mère and Aunt Ida to live in.”

  Her mother only shook her head in bewilderment.

  “And Aunt Ida will be here with you for propriety,” her father said to her with a conspiratorial wink.

  “Thank you, Maman and Papa,” she said. Her lips quivered as she endeavoured to keep a straight face.

  Her mother stood. “I will go and direct the servants to pack. We should begin our journey as soon as possible.”

  After her mother had left, Margaux sat in comfortable conversation with her father. The butler entered and asked if she was at home to callers this morning.

  “Who is here?” she asked.

  “Lord Craig, and the Misses Douglas.”

  “Yes, of course. I was expecting them.” Margaux rose to her feet. “Please show them into the parlour.”