Gavin left his horse at the stable and made his way to the front door. His knock was answered by a severe woman—for there was no other way to describe her. She was dressed in unrelieved black without ornamentation, her hair was pulled back into a tight knot and her face was frozen in a scowl. Was he at the right place? His eyes glanced sideways to the church to be sure. He stood there, waiting for her to speak, but she continued to stare.
“Pardon me, but I am looking for the vicar’s wife. Is Mrs. Mulligan home?”
She eyed him warily.
“I am the new Lord Craig. I have come to ask for her assistance,” he explained.
The lady frowned and muttered under her breath. Gavin could not make out her speech clearly, but he thought he heard the words sinner and repent.
“The vicar is not home, but I suppose I will hear what you have to say.” She stepped back and directed him into a small parlour, then she walked away. He stood in amazement. He had been calling on the sick for years and had never encountered such treatment anywhere. Gavin wondered if he was only allowed in because he provided their living. He was certain she would have slammed the door in his face otherwise. He stood in the cold room, which was devoid of any warm feeling. There were none of the signs of home that often adorned a parlour—no pictures, flowers, sewing—only a few chairs, a small table and a Bible.
Mrs. Mulligan returned with a maid, and stood inside the door staring at him. There was no offer to sit or take tea, as had been the custom in Alberfoyle. It seemed wrong in a vicarage. Had his brother tolerated this? People of God should be kind-hearted, welcoming, tender—not those you were afraid to talk to. Never one to make up his mind without more information, Gavin hoped she was simply out of sorts for some reason.
“Thank you for seeing me, Mrs. Mulligan,” he began, feeling unusually tongue-tied.
She gave a slight nod.
“As you ken, my brother and his family recently perished and I have taken over his duties.” He stated the obvious.
“Yes.”
Gavin hesitated. If he were not desperate, he would have made his excuses and left. “We have the annual solstice ball in a few weeks, and as there is no Lady Craig, I was hoping you could help me. Or suggest someone who would be willing.” He let out a breath.
Mrs. Mulligan looked at him disapprovingly by narrowing her eyes further.
“So you mean to continue on as your brother did, then? I do not approve of such frivolity, nor of pagan celebrations.”
“I see,” he said quietly.
“However, I will discuss the situation with the ladies’ committee. Perhaps we can help put together the baskets for the tenants, but I will have no part in the ball.”
“I understand.” He did not really, but what else could he say? How had this miserable vicarage come to pass in his brother’s parish? Iain was one of the most jovial people he had ever known.
“I will call on you later this week, with the vicar, to inform you of the committee’s decision,” she said curtly.
“Verra well, I am grateful for your assistance.” Gavin bowed and took his leave, thankful to be out of such an absurd situation. He wished he could take his words back. He did not want her help. He did not ever want to see her again. He mounted his roan and made his way back to his property, shaking his head.
It was with dread that Gavin went to church the next morning. The girls were none the wiser about the rare treat in store for them, he thought, somewhat shamefully. He hoped he could avoid Mrs. Mulligan, though he doubted she would wish to converse with him either. How strange it felt to be reluctant to attend church. He hoped the lady would be pleasanter this morn. He did find it odd that none of the household had been expecting his attendance at the services this morning. When had Iain’s family stopped going and why? It made no sense to Gavin.
Catriona and Maili skipped ahead of him as they chose to walk on the clear, bright morning. Both girls picked wild flowers along the way and the spaniels trotted alongside. The dogs had taken a liking to Maili and followed her everywhere. They would not appreciate sitting outside the church, but he did not think the vicar or his wife would look favourably upon canines filling the pews or floor.
They were not the first to arrive in the small stone church, and many heads turned with looks of surprise upon their entrance. Gavin smiled and shook hands with those he knew from decades past and introduced them to his wards. He would make the others’ acquaintance in time. He found the old family pew and directed the girls to sit down. Before long, the crowd began to whisper and turn their heads again. It could only mean Lady Margaux and Lady Ida had arrived, he thought. He had to force his face to remain impassive. For weeks to come there would be gossip in the village about the London beauty retiring to the Scottish countryside and claiming spinsterhood. He would support her decision as best he could. He knew it was hard for women who desired independence.
Maili was tugging on his sleeve. “Papa Craig,” she whispered urgently.
“Shh, lass.” The vicar was walking toward the lectern.
“Princess!” Nearly shouting the word, Maili waved vigorously at her idol.
Gavin was afraid to look lest the congregation misconstrue the relationship. However, Maili had surely fanned the fire already. Look, he did, against his better judgement, and there was Lady Margaux, walking gracefully down the aisle with a pleasing smile. Alone. Unchaperoned. She seemed oblivious to the stares and murmurs. Or perhaps, with her exotic beauty, she was accustomed to it wherever she went. She was attired with the utmost propriety, in a pale blue, sprigged muslin gown. She stood out like a rose amongst thorns.
She gave a quick smile and greeting to them and sat in the pew across the aisle, then proceeded to open her prayer book with her attention focused on the vicar. Gavin knew, after his meeting with the stiff, prudish Mrs. Mulligan yesterday, it would not bode well for Lady Margaux’s future here. Perhaps Lady Ida was ill, or perhaps she did not attend the Sunday services. He hoped the congregation would merely be grateful Lady Margaux was in attendance, but she was young, beautiful and unmarried. Not to mention French. Those were sins in themselves.
The service was agony. Gavin could not bring himself to concentrate on the dry, interminable monologue. He had never found an abundance of enlightenment from Leviticus and Jewish laws about laws. Maili was restless. Catriona had fallen asleep. Gavin kept thinking about the thousands of things necessary to keep the estate running. Two hours later, the congregation was finally dismissed. Gavin wondered ungraciously how they kept the pews from being empty every Sunday.
After the service, many of the parishioners greeted him with civility and passed on their condolences. No one spoke to Lady Margaux, other than Catriona and Maili. Londoners would have called it being given the cut direct. Did Lady Margaux notice? She was holding her head high while chatting and smiling at the girls. He made his excuses and walked over to greet her.
“Good day, Lady Margaux. Is Lady Ida unwell?” Gavin spoke a bit louder than normal, for he knew they had a captive audience. He hoped the congregation would realize she was not living unchaperoned.
“No, my lord.” She gave him a shy smile. She leaned closer and whispered, “She cannot abide the vicar and his wife.”
“I am all sympathy.” However, that would not do well to warm the parishioners to her. He made idle talk with Lady Margaux, hoping some would ask for an introduction, but none came. “Did you ride here alone?”
“I was driven in the carriage with my maid, though she refused to come in.”
“Shall I see you to it?” he offered.
She gave a slight nod. “Thank you.”
He had not missed the slight look of disappointment in her eyes. She had noticed. He escorted her to the carriage where a footman and coachmen were waiting. He handed her into the conveyance.
“We will see you on the morrow,” he said and closed the door.
He smiled and turned back toward the churchyard to be met by disapproving stares. He igno
red them and led the girls home, with the spaniels following along.
As they made their way back to the castle, the sun burst through the clouds, turning the day into one too rare and glorious to spend inside.
“Girls, what say you to a picnic by the loch? Perhaps I can teach you to fish?”
Catriona looked wary.
“Would we have to touch them?” she asked cautiously.
“Aye. And I would show you how to bait the hooks. Seamus always enjoyed it, and I thought you might, too.”
“Seamus delights in all manner of disgusting things,” Catriona said, wrinkling her nose.
Gavin chuckled. “Aye. ‘Tis part of the profession, I suppose. How about you, Maili? Are you game for some fishing?”
“I like worms,” she said proudly. “I’m not afraid to touch them like Catriona is.”
“Verra well. You can bait hers for her.”
“Papa Craig,” Maili said. She started every thought with his name, he noticed.
“Yes, lass?”
“Why didn’t anyone speak to Princess at church? She seemed sad, even though she was smiling.”
Gavin sighed. Children were frighteningly astute at times.
“I doona ken, lass. It made me sad that no one talked to her.”
“Our vicar always said we should make everyone feel welcome in God’s house,” Catriona added.
“Maybe we should invite her to our picnic to make her feel better,” Maili suggested.
“That is verra kind, lass. Perhaps we should.”
They stepped into the entry hall and handed their bonnets and hat to Tallach.
“Girls, would you please ask Cook to pack a hamper for us, while I send a message inviting Lady Ida and Lady Margaux to join us?”
The girls nodded with excitement and ran off on their errand.
Before long, Lady Ida and Lady Margaux arrived in a gig, and they followed the Craig party down to the loch. The day had grown warmer since they had left church, so the party unfolded their blankets under the shade of a large oak.
“Thank you for the invitation, Lord Craig. It is a lovely day for a picnic,” Lady Margaux said graciously.
Lady Ida simply smiled as he greeted her.
“’Tis much too lovely to be inside. One never ken how many days like this there will be in Scotland,” Gavin agreed. “Now shall we eat or fish first?”
“I am famished!” Maili stated.
“Then by all means let us see what is in the hampers,” Lady Margaux suggested, taking charge in a manner as natural as it was instinctive. “Will the two of you help me, please?”
Catriona and Maili eagerly sat on the blanket next to Lady Margaux and awaited her command.
“Shall we begin practising our French? Now is as good a time as any.” She smiled.
“Yes,” the girls said.
“Oui,” Margaux corrected.
“Oui,” they echoed.
She handed them plates, silver, and glasses.
“Plaques, argenterie, tasses,” Lady Margaux instructed and the girls repeated after her as they handed out each item.
“Jambon, fromage, pain,” she said with a smile as the girls roughly attempted to pronounce ham, cheese, and bread. “Et, limonade,” she finished as she poured the lemonade and handed it to the girls.
“Merci,” Gavin said handsomely as they handed him his fare.
“What does mer-see mean?” Catriona asked.
“It means thank you,” Lady Margaux replied.
“Très bien.” Lady Ida applauded the girls.
“It means very good,” Gavin said before they asked. He had enjoyed his luncheon, and wished every day could be as pleasant as this. Even simple tasks seemed easier when he wasn’t alone.
“How do you like your new home thus far, girls?” Lady Margaux asked.
Maili put a finger on her chin and thought. “I like it, but I miss the people from Alberfoyle, too.”
“I am certain you do. I miss my family when we are apart, but this is my new home, so I hope to find new things to like here as well.” She reached out and patted Maili’s hand lovingly. “How about you, Miss Catriona?”
“I want to go back. I hate it here!” Catriona said in a rare outburst of emotion.
“Catriona, that was uncalled for,” Gavin said calmly.
Catriona hurried to her feet and ran off.
“Not ladylike at all, my dear,” Lady Ida added in a rare moment of verbosity.
Lady Margaux spoke as she saw Gavin beginning to stand. “Give her a few moments. I remember being her age. Talking to her at the moment will do little good.”
“Verra well. I imagine you ken more about females at that age than I do.”
“Yes, my parents had three of us at once to deal with!” She laughed. “Why don’t you take Maili to fish, and I will speak with Catriona when she has had time to calm down.”
“Thank you,” Gavin said softly. He knew he should deal with Catriona, and would have to eventually, but he would take the easy way out this time.
Gavin took Maili to his favourite rock where he had fished as a boy, and taught her to bait and cast her line. He watched Lady Margaux walk over to where Catriona sat on a wooden swing dangling from a large willow. The child’s head was lowered to her chest.
By the time Maili had caught and released a small fish, Gavin saw Lady Margaux returning, with her arm around Catriona, to where Aunt Ida was napping.
“Shall we return and brag about your first fish?” Gavin asked Maili.
“Yes! I think I would like to go on the swing,” she said, abandoning her pole and running towards the group.
“Glad to ken I haven’t lost my touch with the ladies,” he muttered sarcastically to himself.
By the time he had gathered the fishing poles and walked back, Catriona was pushing Maili on the swing.
“You should row with Margaux in the boat,” Lady Ida suggested, with a none-too-subtle wink.
Gavin smiled and looked at Lady Margaux, who was also amused by her aunt’s ploy. She gave a slight lift of her shoulder.
“Can we row to the island I see over there?” She pointed to one of the many in the loch.
“You are certain you do not mind watching the girls?” he asked Lady Ida.
She waved her hand. “I can manage. If they misbehave, I will throw them in the water,” she said with a straight face. “We can make daisy chains.”
“Verra well.” Gavin laughed. “Shall we?” He held out his arm for Lady Margaux.
As they walked to the small dock, Lady Margaux reassured him. “They will come to no harm. I should not think she would wander off.”
Gavin looked down at her. “Wander off?”
“Yes, she tends to wander about all day, but she always comes back.”
“I feel strangely comforted. I had best row quickly. It seems there is more than my male pride at stake,” he teased.
She patted his arm in a condescending fashion. “I can row if you tire. I used to race my brother, Charles.”
Gavin chuckled. “I might take you up on that. The island appears much closer than it is.”
Having assisted Lady Margaux into the small rowing boat, Gavin pulled on the oars and steered a course towards Creinch Island, the closest and one of the smallest that the loch boasted. As he toiled in a steady rhythm, Gavin mused about the ironic situation he now found himself in. One of the most beautiful, eligible ladies in the kingdom was in a small rowing boat with him, in what many would consider the ultimate romantic setting, and he needed a wife. However much Lady Margaux might believe she would remain a spinster, he was certain her parents would only indulge her so long before sweeping her back to London. This afternoon together had almost made him forget they were worlds apart. Yet they had some similarities which made talking to her comfortable. He actually liked Lady Margaux.
“You are rather deep in thought,” she said, watching him with knowing eyes.
“I beg your pardon,” he said, not masking
the humour in his voice.
“Were you perhaps considering the absurdity of the situation?”
“Which part? I certainly see the irony in it,” he remarked.
“Both of us jilted by the same couple, neither of us wishes to marry, yet we find ourselves together in remote Scotland?”
“Something of that nature,” he agreed, feeling his eyes crinkle at the corners.
“And either by default or compassion, you find yourself often in my company.”
“I would call it neither of those things. I enjoy your company.”
She cocked an uncertain brow at him, but when he did not elaborate, gave a nod of thanks.
“My mother might actually swoon to see me thus.” She laughed. “I wonder what she told Aunt in order to play matchmaker.”
“It was Maili’s idea to invite you.”
“True, but would you have thought to row me about without her suggestion?”
“Perhaps.”
Lady Margaux looked out over the water and appeared deep in thought.
“Why is it that the world feels marriage to be necessary for validation? Neither of our circumstances require us to marry for financial reasons.” She held up her hands. “Forget that I asked. The answers will only frustrate me.”
He laughed.
“At least we have each other to empathize with.”
“Yes, but I am afraid it will not be for long,” he said mournfully.
She looked at him in surprise. “Oh?”
“I must take a wife.”
“You must?” she asked doubtfully. “Oh, you will need an heir. Please do not tell Maman.”
“She has already suggested I need a wife. As did my steward, my housekeeper, the girls…”
“I am surprised my mother did not suggest me.” She laughed.
“She was rather tactful about the entire situation,” he recalled.
“That is shocking,” Lady Margaux said.
“But there are too many duties for me to take on alone. Perhaps if I had been raised to run a large estate, the matter would be different. And perhaps, if I hadn’t taken on the girls…” He ran his hand through his hair. “But no matter. I always wanted a family and now I have one.”
Through the Fire Page 5
