Through the Fire

by Elizabeth Johns

  “I agree, m’lord. I think ye should move the barrels into the dungeon. The barn is not secure enough. If they took a torch to it, the spirits would ignite in a second.”

  “I had not thought of that. We should move them now. Who is to say they willna strike tonight?”

  “And tomorrow?”

  “I would still like to have the barn guarded. They may not know we have moved the whisky and I doona want to lose an entire harvest. It would devastate the village.”

  “We will guard the barns, m’lord.” Buchanan spoke up.

  “I have assigned a Runner to each of the castle entrances,” Mr. Peters announced. “Though I think there should be one way in and one way out.”

  “Will it be enough?” Gavin wondered out loud.

  “We will need to arm ourselves, and Lady Craig, of course,” he added.

  Gavin looked up in alarm. He had thought if the Mulligans showed up they could be apprehended and carried off to the gaol.

  “There will be a crowd. Anything can ‘appen and it’s best to be prepared. They will probably try to disguise themselves.”

  “Verra well. I will see to arming everyone,” he conceded.

  “We will see to moving the barrels, m’lord,” Buchanan announced.

  Gavin nodded. “Thank you,” he said absent-mindedly as the enormity of the task struck him. There were to be many people in the castle tomorrow, yet he was terrified he would not be able to protect the one person who had come to mean the most to him in this world.

  It was late by the time he went upstairs to discuss the plan with Margaux. She did not answer the knock on the dressing room door, so he cautiously peered into the room. She looked like an angel. She had fallen asleep in a chair near the hearth. The window was open and moonlight shone on her face. A gentle breeze played with a ruffle on her white dressing gown, and her black hair tumbled about her. Gavin swallowed hard. He sat on the footstool next to her for some time, watching her sleep, debating if he should carry her to the bed or wake her.

  A lock of hair seemingly tickled her nose and she brushed at it with her bandaged hand. Gavin reached up and moved it back out of her face. Then her eyes were suddenly open and staring dreamily into his. He licked his lips and her thumb reached up and gently caressed the pathway his tongue had taken. Dare he take advantage of the moment?

  She smiled and closed her eyes.

  Gavin sighed. Apparently his wife only desired him in her sleep. He scooped her up and placed her gently on the bed. It took all of his will-power to walk back to his own room. But he refused to bed his wife until she asked him to.

  Chapter 20

  The day of the ball had finally arrived. Margaux wished she felt excitement, but instead she was shaking with terror. She forced herself to act as if everything was as it should be, to survey the hard work of the servants and be appreciative.

  The baskets were finished for the tenants to take home with them, the ballroom floor was polished to a shine, the candles were in place, and the floral arrangements had been positioned to create the illusion of an indoor garden. An array of lilies, orchids, and roses had been artfully placed amongst beds of greenery. It was splendid. Her mother had outdone herself as usual. It almost looked like a normal ball, however, instead of the elaborate themes her mother created for her own home. Margaux was grateful Lady Ashbury had shown such restraint. It was likely still more opulent than anything the county had ever seen.

  She went into one of the parlours next, which had been set up as a room for entertaining the children. There would also be games on the lawn, but the terrace doors would not be opened this year. The children would have to go through the front entry and walk around. Would it be obvious to the villagers that they were being guarded? Did they know the Mulligans wanted to kill her?

  Gavin had come to her and informed her that she must arm herself, in case something should happen and the Mulligans sneaked past the several layers of protection they had in place. A dagger. She had been given a dagger to wear on her leg; a dagger she might have to defend her life with. She shivered.

  The drawing room had been cleared of the sofas and the carpets rolled up to make way for the tables and chairs where people could eat the supper. Servants were bustling about with linens, silver, and glass, and Mrs. Ennis was directing the placement of the floral arrangements as centrepieces. It would have been exciting for Margaux to host her first ball if she had actually done the work and if she was not terrified the Mulligans would make it past the barriers set in place. How would they stop them? Gavin had warned her they might be in disguise.

  She swallowed and continued on. Cook was completing the final touches on the five-storeyed cake fashioned to look like the castle, turrets and all. Margaux smiled. She could see her mother’s handiwork in that. There were biscuits shaped as castles for the baskets, too.

  Everything was perfect. She had known it would be, though. She went up to the nursery to see the girls, even though the climb was difficult. She remembered the first ball she had been allowed to attend, and knew they must be bursting with excitement. She was not wrong.

  “Princess!” Maili ran toward her and hugged her. “Come look at the flowers Grand-mère has brought us. This is to dress my hair!”

  “You will be the most beautiful girls there, no doubt,” Margaux said fondly.

  Catriona was sitting quietly in a chair.

  “Good evening, Catriona.”

  “Good evening, Lady Craig.”

  She knelt down before her. “Catriona, I think it is time you called me Margaux.”

  Catriona looked up and smiled.

  “Is something the matter?” Margaux asked. Catriona was not acting like a girl excited about her first ball.

  “No. But I was wondering if we should be wearing our pretty new dresses. Will it make the other girls feel bad?”

  “Oh, my dear. I don’t know. That is so kind-hearted of you. But my parents are very generous with them. I imagine Maman has made certain they will have something special.”

  Catriona sighed with relief. “When we were at Alberfoyle, Lady Vernon would sometimes send us gifts and it made the other children jealous.”

  “I see. It cannot be helped, I suppose. Sometimes others will have things you want, too. All we can do is make sure we are kind and generous with people. If we see a need, then we must help.”

  Maili walked over from where she was playing with the flowers. She must have been listening.

  “Do you think we could give some of our dresses to the children who need them, since Grand-mère ordered us new ones?”

  “I think that is a perfect idea. You can observe tonight and see if there are any children you think might need them. Then you can tell me tomorrow.” She hugged the girls.

  “Catriona, would you mind re-bandaging my arm and neck? I want to make certain it stays in place for the night.”

  “Of course.” Catriona rose from her chair and went to fetch the supplies. Margaux stole a glance at the wounds when the bandages were off. She was coming to terms with them, since they were now a part of her. The skin did appear to be healing. Some of it was now smooth, but there were some knotted rope-like areas that had turned purple and had puckered. They were tight and they were tender when Catriona applied the salve.

  “Did I hurt you?” Catriona asked with concern.

  “No, but it is very tight and sore. Papa Craig said I need to massage the area, but I am not very good at it.”

  “I will ask him how and make sure I help you remember,” Catriona said intently.

  “Thank you. I would appreciate that. Now, I must go and see to dressing myself. When you are finished, would you please come to my room and help me?”

  “Oh, yes, Mama Margaux,” Maili said as she danced about the room. Margaux felt a twinge in her heart at being called mama again. She smiled at Maili’s enthusiasm. Oh, to be a carefree child once more.

  She had to rest from the exertions of the day. She had hoped she might be able to da
nce at least once with her husband tonight, but she would need to conserve her energy. She had tried to distract herself from worry, but now she was alone with her thoughts. The problem was, it did no good to wonder what might happen. The Mulligans were not rational or predictable. No one in their right mind would do the things they had done. And that was what frightened her the most.

  Her mother had sent her maid to dress her hair, and the girls joined her as she was finishing. Margaux had decided to have her hair curled and only secure part of it atop her head. The rest of the curls were artfully placed, partially down her back and a few over the scars on her cheek. They were not so very noticeable, and she could not hide from them forever. It would have drawn more attention if she’d had a large bandage there.

  The girls were watching everything with awe. Margaux tried not to laugh. She remembered watching her own mother prepare for balls with equal adoration. The maid helped her into the gown and slippers. She felt almost beautiful again. She was grateful the scars were scarcely noticeable from the outside, but she would still know. She was certainly different on the inside.

  There was a knock on the adjoining door, and Gavin entered and took proper notice of the girls in their new finery. He looked up at her and inhaled audibly. Margaux was gratified, and then ashamed that she was. But it mattered to her. She wanted to be perfect for him.

  “Girls, there is someone here to see you. But first, we wanted to give you a little something for your first ball.”

  He handed them each a little black box, which they opened them to reveal heart-shaped pendants. Both squealed with delight and threw their arms around him. He kissed each of their cheeks.

  “Let me put these on you, lasses, so you may go on downstairs.”

  When the girls had left, Margaux and Gavin stood staring at each other. It was hard not to blush. She eyed him as he did her. She had never seen him dressed for a ball. She had not thought it possible for him to be more handsome. His hair had grown a bit longer, enough for it to curl at the ends. She wanted to run her hands through it. He was wearing his family’s tartan again, which happened to have a thread of lavender woven into it. He was perfection itself; especially when coupled with his bright blue eyes and dark hair. He made a mockery of the London dandies who would give an arm to look like he did with such little effort. He was walking toward her, piercing her with his eyes, and then he was standing before her.

  “Wife,” he said in a smooth, seductive voice. “You take my breath away.”

  Oh my. She should say something, but she was robbed of speech. She lifted her hand and gently caressed his cheek. He turned his head and placed a soft kiss on her palm. It felt as if she had been scorched. A bad pun, she thought, considering.

  “I wish our presence was not required downstairs at this moment, Margaux.”

  He rarely spoke her name, but it felt intimate. Her mother had been right. He seemed to be responding to her cues.

  He cleared his throat.

  “I have something for you as well,” he said, as he produced another black box. “It is from the family vault. I confess I had your mother help me choose the appropriate set.” He smiled sheepishly.

  She opened the box to reveal a stunning amethyst necklace and matching earrings. It was perfect. The large stone hung where the false neck of her gown was. She hoped the necklace would not draw attention to it, after all it was designed to hide, but it seemed as if it had been made for the dress. In all likelihood, knowing her mother, it had been done deliberately. Gavin finished clasping it behind her neck and he placed his hands on her shoulders. She turned to face him.

  “Is your dagger in place?”

  She sighed. He had ruined the moment; she had just worked up enough courage to kiss him.

  “Yes.”

  “And you ken how to use it? Though I doona plan on leaving your side.”

  She made a mock demonstration of jabbing her fist into his neck. He laughed nervously and kissed her on the forehead. He held out his arm. “That will have to do. Shall we?”

  When they stepped into the hallway, they met with an unexpected visitor.

  “Jolie?” Margaux said with utter shock. “Is it really you?”

  “So it is true, then?” her sister said none too happily as she looked from Margaux to Gavin, linked arm in arm. “How could you?”

  “Welcome to our home, Lady Beaujolais. I trust your journey was uneventful?” Gavin bowed to her as if she had not just insulted them.

  She looked at him, incredulous.

  “You remember Dr. Craig, do you not?” Margaux asked calmly.

  “I…I.” The moment of recognition crossed her face. “But…”

  “I have only recently come into the title on the death of my brother,” Gavin explained.

  “Forgive me, Lord Craig. One would think one’s mother might have mentioned that minor detail. You have not quite married a stranger then, have you? I was prepared to take drastic measures.”

  “I entered into this marriage of my own volition, Jolie,” Margaux said quietly.

  “If you will pardon me, ladies, I think I would rather not be present for this conversation.” He smiled and his dimples peeped out. “Shall I have trays sent up so you may continue this in private? I am certain everyone will understand as long as you are down in time for the receiving line.”

  “Thank you, my lord. I believe that an excellent idea,” Jolie answered, and dragged her sister back into her room.

  “Why, yes, Jolie, I will neglect my guests and join you in here. Thank you for consulting me,” Margaux said sarcastically.

  “Oh, Marg!” Her sister gathered her up in painful hug. It was all Margaux could do not to cry out. When Jolie let her go she had to take deep breaths to ease the pain.

  “What is the matter? Oh! Is it the burns? Do they still pain you? You look so fine, I had forgotten.”

  “I am healing. The burns are still sensitive to the touch, but are thankfully hidden beneath the gown and gloves.”

  “Are they very bad?”

  “They could have been much worse. The housekeeper died,” Margaux said softly. It was still difficult to acknowledge that out loud. It should have been her.

  “I knew, you know. I could sense something was wrong that night. It was horrible to know you were in danger, and I did not know what until the letter came. It took me forever to arrange a chaperone and to travel here. Then Maman tells me you are married! You of all, married.” She held her hands wide to emphasize the enormity of the event.

  “Yes.”

  “That is all you can say? You, who shunned a dozen eligible suitors in London; you, who objected to marriages of convenience; you, who declared you would only marry for love. I understand a little after realising you were acquainted, but can you truly tell me you formed a tendre for him before you married? You have never been a hypocrite.”

  Margaux was too angry to reply. She turned away and looked out the window. She did not have the energy to argue about why she had done it. It was done, and she did love him now. Even if it was one-sided love.

  “Why are you here, Jolie? If you have come to rant at me over my marriage, then save your breath. It is done. Why should it bother you? You, yourself, are perfectly willing to marry for convenience. Or can you tell me you are in love with Yardley?”

  “I never pretended to want a love-match. You made your feelings on my choice very clear before you left town. Am I to be denied the pleasure?”

  Margaux sighed. “Very well. Carry on.”

  Jolie sagged her shoulders. “It is not as much fun if you are given permission to scold. I only want to see you happy.”

  “I know.” Margaux walked over to her sister and took her hand.

  “We all believed you would come to your senses within a fortnight,” Jolie said resignedly.

  “I know.”

  “I never could have imagined you would be married already.”

  “I didn’t, either.”

  “Did something happen to
make it necessary?”

  “No!” Margaux dropped her sister’s hand and pushed at her in a sisterly way. “Not in that way.”

  “Well, what are we supposed to think?”

  “I suppose I came to my senses. It happened so fast. I became an instant pariah, Jolie.”

  “A pariah? You had a chaperone.”

  “Aunt Ida?” Margaux asked mockingly.

  “That bad? She always was a bit flighty, but a dear.”

  “She is still a dear, but she is not always here, even when she is.”

  “Ah. I see. So the prudish little village took a dislike to an independent woman and shunned you. And you were too proud to come back to London with your tail between your legs, and Dr. Craig came to your rescue. I suppose you should be so fortunate he was not a pickled old man stuffed into creaking stays with rotten teeth.”

  Margaux watched her beautiful, confident sister walk about the room as she summed up the situation with alarming accuracy.

  “I believe I would have come to London with my tail between my legs, as you say, before that.” She laughed.

  “He is extraordinarily handsome, Marg.” Jolie’s knowing eyes mocked her.

  “He is,” she agreed jovially as she could only with her triplet.

  “Are you in love with him now?”

  Her sister’s eyes pierced through her. She did not have to answer. She lowered her eyes.

  “When did you arrive? And who came as your chaperone?” Margaux decided it was more comfortable to change the subject, though she knew Jolie could see through her.

  “I believe it has been a couple of hours, now. We were unaware there was to be a ball today. I had envisioned you still in the sick room. But I am relieved to know you are not.”

  “Only you could come straight from the carriage looking ready for a ball. It is to be the tenants’ ball, however.”

  “I will try not to embarrass you with my London ways.”

  Margaux rolled her eyes.