A Turn of Cards (Lowland Romance Book 3)

by Helen Susan Swift

  'Mrs Napier feels the cold more acutely than I do.' I said.

  'Then Mrs Napier shall have my cloak,' Captain Rogers said.

  I acknowledged the chivalry with a brief curtsey. 'I know you,' I said. 'You were at the Field Day.'

  'I was indeed.' Captain George Rogers said. 'I saw you watching us.'

  He was the tall and handsome captain who had carried the injured soldier's pike.

  Emily wrapped Rogers' cloak around her. 'Thank you.'

  'I hope you are not too cold,' Captain Rogers said to me.

  I thanked him for his concern and turned away. I had no desire for anything more than a casual acquaintanceship, even if the captain was handsome, or perhaps especially if the captain was handsome.

  Emily had no such inhibitions. 'Where are your men, Captain Rogers?'

  'The major is marching them back to the Castle' Rogers said, 'and I have you two to myself.'

  I was not sure if Captain Rogers' presence made things easier or harder. Emily undoubtedly felt safer with a tall soldier in our company, while the cloak helped keep her warmer. I, however, was uncomfortable in his presence, as I was uneasy in the presence of any single man, and most married men. I moved slightly further away from him and stared into the dark.

  'Hurry up, Peter,' I muttered, too loudly, for Rogers heard me.

  'He'll be here in good time,' the captain said.

  'I'm sure you're right.' I watched the rain teeming down and listened as one of the horses whinnied.

  'I'll be back directly,' Rogers said and stepped out of the coach and spoke to each horse in turn.

  'The captain is good with the horses,' Emily said.

  'Many men prefer horses to women,' I watched the captain stand in the driving rain for quite some time before he returned to the shelter of the coach. 'And some men think that both women and horses are merely beasts for the convenience of themselves.'

  'Somebody is coming,' Captain Rogers called out. 'You ladies remain here until I investigate.' He launched himself onto his horse, touched a hand to the hilt of his sabre, kicked in his heels and rode off in a shower of spray and mud.

  'How gallant,' Emily said. 'Don't you agree, Dorothea?'

  I watched Emily's gallant captain mount the slope and disappear into the dark. 'He makes a fine show,' I said.

  There was the sound of rough voices, a low laugh and then Peter was with us together with a group of half-shaved men and a barouche that had seen better days. 'This is the best I could get,' Peter patted the body of the barouche as if it was a living creature rather than an elderly carriage. 'It will get us back home, and these lads say they'll fix our wheel and return the coach first thing in the morning.'

  'Oh, Peter, you are a saint,' Emily shouted. 'You are the rock on which we all depend.'

  'I hope you were all right out here in the wilds,' Peter said. 'I took longer than I expected.'

  'We were fine,' I said. 'You did well, Peter.'

  'We had a white knight,' Emily said. A gallant captain of cavalry was here to protect us from sorners, blackguards, Frenchmen, footpads, Highwaymen and dragons.'

  'Fortunately, not one member of that formidable list appeared,' our white knight said. 'If I was able to set your minds at rest, ladies, then I am glad of it. Now I must get back to the regiment in case they list me as a deserter.' Lifting his hand in farewell, he kicked in his spurs and set off at an impressive trot, and that was the end of that damp little adventure. I neither expected nor desired to see the captain again, gallant though he may have been.

  Chapter Two

  I must have attended fifty weddings in my life, and most merge into my memory as a confusion of swirling gowns and long speeches, handsome men gradually succumbing to an excess of alcohol and weary-eyed women reminiscing quietly of their youth. The marriage of Marie to Gilbert Elliot was not quite of that ilk.

  It was 15th November 1803, dull and dismal but thankfully not wet. I had to hire a post-chaise and driver, for Marie and Gibbie had chosen to marry at the church at Crichton, about fourteen miles south of Edinburgh. Perhaps you know Edinburgh, but if not, then pray forgive me while I explain something of the geography of my native city as it was back then.

  Nature and history combined to divide the city into two halves, the ancient Old Town, or Auld Toon as the good neighbours of the burgh would have it, an immensely crowded city that straggled from the castle on its rock down to the neglected royal Palace of Holyroodhouse. The Old Town comprised the High Street, which connected to the Lawnmarket at the west end and the Canongait at the east end, and a warren of interwoven lanes known as wynds or closes. Running parallel to the High Street and to the south was the Cowgait, or South Back, into which respectable people did not enter at the risk of their reputation or their purse, or worse. Once it was the home of the city elite as well as the lower orders, but by 1803 the Old Town was becoming the refuge of labourers and beggars, the poor and the unfortunate. A few of the older lords and ladies remained, shining pearls among the drabness of mediocrity who filled the picturesque and crumbling houses. To the north of the Old Town and separated by a steep valley in which the remains of the North Loch was rapidly becoming a muddy marsh, was the New Town.

  As obnoxious as the Old Town was, the New Town was its polar opposite, a selection of streets and squares of grandeur and elegance, where ladies and gentlemen could walk in perfect security and respectable society continued unruffled and serene. At least on the surface, for some beautiful houses contained men and women who were neither elegant nor genteel in any sense of the word.

  The environs of this, Scotland's capital city, contained a score or more of little villages and hamlets, each with a storied past. Nowhere else in Scotland will one find in such a limited space so many castles and mansion-houses tucked away in the most picturesque and romantic countryside imaginable. There are the massive palaces of the very rich, such as Dalkeith Palace within its park that contains a fragment of the ancient Caledonian Forest, and Dalhousie Castle, nearly as grand. Other castles such as Borthwick stand alone in splendour, and there are places where castles and villages exist in proximity, such as Roslin, with its famous castle and the mysterious chapel. Another was Crichton, with the castle on its eminence about the river and its church nearby.

  The journey from Edinburgh to Crichton took me over two hours, and I stepped out of the chaise without enthusiasm, eased my cramped limbs and looked around. The church was as solid and unpretentious as I remembered, with the decorations for Marie's wedding adding brightness to what otherwise would have been a dull scene. Skeletal trees stretched naked branches upward to a grey sky, while a trio of rooks croaked and cawed in a dismal chorus.

  'Hello, Dorothea,' Maria was trembling with excitement as she ran to meet me. 'I'm getting married today.'

  'I know,' I said. 'You look lovely.' She did not. Her yellow dress clashed with her auburn hair and the muddy ground had already soiled the silver embroidery at the bottom of her skirt. Her manteaux was fine, silver tissue lined with yellow satin, with embroidery matching the Greek key design on her dress, all fastened in front with the most enormous diamond I had ever seen.

  My cynical side wondered if the jewel was genuine.

  'Gibbie is not here yet,' Maria took hold of my arm. 'Do you think…?'

  'He'll be here,' I squeezed her hand. 'He would never be anywhere else.'

  'Yes,' Marie smiled. I could see that she had been crying.

  That was one reason I did not like weddings. They were too emotional, with too many people weeping over broken dreams, too many people recalling old memories, too many false hopes and insincere promises. I pushed aside my past. 'Do you wish to talk?'

  'No,' Marie shook her head. 'No, I have to see my mother.' She smiled before she turned and I watched her run back inside the church.

  'I'm glad you could make it,' Emily and James alighted from their coach and walked arm-in-arm toward me.

  'I could not let Marie down,' I watched the mulberry coloured coac
h draw up and hoped I could avoid the sharp Lady Pluscarden. I had not known Marie had invited her.

  'Shall we go inside?' James indicated the church.

  'Not yet,' I said. 'You go ahead, and I'll join you both later.' I walked away with the memories bitter in my mind. I heard the quick footsteps behind me and was not surprised when Emily slipped her arm under mine.

  'Why the Friday face, Dorothea? This is Marie's wedding day. I hope you are happy for her.'

  'I am happy if she is happy,' I gave a deliberately cryptic reply and kept walking. 'James will be looking for you.'

  'James is my husband and a grown man,' Emily said. 'He will survive without me for a few moments.' She squeezed my arm. 'You need me more.'

  I blinked away my surprise, unused to loyalty or friendship and glad that Emily had such a sensible attitude to her marriage. 'I am all right.'

  We walked on with our feet making little sound on the damp, muddy grass. After a while, I stopped as Crichton Castle spread before us in all its ruined glory. Rain had dampened the cold grey walls, and grass grew on the shattered battlements and the sills of the windows yet there was no mistaking the power that had once existed here. I could imagine the music here and see the flitting shapes of women in long dresses and men in formal clothing. Long-gone voices floated across to me, and the memory of events that had once been.

  'Crichton Castle,' I said. 'There was a battle here in 1337 when Sir Andrew Murray stopped an English invading force.'

  'How do you know that?' Emily's gaze was more penetrating than comfortable.

  'I've been here before,' I said.

  'Oh?' Emily's arm tightened around mine. 'Do tell, lady of mystery.'

  'It was a long time ago,' I said.

  'What was a long time ago?' Persistent Emily asked.

  'It was a long time ago since I was here.' I turned the question into a statement and closed the conversation.

  'What were you doing?'

  'I was at another wedding,' I said. 'Come on; we have to support Marie.' I did not say that the wedding did not take place; Emily did not deserve such an odious statement at such a time.

  Crichton Church is historic but small, and while carriages and horses crowded the outside while men and women packed the interior. I escorted Emily to James' side and searched for a seat somewhere at the back, as far from Lady Pluscarden as possible.

  'Miss Flockhart!'

  I started. Captain Rogers raised himself from one of the polished pews and gestured beside him. 'You may have my seat if you wish.'

  'I can't do that,' I said.

  'A gentleman cannot sit while a lady stands,' Captain Rogers was splendid in his full regimentals.

  I gave a small curtsey. Not all gentlemen adhered to their self-imposed code. 'Thank you,' I looked around desperately and in vain for an alternative place.

  'It's all right,' Captain Rogers said. 'I'll move elsewhere.' He gave a little bow. 'You will not need to suffer my company.'

  'Your company, sir, does not make me suffer.' The response came too quickly as I regressed to the amiable girl I had once been.

  Captain Rogers' smile seemed genuine. 'That is a capital piece of news.' He stepped past me without the least contact and moved to the back of the church. Ignoring my guilt at having deprived the good captain of his pew, I sat down and waited for the ceremony to begin. I could not stop nausea from rising in my throat.

  These occasions are very similar, so I will not write a minute by minute description of Marie's wedding. I will say that Gilbert arrived on time, dressed in the very height of fashion, smiled as he strolled up the aisle and said all the right things at all the right times. What else can one say about a wedding? The guests behaved themselves, the minister was long-winded, and after the ceremony, we all repaired to nearby Tynebridge Hall for the wedding breakfast. I always thought that 'breakfast was a strange name to call celebrations that began in the middle of the afternoon and continued well into the next day. I watched Lady Pluscarden's coachman like a rabbit cowering from a stoat and noted the two footmen in their oh-so-tight breeches. I wondered how many other women were also watching.

  'Does Gilbert own this place?' Elizabeth Campbell stood outside the splendid Georgian mansion with her head craned back to admire the many windows and Adams architecture.

  'I believe not,' Colin told her. 'He leased it for a year through some Edinburgh solicitor.'

  'Marie is fortunate in having such a rich husband.' Elizabeth nudged him. 'Perhaps I made the wrong choice.'

  Colin smiled. 'I made the right choice.'

  I stepped further away to allow them privacy and to ease my heartache.

  'You and I appear to be alone here,' Captain Rogers joined me outside the house. 'Everybody else is in pairs.'

  'That seems to be true,' I said.

  'Would my company offend you?' He tipped his shako as he smiled.

  Again the answer came before I had time to think. 'Not in the slightest.'

  'Then shall we go inside?' Captain Rogers indicated the stairs that swept to the pillared front door.

  I did not wish to enter that house. If I had known that Gilbert Elliot had leased Tynebridge Hall, I would have found some excuse not to attend Marie's wedding. I stood outside, feeling sick. 'Not yet,' I temporised.

  I knew people were watching me. I could feel their eyes and wondered what they were thinking. I saw Lady Pluscarden sitting at the door of her chariot, sipping at a glass as her bright eyes surveyed everybody and everything.

  'Dorothea?' That was Emily, of course. 'Are you all right?'

  Was I all right? No, I was anything but all right. I forced a smile. 'Captain Rogers is taking good care of me.'

  Emily's approval was in her eyes. She dropped in a curtsey. 'I wish you luck, Captain Rogers. Our Miss Flockhart is no lover of male company, or of talking about herself.'

  Did she have to say that? My frown dissipated when I realised that Emily was trying to help. By hinting that I disliked all men, she was removing any personal antagonism I may have held towards the captain.

  'Thank you for the warning,' Captain Rogers gave Emily a short bow.

  I took a deep breath. I did not like to be the centre of attention. I did not want people to pay attention to me at all, and I was more exposed to scrutiny out here. 'Shall we go inside? Poor Marie will be wondering what has happened to her guests.'

  We were fortunate that Gilbert and Marie did not insist on formality, so there was no precedence as we entered the Hall. We each walked in as it suited us without an announcement of our names, and mingled with no regard to rank. The click of my shoes on the steps sounded like the ticking of the clock when Mother Faa told my fortune, regular, sharp and inexorable.

  The main door led to an outer hall, and it was there that my nerves failed me. I felt myself begin to shake as soon as I stepped in, and the perspiration started from my forehead. Oh, dear God I can't do this.

  'Dorothea?' I heard Emily's voice as if from a long distance. 'Dorothea? Are you all right?'

  Somebody wrapped a strong arm around me as I fell. 'Give her air!' That was Captain Rogers' voice, barking orders. 'Move aside, there!'

  I can't recall much about the next few moments except a confusion of faces and a blur of movement. I know I was perched on a heavy wooden chair in the inner hall under an old portrait of a stern-faced matriarch, with Captain Rogers on his knees at my side and Emily fanning me and making anxious enquiries.

  'I'm sorry to make such a fuss,' I tried to rise, only for Captain Rogers to put a gentle hand on my arm.

  'Give yourself a minute to recover.'

  'I'm all right now,' I said.

  Somebody put a glass to my mouth, and I drank, spluttering when I tasted brandy where I expected cool water.

  'That's the way,' Emily said. 'Drink it down, Dorothea. It will help.'

  'I'd rather not,' I began, and she tilted back the glass, and I had the choice of swallow or splutter and choke. I swallowed, and the liquid burned my thro
at and exploded inside my stomach.

  'What's happening? Oh, Lord is that Dorothea?'

  I heard Marie's voice and looked up. 'I had a little turn,' I said. 'It must have been the excitement of the day.'

  'Are you all right now?' Marie asked.

  'I'll look after her,' Captain Rogers said. 'It was only a little dizzy spell.'

  Emily smiled. 'Yes, Dorothea, you allow Captain Rogers look after you.'

  Feeling more like a burden rather than my usual self, I did as Emily suggested. Closing my eyes, I sat there for a few moments while the turmoil inside my head subsided and I could breathe again. When I opened my eyes, Captain Rogers was still there, holding a brandy glass.

  'Do you wish to try and stand?'

  I nodded, feeling very foolish. 'Yes, thank you.'

  'May I?' He offered his arm.

  It was some time since I had accepted an arm from a man and this house was not the best place to start. Taking a deep breath, I placed my hand on the crook of his elbow and rose.

  'Take your time,' Captain Rogers gave a sudden smile. 'I'm sure Mr and Mrs Elliot are too engrossed with each other to think about us.'

  'I am sure they are.' There were so many memories in Tynebridge Hall that I had to block them out and think only of the present. 'Thank you,' I said again and meant it. I was genuinely grateful for Captain Rogers' help.

  The reception breakfast was held on the first floor, in a vast room with three tall multi-paned windows adding natural light to the twin chandeliers above. The tables were set out in a T formation, with the bride, groom and their close families at the head of the T and us lesser mortals in the leg. As befitting my humble status as a mere friend of the bride, I sat where the left ankle would be. The room was a-swirl with scarlet of course, as every man and his brother was either in the Militia or the Volunteers, depending on whether they genuinely wanted to fight Boney or merely wished to appear eager to do so. I had hoped to be near somebody that I knew, but Emily and James and Elizabeth and Colin were both around the thigh, as longstanding friends of the bride. Even Captain Rogers was higher up the table, so I sat in passive silence as the conversation washed around me, like the tide around a lonely rock. I watched Marie and Gilbert at the head of the table, envying them their happiness and hoping that it lasted. Lady Pluscarden, by virtue of rank and title, also sat at the head of the table. I kept my head down and hoped she would not notice me.