Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy 2] (18 page)

“Indeed,” Fife said. “Then, lest others wonder as you do, ’tis as well that my brother Carrick means to visit Hermitage soon and should be at hand to greet the returning victors. Thus will he display his support of our venture and his own determination to keep Scotland independent after he accedes to the throne.”

Exclamations of astonishment greeted his statement.

Douglas said, “That is good news. But although one does not doubt Carrick’s
hope
that England will eventually allow Scotland to retain its independence, he has apparently expected the Almighty to attend to the matter without requiring his aid or exertion before now. To that end, he has consistently voiced his desire to avoid violence. Therefore, one wonders what magic persuaded him to such an effort.”

“No magic,” Fife said. “I merely suggested that he’d be interested to see such a famous stronghold—one so important to our defense. Most folks, however, will take his visit to mean that, despite his well-known aversion to conflict, he supports this fight and comes to congratulate our victory. Moreover, his presence here will make it difficult if not impossible for him to express disapproval afterward.”

Many began stamping their feet in approval. A man approached Douglas and spoke to him as Tam said quietly into Wat’s ear, “Fife seems mighty sure o’ victory.”

“He’s counting on it,” Wat murmured back. He realized that every man there understood, as he did, that Fife had manipulated his father and elder brother into showing support for the Scottish foray when the truth was that neither man knew anything about it. Hence, Fife’s earlier demand that they proceed quietly.

The question was how strongly Fife himself supported the venture.

Douglas did not trust him. Wat knew that for a fact. Nor did Murray, he recalled. His wily good-father had admitted being one of those who feared that Fife might accept any English offer that allowed him to continue to govern Scotland.

Fife clearly wanted to continue ruling the country, and he could not do so if the English overran it and seized control. But what would he do if they promised to leave him in his present position as Guardian of the Realm for life in exchange for aid in helping them win their primary objective, annexation? The only sure way to avoid finding out, Wat believed, was to help Douglas defeat the English in England.

His reflections ended when Douglas stood and said without preamble, “King Richard of England has begun moving north toward Carlisle.”

From that point, debate continued for hours, stopping only for the midday meal and again later for supper.

No one slept before the small hours, and when Wat did finally seek his bed, he could not have repeated much of what they had decided as to the details. He knew only that he was to gather his men and meet the others at Southdean, north of the Carter Bar crossing, in eight days.

The Scottish army would consist of two parts. A small, mounted force under Douglas would ride into Redesdale, in England’s east march, to keep Hotspur from joining his forces with those of the English king. A much larger force under Fife and Archie the Grim would invade England near Carlisle in the west.

The next day, those with no business for the wardens’ meeting departed, and the meeting proceeded formally and with far less debate. Nor was the entertainment or dining as lavish. The earl’s minstrel did not play for the crowded midday meal. He played only for the late supper, after most of the attendees had gone home.

Sir Iagan Murray had departed directly after the meeting, indeed almost immediately after the wardens ruled on Wat’s grievance against him. Having arrived with smiles and a warm handshake for Wat and Buccleuch, he had ridden away disgruntled and without a word to either. If his son Simon had been present as a member of Fife’s party, Murray had not acknowledged him.

The Scotts spent the night and left late Saturday morning for home.

After two days of organizing maidservants and attending to normal tasks, Meg decided that Raven’s Law was as comfortable as they could make it without a visit to Hawick or Selkirk to purchase such sundry items as might make it more so.

Having no notion what orders Walter might have given his men before leaving, and having received none herself to preclude doing as she pleased, she decided to discover for herself if he had set any restrictions on her movements.

When she and Amalie had taken places at the dais table for their supper the evening after his departure, Meg had half-expected someone to tell them that Sir Walter had given orders for them to take their meals in the sitting room she had arranged on the same floor as Amalie’s bedchamber. But no one did.

Since then, Sym had taken to helping two gillies serve them, and Friday evening, when Meg asked him to set the privacy screen, he did so at once. When he returned to stand near her, she said, “Have you eaten your supper, Sym?”

“Nay, mistress. Pawky and me can eat when ye’ve finished. Jed Crosier’s always got summat for us in yon kitchen.”

“Very well, then, but do not hover over us. We want to talk privately.”

Nodding, Sym moved to the end of the dais and sat where she could easily summon him but where he would not hear them if they spoke quietly.

Doing so, she said to Amalie, “I mean to ride to the Hall tomorrow to visit her ladyship. One does not want to be thought indifferent to one’s good-mother.”

“Do I have to go?” Amalie asked, adding suspiciously, “You are not thinking of making me stay there with her, are you?”

“Of course not,” Meg said. “I meant it when I said I enjoy your company. Besides, you seem much happier here. You have roses in your cheeks again.”

“I like it here,” Amalie said. “One can see the progress we’ve made, and I prefer doing things that show such clear results. At home, everything we did we had to do again the next day, so the tasks seemed unending, and I felt like a servant. I just hope Father does not send for me to return—or Mother either, come to that.”

“Are you truly happier here, dearling?”

“I am, aye,” Amalie said. “People talk to me. I like Sir Walter’s men, especially Tam and Gibbie, but all of them are respectful. I’ve not heard a single one make disparaging remarks such as those we were used to hearing at home.”

That was true, Meg realized. She had not given it a thought, but she was not surprised that Amalie had. It had always hurt her sister to hear the rude remarks about them. And men at Elishaw had seemed to enjoy repeating such things.

“Do you think Sir Walter has told his people that they must not say discourteous things to us?” Amalie asked.

“I was just wondering about that,” Meg said with a smile. “In troth, I do not think it would occur to him to give such an order. Nor do I think he’d find it necessary. Everyone at the Hall seemed friendly, too. And although everyone there must know how our marriage came about, I am his wife now, which means I’ve become one of them—the Scotts, that is. Mayhap that is all there is to it.”

“But we were born Murrays, and yet Father’s men did not hesitate to repeat anything they’d heard about us. The meanest taunts always reached our ears.”

“They did, aye,” Meg agreed. “But despite Father’s temper and Mother’s firm grip on the household—or mayhap because of those things—our people at Elishaw never showed us such fierce loyalty as the Scotts’ people show to them.”

Amalie shrugged. “I don’t care a fig why they treat us better than our own people do. I’m just grateful that they do.” After a pause, she added, “Tammy is especially nice, don’t you think?”

Meg eyed her sternly. “Amalie Murray, I hope you are not setting up a flirtation with Jock’s Wee Tammy. He is most unsuitable.”

“Nay, then, why should he be? He is a Scott, sithee, just of a lesser branch. He means to win his spurs in battle, and if he does, he will be a knight just like Sir Walter. Doubtless, he will then gain land and become an important nobleman.”

“Wait until he does so before you decide he will make you a good husband,” Meg advised. “For now, what do you think about riding with me tomorrow?”

“Aye, sure, I’d enjoy the exercise. But do you think her ladyship will be pleased to see us? She was kinder to us after Jenny came, to be sure, but Jenny has gone home by now, and her ladyship may not be happy to see us.”

“I don’t know if she will be or not,” Meg said. “I do know it would be rude of us to avoid her. And, sithee, Walter feels great esteem for his mother, so I want to make a friend of her. I mean to begin by asking her where I must go and what I must do to purchase fabric so we can make more pillows like the ones she lent us.”

“I’ll do all I can to help,” Amalie said. “But don’t blame me if it goes awry.”

“I won’t unless it is your fault that it does,” Meg retorted.

They set out for Scott’s Hall soon after breaking their fast Saturday morning, with Sym following on his pony—without the kitten in its pouch, for once—and a small tail of armed men behind him.

On that first day of August, the air was crisp and cool, the sunlight in the cleuch magical with golden, mote-filled rays piercing tiny openings in the dense canopy.

The chuckling Clearburn accompanied them down the hill.

Rabbits hopped across the path in front of their horses. Squirrels chattered as they scrabbled up or down nearby trees. Birds chirped and screeched. And once a doe and her spotted fawn slipped across the track not far ahead of them.

At the Hall, Janet Scott greeted them with warm smiles and welcomed even their small guardian, telling Sym to take himself off to the kitchen and see if the cook might have a treat for him.

Sym looked at Meg.

“Go along then,” she said. “I shan’t need you until we leave. He is most attentive,” she added when he had obeyed her with a grin. “Your son presented him to me to keep him out of trouble. He’s been my shadow ever since.”

“It will doubtless be the making of him,” Janet said with a laugh. “But come up to my solar and tell me all you have accomplished. It has been lonely here since first Jenny and then Buccleuch left. I have been yearning for someone to talk to.”

Appealed to on the subject of fabric, she said, “I must show you what I have first. I have a dreadful habit of buying yards of fabric whenever I find a good draper. I always mean to have the stuff made up into something. But too often, I’m either too lazy or I decide I do not like it as well here as I did in the shop. If I have anything you think you can use, you must take it home with you.”

Meg nearly said she had intended only to learn how to go about finding things for herself and ought not to impose on Janet’s generosity. But she stopped before the words fell from her tongue, deciding that it was unlikely Walter would object to such kindness. If he did, he could sort it out with his father.

Janet sent a pair of gillies to fetch four kists full of folded fabric lengths, and all three ladies soon immersed themselves in happy discussion.

Invited to stay for the midday meal, Meg and Amalie no sooner took places at the table than Janet said, “I mean to visit Jenny next week. I shall stay for at least a fortnight and mayhap longer if the Douglas calls our menfolk to join him, as I suspect he means to do very soon. Perhaps you two would like to go with me.”

Feeling Amalie stiffen beside her, Meg said quickly, “How kind of you, my lady! I shall have to ask Walter, but I warrant he will be happy to agree. It will be good to see Jenny again, will it not, Amalie?”

“It will, aye,” Amalie said politely. But Meg knew she did not mean it and foresaw storms ahead.

Deciding to deal with them quickly, she waited only until they had ridden through the Hall gates into the Forest, their escort a short distance behind them.

“We have hours yet before supper,” she said then. “Let’s follow the burn a little farther and see more of Rankilburn Glen. We should be safe enough here.”

Amalie agreed, although it was plain that she did so only on Meg’s account.

Knowing better than to begin by demanding answers from her, Meg drew her into discussing plans for the tower and her hope that Walter would approve them.

“He did notice the weapons and such that we hung on the chimney wall,” she said at one point. “He said he thought that was a good notion.”

“Aye, because they are out of his way,” Amalie said, smiling at last. “I do not know how those men contrived to live with the mess we saw when we arrived. Only think what our lady mother would say about any house in such a state.”

“I don’t want to think about what she might say about anything at Raven’s Law,” Meg said honestly. “It is my home now.”

“Aye, sure, and it is her nature to be critical of everything she sees,” Amalie said. “But you can be critical, too, Meggie. Faith, I suppose I can be as well. Is it simply in our natures, do you think?”

“More likely, it is habit,” Meg said. “When one has an idea for improvement, one makes suggestions. But I always want to discuss my ideas with others. Do I not often seek your opinion before I set something new in progress here?”

“You do, aye,” Amalie said. “But you don’t often accept my ideas.”

“Nor do you accept mine,” Meg said, smiling. “That, too, is human nature, I suppose. That is not to say that I don’t welcome your ideas, and your interest, because I do. Indeed, I’m curious now to know why you did not want me to accept her ladyship’s kind invitation to go with her to Ferniehurst.”

With a guilty look, Amalie said, “I did not say that.”

“You did not have to. Your feelings were clear to me and may have been clear to her, as well. You do not dissimulate well, my dear.”

“And you do, I suppose.”

“I can if I must,” Meg said. “It is not, however, a skill one wants to perfect. But we are not discussing deception now. Tell me why you don’t want to go.”

Amalie did not reply at once, and Meg did not press her.

They followed the river, and no one in their tail expressed any objection. Meg felt confident that the men would not interfere in what they would easily perceive to be private conversation. Even Sym had fallen back to ride with the others.

The woods grew denser, becoming a veritable thicket of birch, oak, hazel, and pine trees on either side of the narrow track. In some places, despite steep slopes on either side, the thick shrubbery hid the swift-flowing river. Meg recalled then that Walter had once said the forest canopy was so thick that a person could travel from the Hall all the way to Selkirk without once seeing the sun.