Ann Lethbridge (17 page)

Mrs Hughes frowned at her, her cheerful round face becoming serious. ‘You never did tell me how you came to be travelling without your maid and a lady companion, Lady Jenna. I have trouble believing Lord Carrick so lax in his guardianship that he would have allowed it.’

‘He didn’t,’ Niall said grimly. ‘The fault is mine.’

Mr Hughes gave him a stern look. ‘Explain yourself, young man.’

‘No,’ Jenna said. ‘It was no one’s fault.’ And she set about pouring out the story of what had happened that had led them to travel to Braemuir in Sean’s wagon. She didn’t tell the whole of it, yet both the Hugheses looked thoroughly shocked.

‘There is no help for it,’ the doughty cleric said gravely at the end of her recitation. ‘You must marry Mr Gilvry.’

‘No,’ Jenna said stepping back. ‘It is not—’

The flash of pain at her rejection in Niall’s eyes stopped her cold.

Before she could say more, his expression shuttered, became coolly remote. ‘No,’ he said. ‘My duty as a member of Lord Carrick’s clan was to guard Lady Jenna’s person. I may have done a poor job of it, but there is no need for her to wed me. She is betrothed to Mr Murray, who is no doubt even now awaiting word that she is well and safe.’

Mr Hughes’s gaze was sharp as it rested on his face. ‘Have it your way, then, Lady Jenna, if you think this other young man will stand by you after such an adventure.’

‘He has no reason not to,’ Niall said harshly.

Jenna could tell that Mr Hughes did not believe him and felt her face go red.

Chapter Twelve

U
pstairs in the small guest room, with Kitty the scullery maid helping her, Jenna shed the trappings of a gypsy and donned her freshly pressed gown. She’d done as Mr Hughes requested first and written Lord Carrick, telling him she was safe and sound. She’d also asked that Mr Murray join her here for their nuptials.

Since the afternoon was still young, she was determined to visit her home. Just the thought of looking on it again made her heart flutter. Not nerves. Joy. She could not wait to make ready to celebrate her wedding there in three weeks’ time.

Kitty finished lacing her gown. ‘Will that be all, miss? I mean, my lady.’

Somehow the plump-cheeked girl with lively brown eyes and a quick smile had managed to get Jenna’s unruly hair plaited and wound around her head in a thick coronet with the help of pins borrowed from Mrs Hughes. ‘Yes, thank you. You have done very well.’

The girl flashed her little smile and scurried away.

Now to face Niall. To explain why she’d been so quick to reject any thought they might marry. Not that he’d offered, not really. But clearly the speed at which she’d rejected the notion had hurt his manly feelings.

She went downstairs and found him in the parlour, so engrossed in a book he did not look up when she entered.

‘Good book?’ she asked.

He did look up then and for a long moment he just gazed at her, his face expressionless, perhaps even a little bleak. She had indeed wounded him with her rejection. She wished she could recall the bluntness of her words.

He rose and put the book aside.
‘Voyages Round the World by Kippis.’

‘Ah, Captain Cook. And were you planning on following in his footsteps?’

His expression tightened. ‘Just passing the time.’

The end of that line of conversation. ‘Where is Mr Hughes?’

‘He was called out to one of his parishioners.’

She clasped her hands at her waist. ‘About what I said earlier, with regard to us not marrying—’

‘You don’t need to explain,’ he said stiffly. ‘You are betrothed.’

‘If he’ll still have me.’ She coloured a little and looked down. ‘I promised my father that I would marry well. My father inherited his father’s debts. He did everything he could to make sure I was not burdened the same way. Apparently, he even sold off some of our land. But Mr Hughes is right. He wasn’t able to do all he wished with the house because the estate needed so much. He was terrified he’d lose it. I promised him I would make sure the title and the estate remained with the family.’

‘In other words, he charged you with the duty of marrying a well-to-do member of the aristocracy and providing an heir.’

‘If you must be so blunt, then, yes. It was his dying wish.’

‘Let us hope Mr Murray is up to the task.’

Heat coursed up her face at the matter-of-factness in his tone. ‘I very much fear he may wonder why we did not return to the castle once we escaped our abductors.’

‘Clearly, I could not take the chance of the brigands finding us on the road to Carrick.’

‘You are taking responsibility for the decision, then.’

‘It was mine to make.’

She looked down at the floor. He had clearly given this some thought while she was bathing and dressing. ‘And how did we get here? How did we travel so great a distance with no one seeing us, yet remain respectable?’

‘By oxcart. With a farmer and his wife. A Mr and Mrs McFadden. Unfortunately I was so glad to arrive, I forgot to ask them for their directions. And besides, we travelled incognito, to preserve your reputation.’

‘You think Lord Carrick will believe us? And Mr Murray?’

‘They will be only too pleased to believe it. A man who would risk his neck for a bird’s egg is unlikely to give up the prize, provided there is a reasonable explanation.’

‘Mr Hughes says we can be married the moment he arrives.’

His expression didn’t alter. It remained cool. Remote. ‘Then let us hope it is verra soon.’

She managed a fleeting smile of agreement, though her heart felt heavy. It was a good thing Mr Murray wasn’t around to see her lack of enthusiasm. Not that he had any illusions that theirs was a love match. It was simply an arrangement that suited them both.

Was it too much of an imposition to ask Niall for one last indulgence? ‘Will you walk with me up to Braemuir?’

‘You didna’ think I would let you walk up there alone, did you?’

At the severity of his tone, the breath left her chest in a rush. ‘You think we are in danger here? At my home? Surely those men wouldn’t think to look for me here?’

‘I think it wise to take precautions. Whoever was behind this seemed to know a great deal about you.’

Her mouth dried. Her heart raced. But what if he was using fear to make her do as he wished, to protect her? Since she did not want to walk to Braemuir alone, she wasn’t going to argue. ‘Are you ready?’

He nodded and picked up a hat from the table. He looked at it with an amused smile. ‘Courtesy of Mr Hughes. He seemed to think it would not look well if I was not to appear like a perfect gentleman. We are also to invite someone called Kitty to join us.’

‘Kitty is serving as my maid.’

‘There you have it. A perfectly respectable outing.’ He ushered her out of the room.

The shade of bitterness in his voice was something best left ignored. Outside she took his arm and Kitty, who had been waiting in the hallway, fell in behind them. As he had said—a perfectly respectable outing for two disreputable people. No, really only one. He was a gentleman. She was the one who had behaved like a hoyden last night. But heaven help her, if she was to have the time all over again, she very much doubted she would do anything different. Never in her life had she felt so happy, or such extraordinary pleasure.

* * *

As they walked through the village, she saw that at least half the cottages were empty. At the tavern, she waited outside while he went in to drop off their letters for the boy to take to the post. Sadly she noted the inn’s air of decay. When she moved back into Braemuir, there would be work for people. She would need to staff the house and the stables. Yes, coming back here was the very best thing she could do for those that remained.

Niall strode out of the tavern, pulling on his gloves. He smiled briefly. ‘A rider will take the letters to the post office later this afternoon.’

What would Carrick think? Would he be angry with her? With Niall? Surely he would see they had no choice.

They strolled down the lane, slowly leaving the village behind. Somehow she managed to restrain her urge to run to Braemuir’s gates. She kept remembering Mr Hughes’s warning. Surely it could not be that bad.

They turned a bend in the lane and arrived at the arch bearing the Aleyne crest. The boar on one side of the shield and the bear on the other. When she married, the crest would change to incorporate her husband’s coat of arms.
Family Before All.
As always, the familiar Gaelic words pressed down on her shoulders. Duty. Responsibility. Weighty matters lain upon her by her father.

The gates were open and she passed through with some trepidation. She peered down the gravel drive, overgrown with weeds, that cut across a tree-edged lawn that looked more like a hayfield. It looked abandoned.

She gave herself a mental shake. It would not take long to mow the grass or weed the gravel. A little care would soon restore its appearance. Yet she could not ignore the feeling in the pit of her stomach growing colder and heavier the closer they came to the house itself. It was not quite as large as she remembered, the columns over the portico not quite as towering as they had seemed when she was a child. She frowned. Many of the windows on the first floor were broken. The house looked like a lonely old crone. Not for long. She had come home. A rush of happiness filled her. Home at last.

They stood at the bottom of the steps to the front door, looking up into the two-storey portico standing grandly on its Doric pillars. Paint hung in shreds from the wooden trim above their heads and rust had eaten away at the impressive wrought iron lantern. She glanced at Niall. His face revealed nothing. Yet there was a grimness about him she did not like.

‘Naturally, it requires some repairs,’ she said blithely. ‘It has been empty for quite a while.’

‘Aye.’

So taciturn. But then this was not his home. He did not have the warm and welcoming memories she had carried with her all these years. The fact that her father would not be there to greet her was the cause of her hesitation, that was all.

She took a deep breath and strode boldly up the steps and tried the door. It swung open with an ominous creak. Oil would take care of that. She stepped into the entrance hall.

Time fell away. It was just as she remembered it. The carved staircase. The cavernous entrance hall with its tiled floor and panelled walls. The carved ceiling. The doors leading off it to the formal rooms.

Joyfully, she stepped inside and turned around slowly, beaming. ‘It is just as I remembered. Oh, the outside needs sprucing up. The windows. But—’ she opened her arms wide ‘—is it not just the most magnificent place you ever saw?’

There was no doubt that he was impressed as he gazed around him. ‘It’s a beautiful auld place.’

‘It needs some dusting and polishing.’ She ran her gloved hand over the balustrade and it came away black. ‘I will hire a couple of women from the village.’

He was frowning. His gaze fixed on the staircase.

‘Where shall I go first?’ she murmured, hardly able to contain herself. ‘I have this craving to see my old room. It has a wonderful view of the gardens and the glen.’

‘Lady Jenna,’ he said. ‘Wait.’ He stepped towards her, but she already had one foot on the bottom tread, which was covered in spider webs. She put her weight on it. The wood crumbled and her foot disappeared. She lurched forwards and the railing beneath her hand broke away and hung drunkenly.

Niall grabbed her and pulled her back.

‘Wh-what happened?’ she said, staring at the jagged hole in the step and the bits of crumbled wood lying on the black-and-white tile.

‘Some sort of rot, I am thinking. I have read about it, but not seen it.’

‘I don’t understand. It looked so perfect, just as I remembered it.’

‘The wood dries from inside. It might be why no tenant ever moved in.’

‘Or it happened because no one cared for it these past ten years. Still, I suppose the staircase can be replaced.’

He had a look on his face that she didn’t like. Sympathy. Worry.

‘What is it?’

‘I know only what I have read, but if it is in the staircase, it might be all through the house.’

She shook her head. ‘No. It can’t be. I can understand why this part would need work. The hall and the staircase are the oldest parts of the house. The rest was refurbished by my grandfather.’

‘I’m no expert, but from what I have heard and read about ships that have gone the same way, all the wood must be replaced. The beams and joists and floors.’

Her stomach fell away. She felt sick. As if the roof had caved in right before her eyes. It could not be true. This house had been her lifeline. Her way back to the family she had lost. The only constant in her life.

‘I’m sorry,’ he was saying.

‘No. I am sure the rest of the house is fine.’ She would not accept that time would be so cruel to the home she loved.

He turned back to Kitty, who was lingering wide-eyed in the doorway. ‘Wait outside. We will be but a few minutes.’

The little maid looked relieved and scuttled out into the sunshine, leaving the door open behind her.

Taking a deep breath, Jenna strode to the door into the front parlour. It only opened a crack, pressing against some obstruction on the other side. What she saw through that small opening was a knife to all her hopes. A large piece of the panelled ceiling had fallen and now blocked the door. Horrified, she backed away, shaking her head. ‘I don’t believe it. I won’t.’

He caught her by the arms. ‘Jenna. Love. It’s just a house.’

She shrugged him off. ‘It might be just a house to you, but it is everything to me.’

She went from door to door: the drawing room, the dining room, the library. In every room the story was similar. Some were in better shape than others, but all showed signs of neglect, and wherever Niall applied pressure to window frames or doorways, they disintegrated in his hands.

The pain inside her was almost unbearable as the true enormity of the damage became clear.

When they came to the back of the house it was an overwhelming relief to see that the kitchen and servants’ quarters, all built of stone, were in good shape. The servants’ stairs showed no sign of rot and one or two of the smaller bedrooms at the back of the house, her own included, were solid. This was the extension added early in the eighteenth century and was nowhere near as old as the rest of the house.

The public rooms at the front of the house were on the verge of falling down. Like this one. Her father’s stateroom.

Niall stared up at the ceiling. ‘I’m nae so sure it is only dry rot,’ he said. ‘The roof seems to be leaking.’

Pride came before a fall, they said. And this had been her pride and her joy. She had bragged about this house to her suitors. She flushed hot, then froze from the inside out. She would have to tell Murray.

Unable to stand any more, she fled down the stairs and out the front door. She sank down on the stone steps where she had sat when her father lay dying, looking out over the glen, dreaming of knights on white chargers who would somehow put the world back the way it belonged.

It wasn’t going to happen.

Kitty approached her. ‘Are you all right, my lady?’

All right? Jenna stared about her.

Had her father known? He had fussed about repairs being needed. Had even sold some of the furnishings to pay for repairs in the attic. Had Lord Carrick known? Was that why he had seemed so reluctant to find her a suitor? And would Mr Murray be willing to spend what would be a fortune to put right a decaying house? While he might be the easiest of her three suitors to manage, he wasn’t a complete fool.