Bond of Passion (9 page)

“’Tis Angus’s invention,” Jean explained. “These were once his mother’s rooms. She loved to bathe. When he became the Earl of Duin he designed this little device to bring hot water to her from the kitchens so the servants did not have to run and up and down, spilling half the water by the time they reached their destination. He made her a separate bathing chamber with a fixed tub. The pump at one end of the tub gives only cold water, but the tub has a drain that can be opened to empty the tub directly into the sea.” She walked over to the tub, looked in, and said to the little maidservant, “A dozen more buckets should do it. When it is ready call me, and I will mix the cold water into it for my lady.”

The servant nodded, and, opening the second door, Jean led Annabella into her bedchamber. It was a lovely chamber with a large bed hung with rose-colored velvet. She saw her trunk was already there, but the space was also furnished with tables, chairs, and a chest. The fireplace was flanked by stone fairies with sweet faces and dainty wings. The windows overlooking the sea were also hung with rose-colored velvet and had a window seat with a tufted cushion. She had never seen such a beautiful room.

With Jean’s help, Annabella divested herself of her garments, her boots, and her stockings, which after several days’ travel seemed to be welded to her feet. The tiring woman now hurried back into the bathing chamber, and Annabella heard the sound of water gushing.

“It’s ready now,” Jean called. “Ye can come in now.”

Naked, Annabella walked into the bathing chamber and got into the stone tub. It was long enough for her to actually sit down and stretch her legs out. The water flowed up to her chin, and was fragrant. “God’s mercy,” she breathed with a sigh. “Surely something this marvelous has to be a sin.”

Jean laughed. “Despite what the priests and the pastors of the new kirk say, I think being clean is no vanity.”

There was an alabaster jar of sweet-smelling soft soap on the narrow rim of the tub. Annabella loosened her hair, dunked her head beneath the hot water, and, taking a handful of the soap, she washed her long black tresses. When she had finished she wrung her hair free of excess moisture and, taking a pin from Jean, affixed her hair atop her head. Then she washed her body thoroughly. The fragrance from the soap was astonishing in its seductive elegance.

“Who made this soap, and what is the fragrance?” she asked Jean as she finally finished her bath.

“My mother makes it with ingredients she imports from Provence,” Jean said. “The scent she chose for ye was that of moonflowers, because she said if ye were indeed a plain lass, ye would need an extravagant perfume to make ye memorable. Moonflowers bloom only at night in the light of the moon. The earl’s mama preferred the fragrance of violets, for it reminded her of her home in Brittany.” As Annabella stood up, Jean held out a large, warm drying cloth for her mistress to wrap herself in. “Come and sit by the fire so we may dry your lovely hair.” She led her to the bedchamber, handing Annabella another drying cloth so she might get the moisture from her long hair. Then she gave her a silver hairbrush fitted with boar’s bristles.

Annabella sat quietly, drawing the brush slowly through her damp hair. The heat from the fire felt wonderful as it seeped into her bones. The long journey in the crisp autumn air, and sleeping beneath the little pavilion that even the charcoal brazier hadn’t been able to heat, had left her wondering whether she would ever be warm again. She had never, it seemed to her, known a hearth so delightfully toasty. Her long locks dried quickly.

Poor lass
, Jean thought, watching the girl.
She’s exhausted
. She saw the motion of the brush Annabella was wielding grow slower and slower. Catching it before it dropped from the younger woman’s hand, she gently shook her mistress, who was falling asleep. “When ye’re ready, Annabella, I’ll get yer stockings, chemise, and petticoats.”

Annabella started, opening her eyes, then laughing softly. “I was falling asleep, wasn’t I?” she said. “I didn’t realize how tired I was until now.”

“I don’t know why Angus couldn’t have waited until tomorrow to go through all this folderol,” Jean said. “He can be so impatient.” Kneeling, she rolled the pretty white silk stockings onto the girl’s legs, securing them with plain silk garters. A chemise and two petticoats, one heavily stiffened with starch, were donned. Next came a cream satin underskirt, the embroidered panel of which would show through the divided yellow velvet overskirt. The embroidery of bumblebees and butterflies done in bright copper threads matched the design on the bodice.

“I can’t wait to give ye a more elegant coiffure,” Jean said, “but ye know that today ye must wear yer hair unbound to give testament to yer virginity.” She brushed the long tresses free of any remaining tangles. Then she placed a bejeweled gold circlet about Annabella’s head. “There! Now let’s get yer overskirt and bodice on.”

The remaining garments were quickly donned. The pale yellow velvet skirts settled over the underskirt and petticoats in a bell shape. The bodice with its copper embroidery and puffed sleeves was just right. When Jean had finished lacing the garment, she turned Annabella about and nodded approvingly.

“Ye look quite lovely,” she said. “Much better than the gray.”

The bride laughed. “I thank ye for the compliment, Jean. I have never before heard the word
lovely
directed toward me.”

“Come and see! Come and see!” Jean insisted, taking her by the hand and leading her to a tall, narrow mirror set in a gilt wood frame.

Annabella looked nervously into the mirror. Her only looking glass at Rath had been a piece of highly polished metal that had a tendency to distort whatever it reflected. Staring into the smooth glass, she was surprised by the difference fine clothing made in her appearance. Oh, she was still plain of face, but somehow it seemed to matter less with her beautiful garments. And while she shyly admired herself, Jean placed pear-shaped pearl earrings in her ears and slipped a rope of creamy pearls around her neck, from which fell a jeweled silver-and-gold crucifix. “God’s mercy,” Annabella gasped softly.

“The earl wanted you to wear these today,” Jean told her. “They are now yers.” Then she said, “Just yer shoes, and ye’ll be ready. We haven’t been too long. Angus canna complain at us,” Jean said with a chuckle.

Annabella slipped her feet into a pretty pair of yellow kid slippers decorated with pearls that Jean had set out for her. She stretched a leg out to admire the slipper. “I can’t believe such lovely bounty is now mine. The earl does indeed possess magic to make me feel almost pretty.”

Jean smiled at the girl’s words. “Perhaps he does,” she agreed, but then added, “or perhaps he is just a thoughtful man with the means to indulge his bride.”

Annabella paused, but then, unable to help herself, she asked, “Is he really a sorcerer, Jean?”

“If he is,” Jean replied, “I have never in all my life seen any evidence of it.”

“Then why is it said that this clan are magical folk?” Annabella inquired.

Jean sighed. “Some ancestor several hundred years ago either actually had magic or convinced everyone that he did. The Fergusons of Duin have chosen not to let the legend die. People are fearful of us, and it has allowed us to avoid entanglements with our neighbors. There is too much feuding in the borders. It leads only to death and destruction. We have the English for that. The fear of our alleged magic keeps people afraid, and thus we can avoid difficulties.”

“I am surprised the Church has not interfered wi’ ye,” Annabella said.

Jean laughed. “We have always been generous to the Church. Even the pastor of the Reformed kirk in our village trusts us, and ye surely know how virulent they can be. Besides, no act of magic can be attributed to us. The reputation we have gained is simply assumed to be our way. Indeed, here in the west we are considered the mediators for others. It is thought our judgments are impartial and equitable.”

“I can see the Fergusons of Duin are extremely clever,” Annabella remarked.

“We are.” Jean laughed. Then she said, “We must go down now. We are riding into the village, where Jamie will marry ye to Angus in the kirk surrounded by our clan folk. Afterward, there will be a feast in the hall, and gifts for all.”

“But we were married at Duin when Matthew stood proxy,” Annabella said.

“Aye,” Jean replied, “but Angus will not feel properly wed to ye unless the rite performed is that of the old Church. Fortunately, Jamie is here, as we no longer have a priest at Duin. But soon Jamie will leave Scotland. He has been invited to Rome. Our sister Mary’s convent has already relocated to France. For all the queen’s generous words, the old faith of our ancestors is no longer welcome in Scotland.”

Of course he wanted to be wed in the faith he practiced, Annabella considered. She had been baptized in the old faith, but when John Knox managed to make the Catholic faith illegal, her parents had quietly turned to the new kirk. Annabella had never been quite comfortable with the hard man preaching such a hard faith. She followed Jean back through the windowed corridor and downstairs to the hall. She could see through the windows as they passed by that the afternoon was advancing quickly.

The earl and Lord Bothwell had already gone on to the church, but Matthew was awaiting her. Leading her outside into the courtyard, he settled her upon her horse, then put Jean upon another beast before mounting his own horse. They departed the courtyard, crossing over the drawbridge and onto a narrow path that led to the village.

“Your yellow skirts are very pleasing,” Matthew noted of the velvet now spread over Snow’s plump flanks.

“Thank ye,” Annabella said. The afternoon sun was warm on her face.

No one spoke again as they rode toward the village. They saw no one, and, entering Duin, Annabella found the streets deserted. Arriving at the church, Matthew dismounted, then lifted the bride from her saddle. Jean slid from the back of her horse easily. She hurried into the church, followed by her brother and Annabella. It was filled with the Ferguson clansmen and -women, and she was suddenly grateful for her new finery. She had seen the difference it had made in her appearance when she had looked into the mirror. Plain she might be, but she now looked every inch how she thought a countess of Duin should look. A little lass stepped forward to hand her a small bouquet of white heather.

Annabella bent, whispering to the child as she gently touched her pretty face, “Thank ye, my dearie.” She kissed the rosy cheek of the child. Then, standing again, she allowed Matthew Ferguson to lead her down the aisle of the church to where the earl stood waiting for her. Angus Ferguson, she noted, had also changed his garments. He was now garbed in rich brown velvet with a fine velvet doublet that was embroidered in gold and copper threads, its slashed puffed sleeves showing cream-colored satin.

He took her hand, and together they knelt before the priest, James Ferguson, while the ceremony was performed and lengthy prayers were intoned for their long life together along with a fruitful union. A copy of the marriage contract was displayed, and then read to those in attendance. The clan folk were asked if they approved their lord’s acceptance of both the terms and the virgin Annabella Baird. The clansmen and -women answered in the affirmative, not that they would have said otherwise. The question to them had been a courtesy practiced by the Ferguson lords for centuries. Then Annabella and Angus were pronounced man and wife. The blessing upon their union was pronounced. Rising, they turned to face their audience.

“Kinsmen and -women, I present to ye yer countess,” Angus Ferguson said.

Annabella smiled a shy smile as those in the church cheered enthusiastically.

Then, hand in hand, the bridal pair walked from the church to their waiting horses and began the return to the castle, led by the two Ferguson pipers, who were now playing a lively tune as they marched ahead of the newly wedded couple. Behind them, the entire village followed, laughing and chatting. Their earl had finally taken a wife. Oh, she was plain, they all noted, but her kindness to the wee lass who presented her with her bridal bouquet had been noted with communal approval. Plain the bride might be, but instinct told the clan folk that her heart was good and true. And God’s mercy! Was not Angus Ferguson beautiful enough for them all?

A
s they rode back to the castle, he complimented her. “Ye did well, madam. Thanking little Una and kissing her cheek will be remembered kindly. Ye have made a good beginning with our clan folk.”

Annabella felt a flush of warmth at his words. “I am glad if I have pleased ye, my lord,” she told him.

“I like the gown ye chose. It suits ye far better than that drab gray with its black beading. Why did ye pick such an unflattering color?” he asked her.

“It was the only material remaining in my father’s storeroom,” Annabella said. “Da has not yer means, my lord, and two of my sisters will soon wed. I could not take the fabrics I knew they wanted, but because I was to wed wi’ ye, the embroidery and beading were lavished upon me. Their gowns will be much simpler, for all the threads and beads are now gone. Aye, the color was dull, but there was much love in that gray gown.”