Bride of the Solway (26 page)

He patted her hand again. 'Yes, yes. I quite understand that. But you should not have crossed without a chaperon. Think of the damage to your reputation, my dear.'

'Oh, but I did have a chaperon, Godfather. I had
Shona
, the guide. I thought she would be just as good as Morag. Better even, for Morag does not know the way across the firth and is afraid of the quicksands, besides. Only.. .only
Shona
would not stay with me as I had assumed she would. She insisted on going back to Annan as soon as we were close enough to the English shore. She abandoned us!' Cassie thought she had put just the right note of outrage into that. 'She should have stayed with me until I had a chance to get a message to you. Don't you agree, sir?' she added, trying to sound suitably aggrieved.

'I think you have been remarkably foolish about this, Cassie. I had not remembered you as quite so headstrong, I must say.'

'Oh. Oh, dear. Please do not be cross with me, Godfather. I will try to be more sensible in the future. Truly I will.'

He softened immediately. 'Very well. But you still have not explained how you come to be in such a sorry state.'

'Oh, that is easily done. After
Shona
abandoned us, we had to make our own way ashore. The tide was coming in, incredibly fast, and we were almost caught by it. Running across sand is very difficult, you know. I fell into the water more than once. And it was only by abandoning my valise that we managed to avoid being drowned.' She waved a hand in Ross's general direction. 'Captain Graham did help me ashore. I am grateful for that, of course. But it is a pity he didn't succeed in rescuing my baggage, too. I don't even have a clean gown to wear.' She scowled at Ross as if all her misfortunes could be laid at his door.

it seems to me, Cassie, that you should be thanking the captain, rather than complaining.' Sir Angus rose and crossed to the fireplace to pull the bell, 'I take it, sir,' he said to Ross, 'that you had the dev—the deuce of a job to bring my goddaughter here in one piece?'

'Yes, indeed, sir. And luck was against us all the way, I fear. We could not find horses to hire anywhere. We had to walk as far as
Kirkbride
before we found a carter to bring us here. Miss Elliott is very cold and probably still quite wet. Might I suggest—?'

'No need, sir, no need. I will get my housekeeper to take care of her. Immediately. A hot bath is what she needs. And a change of clothing. You, too, I dare say?'

'I can think of nothing better. Thank you.'

The door opened to admit the butler. This time, his face was a picture of concern. Cassie only just managed to hide her amusement as Sir Angus gave his orders and the butler hastened to assure them all that nothing was too much trouble for the master's goddaughter.

Presentable at last, Cassie sank gratefully on to the sofa by the fire in Sir Angus's sitting room. She could hardly believe that Sir Angus had been so welcoming—or so ready to swallow their
Banbury
tale. Yet it was wonderful to feel secure at last and free from fear. And to be surrounded by the warmth of Ross's regard. It did not matter that their future was uncertain. Somehow she would ensure they could make their way together. She knew that she—they—would succeed. She had enough love for both of them. Her love would conquer all obstacles, she was sure of it. Almost.

She reached out a hand to pull Ross down beside her. He ignored her. 'Ross?' Another little flicker of doubt touched her heart. He was not even aware of her presence. He was staring at the wall alongside the fireplace.

'Ross?' she said again, rather more forcefully. 'What is it?'

He turned to look her full in the face. His own was ashen. Then he turned back to stare at the wall once more.

Cassie jumped up and grabbed his hand. It was cold and a little clammy, as if he were starting a fever. He must be ill! No wonder. His clothes had been soaked. 'Ross! Please sit down. You are unwell. You—'

The door opened to readmit Sir Angus. Cassie dropped Ross's hand as though it were a red-hot coal, praying her godfather had not seen. She could feel her face flushing hot. She dare not risk alienating Sir Angus by a vulgar display, for she truly needed his support now. If he did not continue to take her part, she could be lost, back in James's power. It would be best to pretend, for the moment at least, that she and Ross meant nothing to each other. If Sir Angus ever discovered what had happened... No, he must never learn that. Never. It was enough that James had called her 'harlot' when it was not merited. Now...

'I hope you are well settled in to your bedchambers,' Sir Angus said genially. 'You look much more the thing, both of you, now that you are no longer in those filthy clothes.'

His normal bluff manner seemed unchanged. Perhaps he had noticed nothing, after all? Cassie hoped her blush was subsiding. 'Thank you, Godfather. It is very warm in here, do you not think?' she added hastily, beginning to fan herself with her hand. 'Do you always have a fire at this season?'

'Aye, when the wind is in this direction. I'm afraid this house can be very draughty. No amount of work by the men seems to be able to prevent it. I have discovered that the best remedy for that—and for being cold and wet—is a good fire and a good brandy. Will you join me, Captain?'

Cassie was glad to see that Ross seemed to have recovered his wits enough to remember his manners. He bowed slightly to his host. 'Sir, you are very good, especially to unlooked—for
travellers
such as ourselves. I would enjoy a brandy very much.'

'As would I, Godfather.' Cassie smiled up at Sir Angus in what she hoped was a winning way. She was determined to lighten the atmosphere. Ross's voice had sounded so strained.

'You may have Madeira, Cassie. Or
ratafia
, if you wish. Brandy is not a drink for ladies.'

'Oh.' Cassie threw a laughing sideways glance at Ross and then said, demurely, 'I should very much like a glass of Madeira, Godfather. I hope it is as efficacious as brandy for warding off the chill?'

'You, child, are a minx.' Sir Angus smiled down at her, in spite of his words. Then he poured the glasses and handed them round. It was an easy, friendly gesture. Cassie was glad that her godfather had not summoned a servant. It suggested that he felt comfortable with Cassie. And also with Ross.

But Ross was not comfortable. He was still standing near the tire. And every few seconds he would half-turn to stare again at the wall.

'Is there something about those miniatures that interests you, sir?' Sir Angus rose from his place and came to the fire.

Ross pointed at a miniature of a youngish lady wearing the dress of perhaps thirty years before. 'That lady in the blue striped gown, sir. She interests me greatly.' His voice was barely above a whisper.

'She was a very handsome young woman, I will admit. And the likeness was well taken, too. I do not wish to pry, sir, but may I ask the reason for your interest in her?'

Ross swallowed audibly. 'That lady was my mother.'

I suggest you take a seat, sir,' said Sir Angus once their initial stuttering confusion had been resolved. 'There is much to discuss, and the telling may take some time.' He raised an eyebrow at Cassie. 'Perhaps you should return to your chamber, my dear? A rest will do you good. I can send for you when the captain and I have finished with his private business.'

Cassie hesitated. She could not insist on staying.

'There is no need, sir,' Ross said quickly. 'Miss Elliott already knows something of my family history. We discussed it at
Mrs
Anstruther's
. I have no objection to her hearing more.' Before Sir Angus could respond, Ross helped Cassie to her place on the sofa.

Taking a seat close by her side, he said, 'As Miss Elliott knows, I came to Scotland partly to find out what I could about my early life. My mother died in London when I was just a boy, and there was no one else to tell me about my family. I knew only that they came from the area near Dumfries. So far, I have been unable to discover anything, apart from a mysterious ancient carving in
Ruthwell
church that no one can explain. But it is clear from that miniature that you have some knowledge that relates to me. If you could throw light on my ancestry, I should be more than grateful to you, sir.'

'Aye, I can do that, though it's a melancholy tale.'

Cassie frowned, wondering what was to come. It did not sound promising.

'First of all, I must tell you, sir, that your name is not Ross Graham.'

Cassie saw how the blood immediately drained from Ross's face.

Sir Angus nodded slightly, it is Ross Graham Fergusson.' He paused, taking a sip of his brandy and letting that startling piece of information sink into his listeners' minds.

Ross was the first to recover. 'Does that mean that you and I are in some way related, sir?'

'Aye. But distantly. Distantly. However, that is how I come to know something of your history.'

'I should be most grateful if you would tell it to me, sir.'

'Yes, please, Godfather,' Cassie added, if the mystery is to be solved, it will be—'

Sir Angus reached across and patted her hand. '
Wheesht
, lassie. If you don't interrupt, we will make more progress in the telling of this tale.'

Cassie sank back in her seat, biting her lip. She was reassured by Ross's solid warmth beside her, leaning ever so slightly into her. He wanted her to know that they were facing this discovery together. Whatever it might turn out to be.

'The lady in the portrait was born Margaret Graham, the daughter of a prominent Edinburgh lawyer. She married a husband who was much older than her, a man by the name of James Ross Fergusson, a distant relative of mine.'

'James Ross Fergusson,' breathed Cassie. 'I see.'

Sir Angus ignored her. 'James Ross Fergusson was the youngest child—and only son—of a landed Dumfries family. And you, sir, are his only child.'

Cassie clapped her hands together. 'So Ro—er—Captain Graham does have an inheritance after all? Why, that is wonderful!' She beamed across at Ross, trying to convey how delighted she was on his behalf. A moment later, she remembered the part she was meant to be playing. Oh, dear. They were not supposed to be intimate friends.

Sir Angus did not seem to have noticed Cassie's slip. 'There is an inheritance. On paper. But, in practice, there is nothing. I'm afraid your inheritance is well beyond reach. Indeed, that was why your mother went to such lengths to conceal herself and her child. She understood, as the Dumfries family did not, that it would be throwing good money after bad to seek to regain her son's inheritance. She knew she could never succeed and that she could be bankrupted in the doing. She was a canny woman, your mother, sir. London educated. And, as her father was one of the cleverest lawyers in Edinburgh, I have no doubt she learned much at his side. You have a great deal to be grateful for, my boy.'

Ross felt he would need to know a lot more of this strange story before he accepted Sir Angus's airy
judgement
. And, in any case, the old man's tale was becoming more and more difficult to follow. 'Sir, exactly what did my mother do? And why did she do it? Can you tell me that?'

'I need to tell you, first, a little about your father and your grandfather. Your grandfather, also James Fergusson, was a supporter of the Pretender, and followed the man they now so readily call Bonnie Prince Charlie. Your grandfather fought for him. And so did your father, even though he was barely fifteen years old at the Battle of Culloden. Your grandfather died on that bleak moor. His lands were forfeited to the crown the following year. So your father was left with nothing to inherit. Perhaps just as well, for he'd have handed it all over to his prince, so besotted was he with that romantic and forlorn cause.'

'He followed the prince into exile?'

'Aye, he did. He was under attainder. He'd have been arrested and executed for treason if he had returned to Scotland. And he hated the Hanoverians. Always. The more so a few years later when his lands were annexed for good. You can't really blame him. He would have been barely into his majority at the time, and there he was, an exile, seeing his inheritance swallowed for ever in the maw of his London enemy, leaving himself for ever penniless and rootless. I believe he spent many years serving as a mercenary in various European armies.' Sir Angus took a slow and thoughtful sip of his brandy.