Dangerous Pride (34 page)

“Why don’t ye take a moment to wash so ye can join us for lunch?” Caroline asked, anxious to distract the young woman from her litany of complaints.  “The laird’s wife has come tae our village, and surely ye can sit a spell.”  Catriona saw a flicker of contempt crossing the young woman’s pale, pretty features, but it was quickly replaced with a sly smile.

“Thank ye, auntie,” Fiona replied coldly, grabbing a rag, basin and pitcher of hot water from the hearth as she went into the bedroom.  She emerged a few minutes later, her hair straightened, and the dirt scrubbed from her face and dress.

Motioning her to a stool, Caroline poured her niece a cup of tea while she began to sample the lunch her mother had so lovingly packed.  When the lass made no mention of the meal – and did not inquire as to her mother’s welfare – Catriona’s already low opinion of Fiona was confirmed.  “One of the reasons I wanted to come here today was to speak with you about plans I have for a school at Tolquhon,” she said, anxious to shift the conversation to safer waters.  “It will no’ be fancy, of course, just a few classes to help the children with reading, writing and basic sums.”  She was surprised to see that the look Fiona shot her was full of venom, though Caroline’s glance was full of interest and support.  “I was a teacher, you ken, before, when I lived in Edinburgh for a time,” Catriona stammered, quickly losing her composure.

“Oh, we ken all aboot yer time in Edinburgh, my lady,” Fiona replied, making no attempt to conceal the malice in her voice.  “What makes ye think the children would want tae be attendin’ any school ye would have?”

Caroline reached out to slap her niece across the forearm, prompting Fiona to drop the piece of chicken she had been holding.  “What was that fer?” she demanded as she rubbed her arm, her pale blue eyes flashing in temper.

“Ye will no’ be talkin’ to our laird’s wife with that tone.  Not in my house.  If ye do no’ ken yer manners, ye can take yer leave right now.”  The older woman’s face was flushed with anger as she finished her reprimand.

“It’s all right, Caroline,” Catriona replied kindly, reaching out to touch her hand. Fiona had no right to speak to her as she had, but Catriona knew she was merely echoing the thoughts of many of her kinsmen.  Slowly, she turned to face Fiona, struggling to control the anger she felt rippling through her in cold, consuming waves.  “It is my belief, Fiona, that the children of Clan Forbes will go farther in this life if they are educated.  There will be more opportunities for them if they have even a simple grasp of reading and writing.  I only want to help broaden their horizons, so that they can have more choices when they are older
.”  So they don’t end up being bitter, miserable human beings like you
, she thought, though she dared not express her opinion aloud.

The grunt of contempt that flew from Fiona’s lips was so disdainful that it stunned Catriona with its harshness.  “Why would ye want tae do that tae the bairns, mistress? The sooner they ken their place, the better.  These children will ne’er be aught more than servants to ye an’ yers.  The sooner they put any foolish dreams out o’ their heads, the better off they’ll be.”  Pushing herself to her feet, Fiona stalked from the room, slamming the door behind her.

The three women looked at each other in stunned silence, unsure of what had prompted Fiona’s rude outburst.  “Please forgive her, my lady,” Caroline pleaded, her expression embarrassed and apologetic.  “The lass has always been headstrong, an’ no matter what she says, she has no’ learned her own place well enough.  She was Quinton and Mairi’s only child, ye ken, and she came to them late in their lives.  None of the others lived past childbirth, and I fear she was a mite spoiled.”

Catriona nodded her understanding, struggling to hide the hurt she had felt at Fiona’s cutting words. “Fiona had no right tae speak tae ye as she did.  Do no’ think other folk share her feelings, Lady Catriona, for the lass speaks only for herself.”  Caroline’s pale eyes were filled with compassion as she reached out to stroke Catriona gently on the arm.

“Well, Catriona, I do no’ think ye should let one rotten apple spoil the bunch – with all due respect, ma’am,” Annella hastily added, offering Caroline a sheepish grin.  “Everyone else has been pleased with the idea of yer school, and if Her Highness does no’ like it, well then, she need no’ attend.  Besides, I do no’ think she would fit in any of the desks ye are fixin’ tae have built.”

Catriona smiled her gratitude to her friend, appreciating Annella’s show of support and her efforts to defuse the situation with humor.  “Yer both right.  It’s a pity she feels that way, though, for I would have liked to have Niall as a student.  He’s a bright lad, and I think he would do very well.”

“Do no’ be so sure he will no’ be in yer class, my lady,” Caroline called over her shoulder as she carried their plates to the small kitchen.  “My sister will no’ be happy tae hear how her daughter has behaved – an’ let me promise ye, she will hear.  I think ye’ll find most of yer kinsmen are grateful yer takin’ an interest in their bairns.”  Catriona found her heart lifting with this welcome show of support.  “In fact, I expect ye’d do well tae save Niall a spot at the front of the class.  Fiona may like tae talk like she’ll be makin’ the decision, but we ken better.”

###

Catriona’s campaign to enroll students in her school garnered far more support than she had ever imagined possible.  By the end of a week of visits to the outlying areas, she had gained fifteen students, with promises for more to come when the youngsters could be spared from the fields at the end of harvest.

As she settled back into the plush settee in the solar, absent-mindedly fiddling with the unfinished tapestry that lay in her lap, Catriona reflected proudly on the success of her visits to the crofters and others who lived on Forbes land.  Not only had she been able to meet his tenants, but through the school she had been able to show her concern and compassion for their families.  She could only hope that her husband would be proud of her efforts, and what she had been able to accomplish with the help of his kinsmen.

Lachlan’s business had kept him in Aberdeen for several days longer than he had originally intended.  That morning he had sent a rider with word that it was unlikely he would be able to return for the better part of another week.  His efforts to find a fair price for Tolquhon’s wool were being hampered by a market that was flooded with such offerings.  Fortunately, Tolquhon’s craftsmen were widely acknowledged for their skill and the quality of their work, and Lachlan knew that with time and patience he would extract a fair price for the goods.  Until then, he remained in Aberdeen, completing the necessary arrangements.

When Catriona had married Lachlan, she’d had no idea she would grow so accustomed to his presence.  In truth, their bed had seemed dreadfully empty and cold throughout his absence, and she looked forward to his return more than she cared to admit.

“If you showed as much enthusiasm for that embroidery as you do for your school, it would have been finished weeks ago,” Lady Forbes teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.  ”I fear your thoughts are elsewhere.  With my son, perhaps?”

Catriona bowed her head, knowing that there was little she could do to disguise the red stain that was spreading across her cheeks.  Her mother-in-law had the right of it, and seemed inordinately pleased with herself for pointing out the reason for Catriona’s distraction.  “It’s a woman’s place to plan for her husband’s return, is it no’?” she asked playfully, meeting the dowager’s gaze head-on.  “I would ne’er want it to be said I was neglecting my duties.”

The dowager sniffed elegantly, refusing to give free rein to the smile that was playing at the corners of her lips.  “I understand there was a messenger in the hall this morning.  Did Lachlan send word of his plans?”

“Aye, he did.  He has been delayed in the port, and does no’ expect to return to Tolquhon for another week or so. “  Catriona could feel her mother-in-law’s eyes heavily upon her, scanning for any kind of reaction from the young bride.  “He sent word he is well, and trusts we will see to the well-being of the keep until his return.”

The dowager nodded curtly, taking her steady gaze from her daughter-in-law and fixing it upon her needlework.  “You may not realize it yet, but he has great faith in you.  In truth, you have earned much respect since you arrived at Tolquhon.”

Catriona’s heart soared at the older woman’s praise, which was entirely out of character.  She doubted the dowager realized how she desperately she had craved acceptance in her new home.  “You’re verra kind, my lady, and I am grateful for the faith you have in me.”  She smiled shyly, her expression rueful.  “In truth, I would have ne’er thought it possible even a few weeks ago.”

A sharp rap at the door drew their attention before the dowager could reply.  Catriona was inwardly grateful for the distraction.  Her fingers were raw from being constantly pricked by the needle as she struggled to keep her stitches neat and consistent.  How anyone could every enjoy such a pastime was beyond her.  Looking up, she saw Rory striding into the room, his coarse features troubled.  “I am sorry to bother ye, ladies,” he said politely.  “There is a matter of some importance that I need to discuss with ye,” he added, looking at Catriona with an expression that was a mixture of worry and reluctance.

“Certainly, Rory, please take a seat,” Catriona said, concerned by the man’s awkward demeanor.  Though Rory had clearly not enjoyed playing nursemaid to her in the past days, the time they had spent together had helped them gain a better understanding of each other.  There was the basis for friendship there, Catriona thought – one that was built on mutual respect.

“We received another rider early this afternoon, my lady.”

Catriona’s pale brow furrowed with worry at the thought something was amiss with her husband.  “Was it another message from Lachlan?”

“Nay, my lady – naught like that.”  Rory cleared his throat as he seemed to search for the right words.  “The message was from yer da.”

“The Earl sent a message?”  Catriona repeated, her expression confused as Rory nodded.  “What in the world would my father be doing sending a message here?  He rarely has any communication with Lachlan – and what little there is to say is usually kept between Lachlan and Iain.”  Catriona felt a prickle of unease at the base of her neck as her mind raced with the possible reasons for her father’s contact.  Despite Rory’s obvious discomfort, she found his tongue-tied, slow delivery of the news unbearable.  “Please, Rory – what did my father have to say?”

The giant warrior was unable to meet her gaze as he chose his words carefully.  “Yer father has sent word he an’ his men will arrive at Tolquhon late on the morrow.”  Finally, Rory’s concerned eyes met hers as he explained the extent of their dilemma.  “He is no’ alone, my lady.  He was at Queen Anne’s court for some time this summer.  When he decided tae return tae Boyne, the Queen ordered him to accompany the Duke of Marlborough, so he could see to her majesty’s interests in the area.  Yer father travels with the Duke, John Churchill, an’ they plan tae visit an’ inspect Tolquhon.”

At a complete loss for words, Catriona’s gaze flew from Rory to the dowager, searching for comprehension but finding only similarly confused expressions.  Catriona knew little of the Duke, save the reputation that preceded him.  Having won numerous victories for Queen Anne in her battles against the French and the Spaniards, he had been granted a dukedom several years earlier.  His efficiency in battle was legendary, and it was rumored he had never lost a fight.

Neither was he a man to be trifled with – his power, influence and temper were infamous.  Clearly, the Queen planned to use his political and military skills to ensure the notoriously disobedient Scots posed no threat to her throne.  Already Queen Anne’s plans to unite England and Scotland were causing stirrings of unrest amongst the independently minded Scots.  “They canna mean to descend upon us with less than a day’s notice, Rory,” Catriona replied disbelievingly, shaking her head as if to erase the impact of his words.  “Surely there must be a mistake.”

“There is no mistake, Catriona,” the dowager interjected mildly, slowly bringing Catriona out of her stupor. “The Duke travels where he wants, when he wants, with little concern for the convenience of others.  You know as well as I that Queen Anne wants the troubles between the clans settled.  Until her people stop battling each other, there is little hope that she can begin to unite Scotland and England.”

The dowager set her embroidery aside and made her way to the window, peering out at the keep below.  “He’ll want to see for himself that all is well here – that the past conflicts are settled between the Forbes clan and the Ogilvies.  And yer father – fool that he is – will have little choice but to accompany the Duke.”

The dowager straightened her back, her eyes bright with determination as she turned to face the young lady of the keep.  “I’m sorry, Catriona, but there is no mistake about it.  We have less than a day’s time to prepare for the Duke of Marlborough’s first visit to Tolquhon.  There’s naught left to do now but make my son – yer husband – proud of us.”

Catriona wasn’t sure how long she’d spent sitting alone in the solar, contemplating the ruin that was sure to result from the Duke’s visit, and the implications of seeing her father, but she knew that an hour or better must have passed while she fretted, alone.  When she finally summoned the courage to leave the room, she was embarrassed to find that her mother-in-law had already begun planning for the Duke’s arrival in earnest.

As Catriona entered the great hall, she found the older woman surrounded by several serving maids as she capably relayed orders to the staff.  After the servants were dismissed, she joined the dowager, who welcomed her with a warm hug, urging her not to worry overmuch about the visit.  “What will be, will be, gel,” she offered kindly, her determination helping to diminish Catriona’s fears, if only a little.  “We shall do the best we can to put things to rights around here before they arrive, but remember the Duke is but a mortal man.  And as to yer father – well, he’s hardly worth the trouble.”