Fair Is the Rose (52 page)

“Always,” she whispered, her eyes flooded with tears.
Good-bye, beloved
. By the time she’d dried her cheeks with her apron, the shadow was gone.

Strengthen thou me
.

Her time with Ian in the garden came to an end much too soon. Leana held him, kissed him, and nursed him in the shade of the yew tree, mother and child discreetly covered by a plaid. Beneath the rough wool she smoothed her hand across the soft cap of hair that felt so much like Jamie’s and wept afresh, soaking Ian’s forehead with her tears.

Eliza met her in the nursery at noontide as planned and helped her dress in her claret gown, retrieved from Rose’s clothes press.

“Och, miss! Ye look grand. As fair as any … as any lady.” Eliza bowed her head as her cheeks turned the color of her mistress’s gown.

Leana lifted the maidservant’s chin to look her in the eye. “If you meant to say
bride
, I’ll not take offense, for I mean to look my best today.” This was how the household would remember her; she prayed the picture would be a favorable one. “I’m away to the kirk on foot now, for I must meet with Reverend Gordon on another matter. You’ll make certain the others leave on time?”

Eliza made a slight face. “Mr. McBride would have it nae ither way.”

Leana carried Ian down the stair, where Annabel stood waiting to
take her turn with him. “Alas, I cannot carry you with me, lad.” Leana kissed his forehead. “Be a good boy for Annabel. She has a new book to read to you. Mother will be home as soon as she can. You’ll be watching from the window, aye?” Ian patted her wet cheeks in response.

Leana heard the door at the top of the stair open and watched Rose slowly descend, her green gown swaying with each step.
Another farewell
. They’d not seen each other since Leana ran from the stillroom and into Jamie’s arms yestreen. Rose knew none of that; perhaps she never would, for Leana would not risk hurting her sister again just to ease her own conscience. When she left Auchengray, that secret would travel with her.

“I’m glad you are here, Leana.” Her sister stood at the bottom of the stair with her hands clasped behind her, a familiar pose from childhood. “Annabel, might I have a moment alone with my sister?” With a curtsy the maidservant was gone and Ian with her. “I ken you are leaving to attend to your band and will not keep you. But I must …” She looked down at the toe of her new brocade slippers. “That is, I must ask your forgiveness.”

Leana was stunned. “My forgiveness?”

“For the things I said yesterday. For the … foolish questions I posed. Nae, not foolish. Thoughtless. Insensitive. Cruel.”

“Oh, dearie. You are but sixteen and a new bride.” Leana gathered her in her arms, taking care not to crumple Rose’s gown. “I am only sorry that I cannot bring myself to tell you what you need to know.” She swallowed hard, knowing what must come next. “Will you forgive me, Rose?”
For all of it. For everything
.

“Leana, there is nothing to forgive.”

“Nae, but there is.”
More than I can say. More than you want to hear
. “If I have your forgiveness, my journey will be easier this afternoon.”

Rose stepped out of her embrace, her eyes shimmering. “Then I forgive you, Leana. For on her wedding day, a bride’s every prayer is answered. Away to the kirk with you now.”

Reverend Gordon opened the door at her knock. “I’ve been expecting you, Miss McBride.” Though he did not smile, he also did not frown,
and his tone was as pleasant as the weather. “Come in, for the session clerk awaits. He’s not had his dinner yet and so is a bit peckish. Don’t let him rush you though. ’Tis an important task you have ahead of you, for ’twill be a matter of record as long as you shall live.”

He escorted her into the spence, where Ian had been born. Memories of her confinement swept over her and tightened her throat.
Not here, Leana. Not now
. “I have fond memories of this room,” she said simply, sitting at the small table where she’d taken a week’s worth of meals. Mr. Millar, the clerk, adjusted his spectacles, then extended a pen to her, the book already open to the proper page.

“Miss McBride, unless you have a question, you are free to begin.”

There was no need to hesitate, for she had composed every word on the road from Auchengray. Now she prayed her hand would not shake as she put pen to paper.

I, Leana McBride, unmarried daughter of Lachlan McBride, do acknowledge with deep sorrow of heart my sinful behavior on the night of my sister’s wedding.

She paused long enough to breathe a fresh prayer of confession.
Aye. That night and yestreen as well
.

It is my earnest desire to be forgiven by God and by all of this congregation.

Some in the parish might not forgive her. But God had done so.
I have trusted in thy mercy
.

It is my sincere resolution, through divine grace, which I heartily implore, that I will never again sin in so grievous a manner.

Never again
. ’Twas harder to write than she’d expected. Harder still to mean those words, and yet she must.
Never again
.

I am willing that this, my humble confession, be recorded in the session book and be counted against me as an aggravation of my crime if ever I shall yield to temptation again.

She would not yield. Nor would Jamie. Not if they were parted.

Leana leaned back and invited Reverend Gordon to read her words, lest they fall short of his expectations. She had never before written a band and prayed she would not be required to do so in the future.
Never again
.

“Aye,” he grunted. “ ’Tis the very thing that’s called for. Subscribe your name, lass, and ’tis done.”

She hesitated a moment before writing her last name.
McBride
instead of
McKie
. A cherished habit not easily forsaken. The session clerk read her band, then added his signature as a witness.

Before she lost her nerve, Leana turned to the minister. “There is one request I would ask of you: a testimonial letter.”

His thick brows rose in surprise. “Do you plan to leave the parish, Leana?”

“Aye.” She prayed he would not ask her for details, for she had very few to offer.

“And you’ve somewhere to go? Somewhere they will not turn you out?”

“No one would dare turn me out with a letter in hand from you, Reverend. If you are willing … if ’Tis not asking too much …” It was asking a great deal, so close on the heels of her compearance on the stool. He could easily refuse her, even punish her for asking. “Please, Reverend Gordon. I must leave Auchengray, for the sake of my sister and her new husband and their wee son. Life will be much easier for them if I am no longer under their roof.”

The older man regarded her, his expression softening. “God forgive me for saying so, but Jamie McKie was a fool to have chosen your sister first.” He stood, patting his waistcoat pockets as though searching for something. “Aye, I’ll be pleased to provide a testimonial. We can’t risk some pensie minister shutting the kirk door in your face, can we? I’ve paper in my study. A moment, if you please.” He paused at the door and waved at the clerk. “Mr. Millar, make a note in the records that such a testimonial has been provided Miss McBride.”

The clerk’s pen scratched across the page as she stared at the bed where she’d welcomed Ian into the world. Could it have been only six
months past? The most joyful day of her life spent in this room. And now this one. The most painful.

Reverend Gordon returned with paper in hand and borrowed Mr. Millar’s pen and ink to draft a brief letter. Sanded and sealed, it was presented to her with a flourish. “This will do, I think.” He peered at her for a moment, as if considering something. “Shall I omit mentioning this when the others arrive?”

“Aye.” Only then did she realize how long she’d been holding her breath. “ ’twould be most appreciated. They will know soon enough, but I cannot ruin my sister’s wedding a second time.”

“ ’Tis that very sensitivity I find most commendable. Suppose I have Mistress Gordon serve as the second witness and spare you that humiliation as well?” Her mouth fell open, overcome at his generous offer. “Aye, I can see that suits you. Come, might we take a short walk to the kirkyard? ’Tis a fine day, and the others from Auchengray won’t be along for another half-hour. You’ll have plenty of time to take the forest path home.”

Leana followed the minister out of doors into the early afternoon sunshine. By a decision of the heart and of the will, and by the mercy of God and of man, she would leave her past behind and seek a new life.
A life without Jamie. A life without Ian. A life without Rose
. Not a true life then. A shadow of one. But their three lives would be better for it. That was all that mattered.

Looking up from her reverie, she realized he was leading her toward a familiar headstone. Made of red sandstone and carved with a wreath of roses, the marker stood two ells above the ground. The beloved inscription was still easily read:
Agness Halliday McBride
.

The two stood at the foot of her mother’s grave in silence. When Reverend Gordon spoke, his voice was rough with emotion. “Your mother had the most unselfish heart of any person I’d ever known. I have come to believe that you, Leana, are her equal. May God grant you the strength to see your way through.”

Sixty

Thou art mine,
thou hast given thy word.

E
DMUND
C. S
TEDMAN

R
ose?” Neda’s voice at her bedroom door. “The chaise is ready, and sae’s yer faither.”

Rose spun round, making very sure the room was perfect. Candles, linens, rose petals, nightgown.
Aye, perfect
. Deep inside her body, her sister’s tincture of valerian was hard at work.
Thank you, Leana
. Pressing her hand against her belly, Rose whispered, “God Almighty bless thee and make thee fruitful.”

There
. She had done all she could; the rest was up to Jamie.

“Rose?” Neda again at the door. “Dinna keep yer faither waitin’.”

“Coming!” Rose touched her hair, styled on top of her head in a thick, fragrant mass, with ribbons trailing down her back. She hoped Jamie would approve. He’d not seen her yet this day, lost to his ewes and lambs since before breakfast.

“Rose!” Neda’s voice brooked no argument this time.

“Coming, coming!” Rose flew out the door, almost tearing her dress on the latch in her haste. “Is Jamie waiting for me down the stair?”

“Jamie has already left for the kirk. Astride Walloch.”

“Och!” Rose stamped the heel of her new brocade shoes. “Jamie was to ride in the chaise with me.”

“Sometimes plans change,” Neda said evenly. “Hurry, lass, or ye’ll find Reverend Gordon none too pleased whan ye arrive late.”

Lachlan McBride was in a foul mood when she lifted her foot to the lowpin-on-stane to be handed into the chaise. “Rose,” her father grumbled, “you’ll be fortunate if anyone is still standing at the kirk door.”

“Surely they won’t mind biding a wee while.” She dropped onto the
seat with a blithe bounce. “What else is there to do on the last Saturday of March?”

“
Do?
” He snapped a command at the mare, who jerked the chaise forward and headed down the lane at a steady clip. “Lass, there are any number of tasks to occupy a man, your husband in particular. ’Tis why he rode Walloch, so he might hasten home to care for his flocks. Are you aware that his ewes are dropping naught but twins all o’er Auchengray?”

“Really?” she breathed, suddenly interested. “Is that Jamie’s doing? Or the tups?”

Her father shrugged. “Jamie chose the tups and oversaw the breeding, so he certainly kens his husbandry duties. Duncan insists ’Tis a blissin from God.” Her father eased back in his seat, loosening his grip on the reins. A look of pride crossed his face, as if he were personally responsible. “I have my own notion of what brought such a blessing to my flocks.”

“I pray the Almighty will … bless me as well,” Rose murmured. When her father looked at her askance, heat crawled up her neck. “I mean …”

“I ken your meaning, Rose. ’Tis clear your sister can produce a son. We’ll learn soon enough if you’re her equal.”

Her equal? Rose sagged beneath the comparison. Leana had a long list of virtues anyone in the parish could name. Rose knew her own list was short and her womb likely to be barren. She could only pray Jamie would love her for who she was and not spend the whole of their marriage measuring her against her sister.

Angling her shoulders away from her father, Rose pressed her knees together, folded her hands in her lap, and tried to look like a gentlewoman, even as she bounced along on worn-out springs. The dry road and light breeze made their journey tolerable, though no shorter. By the time they rode into Newabbey, a dozen or more villagers were loitering round the kirk door.

Rose stared at them, wide eyed. “Whatever are they doing here?”

“Seems your banns have drawn a crowd,” her father observed, directing Bess onto the grassy glebe.

In the midst stood Jamie, Reverend and Mistress Gordon, and
Walter Millar. None of them looked very happy, and Leana was nowhere to be seen.

“Forgive us for being delayed,” Rose called out. “I wanted to look my bonniest for my husband.” She held out her hand for help in stepping out of the chaise. Three young lads from the village fell over one another to assist her, though her father brushed them aside and lowered her to the ground himself.

“Thank you, Father.” She swept past the curious onlookers and hastened to Jamie’s side, sliding her hand into his. How grand he looked in the new shirt she’d sewn for him! He’d also chosen his best embroidered waistcoat, new doeskin breeches with a rich, leathery scent, and her favorite blue coat. “At last.” She squeezed gently. “You were kind to wait.”

He did not look at her when he spoke. “What choice did we have, Rose?”

“None, I suppose.” She wet her lips and glanced down, hoping one of the men might notice her pretty gown or the silk ribbons in her hair. “Where is Leana?”