Grace in Thine Eyes (9 page)

“Aren’t ye the blithe one, sir?” The stable lad grinned at him from his perch at the arched entranceway. “I’ll see tae yer mount. A black geldin’, aye?” He disappeared for a bit, then returned with Jamie’s horse, saddled for the journey. “D’ye
hae
a lang
raik
, sir?”

“ ’Tis a few days’ journey.” Jamie took the reins in hand, eager to be on his way. “I’ve a letter to send first.” He was already composing the lines in his mind as he mounted his horse, then fished out two coppers, the metallic sound muted by his gloves.

The lad accepted the coins with a bob of his scruffy cap. “Ye’ll find the post office near the mercat cross, sir.”

“ ’Tis where I’m headed.” Jamie aimed his gelding north, calling over his shoulder, “A fine summer to you, lad.”
And to you, my darling daughter. And to you, my sons of Edinburgh
.

Ten

The silent countenance often speaks.
O
VID

P
romise not to tell your father, for the truth would surely wound him.” Leana leaned across a freshly weeded corner of her garden and dropped her voice to a whisper. “But hasn’t it been lovely having Glentrool all to ourselves?”

Davina nodded with enthusiasm.

“I’m so glad you agree.” Leana laughed, then eased her hands back into the soil. She missed Jamie, of course, and longed for his return. But she’d enjoyed these quiet days with her daughter. Their summer together held great promise.

She worked the moist ground, tugging out weeds as she went. A broad-brimmed straw hat protected her sensitive eyes from the sun, and cotton gloves kept her hands pale and soft. Now and again she slipped off her gloves, indulging in the feel of the rich soil between her fingers. Jamie teased her about doing servants’ work, yet few things pleased her more than her plants and flowers. Robert tended the large kitchen garden and many of the rose beds. The ornamental garden was her responsibility, as was the physic garden, which produced a host of medicinal herbs to keep her household in good health.

One rosy shrub was hers alone to care for: the Apothecary’s Rose planted by the dining room window in memory of her sister, Rose. The deep pink blossoms did not appear until midsummer, releasing their sweet fragrance. From the moment the first bud bloomed each year, Leana kept a freshly cut rose in a small vase by her bedside until the last one faded to a purplish red.
Always remembered, dearie. Never forgotten
. With both their parents gone as well, her loved ones at Glentrool were all the more precious.

Leana tipped her head back, breathing in the rain-freshened air. “ ’Tis good to see the sky so blue again.” The afternoon sun warmed their shoulders, and a light breeze from the west stirred the air, fragrant with spring: a carpet of grass, newly scythed; fertile earth, turned with a garden fork; hawthorn, still in bloom. Though her daughter had pulled only a handful of weeds, her company was blessing enough.

“We truly do not have Glentrool to ourselves,” Leana admitted, “since your brother Ian is here. Yet we’ve not seen much of him, have we?”

Davina pantomimed opening a book.

“You are quite right. Your brother is content to while away the hours reading.”

Davina pointed east toward Glenhead, then touched her heart.

“Aye, and the charming Miss McMillan garners much of his time too.” Leana relinquished her gardening for a moment, giving Davina her full attention, for her question was a vital one. “Will you mind very much when Ian marries? Nothing formal has been arranged, but a wedding seems inevitable, does it not?”

Again Davina nodded, with a bit less enthusiasm.

For a young woman unable to speak, her daughter said a great deal. Her facial expressions, her many gestures—all communicated her thoughts and feelings quite clearly. Even strangers soon grasped her unique language.

Leana noticed the sketchbook in Davina’s apron pocket. “Why not try your hand at drawing one of my flowering herbs?” Her gaze roamed the physic garden, seeking a likely subject. “ ’Til it blooms, bistort is too plain. The dandelions are quite colorful, if rather common. What of shepherd’s-purse?”

Davina made a face.

“I agree, the flowers are too small to be of much artistic interest. And agrimony doesn’t bloom until June. This is the month to harvest it, however.” She snipped a few stems with her gardening scissors and tucked the herb in her roomy pocket. Scanning the rows of plants, some of them perennials she’d planted the autumn Davina was born, she found what she was looking for. “This one is not only bonny but also
quite aromatic.” Leana pinched off a hairy, egg-shaped leaf and rubbed the toothed edges between her fingers before holding it out for Davina to sniff.

Her deep blue eyes grew round.

“Strong, isn’t it? One of the many speedwells.” Leana brushed the bits of leaf from her fingers. “You may recall tasting it, boiled into a syrup and sweetened with honey.” She plucked a flower to hold against Davina’s cheek. “Just as I suspected, the petals are the exact color of your eyes. A deeper blue than mine and rimmed in a darker shade.” She brushed her cheek with the soft petals. “No one else in the family has eyes like yours.”

A tip of Davina’s head signaled a question. She scribbled in the margin of her sketchbook, then held it out for Leana to read.
Aunt Rose?

“Nae.” Her throat tightened. “My sister had brown eyes. Quite dark, like her hair.” Leana gently placed the flowers on Davina’s open book. “She was very beautiful, your aunt Rose.”
And so young. So very young
.

Davina did not press her further but instead began to draw.

Leana bowed her head as the sketch took shape.
May you never know such sorrow. May you never know such loss
. Wasn’t that every mother’s wish? To shelter her children from suffering and pain, to hold grief at bay for as long as possible? Yet here was Davina, separated from her twin brothers—both still alive but far from her side—with her older sibling destined to marry.

“I wonder when you will leave Glentrool,” Leana murmured, “for the day will surely come. ’Twill not be your father who rides off with you but a handsome young man with love in his eyes and a melody in his heart.”

Beneath her freckles, Davina’s skin turned pink.

Leana peered at her more intently. Had some gentleman caught her daughter’s eye? She’d noted Graham Webster’s attentiveness on more than one Sabbath. Might the widower be to her daughter’s liking? “You
are
seventeen,” she reminded her, “and bonny as they come. Is there a man in the parish who hopes to court you?”

When Davina immediately shook her head, Leana wondered if she
might simply be embarrassed and not know how to go about confessing such a thing. Intending only to draw her out, Leana reached for the sketchbook, which her daughter often shared with her. “Perhaps if I search these pages, I will find a gentleman’s name—”

Davina snatched the book from her grasp.

“Oh! Pardon me, Davina. I only meant to help you.”

She clasped the book to her breast, her face brighter still.

“Dearest, what is it?”

Davina was already on her feet and running toward the hills, the ribbons of her gown waving an unspoken good-bye.

Leana hastened after her, calling her name. “Davina, please!
Davina!
” Not until she ran out of breath did she realize someone was shouting her name as well.

She spun about at the sound of her husband’s voice. Too winded to answer, Leana waved her handkerchief so he would realize she’d heard him, then started in his direction, unhappy with herself for agitating their daughter.

Jamie was running by the time he reached her. “Are you hurt, Leana? Whatever has happened?”

She sank into his arms, feeling a little faint. “Davina … ran off, and …”

“Shall I find her, then?”

“Nae, she’s not gone far.” Leana straightened, finally able to take a full breath. “I’m afraid I upset her.” She turned to gaze across the hills and spotted her daughter amid the heather. “I pray she’ll not be long.”

“Having one of her moody spells, I’ll wager. She’ll come back when she’s ready.” Jamie tugged on Leana’s sleeve, recapturing her attention and drawing her into his embrace. “As for me, Mrs. McKie, I am quite ready to be home.”

Though his face was lined with dust from his travels, his smile was as potent as ever. When he kissed her, she blushed like a maid. “Jamie! ’Tis midday, and there are servants round the garden.”

“
Our
servants,” he reminded her. “In our garden. And you are my wife.”

“I am and gladly so.” Leana slipped her hand through the crook of his arm, grateful for his support. And for the Lord’s provision.
He giveth
power to the faint
. Leana drank in the remembered verse like cool water from the loch.
To them that have no might he increaseth strength
.

They continued toward the house, then stopped to greet Robert, hard at work among the coleworts.

“
Walcome
hame, sir.” The lanky gardener straightened, then doffed his cap. “We’ve had rain
ilka
day syne ye left. Did ye have a
plumpshower
in Embrough as
weel
?”

“Several heavy rains, aye.” Jamie nodded toward the tidy rows of plants. “I see your lettuces drank every drop.”

“A
gairden
needs water,” Robert agreed, wiping the sweat from his brow with his shirt sleeve. “What it doesna need are
mowdieworts
, which I’m plannin’ tae catch come the
morn’s morn.
”

Leana’s gaze was drawn to a patch of bindweed that needed pulling, but Jamie tugged her away.

“I see that look in your eye,” Jamie chided her. “No more gardening. We have important matters to discuss regarding our daughter.”

“You’re not worried because she’s taken off for the hills? I feel certain she’ll return—”

“Oh, within the hour,” he quickly agreed, opening the door for her. “ ’Tis not Davina’s present circumstances I wish to consider but her future.”

Eleven

Imagination frames events unknown.
H
ANNAH
M
ORE

H
er future?
Leana felt a strange fluttering inside her, like a small heath butterfly on the wing. Surely Jamie did not have plans for their daughter. Or was this why Davina blushed so, why she ran off, because something
was
afoot?

“As you wish,” was all she said as she followed her husband inside, praying with each step.

He arranged two hard-backed chairs by the library’s front windows, lit by the forenoon sun, then tugged on a slender rope that moments later brought a maidservant to their side. “Tea, Jenny. And have Charles meet me up the stair in an hour.”

“Walcome hame, Mr. McKie.” The maid dipped her curly head before hurrying to her duties.

Jamie rinsed his hands in the china washbowl next to the half-tester bed, then sat down by the window and crossed his booted legs, frowning at his dusty breeches. “Though I prefer that we speak before Davina returns, I beg your pardon for not seeing to my grooming first.”

“We are both in need of soap and comb.” Leana slipped off her apron, taking care not to crush the herbs in her pockets. She washed her hands, then took her place next to her husband. The tea could not arrive quickly enough, so parched was her tongue. “Please tell me, Jamie. Have you good news regarding Davina, or must I prepare myself for ill tidings?”

His mouth dropped open in astonishment. “Why, ’tis most welcome news!” He inched his chair closer and clasped both her hands in his. “Rather than have our daughter at loose ends all summer, missing her brothers’ company, I thought of a place we might send her.”

“
Send
her?” All thoughts of tea vanished. “Whatever are you suggesting?”

“The Isle of Arran.” He punctuated the announcement by squeezing her hands, though she barely felt his touch. “I have a cousin there, you’ll remember. On my mother’s side, many times removed, but family nonetheless. Reverend Benjamin Stewart.”

“Aye,” she said faintly, “we’ve exchanged correspondence over the years.”

“Exactly so.” Jamie was warming up to his subject. “In those letters Benjamin and his wife, Elspeth, have repeatedly extended an invitation for Davina to come and meet their daughters, Catherine and Abigail. Would she not enjoy such an opportunity, this summer in particular?”

“She very well might.” Leana sank back in her chair, overwhelmed. How could she lose her daughter for the summer, having just lost her sons to Edinburgh? Yet it was selfish to think of her own comfort when Davina might leap at the chance.

“What say you?” Jamie prompted her. “Though the road to Ayr is not coachworthy, Davina rides as well as her brothers. She is more than capable of a two-day journey on horseback.”

Despite Jamie’s assurances, an unnamed fear assailed Leana’s heart, chilling her hands and tightening her throat. She jumped when a knock at the door announced tea, so distracted were her thoughts. Jenny carefully positioned the heavy tray, laden with Jamie’s favorites: gingersnaps and buttermilk bread, caraway seedcake and currant loaf. As the maid filled their teacups, Leana bowed her head, ashamed of her lack of faith. Her daughter would not travel to Arran alone. Could her trust in God’s provision not stretch beyond the boundaries of Glentrool?

Jenny politely curtsied and quit the room, leaving the McKies to their tea.

After lifting his cup, Jamie paused, waiting for his drink to cool. Or for his wife to respond. “You’ve not said aye or nae, Leana.”

How could she explain what she herself did not understand? The queasiness in her stomach, the sense of foreboding. Nothing more than a mother’s natural worrying, he would say, and rightly so. “That decision is yours, Jamie. And Davina’s.”

His teacup did not mask his frown. “You would permit your daughter to choose and yet have no choice of your own?”