His Heart's Home (18 page)

“What is it?” she asked, recognizing the fact that there were letters on the cover but, obviously, having no idea what they said.

“A New England Primer,” Duncan said slowly, carefully gauging her reaction. “I thought that, seeing as we’ll have some free time in the winter, I’d teach the boys how to read - and anyone else who might like to learn it,” he said with careful emphasis, “It will give them a head start come spring. I’ve heard Mrs. Cameron, my cousin Frasure’s wife, means to start a school come spring. We’ll want to send all the bairns if she does. They’ll have a head start.”

“I don’t want to go to school!” Avery declared firmly.  “School’s for
babies!”
he sneered. 

“I don’t want to go either!” Ryan declared, copying his brother, and very soon all of the boys were of the same mind.

Duncan let them vent their fury for a couple of minutes, but then he raised his voice to be heard above the general outcry.

“I’m sorry to say it lads, but going to school is not open to debate.”

There were whines of protest from the younger boys, but it was Avery who decided to argue his point further.  He was glaring at Duncan angrily.

“I’m not going!” he shouted, jumping to his feet.  “And you can’t make me!” he declared.

“Avery,” Duncan frowned, adopting a sterner tone of voice.  “Listen to me, you’re my responsibility and-”

“No!  I don’t have to listen to you!  And I don’t have to do what you say!  You’re not my father!” he yelled furiously, and before Duncan could react he turned around and escaped up into the loft.

Avery’s angry words seemed to echo around the great room.  Duncan heard them ringing in his head over and over again as he tried not to let it show how much they had hurt him.  It was Ciaran who first dared to break the fragile silence.

“He didn’t mean it,” she said timidly.  “He’s just a child.”

“Aye, I know,” Duncan said stiltedly.

“I’m sorry,” she continued, anxiously.  “He had no right to talk to you like that.”

“Stop apologizing for him, Ciaran.”

Ciaran shifted nervously, however she carried on speaking.  “But maybe
, if he’s so set against the idea, maybe he shouldn’t have to go to school.  He is nearly twelve now and…” her voice trailed off when she caught sight of the look on Duncan’s face.  It was almost the sort of look that Sean had worn before he delivered a beating.

“So you agree with Avery?  You don’t think he should go to school?  Christ Ciaran, why would you deny your son the chance of an education?”

Ciaran sucked in her breath in shock.  She almost felt it would have been better if Duncan
had
hit her.  He had
never
spoken to her in such a dismissive tone of voice before!  However, instead of being cowed, she bristled with anger and betrayal.

“Oh I see how it is!” she snapped.

“You see how what is, Ciaran?” Duncan sighed.  He didn’t want to be having this fight any more than she did, it was the first time they’d had a real disagreement, but he wasn’t prepared to back down over the children going to school either.

“All the things you told me, about it not mattering who I was and where I came from, they were all lies!”

“No!  Of course not, but that has nothing to do with-”

“Yes it does!  You don’t think we’re good enough for you, so you’re trying to change us!” Ciaran shouted.  The children drew back in a little huddle, and Duncan’s expression turned black.

“I’m not going to stay here and listen to this rubbish,” Duncan growled, grabbing his hat and striding towards the door.

It wasn’t until the door had slammed shut behind him that panic gripped Ciaran’s heart and overturned the anger that had unexpectedly exploded there.  What if Duncan didn’t come back?

Duncan stormed across the lawn, not knowing where he was heading. It was stupid to have left, but he didn’t want to risk really losing his temper in front of Ciaran and the children, and he didn’t want the boys to see how badly their words had stung him.

He was almost to the barn when he felt a hand on the back of his shoulder.

“Duncan! Duncan,
PLEASE!
”

Duncan spun around, eyes flashing
, and immediately wished his expression had shown more restraint, Ciaran automatically stumbled back and braced herself as if she expected to be hit.

Even though he knew it was nothing that
he
had done to make her so fearful, Duncan felt his heart breaking inside his chest. He wished, somehow, that he’d been able to save Ciaran sooner, that there was some way to go back in time and undo all the hurt that Sean had caused. The slow, unsteady progress he was making nearly drove him mad.

Chastened, the anger had drained out of Duncan’s face. Very slowly, he stepped toward Ciaran and held out his hand in a gesture of peace.

“What is it, lass?” he asked calmly.

“I’m sorry!” Ciaran blurted with a flood of tears. “I’m sorry! Please don’t go! The boys can go to school! They’ll do whatever you want, I-!”

Duncan laid his finger across her lips, silencing her.

“Whatever
you
want,” he corrected. “You’re the lads’ mother after all. I just….Ciaran, it isn’t that I want to change you, I just want to
help
you, and the boys.” He waved his hands helplessly, unsure how to impart what he meant. Luckily, the will to fight him seemed to have left Ciaran completely. She had wound her arms around his waist and burrowed her head against his chest, submitting completely. While Duncan felt bad for taking advantage of her docility, he was grateful all the same.

“You’re tired, love,” he said gently, nudging her toward the house. It was the truth. Duncan hadn’t noticed before how worn and exhausted Ciaran was looking. For days now she’d seemed to be dragging, and he’d heard her be ill once or twice in the early morning
- although, whenever he asked about it, she told him there was nothing to worry about. He hated the thought that Ciaran might be sickening.  His concern grew when she didn’t deny the charge.

“Aye, well. That’s to be expected…” she said in an odd tone and rubbed her stomach thoughtfully. She was silent for a moment, but then perked up, sounding determined when she turned back to the house and announced, “And there’s plenty of work left to do before bed, so I reckon I’d better get on with it. I’m sorry again, Duncan…”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he assured her, and then followed her back to the house.

They didn’t speak of the Primer again for several days, but then something amazing happened
. Monsieur Belitran, one of the traders, rode up to the farm and asked for Duncan.

“What is it?” Ciaran asked, her heart clutching at the prospect of news from the outside. Invariably, it would be
bad
news: skirmishes with Indians, or talk about trouble between England and France. However, her fears proved unfounded, or at least incorrect in their basis. Upon being told that Duncan and the older boys were in the field, planting the winter wheat, he produced a letter from his pouch.

“This just came to the post,” Belitran said, “One of the boys brought it back from
New Bern. I reckoned he’d want it straight away- nearly two years old, but then, it’s not every day you get mail from a Duchess!”

The Frenchman pressed the envelope into Ciaran’s hands, tipped his hat and rode away, leaving Ciaran to stare in wonder at the strange delivery.

Ciaran had to take the man’s word for the fact it was from a Duchess. She couldn’t make sense of the faded writing on the outside of the parchment and, even if she could have, it had been smeared and corrupted almost to the point of illegibility by the number of times it was written over, each time the letter was redirected. Still, even without knowing her letters, Ciaran could tell the importance of the sender by the quality of the parchment and the intricate seal that was on the back. She ran her finger over the raised wax, which seemed to be in the shape of a boar’s head, mad with curiosity and wondering when Duncan would be back.

It was a few hours until Duncan and the boys came back from the fields.  Ciaran had placed the letter on the table for Duncan to see when he came into the house, but she couldn’t resist wandering over to it every now and then to take another curious peek.  What would it say?  What news would it bring
- happy or sad?  And what would Duncan’s reaction be when he read it?

When Ciaran heard Duncan and the boys return she almost rushed out to them with the letter, but she managed to hold herself back
. Still, when they wandered off into the barn instead of coming straight into the house Ciaran sent Aidan out to fetch Duncan.  The Scot appeared a few minutes later, carrying little Aidan on his shoulders.

“What is it, Ciaran?” he asked, looking concerned.  “Is something wrong?”

“Mr. Belitran came with a letter for you,” Ciaran said, nodding towards the table.  She wiped her floury hands on a cloth and watched Duncan’s expression as he spied the letter.  He picked it up, still frowning, and then he let out a laugh and grinned.

“It’s from Maisie!” he cried happily, breaking open the seal.

“Maisie?” Ciaran echoed the name, alarmed by the stab of jealously she felt on hearing Duncan sound so ecstatic to hear from another woman.

“Aye, my sister,” he nodded.  His eyes were hungrily devouring the letter, growing steadily wider as he read on.

His sister
… Ciaran let out a shakily, relieved little breath and laughed at herself for being so silly.

“What does she have to say?” she asked curiously.

“Well,” Duncan murmured, he checked the date on the letter again.  “Apparently my other sister, Cora, the tomboy, wasn’t too happy that I left her behind in Scotland when I sailed over to America, so she- she
followed
me!”

“She did what?” Ciaran gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth.  “But that letter was sent two years ago!  Where
is she now?”

“Jamaica, apparently
.  Where she’s married to a…
James Beaufort
,” Duncan said, he frowned and looked somewhat displeased as he read the name.  “Good God Cora!  I knew you were a wild one, but this was crazy even for you,” he muttered to himself.  “I should write back to Maisie, she must be pretty worried if she sent this two years ago!”

“Maisie’s a- a Duchess, isn’t she?” Ciaran asked.

“Aye,” Duncan nodded.  “The Duchess of Argyll,” he said, with a dismissive roll of his eyes.

“And Cora is your other sister?” Ciaran pressed, trying to piece some loose fragments of the puzzle of life Duncan together.  He really didn’t talk about himself very much, so Ciaran had been carefully storing up the little crumbs he dropped for her to find.  “And- and you left a brother in
New Bern I think?”

“Aye,” Duncan nodded.  “And I’ve got another brother Cam- Cameron, who was living in London two years ago, according to this letter from Maisie at any rate,” he murmured, rereading it slowly.

“And you’re the oldest?” Ciaran asked, smiling.

Duncan’s smile faltered slightly.   “No, actually Maisie’s the oldest, and then- well it used to be Thomas, and then me, Ewan, Cam and Cora.”

Ciaran nodded. 
Thomas.
  Now that he mentioned it, she thought she
had
heard him mention an older brother before.  Clearly it wasn’t something he felt comfortable talking about though, so she let it pass.  He would, hopefully, confide in her one day.

“It must be nice to hear from your family,” Ciaran said quietly, eyeing the letter with just a little touch of envy.

“Aye,” Duncan said slowly, looking up, and seeming to sense the conflict in Ciaran.  “Is there anyone you would like to get a letter from?” he asked gently.

Ciaran bit her lip.  “Well, my- my sister, and my family back in Ireland.  Do you think- I mean- maybe you could write a letter for me?” she asked shyly.

“Aye, I could do that,” Duncan nodded carefully.  “Or I could help you to write one yourself?”

He held his breath, waiting to see how the idea would be received, pleased when it wasn’t automatically rejected. Eventually, however, Ciaran shook her head, “Ach- no. None of them would know how to read it if I did…”

“But maybe someone could help them?” Duncan asked, deciding to press his luck a tiny bit. Surprisingly, it held.

“Well…
maybe
,” Ciaran said, hesitating. She reached out to touch the letter Duncan had just finished reading, brushing her finger over the small, neat script. It looked so complicated! What would happen if she failed? Would Duncan be disgusted with her? Would he be ashamed? Ciaran couldn’t stop her worries - but she could see the benefits too. If she
did
learn to read, Duncan would be proud of her, and it would be wonderful to hear from Caitorina or one of her other sisters and brothers back home.

“Well, we could try?” Duncan said slowly, not wanting to force her.  “Maybe we could look at it after dinner. It’s a long winter, after all…” They wouldn’t be idle, by any stretch, but there would be more time than usual for leisure doing the coldest months.