Wedgewick Woman (18 page)

Chapter
27

Annabel rose early and dressed on the appointed day.  After breakfast she waited in the library for him to call.  He had said to be ready to leave immediately after breakfast but she had not seen him.

“Cork have you seen the Laird?” she inquired as the boy hurried by to bring in sticks for the fires. 

“Aye he is waiting for ye in the stables.  He’s blustering about…ye’d best be on your way.” He warned and was gone.

“Stables?  He never said anything about the stables…he said the library.” She talked to herself as she gathered her skirts and began at a run out the door, through the courtyard and over the worn path to the barns.

As soon as she appeared, he shouted, “Where ‘ave ye been?  We’ve been waiting for ye.”

“I must have misunderstood…I thought you said the library.”

“”Aye, women hear what they want to hear.” He grumbled and lifted her into the carriage.”

“No one else is going?” She asked looking around.  “I…cannot.”

“I know the ways of the English…you cannot go without your maid.  She is supposed to be long here…but if I know my guard, Fergus is kissing the wits out of her this very minute.” He looked out the window, tapping his fingers on his knee.

“Ah…as I thought.” He said as Phoebe, looking quite flushed, stepped inside.

“It is sorry I am to be holding you up.” She apologized, but Annabel noted she did not look either of them in the eye.  The Laird had been right.

“Let’s be about the day’s business.” He tapped the driver’s shoulder with a stick then stared morosely out the windows.

Left to themselves, Phoebe and Annabel thought it best to be quiet for as long as they could and then began to whisper behind their hands so as not to disturb the Laird, who had promptly fallen asleep.

“Phoebe, what were you doing?”

“Oh, m’ lady, it is my heart.  It has been given over to a Scot.” She sighed.

“Phoebe!”

“Tis true, I’m afraid.  My father would turn over in his grave.”

“You should not say such things especially when you are in Scotland.” Annabel scolded her.

Oh never mind. I shall become a Scot’s wife, I daresay.” She whispered and giggled.

“Oh my.”  Annabel’s voice was amazed.  “I am happy for you.  But whatever shall I do without you?”

“Oh…” she groaned…”I did not think of it!  Here I am in my own good fortunes and not thinking about you.”

“You are always thinking about me and everyone else, Phoebe.” Annabel stated emphatically.

“Yes, but it is time you thought of your own life. Now that Eleanor’s gone what will you do Annabel?”

Phoebe’s forthright statement caused Annabel a long pause.  “I do not know.” She admitted.

“You are a lady of the highest quality. Of good English stock…
and
royal blood. Why you’ve never even been kissed I’d wager.”

“Well, I have.  Once.  But it was not like you think.”

Phoebe’s eyes brightened.  “You have and you never told me a word of it?  Tell me all.”  She leaned closer.

Annabel turned to Phoebe and whispered.  “The Laird kissed me.”

Phoebe’s hand flew to her mouth and a smile was behind it.  “No!”

“Well, yes, it was the only kiss I’ve ever had, but he was angry…very angry with me and sought to embarrass me.”

“What?” she looked fair affronted.

“It was at a dance some months ago.  Here at Dunbeernton.  Blithers insisted I come to the ball Laird Carmichael was holding. One thing led to another and he stepped in front of me in the middle of the room and kissed me…like…like I was his lover…in front of everyone.”

“How dare he?”  Phoebe’s ire raised to boiling point. “Did you clap him upside the ear to prove him a rake?”

“No. It did not matter to me.  If he had done that in London, I would have been banned from society, but no one in that room knew me.  That was why I was more hurt than angry.” She admitted.  “I knew he hated me for the fact that I was…am…a Wedgewick. He thought me like Helen.”

Phoebe looked over at the sleeping Laird and made a face.  “He is stubborn and does not see what is before his very face. Why if he were smart he’d snap you up and marry you himself. After all you’re the only mother Eleanor has ever known.”

“Phoebe, don’t say such things.  He would never consider it.  I cannot be compared to Helen, in beauty nor in stature, nor in talent.”

“Puffery, all.  You’d make a better wife and mother than Helen ever was, Annabel…you just don’t see it.”

“Thank you Phoebe. But you mustn’t say such things.”

“I shall marry Fergus if he asks me.  I want you to know.”  Phoebe said softly.  “Would you perhaps come and stay with us?  I know we wouldn’t have the worldly goods that you are accustomed to but you would be welcome. I know I speak for Fergus, too.”

“Oh Phoebe, you are such a silly.  Of course I could not stay with you.  I’ll go back to London and live in mother’s house.  Perhaps I’ll meet someone.”

Suddenly the coach lurched to a stop then started forward again. Laird Carmichael came awake instantly.

“Have we arrived?” he shouted up to the driver.

“Aye.  We have Sir.”

The coach finally rolled to a stop and Annabel looked out into the ancient stone streets of Edinburgh.  “I have never been here before.” She whispered as the Laird gave him her hand, then helped Phoebe down.

The three walked together admiring the beautiful city.  “It’s beautiful here.” Annabel whispered.

“Aye…Scotland’s best.” The Laird agreed.  “Here we are.”  He stopped in front of the solicitor’s door identified with gold and black letters on the milky glass. 

Phoebe waited in the small room out front and Annabel and the Laird were shown to the solicitor’s private office.  “I have the papers here, Miss Wedgewick.” He turned them to her and handed her a writing instrument.  She looked up for explanation.

“This states that Laird Leon Charles William Carmichael is the true father of one Eleanor Helen Wedgewick.  The mother’s name is…was…Helen Diana Wedgewick, now deceased.  Is that correct and true?”

“Yes.” she whispered, her hand shaking as she signed her name.

“And Laird, these are for you.  The record of birth has been changed for now and eternity to read as I have just said.  Is this correct and true?”

“Aye.” He said emphatically.  He wrote with a flourish and the deed was done.

“Is that all there is?”  Annabel heard herself ask.

“That is all.” The solicitor, suddenly in a hurry, rushed her out to have a private word with the Laird.  As he came from the office the Laird seemed angrier than ever.  Suddenly, she felt overcome.

“Excuse me.” She whispered and shot through the front door, the bell tinkling loudly at its most recent disturbance, leaving Phoebe and the Laird to stare after her…for it was most unlike Annabel to lose control of her emotions.

They stepped outside in time to see her fleeing up the street, her skirts flying wildly.  Phoebe turned, hands on hips.  “Well, what did you expect?” she forgot her manners.

The Laird said nothing, just stared back. “She knew why we came.”

Phoebe threw her hands up.  “And…so you think that makes losing Eleanor, the child she loved, planned to raise as her own…that makes it all right?”

“Eleanor was never hers, Miss Gervase.”

Now Phoebe ran up the street to look after Annabel leaving the Laird to his own good fortunes.

He found his driver and they walked into a pub nearby to await the return of the wayward women.  Half an hour later, he saw their skirts as they flitted by the dusty window and ran out to retrieve them.

He called and waved his arm.  “Come.  It’s past time to get back.”

“Horse.”  Phoebe said under her breath, which nearly had Annabel in hysterics.  She had already lost control of her emotions once and was for the first time in her life, on the edge of losing them again.  She dreaded facing the Laird as they drove in the small carriage all the way back to Dunbeernton Castle. 

“Here.  Get in.” he ordered, not looking into the women’s faces. 

He ignored them for most of the trip, for which Annabel was most thankful.  She closed her eyes and let her head fall against the seat so she would not break down.  When they pulled up to the castle and he let her down, she made her way quickly above stairs to her chamber with Phoebe close behind her.

“There now.  Cry it all out.” She put her arms around Annabel who shook in sobs.  Outside the door, the Laird had stopped and heard the goings-on.  Something in his heart pinched. Again.

Two days passed.  Both women knew he had been called away.  There had been another problem with the Campbells, this time on the Mulhannon lands. Annabel remembered that she herself owned the smallest tract of land that lay between the Laird’s lands and the Campbells. Her father had willed it to her.  Although it was her mother’s English royal blood that it belonged to, her father oversaw his wife’s affairs.  He had always been a fair man…and she had loved him.  She knew that he had loved her, too.  How important that seemed at the moment.

Helen and Meredith had their own dowries.  The largest piece of Mulhannon lands had belonged to Helen the eldest and then went to the Laird when they married.  Whereas Meredith had gained a large section of land from her mother’s great grandfather up in the northern tip of Scotland…the beautiful highlands.

Annabel knew she got the smaller tract of land because both girls had been more forceful with their father.  She had not cared a whit to own properties and had told him so, making his life easier. She and her father knew mother favored both Helen and Meredith.