Wedgewick Woman (5 page)

Chapter
9

The journey back to Dunbeernton Castle was uneventful, except for one thing.

“Cork, are you daft?” the Laird shouted.  “I have placed my boots by my bedding so that I can find them in the event of a skirmish and what have I to do but search for them every morn since you joined us.”

Cork stood still, wondering why the Laird was shouting at him.  “I clean them every night.” He said in way of explanation.

“Yes, but you do not put them back.  They must be put back.  In truth I will be running out in my stocking-ed feet trying to gain my horse.” He thundered.

Cork ran to get the boots and placed them next to the Laird’s bedding.

“Thank you boy.  Now repeat that every night and I shall make you my knight.”

With that, the lad scooted out the door.  Lord Carmichael noted his straight back.  He had withstood the shouting and had obeyed immediately.  Pleased, he closed his eyes and mentally began to plan his duties for the next day. 

His thoughts considered the fact that he’d been a free man for just under a year.  The three years previous it seemed he had done nothing more than chase his beautiful, spoiled wife from hither to yon undoing damages over here, then over there.  Truly he had neglected his people and for that he was sorry.  He renewed his vow not to let another woman stand in the way of his duties.

* * *

Safely back at Dunbeernton Castle, the first morn brought sunshine and a flurry of activity.  There were goods to be gathered from the woolery, the sheep and goat barns, the shoemaker, as well as the tool shed and food cupboard.  The packing continued for three days.  Then the Bothwells that came along were sent back with a mix of forty unwilling Carmichaels and Muldoons.

Thinking on that he shook his head.  It had been a rare moment when he’d lost his temper.  “You see that I myself traveled to tend to our people and yet I cannot get a few faithful servants to do my bidding.  I shall start appointing if some do not step forward this moment.”

Several men emerged from the group.  He eyed them carefully, memorizing their faces, their names.  More Carmichaels appeared than Muldoons he noted.

“And the Muldoons?  I want an equal number.” He demanded.  “Now.”

Reluctantly several stepped forward and he nodded in their direction.  They were to do his bidding, but he wanted to respect them, and so offered before commanding.

“How many women would like to attend their husbands and learn about children who need shoes, cottages that need window coverings and such frivolities?”

To his amazement, nearly every man was joined by his wife. 

“The women like you.”  Blithers whispered behind him. 
             

Lee ignored him for the moment.

Two women did not join their husbands, one a Muldoon, one a Carmichael he noted.  Those men he felt a kinship with immediately and assumed that they, too, had wives like Helen.  Poor souls.

“Be about your duties.” He dismissed them and left the large room.  “See to it Blithers that Ross is told that no one leaves the castle without escort and make it known the people are to journey East of the Campbell’s lands…well away from the main road, if possible.  I would have no trouble.”

Blithers bowed quickly and was gone.

A servant passed his doorway and he bellowed.  “See to it that Mrs. Calvert is sent in right away.”

Not two minutes later, the woman appeared, breathless, at the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron and straightening her cap.

“You need not have hurried so.” He said without looking up.

“As you wish.” She curtseyed lightly.

“My apologies, I must have sounded harsh.” He stood.  “Will you see to it Mrs. Calvert that we have your special pudding and extra hens on the table this eve…and…” he paused, “it wouldn’t hurt to have some of that wonderful bread stuffing you make, plus two or three extra meat pies.”

He watched as her eyebrows shot up.  “If that is not too much, I would like to make certain our troupe has enough to eat this eve before they leave in the morn.”

“I shall see to it.” she said and turned to leave quickly, for she had much to do.

“Oh, and Mrs. Calvert…” he called out and she reappeared in the doorway.

“No need to curtsey every time you greet me when no one else is about.”

He had not looked up but if he had he would have seen her face; fair affronted was she. 
Not curtsey to the Laird
? It was unheard of…plain disrespectful it was.  But then her Laird was different and yet a young man—but no, he had been raised as a Laird’s son and knew the importance of respect among the classes…her thoughts followed her down the long hallway but left her when she considered all that had yet to be done.

The large tables were set up and groaning from the weight of the food.  Mrs. Calvert had prepared all that he had asked and a good bit more, but he knew, not without a bit of snapping of Mrs. Calvert’s blue eyes and some sharp words to the kitchen help.

“Very good sendoff, sir.”  Ross complimented him.  “The journey will  reacquaint the Carmichaels, the Muldoons, and the Bothwells.  The McDougals shall be averted from having anything to do with this affair.”

“Exactly my plan.”  The Laird agreed. “And…he looked at his friend, “It kept me from attending another dance frenzy this evening.”

Ross’ face turned and they shared a look.  “The ladies were quite disappointed when their Laird did not show up, I’m sure of it.  ‘Twill be a lot of speculation tomorrow, if I don’t miss my guess.”

“Oh you can be certain about that, my friend.  Now I shall attend to myself and you may take to your cot early.  I’m off to fetch James and take care of a few matters this eve.  Do not be overly concerned, “ he said quickly, at the look on Ross’ face for his chief guard’s duty was to stay at his employer’s side.  “I will see to the matter and go directly up to my room. I’ll call for Blithers if you are needed.”

“As you wish.” Ross waited until he was out of sight, choosing to remain at his position. He listened as his Laird’s booted feet tap the stone floor with each step and finally heard the large wooden door snap shut, then went to his own cot.

“James.” Laird Carmichael greeted as he stepped inside and James jumped from his chair, grabbing papers and stuffing them into the desk shelves.

“I’m…I’m sorry…I did not hear you knock.” He stuttered.

“I need not knock.”

“You do not.  I forget I’m not in England…more formal there…”  James said by way of explanation that which was already known.  “What is it you need from me?” he asked cordially.

Laird Carmichael noted James’ nervousness and calmed his face, else the man would read his true thoughts.

“I have need of the journals showing what is still owed on my wife’s invoices.” He pulled up a chair.

After a bit of scrambling James pulled one or two papers from the ones he had just stuffed into the shelves.  The Laird watched through narrow eyes keeping his face passive.

“How do we stand?” He read the numbers on the well-kept sheets, and noted James’ trembling hand when he handed them over.

“We have done well, Sir.  Very well indeed.” 

Lord Carmichael studied them for a few extra moments, watching his accountant’s facial musings.  First fear, then trembling, now anxiety. Something was amiss.

“Have you anything to tell me James?” he asked quietly perusing the papers.

“No sir.”  James answered too quickly. 

“Then why are you jumping about like a wayward child.”

“Oh, ‘tis my way, I say.” He said and turned away, shuffling more papers.

“What is this amount?  And whose name is this?” His voice remained deceptively normal as he pointed out a figure.

James dropped his fistful of papers on the ground as soon as he saw the name and made great work of picking them up and rearranging.

“Oh, just a minor fund for Helen’s sister.” He lied.

“Helen’s sister?  What has Meredith to do with anything?”  His voice began to raise.

“Tis not Meredith, but Annabel.”

“Annabel…the young one?” he started to shout, then calmed himself.

“Yes.  The young one.  She saw after Helen while she was at Dunbeernton.  I…well I assumed that you, being a kind Laird, would want me to give Helen’s young sister, who is alone in the world a small stipend each month…for small needs….” His voice wavered.

“You assumed wrongly.  And you call this amount small?” he questioned.

“But Annabel…Miss Wedgewick needs it.” he offered too quickly.

“What for?” He shot back, trying to bring James to the truth.  “She has the Mulhannon land from her inheritance has she not?”

“I do not know Miss Annabel Wedgewick’s affairs.” He stated standing to his full height. 

The name of Wedgewick burned his ears.  “Why does a Wedgewick woman need
my
money.  That you surely must know?”

“Uh…why gowns, of course.” He finished, trying to smile.  “Women rather love their Paris creations, and we men well know it.”  He tried a bit of light humor, but failed.

“Gowns…from Paris?”  The shout could be heard down the hallway, to which Ross hurried to his master’s assistance. 

“Is all well?”  He bellowed from behind the heavy door.

It took a moment for the Laird to settle.  “All is well, Ross.”

“I have given you more money for those lavish silks than any woman could want in a lifetime. Paris…indeed! Why was I not consulted?  I could have had a hundred gowns sewn from that silk, which we are now indebted for…” he reminded James sternly.  What need have we to supply
mor
e gowns for this…this Annabel?” He shouted again.

James’ nervousness became more apparent.  He had chosen his words badly.  He wrung his hands and tried to explain.

“Not just gowns, my lord, but living expenses…for a young girl…surely you understand…” he whispered.  “She
was
Lady Carmichael’s assistant.”

“Bring this woman to me at once.” He shouted once more, quit the room and was halfway down the long hall before he realized he still held the papers in his hand.  He stared at the figures once more, turned abruptly and stormed back into the room.  “See that you keep these at the ready.  I shall need them.”

And he’d thought by placing that kiss on her lips in full view of the people, she would disappear in shame, never to show her face in his castle again. What a fool he had been.

He did not note that James was already shriveling up in his chair, shaking.

“This is the end for me.” James whispered.  “The end.  I shall probably be hung.”