Wedgewick Woman (6 page)
“James?” he mumbled, pulling on trousers and a shirt, Blithers had quickly laid out. Then pulling on his boots he said aloud, “Whatever for?” and then remembered. “What a fool.” His voice was hoarse from sleep.
“My terms exactly.” Blithers agreed.
“Did anyone see him depart?”
“Ross kept guard all night and did not hear him.” Blithers admitted reluctantly.
Lord Carmichael stopped a moment and stared. “Ross did not hear?” For well he knew Ross had the ears of an elephant. He could be trusted to hear all and had been trained to see into the dark of night when needed. He was his best guard.
Even more anxious to be about this business, he quickly opened the thick door and whispered. “Tell no one of my whereabouts except The Four.”
“Yessir.” Blithers held the door motionless and then shut it without a sound, while he looked over his shoulder as the young man slipped down the wide stone stairs and sought out Ross.
“I am ashamed. I should have heard.” Ross explained quickly. “When I saw the light under James’ door, long into the eve, I walked there to see to it and found him gone. He was not in his bed, so we summoned you.”
“Think of it no more, Ross. Get several men from the stables together and go after him. James is not a horseman and will be easily found, I daresay.” He smiled.
“You smile in the midst of this?” Ross’ face was concerned.
“What of it? James is a fool. He has played the fool and will now pay the price of a fool.”
Ross tipped his hand in a salute and bowed slightly, “Aye, you have it right.” And turned to his duties.
“Report to me. I am returning to my bed.”
“As you wish.” He answered quietly. “We will return shortly.”
“I have it that you will.” The Laird laughed lightly. James was about to own up to his cheatings, he mused and pulling off his boots, fell fast asleep across the bed fully dressed.
When he awoke some hours later he jumped up and found Blithers still asleep on his cot in the adjoining room. Shaking him to wakefulness they went below stairs and found that Ross had not yet returned.
“Fergus,” he shouted, “come with me and Cameron. Ewan you stay here and gather several of the second guard to protect the castle. It seems our James has taken off with Ross.” He laughed, but inside his thoughts were not good ones.
Knight and the other horses were brought to the courtyard. Knight danced and pranced about eager for a run. The horses were mounted and the three went outside the gates.
“For care.” The soldier at the gate saluted and gave the Carmichael sign, a fist over the heart.
Laird Carmichael saluted and the three galloped roughshod over the dry, dusty roadway.
In just under the hour they spotted Ross riding alone on his way back. Tiredly he lifted his arm and waved. “He is gone.” He stated flatly. I found his horse stabled in the village and the man said he’d been gone for, at the minimum, four hours.
“Four hours?” Lord Carmichael was stunned. “He must have left immediately after we spoke.”
“Well said.” Ross agreed. “I asked around but it was barely dawn. Only one man saw the mail stage come and go and that was the stage officer. He said it left at the fifth hour.”
“Then we will find the stage. Ross head back, get sleep. Fergus, you are a man of your word. You and Ewan check the village and find out all. He’s probably headed back to London.”
They saluted and before the words were fully out of their Laird’s mouth they were gone.
“They are anxious to find James, I see.” Laird Carmichael commented to Ross.
“It seems so.”
They rode back in silence, each wondering how James had managed to escape unseen and unheard.
When they neared the castle gate, it swung open and the banner was lifted so they could enter. “We have other work that must be attended today. The entourage is packed; cart, horse and attendants. We must prepare to send them off. The Bothwells are waiting.”
As they entered the courtyard both noticed a disturbance.
“What is the problem? Ross’ bellow was even louder than his own apparently in no mood to be attending to minor incidents.
Keeping his peace, Lord Carmichael waited for them to answer his guard. He had enough to do to handle Knight…he was prancing in circles, anxious to head back to the hills.
“She stole my wee one’s shoes.” One woman cried.
“I did not steal them. You told me I could have them for my child and I wanted to send them to the Bothwell children, that is all.” She said quietly.
“Have you no shoes for your child?” Lord Carmichael asked the first woman, when Ross turned to him in deference.
“I have.” She admitted.
“Then let the woman do as she wishes with the shoes. Now be off with you.” He warned. Both women scuttled away, but not before they exchanged glances with each other that would have been called nothing less than murderous.
“Are women always so jealous?” Lord Carmichael mumbled, turning his horse toward the barns.
“Mostly.” Ross’ answer surprised him.
“And you and Bria?” He questioned mildly.
“The same. Except my wife does not share her jealousies with me; but I see them on her face.” He admitted.
“Will women ever be satisfied with men?” Lord Carmichael asked, knowing he was admitting his own fears. “Or must they continually be about the duty of trying to change a man’s heart and soul?”
Ross noted the turn of topic and wondered that the young Laird had put thought to the question many times before asking it of him; so his answer was guarded.
“I daresay it is the way of things between men and women.” Ross allowed. “Women have their own ways and best we see to understanding them…if that is possible.” He smiled, then added, “All women are not like Lady Helen.”
“I fully intend to be a man of my own means, without a woman.”
Ross raised his eyebrows but to his honor, said nothing. His Laird was young yet and had much to learn. But what a fast and sure way to cure a fellow of marriage with a sniveling brat like Helen, he concluded. Yet there must be an heir.
“I have one daughter yet of three to be married off,” Ross grinned.
“And well you would to see to that.” Lord Carmichael pulled up his horse and dismounted, ignoring his guard’s hinting words. Even his best guard was trying to throw his own daughter across his path.
Ross shrugged. “Bria would be most happy to be rid of the last one, if I know my wife. She has long been wanting to spend more time with the weavers but finds she must care for her last child and two of the new little heirs from the other daughters.”
“It worsens then?” Lord Carmichael looked up, hopelessness written across his face.
“Not so.” Ross admitted, but said nothing further, knowing the young Laird must learn the way of women in his own time.
Chapter
11
After breakfast, the entourage had been sent off to Greenoche. The Bothwells would soon see help coming their way. Breathing a sigh of satisfaction, Lord Carmichael turned to find several of the women whispering behind their hands and staring at his backside.
Turning his back to Blithers he wondered aloud. “Have I a tear in my breeches? The women are staring.”
Blithers pretended to look around then peeked ever so carefully at his master’s backside.
“Indeed, your breeches are quite soiled. Something brown.” Blithers reported.
“Brown? What could it be? Get me a way out before I make a fool of myself.” He ordered.
Blithers backed away and suggested he follow him, walking as it were, backwards.
“Backwards? Won’t that be an unworthy sight? The Laird walking backwards. I am to be somewhat sophisticated am I not?” He whispered impatiently.
Instantly a loud shout was heard and when the women turned to see the source, Lord Carmichael and Blithers ran for cover.
“This is most unusual sir.” I laid out your outfit early this morn. It was all right, then.” He said by way of explanation, leaning closer to inspect the stain.
“Well, see me to my room and we shall divest of these breeches and get some clean ones. Perhaps I will be able to make amends, although I doubt it will do any good. Aye, I will be the talk at the table of the peasants this eve.” He laughed.
Blithers retrieved the discarded britches and put them to his nose.
“Boot shine oil.” He identified it immediately.
“Cork!”
Cork came running from the next room at the Laird’s bellow. Lord Carmichael retrieved the pants from his valet and swinging them in the air said, “Did you use these to shine my boots?”
“Yessir, I did.” He admitted, happy to be of assistance.
“These were my outer clothes for the day.” He watched the young face melt into dismay.
“Have no fear, Cork…in future ask before you use my trousers to shine my boots.”
Cork bowed slightly, and red-faced turned.
“’Tis not a warning, only a lesson.” He said quietly and patted the boy’s shoulder which quickly returned the look of ease the Laird was rather willing to see on the young one’s face.
At sunset, the gates were once again opened and Fergus and Ewan returned empty-handed. “James has walked off the world.” Ewan exclaimed. “We followed the trail, but did not catch up to the stage. He’ll be in London by now, if I have my guess; among his English friends, at the gaming tables, no doubt.” He exaggerated, stunned that they had failed.
“’Tis not important. We are best rid of him. Mark my words, the young Miss Wedgewick will appear when she runs out of money.” He said and turned. “Come, eat. Tomorrow we must begin the task of shearing the sheep.”
* * *
At dawn, the Laird shut himself in James’ office and searched the desk…shelves and drawers…for anything which might be meaningful. He found the outrageous invoice that only reminded him they had a cart-load of excruciatingly expensive silk, for which payment had not yet been fully apportioned. Never again would he let a woman have her way, such as he had Helen.
Had it not been for his own boyish foolishness he would never have been forced to wed. Throwing himself back in the large seat, he let his mind wander remembering the beginning of his demise.
One early spring day, sunny and full of promise, he had been riding Knight around the poles and practicing battle strategies. Lee decided to play
Switch
with two of his young friends, which was a favorite entertainment for the crowd that had gathered. All three raced for the goal, threw their swords through the air one to another and then raced again, the first arriving declared the winner.
That’s when it happened. He saw a fluff of silky blue fabric from the corner of his eye but paid no mind. His eyes were on the goal post. Ignoring it he made his goal only to look back waiting for the shouts of victory from the crowd to find they had all converged upon a heap of blue silk.
“What is it?” He had asked unkindly as he rode Knight back to the gathering group.
“You have injured my daughter.” One woman shouted at him. “She lays nearly dead.”
“Dead?” he said stupidly.
Indeed, once he made his way through the crowd, saw a young woman lying on the ground with closed eyes and instantly felt sick to his stomach. She had the most beautiful face he’d ever seen. Thick blond hair lay wrapped in neat coils about her head. They were examining the girl’s ankle.
“It’s broken badly, I’m afraid,” the physician announced.
A cloth-covered board was brought and she was taken away, but not before he endured the glare his father sent him.
“Did you not notice you had run her down? Did you not see the other two riders were not with you? Even they had the sense to stop and inquire about the lass.”
“I did not see her, father.”
“Whatever damages you have caused you will pay. This lass’ mother is a vengeful woman, I’m afraid. You will pay to the uttermost. And I as well…” He predicted. “You are seventeen years of age and the Laird’s son.”
Lee went about his business, sorry for the lass. He knew his duty—to right whatever wrong he had created.
Changing from his dusty clothes, he freshened up and went to her room kept watch by her English servants.
He knocked, waited until called and entered.
“The physician has only set her ankle. It is nearly crushed.” The mother cried into her cloth.
It hadn’t been that long since he’d passed the physician in the halls and wondered that he could have set the ankle so quickly, if it had been that bad, but he dared not question the lass’s mother, who sat staring at him as though he’d shot her daughter with an arrow through the heart.
“You will pay for your misdeed,” she said tearfully…only he didn’t see any tears, only heard the whine in her voice.
When others came into the room he noticed the mother whispering behind her handkerchief and in fact she otherwise seemed in high spirits. Another girl, younger, the sister of the injured one, called Meredith entered.
Something seemed out of order, but he did not know what. His father soon called for him and he retreated to his office to await punishment.
“Sit down.” He ordered. The scowl on his father’s face told him this was not going to be a pleasant visit.
“You are going to marry the lass.” He announced, lifting angry eyes to his only heir.
“Marry? Whatever for?” He stood.
“Sit down. You chose to be foolish and you will pay the fool’s price.” He said by way of explanation.
“Sit down.” His father ordered again when he found his son still standing. “It has been arranged. As soon as the girl is able you will find yourself before the magistrate and doing your duty.” His father pressed some papers into his hand.
“What duty, father? I injured her ankle…I did not….”
“Matters not the least to Lady Wedgewick.” His father interrupted. “She is of English blood and related to the royals. We cannot allow this woman to go back to England and soil the name of Carmichael. I will not allow it.” He was standing now. “At least I managed to claim Helen’s lands that belonged to her father. As the eldest daughter she was given the largest section of the Mulhannon lands…so at the very least we have gained some status.” He rocked on his heels, his hands behind his back…musing at the small piece of luck he’d managed to derive from the entire state of unfortunate affairs.
Coming back to himself he boomed, “The lass’s father is dead and there is no one to care for her. You will marry the moment she is on her feet again. And you will endure whatever is necessary. Now…sign the papers.” He commanded and was gone.
Marry? Marry? He didn’t even know the girl and he was only seventeen, ready to become a soldier alongside his father. What in the world would he do with a wife? He was the only heir and lost his mother at the age of eight when she died from an illness caught while she was caring for one of the peasant’s children. What was he to do? Hurling the papers from his hands, a root of bitterness settled itself in his heart.
Within a fortnight he found himself a married man. The magistrate had come and justice had been meted out…to him. Helen was smiling as she walked lamely down to meet him. He would never forget her beautiful smile but it would be much later before he knew that it came from a wicked heart.
The girl, called Helen was now his wife. Her mother had dashed away the day after the wedding, with what he determined must have been a small fortune, from the whispers of the servants.
At the first Helen had been so beautiful he had not noticed her flaws. He managed to avoid the wedded night and evaded consummation of the marriage for nearly a week, preferring instead to shoot birds and chase rabbits than to be married…to a girl…no a woman. When she unwound her waist-length, yellow hair in his room that first night he’d been mesmerized. She was a woman possessing all of the female charms a man could possibly want and before long she had carried him along with her every whim and notion.
By the time a year and four months had passed, his father had been killed in a battle with the Campbells, leaving him Laird of the Carmichael family, a most burdensome task. His father had fallen a hero in the clan’s eyes, but away from the eyes of the others, he had known his father was a ruthless man. He had cheated the peasants out of their pay, started trouble with other clans and then blamed the weaker clans for his own misdeeds, so that many of their own men had been killed in raids without cause or provocation.
After his father’s death, Ross, his father’s lead man, told him all because he knew the new Laird, Leon Charles William Carmichael, must know the truth. “It is time for you to become a man.” Ross said. “And only truth will entertain that notion.” He added. Ross, an even-tempered man and faithful to his master told his new Laird, “I will not perform the evil deeds for you as I was forced to do for your father. I would rather take my devotion elsewhere.”
Lee had been shocked at the revelations he’d heard that day and promised that as Laird he would not perform evil deeds in order to gain lands or peoples.
“Your father was a good man at the beginning.” Ross began, paused, and went on. “Then as the years went by he became more determined to crush other, smaller clans, and become the leader of them all…including the Campbells.” Ross finished.
“The Campbells did not fear him?” The younger Carmichael asked, surprised. He’d thought all men feared his father.
“They did not.” Ross said quietly. “That is why he is dead.”
Taking the reins of the people meant he had to answer questions day upon day concerning this or that. Then there was Helen. She caused such a ruckus among the servants, the peasants, and even his own guard, that he’d done little more during his marriage than get his wife out of trouble with most everyone in the castle.
He would forever remember the pouting words she would pretend to mean. And the tears that were like her mothers. Unseen. Unshed. She cried only when she felt slighted and that was all day, every day.
Two years into the marriage he knew she had not only been unfaithful to him, but that she flaunted every opportunity to stand close to his guard. The Four. Her blatant character flaws shamed him among the men and the people; but he truly did not know what to do…so he allowed her travel to England and France to visit her mother as often as she wished. At times she would not come home for months on end. He knew she spent much of her time in London among the
ton
; for stories of her flirtations always found their way to him. More than once he’d had to send a troupe to bring her home when she’d done some evil deed that shamed even her mother enough to send her eldest daughter back to her husband.
The last time he ordered Helen home from London, she had been so overcome with spirits that she’d gambled away a month’s fortune in the men’s gaming rooms, and then embarrassed everyone by falling drunk on the boulevard, tearing her well-made gown into shreds in the doing of it, and sleeping the night away in front of Whites.
All of London spoke about it, Helen’s mother informed him, her aristocratic nose in a snit.
That was the day he made the decision. He would not let Helen ruin his life, nor would he allow the land acquisitions to rule his every move. Ross had been his father’s guard as had Cameron. Fergus and Ewan had joined him by his appointment. Heretofore he felt it his duty to make decisions without benefit of counsel to show his strength. He realized that he required their advice and called his men together.
Ross wisely suggested he break up the lands into sections and give more power to the landowners; appointing leaders to oversee the smaller groups. Cameron agreed wholeheartedly.
Together he and The Four wrote the
Writ of the Carmichaels,
allowing more authority to be given to those who could be trusted. That done, it had taken nearly a year for all the people to come into agreement, but in the end he demonstrated that even though young, he did have his own ideas and he expected the clan to follow their Laird.