Whence Came a Prince (30 page)

Jamie transferred his gaze from the child to Leana. Perhaps he might find some way to help her confess her secret. “Children grow so quickly, don’t they?”

“They do,” she said, folding her hands in front of her. “Overnight, it seems.”

Oh, Leana. Do you think I cannot tell?
He glanced at Ian to be certain the boy was safe, then tried a different approach. “I wish … I wish there was a way we might leave Ian in your care, but the kirk will not allow it. You are such a fine mother, Leana.”

After a long pause, she turned toward him, her mouth slightly open.

He implored her with his eyes, giving her permission to speak.
I am listening, Leana.

“Jamie, I …”

“Och, lad!” Duncan shouted across the lawn, running toward them. His worn clothes and lanky form gave him the appearance of a
scaur-craw
escaped from the fields. “I maun speak tae ye at once.” He gathered up Ian, who squealed in protest, and delivered him into Leana’s arms. “Pardon me, baith o’ ye, for I’ve just returned from Kingsgrange.” He was clearly agitated, with his cap askew and his blue eyes a bit wild looking. “Leana, will ye mind if … that is, I need tae …”

“Of course. ’Tis just as well, for Ian’s bedtime draws near.” She nodded at them both, then headed toward the house.

Jamie watched her leave with a sense of sadness. She seemed so close to telling him about their child. He turned back to Duncan, who also had news it seemed. “What is it, my friend? What has you so vexed?”

Duncan pulled off his bonnet, then wiped his arm across his brow. “I canna be certain, yet I canna keep it tae meself.” He fanned himself with his cap, his expression more troubled than Jamie had ever seen it. “Comin’ hame by way o’ Dalbeaty I passed Edingham Farm. Sittin’ up on a spur like it does, ’tis hard tae miss the place.”

“Go on.”

“In the field tae the west o’ the mains—a field that used tae lie fallow, mind ye—I spied …” His shoulders sagged. “I spied a flock o’ lambs.”

“Lambs?”
Jamie’s heart thudded in his chest. It wasn’t possible. “Surely not…
my
lambs?”

Duncan spread his hands, clearly at a loss. “I canna say, lad, for I couldna get close enough tae be certain. They didna bear yer keel mark, but they
were
blackface. Aboot five score.”

Jamie stared at the overseer, his mind reeling. “Are you suggesting the
Douglases
stole my lambs? Duncan, that makes no sense. Our families are about to be joined—”

“Wait, lad.” Duncan held up his hand, a cautionary gesture. “I’m not suggestin’ oniething. They may not be yer lambs at a’. Mebbe they purchased a flock o’ their ain.”

Jamie yanked at his neckcloth, suddenly feeling as if someone were choking him. Duncan was not the only one who’d seen a flock of lambs where they did not belong. Peter Drummond had told him a tale as well.
Several dozen. Headed west.
The road that led to Dalbeaty.
’Twas late in the evening. The first of June.

Jamie gripped the man’s shoulders. “When did you last visit Mary at Kingsgrange? On the night you were gone, the Douglases were here for supper and then walked home.”
Late. In the evening.

“ ’Twas not me usual day off,” Duncan said. “A Tuesday, not a Wednesday …” After a moment a light came into his eyes, and his features relaxed. “Now I remember. ’Twas the start o’ the month. The first o’ June. Richt pleasant weather.”

“A verra pleasant night. For stealing sheep.” Jamie’s head swiveled toward the barn, where he’d stored his weapons. “Lachlan McBride will not get away with this.”

“Wait, lad.” Duncan grabbed his arm, squeezing hard. “Dinna blame yer uncle ’til ye see the lambs yerself.” Duncan’s hold on him eased but not his fervor. “On Friday, while the Douglases are at the Urr manse for the
waddin
, find a reason tae leave early and come hame by way o’ Edingham. Then ye’ll ken the truth.”

“Friday?”
Jamie fumed.

“ ’Tis not but twa days hence, Jamie. ’Twould be a sin tae accuse yer uncle or his new family unfairly, aye?”

Duncan was right, and Jamie knew it. But he did not relish the thought of sleeping under the same roof with a man who might have stolen his lambs. On their own, the Douglas brothers lacked the nerve for such swickerie; Lachlan was brazen enough for all three of them.

“After the wedding, then.” Jamie would put a muzzle on his temper until Friday. But not one day longer.

W
hen dawn broke on the morn of the wedding, the skies were clear but not bright, as if a thin layer of muslin were stretched above Galloway. Anything might happen on such a day. Brilliant sunshine could appear by noon, only to disappear behind heavy clouds come three o’ the clock, followed by a downpour at supper.

“Unchancie weather for a waddin,” Neda observed, lighting another candle at the breakfast table. “Shall I bring ye some tea, lass?”

“Please.” Leana was the only one present; the others were busy elsewhere, dressing for the eventful day ahead. Tightly laced into her old nursing gown, she had room for only one cup of tea and a slice of plum. Perhaps she might manage a second cup when Reverend Gordon came knocking. Unless he brought bad news, in which case she would have no appetite at all.

Her father, dressed in his best gray coat and scarlet waistcoat, had already galloped off astride Walloch. Duncan and Neda would depart on foot shortly. Jamie and Rose planned to leave by chaise well before ten. They knew nothing of the reverend’s intended visit, for how would she have explained it? If the couple left on schedule, all would be well. If they were running late or if the reverend arrived early, it would make for an awkward parting. Please God, his mercy would prevail even in such trifling details.

Neda sailed back into the room, the pleasant aroma of black tea filling the air. She served Leana, then pointed to the flickering candle by her plate. “D’ye see that speck in the flame? Folk say it means a letter will be comin’.” When Neda picked up the candlestick and lightly tapped it on the table, the speck fell away. “Thar now. ’Tis already on its way.”

Leana smiled at the old custom, aware of how hard Neda was trying to lift her spirits. Jamie was the one waiting for a letter. He’d shared very few details with her. Only that he’d written his father and brother and prayed they might respond soon. So far, no letter had arrived from Glentrool. “I’m not expecting a post,” Leana told her, “but I
am
looking for Reverend Gordon at ten.”

Neda’s face, as open as any book, had worry written on every line. “What’s the purpose o’ his visit, lass?”

“He said that a certain matter had come to his attention.”

Neda eyed the closed doors to the dining room, then said in a low voice, “I’m wonderin’ if ’tis the same matter that has come tae me ain attention.” The lines in her face softened. “I believe a wee bairn’s on the way.”

Leana’s shoulders slumped. “Did Eliza say something?”

“Eliza?” Neda chuckled. “Lass, I kenned ye were carryin’ anither babe from the day ye came hame. When ye hugged me at the top o’ the stair, that babe ye’re hidin’ met me first.”

Leana spread her linen napkin across her lap as if another layer might mask the obvious truth. “I am sorry, Neda. I should have told you of all people.”

“Ye have yer reasons for keepin’ it a saicret.” If Neda was hurt, her words did not show it; Leana heard only compassion. “Twa o’ yer reasons will suin appear at table wantin’ their breakfast.”

Leana tried to sip her tea, but she could not steady the cup, her hands were shaking so badly. From relief at Neda’s knowing. From shame at Jamie’s and Rose’s not knowing. Had she erred in trying to spare them? “Neda, I’d hoped to wait until Lammas …”

“O’ course ye did. For guid reason. Tae make life easier for them ye luve.”

“That’s what I thought at first.” Leana stared out the window at the apple orchards east of the house, her eye drawn to the bright red skins of summer permains. “Now I fear I’m only delaying news that will distress them even more once they reach Glentrool and learn the truth. Especially Rose, who will imagine the worst—that Jamie might send for me or return to Auchengray.”

Neda touched her arm. “Is that what
ye
hope will happen, lass?”

“My only hope is that Jamie will give our child his name.” She took a sip of tea, her mouth suddenly parched. “As to what Reverend Gordon will say this morn …”

“He canna threaten ye wi’ the cutty stool, for ye’ve done nae wrong.” Neda stood behind her, resting her hands on her shoulders. “By the leuk o’ ye, the babe was
clecked
mony months syne, whan the fields were still frozen. Whan ye were Mistress McKie, richt and true.”

Leana turned and clasped Neda’s hands. “You’ll be well on your way to the Urr kirk when Reverend Gordon arrives here. Will you pray for me?”

“Ye ken I will,” Neda promised, squeezing back. “Ilka hour we’re gone.”

Neda no sooner headed for the kitchen than the door to the entrance hall swung open.

Rose entered the dining room, dressed in her best rose damask gown. Jamie, close behind her, was equally turned out. His new brown riding coat, tailored to fit, followed the broad line of his shoulders past his tapered waist, ending at his knees. The buff-colored waistcoat and light buckskin breeches offered a striking contrast beneath the dark coat. Just above the cuff of his polished boot shone the glint of a jewel-topped dirk.

“How fine you both look,” Leana said as they took their seats. Rose was trying to conceal her pleasure at being off on an outing. Jamie’s mood was subdued, as if he had much on his mind.

Neda reappeared, bearing two more cups of tea. After serving the couple, she stepped behind Lachlan’s empty chair, her gaze pointed at the mantel clock. “ ’Tis time Duncan and I were bound for the kirk. Ye’ll find mair bannocks on the sideboard. Hard cheese. Sliced plums. Boiled eggs. Help yerselves as ye like.” Breakfast was the one meal that even in the great houses of Scotland was often not served by the staff so the gentry might rise at their leisure and find food waiting.

When she turned to Leana, Neda’s face shone with benevolence. “I’ll be prayin’ yer day at hame brings ye naught but peace, mistress.” With that Neda left the room, the door swinging closed behind her.

Rose’s bright expression dimmed. “Leana, how can we leave without you?”

“I am quite content to stay home with Ian,” Leana said. “Eliza will look after him until eleven, and then he is all mine for the balance of the day. ’Tis a blessing, not a burden, to stay home.” She looked at Jamie, not quite meeting his gaze. “You’ll not forget to take Father’s gift?”

“Already in the chaise.” Jamie’s frown was fearsome. “Pray I simply hand it to the man rather than giving in to my baser nature and bashing him on the head.”

“Jamie!”
Rose’s mouth fell open. “Today of all days see that you do not quarrel with Father.”

Jamie started to say something, then stuffed a bannock in his mouth instead. It was hard to tell whether he was chewing the food or gnashing his teeth.

Without preamble Willie stood in the doorway, where he waited for Leana to motion him across the threshold. “Beggin’ yer pardon, but I didna want tae miss ye, what wi’ the waddin and a’.” He patted the pocket of his vest as he hobbled toward them. “I’ve a letter tae deliver.”

Jamie nearly choked on his bannock before reaching for his tea and downing the cupful without a pause.

Seeing his distress, Leana asked, “To whom is it addressed, Willie?”

“Tae be honest, mem, I didna ask. The grocer just said tae carry it hame.” Colin Elliot’s shop in the village served as a posting stop, one of the many places Willie visited on his daily round of errands. He slid one, then two crooked fingers inside his pocket in a vain effort to fish out the letter.

Above Jamie’s neckcloth a faint line of color began to show. “Surely you haven’t been to the grocer’s and back this morn?”

Now it was Willie’s turn to redden. “Nae, sir. I’m sorry tae say I carried the letter hame yestreen and … forgot.” After finally pulling it free, bringing a flurry of lint with it, Willie presented Jamie with the square post sealed with a dollop of wax.

The hope on Jamie’s face dwindled as he read the inscription. “For Leana. From your Aunt Margaret in Twyneholm.”

“Oh.” Seeing his disappointment, Leana bridled her enthusiasm.
“Thank you, Willie. I’m sure one more day did not matter for this post. But if a letter comes for Mr. McKie, you’ll bring it at once, won’t you?”

“Aye, m-mem, I w-wull.” He bowed again before making a hasty exit.

Leana slipped the letter in her apron pocket, surprised at the thickness of it. Keen as she was to break the seal and read its contents, the post would have to wait. Reverend Gordon would arrive before hour’s end, and she needed to make certain Jamie and Rose were on their way. Standing with care, lest she wobble while she found her balance, Leana nodded at the sideboard. “What may I bring you? Fruit? Eggs perhaps?”

Rose gave her pretty curls a shake. “
You
must promise to eat something too. I refuse to gain weight unless you do the same.”

“I feel certain I will,” Leana murmured, gazing toward the window.
Two weeks to Lammas.

O
ne prayer had already been answered: Jamie and Rose were away to the wedding, and the mantel clock had yet to strike ten. “Godspeed,” Leana called out as she waved farewell from the lawn.

Reverend Gordon would not be long in coming. She hastened inside the house, aware of her babe moving inside her. No sooner had she washed her hands and face and the servants scraped up the last of the breakfast crumbs, than a knock at the front door announced the minister.

She waited for him in the spence, having instructed Annabel to escort him there. Standing beside her father’s desk, willing her knees to remain steady, Leana reminded herself of all she’d endured for honesty’s sake.
In God I have put my trust; I will not fear.