Wolf, Joan (25 page)

Van lay awake for a long time that night, turning over in her mind what had passed between her and Alan. She was not sure she would be doing the right thing to marry him. She did not love him at all in the way she had loved Edward. What she felt for Alan was deep affection and respect. She did not ache for him to take her into his arms, the way she did every time Edward looked at her. But she and Edward were finished. Would it not be easier for her to bear that if she were not alone, if she had someone else to care for and live for? She could make a life with Alan. She could stand by him and help him and bear his children and find some measure of contentment with him. But would that be enough for Alan? He loved her more than she did him; she knew that well enough. Would it be fair to saddle him with a marriage in which he would be the one doing most of the giving?

"Let me be the one to worry about that," he had said.

She went to sleep still not knowing what it was that she should do.

The months they spent in Inverness were a time of great happiness for Frances. Alasdair had refused a chance to join Lochiel's expedition to the Great Glen and she knew he had done so only because he wanted to be with her. After so many months of desolation, it. was almost unbearably sweet to have him again.

February passed and March was almost over. Frances and Alasdair sat together in the narrow parlor of their house on Church Street one evening listening to the wind rattle the shutters and smiling at each other whenever their eyes chanced to meet. Frances was doing some embroidery and Alasdair was reading a book. They had sent Jean and Van off alone to the prince's reception this evening and elected to remain home together.

Alasdair closed his book and stretched. "I'm sorry we don't have a harpsichord here," he said when she looked at him. "I would like to hear you play again, mo chridhe."

Her fingers stilled. The way he had said that... "When this is all over, I'll play for you every day," she said with an effort at lightness.

He did not reply and, almost fearfully, she looked into his face. It was very quiet, very calm. He saw her look and smiled reassuringly. "That will be nice."

"Alasdair." She put down her embroidery. They had not spoken of the future all this winter. Deliberately she had not talked of it, thought of it. But now she asked steadily, "What is going to happen to us all?"

He shook his head. "I do not know, Frances." His gray eyes on hers were clear and peaceful. "If we fail at this enterprise, we may well have to go to France."

She went to sit beside him on the sofa. "I don't mind that," she said, her head resting comfortably against his shoulder. "I don't care where I go, as long as I have you."

He touched his cheek to her hair. After a minute Frances closed her eyes. The beat of his heart against her cheek was so comforting. "What time is it?" she murmured finally. "Van and Jean should be home soon."

She could feel his chest expand under her cheek. He drew another deep breath and then said the words that effectively destroyed all her peace. "I have been thinking, Frances, that we should get Jean away to France now."

She felt herself go rigid. "What do you mean?" she demanded.

He answered carefully. "It is as I said before: I do not know what is going to happen. It would be well to safeguard the heir." He paused. Then, even more carefully, "Perhaps you would accompany her, m'eudail."

"No." Frances sat up. "No," she said again, flatly, definitely. "I will go to France only if you go too."

Their eyes met. Then, "All right," he said quietly.

Frances' eyes were strained-looking but she spoke softly. "Is it really necessary to send Jean, Alasdair?"

"It would be... wise," came the cautious reply.

She wet her lips. "Send Van with her, then."

"No." His negative was as strong as hers had been. "No. I want Van with you."

Dear God. I must be calm, Frances thought frantically, I must not let him see how frightened I am.

"I doubt that Jean will want to go," she managed to get out.

"I will speak to Niall when he returns to Inverness." Alasdair frowned thoughtfully. "She can go to Lochiel's brother, John Cameron of Fassefern. He is in France and he will look after her."

"Yes," said Frances in an unsteady voice, "you must discuss this matter with Niall."

The girls came in and she made a tremendous effort to behave normally, to hide from them and from Alasdair the terror that had suddenly filled her heart. It was not until she was lying awake next to her sleeping husband that she allowed her mind to dwell upon his words.

He had told her so much more than he had ever meant to.

He wanted to hear her play the harpsichord because he did not think he would ever have the opportunity to hear her again.

He wanted Van to stay with her.

He wanted Jean safely in France.

He was afraid he and Niall were going to be killed.

Dear God. Dear God. Dear God.

She was so cold.

It won't happen, she thought. It
can't
happen. But she knew that it could.

She pressed closer to Alasdair's warm back and laid her hand and cheek against it to try to draw from him the courage and the strength she knew she would need in order to face the future.

Fort Augustus fell to the Highlanders but after a full month of siege Fort William still held out. At the beginning of April Lochiel raised the siege and returned to Inverness.

Niall was delighted to be finished with siege work. Cumberland's army was showing signs of getting ready to move out of winter quarters in Aberdeen and Niall was looking forward to some real action. Consequently, his interview with his father came as a severe shock.

"You've made arrangements to send Jeannie to France?" Niall repeated, bewildered and beginning to get angry. "She said nothing of this to me!"

"She doesn't know," Alasdair returned calmly. "I have made arrangements but I waited for you to come back before speaking to her. Of course I would not do anything final until I consulted with you, Niall."

Niall was slightly mollified but still bewildered. "If you are worried about her safety in Inverness, then we can send her to Morar, Father. She will be safe there."

"If we lose this upcoming battle, my son," Alasdair said somberly, "nowhere in Scotland will be safe."

Niall's black brows met in almost a straight line. "We won't lose, Father. We've always beaten them before."

"We have lost a great number of men, Niall. We are at least two thousand men under strength right now."

"The Sassenach are afraid of us," Niall insisted.

"These troops with Cumberland are hardened veterans fresh from the French war. And they have had several months of drilling in how to withstand a Highland charge."

Niall had never heard his father sound so negative. "You are too gloomy, Father," he said abruptly.

"Perhaps. I hope so. But it would be well for us to safeguard the heir. Do you wish your ghost to see strangers in Morar, my son?"

Niall's head came up quickly. "No. Of course not!"

"Well, then, send Jean to France. Lady Lochiel has found someone to accompany her. She will go to Fassefern; he will take care of her."

Niall's lips were thin. "Why can't Mother go with her?"

"Your mother has refused to leave."

"Well, Van then."

Alasdair spoke patiently. "Niall, I cannot leave your mother here alone to face what she will face. Van must stay with her. And, too,
someone
must be here to look after the clan back in Morar."

Niall stared into his father's eyes and realized, with deep shock, that Alasdair expected to die.

"Father..." His face was white. "Is it that bad?"

"There is no money, Niall," came the measured reply. "The gold from France was captured by English ships on March 25. I am reduced to paying my men with meal, and that is short as well. Hay of Restalrig has replaced Murray of Broughton as secretary and he is not competent." Alasdair's gray eyes were clear and steady. "I do not know what will happen," he said, "but it is best to be prepared."

"I see," said Niall. He cleared his throat. "Very well, I'll tell Jean she must go to France."

Alasdair smiled wearily. "That will be best, Niall. For Jean, for the bairn, for us all."

Jean did not want to go.

"You must go, m'eudail," Niall said patiently. "If we should lose this battle, the Sassenach will take Inverness. You would not be safe. The Duchess of Perth and the Countess of Strathallen were both seized in their houses and carried as prisoners to Edinburgh. The same could happen to you. There is a warrant out for both Father and me on the charge of high treason. As my wife you too are implicated."

"Your mother and Van are staying." Jean's eyes were filled with tears. "Why must / be the one to go?"

He cupped her small face in his hands. "Because you carry the heir, Jeannie. You are the one we cannot risk." He gave her a twisted smile. "Father said to me, 'Do you wish your ghost to find strangers in Morar?' " She stifled a sob. "I could not rest in peace if that were to happen, Jeannie."

She sobbed again and he put his arm around her shoulders. "Jeannie," he said, "please. Do this for me. Let me go out to fight easy in my mind that you and the bairn are safe."

She shivered against his arm and then, leaning her body along his, she turned into him and reached her arms around his waist. "All... all right, Niall." Her voice was scarcely coherent. "I will go to France."

CHAPTER 20

Jean took ship for France on April 12, the very day the Duke of Cumberland's army crossed the River Spey. The Duke of Perth and Lord John Drummond, who had been assigned to cover all the Spey crossings, brought the news to Inverness.

Alasdair told Frances and Van late in the evening of the thirteenth. "The prince has summoned the army to march tomorrow," he said. "We have come to the crisis point. If we can beat Cumberland, we will put heart into our troops and take the heart from theirs."

Van's slender, high-cheekboned face looked somber. "The Macphersons are not here, Father. Nor a great number of MacDonalds."

Alasdair looked at her from under his brows. "Lochaber and Alan rode in a few hours ago," he said.

Van felt fear catch in the back of her throat. So Alan had made it back in time for the battle. He would be happy, but she would much prefer to see him safe. This was not the time to fight the English: the Highland army was undermanned—even she knew that. "He said he would come to see you tonight," her father was going on, and Van nodded and took a deep breath.

"Father, wouldn't it be best to retreat? Postpone this battle until you are at full strength?"

Alasdair cast a quick glance out of the corner of his eye at his wife. Retreat had been his own counsel, but, as usual, the prince's Irish officers had prevailed. Frances was white as a ghost. He turned back to his daughter. "The prince has given his orders. We are to rendezvous tomorrow at Culloden House." He held Van's eyes and went on carefully, "Should we loose this battle, Van, Niall and I may have to flee for our lives. Do not worry about us. We can take to the heather well enough. But you and your mother must leave Inverness immediately. Go to Morar. There must be someone there for our people."

Van met his eyes and then nodded slowly. "Aye, Father. Be sure we will not remain in Inverness to greet the Sassenach. I have no wish to join the Duchess of Perth and Lady Strathallen in prison."

Thank God for Van's cool brain, he thought. "If things become impossible"—he stared at her meaningfully—"you must join Jean in France."

Almighty God, thought Van as his meaning struck her. Her throat was dry. He was looking at her as if he wanted an answer, and she managed to say, "I understand, Father. Do not worry. I will take care of Mother for you."

He smiled at her. "Thank you, Van."

Frances said absolutely nothing.

There came a knock on the front door and Alan MacDonald was announced. Alasdair took Frances up to bed and left his daughter alone with the young clansman.

There was silence in the room after the older couple had left. It had been raining lightly and there was the glint of moisture on Alan's face and hair and shoulders. He unpinned the brooch on his shoulder and let his plaid fall to a chair.

Finally Van spoke. "I wish I could say I'm glad to see you." Her face was thin and strained-looking. "I know the prince needs your men. But... oh, Alan, I would rather you were still safely in Lochaber!"

"You don't mean that," he said soothingly as he came across the room toward her.

"Aye. I mean it all right." She smiled up at him a little unsteadily. "I did not nurse you back to health from one battle only to see you throw your life away in another."

He reached out and smoothed a stray curl off her cheek. "You are too pessimistic, m'eudail. No English troops have yet withstood a Highland charge. I think we will win this battle."

She felt as if a strong hand were squeezing her lungs and her heart. "I have just been talking to Father." Her eyes closed briefly and then she looked up at him once again. "He thinks he is going to die," she said.

"Oh, Van." He put his hands on her shoulders and drew her against him. She went willingly, glad for the comfort of his strong arms. "I cannot pretend that there will be no deaths," he said over her head. "But remember this: we all go out to this battle because we wish to."

He was so dedicated. So brave. She did not have it in her to feel as he did. She pressed a little more closely against him and shivered.

"Do you remember what you said when last we met?" His head was bent close to hers, his voice very close to her ear.

She remembered well, and until now she had not known what it was that she would answer him. Standing here now, so close to him, the both of them so near to the edge of defeat and death, her little fears and concerns seemed infinitely trivial. If she could make him happy, why should she hesitate? "Aye," she said strongly. "I will marry you, Alan."

His grip on her tightened for a moment before he put her away so he could look down into her face. "Do you mean that?" he asked a little unsteadily.