A Rough Wooing (2 page)

Douglas licked her lips and shrugged a
shapely shoulder. “His name is Lance Greystoke. He’s a Border
Warden.”

“The Warden who patrols Cumberland has a
fierce reputation—he’s hanged more than his fair share of Scots.
That’s why we give Beaumont Hall a wide berth,” Gavin
explained.

“Ah, but did you know that he breeds
magnificent thoroughbred horses? The paddock at Beaumont Hall is
packed with priceless horseflesh, ripe for the plucking.”

“This Greystoke and his moss-troopers are
just going to sit on their arses while we ride in and steal him
blind?” Neil Graham laughed. “Don’t be daft, lass.”

“But he isn’t sitting on his arse at Beaumont
Hall
every
night. He and his moss-troopers are patrolling
Cumberland—and Cumberland covers a lot of territory.”

The men fell silent as each one contemplated
the tempting prize that lay little more than a dozen miles away, as
the crow flies.

Douglas pictured the lovely antique mirrored
pendant. She could see every detail of its silver scrolling, every
precious jewel. Then she remembered seeing Greystoke’s dark
reflection when she held it in her hands. He had an animal
magnetism that was both compelling and dangerous. The image made
her shudder.

~~~

At Beaumont Hall, Lance Greystoke pulled on
his boots and donned his leather jack. The female visitor from
earlier in the day lingered in his thoughts. He strongly suspected
she was a Scot, and marveled that her family allowed her to ride
about the Borders unescorted. His mouth curved.
No doubt she’s a
willful wench who’s difficult to control. I warrant she does
exactly as she pleases.

Before he joined his men-at-arms who were in
the stables, saddling their mounts for their night patrol, his
thoughts drew him into the library. His spurs clattered on the oak
floor as he crossed to the desk and picked up the antique pendant.
As he gazed into the mirror, he saw her reflection as clearly as if
she were standing before him. He could even smell her scent of
verbena. She was the most tempting female he’d seen in a dog’s age.
He set the jeweled mirror down, remembering how possessively she’d
held it in her hands.
She coveted this priceless bauble, all
right.
Then he mocked himself for a fool.
And you coveted
the Firebrand!

“Yer cousin Will is riding in, hell for
leather.” A breathless Neil Graham rushed down from Castle Elliot’s
ramparts where he’d been on watch. Will Elliot was Jock’s
lieutenant and everyone realized he must be bringing a message from
Edinburgh.

By the time Will arrived in the castle hall,
everyone had gathered to hear what news he brought. Gavin poured
his cousin a tankard of ale and thrust it into his hand.

“The Queen of England is dead!” Will blurted
before he took his first mouthful. Then as everyone gaped
open-mouthed, he thirstily quaffed the ale. He wiped his mouth with
the back of his hand. “James is now
King of England
as well
as Scotland.”

The loud whoops of his audience almost raised
the rafters.

When some of the racket died down, Will
conveyed the rest of his news. “Jock won’t be returning just yet.
King James intends to waste no time riding south to claim his
inheritance. Within a sennight he will leave Edinburgh for Berwick.
Jock and his men are to accompany him. The news is spreading like
wildfire. The mobs have filled Edinburgh Castle, all jostling for
appointments from the new King of England.”

Gavin Elliot spoke up. “Hells bells, this is
a God-sent opportunity. When a monarch dies the laws of the land
are automatically suspended. The Border families will ride into
England in a mad dash for plunder.”

“Jock sends a warning. He says King James is
determined to make it all one country. We are to keep the peace and
bury the old quarrels between English and Scots. The king has named
Lord Hume to be in charge of the Scottish Marches, and the Earl of
Cumberland to be head of the English Borderlands.”

Douglas caught her breath. “Lance Greystoke
will be the Earl of Cumberland’s lieutenant? But Cumberland’s
monarch is no longer Queen Elizabeth of England, it is now King
James of Scotland.”

Will Elliot reached into his leather doublet,
brought out an envelope, and handed it to Douglas. “Your mother
entrusted me with this letter for you. My orders are to return to
Edinburgh on the morrow.”

“Thank you.” She was consumed by curiosity.
She left the crowded hall and took the letter up to her own chamber
so she could read it in private. Douglas closed her bedchamber door
to shut out the raucous noise from below. She sat down at her desk,
took up her letter opener and slit the wax seals on the
envelope.

My Dearest Douglas,

I was about to start packing for my return
home, when the momentous news arrived.

Elizabeth Tudor’s death will bring about
great changes. Nothing will be the same ever again, now that James
Stewart has been named King of England.

I know you were ambivalent about becoming a
lady-in-waiting to Queen Anne, mainly because you feel that dark
and brooding Edinburgh Castle would be as confining and
inhospitable as a prison fortress.

But now that fortune has smiled upon the
Scots, you are presented with the chance of a lifetime. Queen Anne
and her chosen ladies will shortly be traveling from Edinburgh to
London. At every stop that she and her entourage make on her
journey through England, she will be greeted by throngs, and feted
by the English nobility as they do their utmost to curry favor with
their new, young queen.

To be part of the Queen’s Court in London,
moving from Westminster Palace to Windsor Castle, from Hampton
Court Palace to Greenwich would be beyond a young woman’s wildest
dreams, and is guaranteed to satisfy your great love of
adventure.

Your chances of making a good marriage will
be expanded a thousandfold if you will take advantage of this
splendid opportunity that now presents itself. I have every
intention of joining Queen Anne’s Court, and hope with all my heart
that you will join me.

King James will travel to London with all
speed to claim the English Crown, while Queen Anne, and her
children will make a more leisurely progress. My dearest Douglas, I
urge you to pack your things and accompany Will on his return to
Edinburgh.

Fondest love,

Katherine Douglas Elliot.

Douglas set the letter down and gazed across
the room. Her vivid imagination conjured images of the English
palaces her mother mentioned. One sentence stood out from all the
rest:
Your chances of making a good marriage will be expanded a
thousandfold if you will take advantage of this splendid
opportunity that now presents itself.

Douglas smiled knowingly. Her mother’s words
had been carefully chosen to lure her to Queen Anne’s Court. She
had visited twice, but had not pursued the opportunity to become a
lady-in-waiting. The petty rivalry between the queen’s Danish
attendants and her Scottish ladies made a post at Court unappealing
to Douglas. But the real reason she had stayed away from Court was
to avoid the advances of Alex Hume, the young brother of Lord
George Hume, the king’s Treasurer. Since Douglas’s father died
while she was still a child, she was technically a ward of the
Crown and would need the King’s consent to marry until she came of
age. She did not care for the foppish Alex Hume and feared he would
influence the king in consenting to their marriage.

She looked down at the letter and read again:
Your chances of making a good marriage will be expanded a
thousandfold.
Douglas bit her lip.
She is talking about
marriage to an English noble. Such an idea would have been anathema
to Mother only a week ago. The thought is abhorrent to me.

Unbidden, a vision came to her of Sir
Lancelot Greystoke, and suddenly the thought of a noble English
husband did not seem quite as abhorrent. Since childhood she had
been taught to speak in a more refined manner than her brothers,
who spoke with the same brogue as their moss troopers. She would
not be so out of place as the wife of an Englishman.

Douglas felt torn. She did have a love of
adventure. Experiencing new places, customs, and people offered
challenges that were hard to resist. But she knew that her
personality was one part confidence and one part bold bravado—a
good deal of her bravery was pretense.

She dipped her pen and answered her mother’s
letter.

Dear Mother,

Your momentous news that King James is now
King of England and Scotland stunned everyone at Castle Elliot. As
I write, I can still hear everyone below in the hall rejoicing over
such good fortune.

You are absolutely right that great changes
will take place and there will be many opportunities for Scots to
improve our circumstances. I think you have made the right decision
to join the Royal Court and travel to London with Queen Anne, and I
thank you for your generous invitation to join you. Your tempting
offer has given me much food for thought. I shall consider it
carefully and let you know when I have made my decision.

Douglas raised her pen as she sought the
words that would buy her time and pacify her mother until she had
time to weigh the advantages against the disadvantages and come to
a decision that would undoubtedly affect the rest of her life. She
lowered the pen and wrote:

If I am to join the Royal Court, my wardrobe
will need much refurbishing. I will be a laughing stock if I wear
my doublets and riding boots in the elegant English palaces of
which you speak. In the meantime, say hello to Jock and tell him
that all is well at Castle Elliot.

I hope to see you soon.

All my love. Douglas.

~~~

Downstairs, she handed the letter to her
brother Jock’s lieutenant, and gave him a ravishing smile. “Thank
you for being my messenger, Will. I’m so sorry you cannot stay
longer, and must return to Edinburgh tomorrow. Take care of
yourself.”

~~~

In the Scottish Borders the news coursed like
the rushing waters of a spring thaw. It made the inhabitants giddy
with the thought of their good fortune and the wealth of
opportunities that presented themselves. The phrase on every man’s
lips was repeated over and over:
There will be moonlight
again!

The Great Hall at Castle Elliot was filled
with Borderers, and the number swelled with every passing hour.
Johnstons and Maxwells rubbed shoulders with Elliots and Grahams.
The ale flowed as they celebrated. Talk flowed just as freely as
they made grandiose plans, and it was easy to guess the same scene
was being repeated at every other castle and abode in the Scottish
Marches.

The following day their visitors departed and
the inhabitants of Castle Elliot had a chance to talk together
alone. They sat at the long trestle table before the fire in the
hall.

Gavin spoke first. “Johnny Maxwell plans on
leading 200 riders deep into the English Borders. He says they’ll
skirt Carlisle and head down to Penrith.”

Neil Graham frowned. “Penrith is fifty miles
from Castle Maxwell. There and back would be a hundred. That’s a
hell of a long way.”

Gavin nodded. “Butch Johnston intends to
mount a raid on the village of Cargo, near Carlisle. He says he’ll
lead a hundred riders.”

“That makes more sense,” Rob Elliot said.
“The ride to Cargo is practically spitting distance. The Johnstons
will be there and back in their beds before the alarm is raised.
The English won’t know what hit ‘em.”

“Where are
we
going?” Douglas asked
avidly.

All the men threw her a look of disbelief.
Most Scots females knew how to keep their place and hold their
silence when men were discussing business. “
You
are going
nowhere,” Gavin stated firmly. “Keep yer nose out of men’s
affairs.”

Douglas recanted immediately. “Of course I’m
not going, but I know where
you
should go. It’s as plain as
the nose on your face, Gavin. The thoroughbred horses at Beaumont
Hall are there for the taking. If you don’t snatch them, others
will.”

Neil Graham rubbed the bristles on his chin.
“We’re short on numbers. Half our moss-troopers are in Edinburgh
with Jock.”

Gavin raised a dismissive hand. “There’s
plenty of Elliots and Grahams in Eskdale who’d pledge their right
hands for a chance to ride with us.”

Rob Elliot warned, “Beaumont Hall belongs to
a Border Warden, who’s also Cumberland’s nephew.”

“With so many families riding into England,
the warden will have his hands full. And you’ll have the element of
surprise on your side,” Douglas pointed out. “Fortune favors the
bold. You could sell the horses in Langholm and get rid of the
evidence.”

Gavin looked at Neil. “You go and feel out
the Grahams, and I’ll have a word with the Elliots. We’ve no time
to waste. Tomorrow night there’ll be moonlight.”

~~~

Douglas waited until her younger brother Rob
went off to the stables, then she went to his chamber and took from
a trunk a pair of breeches and an old leather jack he had outgrown.
She bundled them up and hid them beneath her bed. She was an Elliot
to her very bones, and she had made up her mind that if they went
on a raid across the Border tonight, she would be riding with
them.

To pass the time until dark descended,
Douglas took herself off to the kitchen. The aroma of baking bread
filled the air, and she decided that she would make a treacle
pudding. Meg, the rosy-cheeked cook handed her a pot of lard, a
lump of suet, a sack of flour, and a rolling pin. When Meg went to
the pantry to find a jar of treacle, Douglas slipped a sharp
kitchen knife down her boot.