Borrowed Dreams (Scottish Dream Trilogy) (42 page)

Millicent thought that it was a
miracle that Lyon had lived through those times. She pressed her lips against
his heart.

“The day she died—the day of the
accident—I should have known she was up to something.”

“But Walter said everyone was at Baronsford because of the dowager’s birthday.”

“All of our families were there at Baronsford. Over two hundred guests were arriving for the ball in my mother’s honor, but that
was just an excuse to have us all there,” he said quietly. “She had an
announcement that required a worthy audience.”

“What was her announcement?”

Lyon’s eyes were hard when they
turned to her. “She wanted a divorce.”

Millicent felt herself go cold.

“The greatest scandal she could
create, and a public announcement to disseminate the news. Emma wanted to have
the sympathetic ears of everyone who admired and loved her when she announced
why she could no longer tolerate being married to me.”    

Millicent thought of her own
divorce request to the dowager and Sir Richard before marrying Lyon. But that had been under very different circumstances.

“What did you do?” she asked.

“I told her no, though not in so
calm a fashion. We fought, and she told me she would do as she wished. She was
going to make the announcement, and I could live with the scandal of it. And then she ran away.”

“And you went after her.”

“Not at first. I told myself this
was all just another ploy. That she was playing with me like a toy soldier.
That she would never do such a thing, and I was not going to rise to her bait. And then I came downstairs and ran into Pierce.”

“He talked you into going after
her?”

“Not exactly. He was angry because
he had seen Emma upset, running away in the direction of the cliffs. He started
lecturing me again on how I did not treat her well, and how I was undeserving
of her love. He asked me how I could upset her so, considering her condition.”

“Her condition?” 

“Pierce told me that Emma was
pregnant. She told him that she and I were going to make an announcement about
it that night.”

Anger washed through her.  

“I went after her. I ran out there
after Emma. But before I could reach her, though, I heard the scream. By the time I got there, she was at the bottom.”

His hand rubbed his forehead, back
and forth. “When I started climbing down those rocks, I wasn’t in search of
answers. I remember thinking, she cannot be dead.”

His voice caught in his throat, and
he closed his eyes. Millicent kissed the tear that squeezed from the corner of
his eye.

“Lyon, I am so sorry. So sorry for
what you had to go through.”

“I think what hurt me most about
everything was to wake up so much later and find my brothers had gone. They
believed—they still believe—that I pushed Emma off that cliff.”

“You cannot know what they
believe.” She soothed her husband without knowing those other men, without
understanding them. “They might have left because of their own guilt with
regard to your marriage. They had served as a wedge between you and Emma.
Perhaps by going away, they were just trying to cope with their grief.”

Lyon’s gaze fixed on her face, and
then he pressed her head closely to his heart. “Thank you for your trust in
me.”

She listened to his strong heart
beating beneath her ear. “Did you ever find out if Emma was truly pregnant?”

“I was told later that she was,” he
whispered. “But I know that the child was not mine.”

The kitchens at Baronsford were a combination of modern and ancient. The bakery, with its fine new ovens and
solid wooden tables and protected shelves for the dough to rise, offered a
sharp contrast to the three huge open hearths with their iron spits and
swinging arms. Within those wide stone arches, pork and mutton and beef had
been roasted over fires in exactly the same way for centuries. Even now the
smell of oat porridge wafted from the cauldrons that were hanging over the
fires.

“I am very happy with everything
you have chosen, Mrs. MacAlister.” Millicent took another loaf of bread from
one of the cooks and wrapped it in a cloth before putting it in the basket.

“Cannot be all good. An important party, this is. There must be something that displeases ye.”

“Nothing at all.” She smiled
pleasantly as a servant took away two of the filled baskets and replaced them
with empty ones.

“The selection of the late-supper
dishes,” the housekeeper pressed.

“Love them.”

“The dessert menu.”

“Outstanding.”

“The china.”

“Beautiful.”

“The cakes with the topping of
fresh berries.”

Millicent shot Mrs. MacAlister a
look. “That was not on the menu you were speaking of this morning. Where are
you going to find fresh berries in March?”

“I was just testing, m’lady. Just
to see if ye were listening.”

Millicent’s laughter made the
housekeeper’s tight lips twitch—slightly.

“I cannot understand why you find
it so difficult to believe how delighted I am with the arrangements you have
made for this large party. I trust your judgment. You amaze me with your
thoroughness. You are very good. You are amazingly good, Mrs. MacAlister.”

The housekeeper shook one of the
cloths open and handed it to her, ready for the next loaf of bread. Millicent
considered this a peace offering.

“And ye are too good, m’lady,” Mrs.
MacAlister finally said. “It has been a few years since we’ve seen our mistress
in the kitchens.”

Before Millicent could respond to
the compliment, Mrs. MacAlister took the bread from the cook and started wrapping
it herself.

“But this is one thing we can do,
m’lady. Preparing food baskets for the vagrants. And our mistress can spend a
wee hour with the dressmaker. The woman was fetched from Edinburgh yesterday,
she was.”

“I asked for no dressmaker.”

“I know,” the woman said, a wicked
gleam in her eye. “His lordship gave me directions, he did. Said to see to your
wardrobe.  And so I am.”

“But—”

“'I trust your judgment',” the
housekeeper said, mimicking Millicent’s English accent. “'You amaze me.' 'You
are amazingly good, Mrs. MacAlister.' Now, should I trust your words or not,
m’lady?”

“Verrra well, Mrs. MacAlister,”
Millicent said, mimicking the housekeeper’s burr. “Ye have me there, so ye do.”

As she was being led away by her
own maidservant, Millicent was pleased to hear surprised laughter behind her.

*****

Jasper Hyde paced the length of the
rooms he had taken in the coach inn on High Street in St. Albans. The large
windows of the front room looked out at the ancient clock tower, and with each
passing minute, the plantation owner was becoming more impatient. When Harry led Ned Cranch in an hour and a half later than was expected, he was ready to shoot the
blasted stonemason and leveled his pistol at the man’s chest to make his
point. 

“To get all the answers ye wanted,
Mr. Hyde, there was no way I could get back sooner,” Ned explained defensively,
ignoring the gun. “But ye’ll be happy to know I’ve figured out the whole
thing.”

“Start talking,” Hyde snapped,
“before I blast a hole in you.”

The stonemason did not look
frightened. “We can’t go down the road to Melbury Hall, snatch her, and go
merrily on our way.”

“Why not? You were ready to do that
single-handedly. Now you’re saying it cannot be done with a half-dozen men?”

“Aye, it can.” Ned spoke calmly. “But we have to go about it different now. Things have changed since the earl and his wife left
for Scotland. I’ve been keeping watch over the place, and what I see is that
the black woman don’t venture into the woods no more. And even when she does
move about outside, there’s always a handful of other blacks hanging about her.
‘Tis like they know somebody’s coming after her. I think they’ve got wind
somehow, and they mean to protect her.”

“A handful of slaves are no match
for the paid cutthroats we’ve hired, Mr. Cranch.”

“Maybe sir. Or maybe not.” Ned
shook his head and moved into the room. “I’m thinking these freed slaves are
not like the ones you’re used to on your plantation, Mr. Hyde. These have
tasted freedom, so they’re bound to be fierce in protecting their own. There’s
also another thing to consider here, too. The road out of Melbury Hall passes
close to Solgrave and goes through Knebworth Village. Any open attack on
Melbury Hall and they’ll send someone through the woods to the neighboring
estate or the village. We’ll find ourselves trapped, unless ye wish to climb
the Chiltern Hills.”

Hyde’s temper flared. “Then what
the hell do you propose?”

“We need to be making a
distraction.” The cocky stonemason had the nerve to sit down on a chair. “I
think ye should go and fetch your men and bring them back to St. Albans. We can
all of us meet at the tavern where I am staying by the brickyards. In the
meantime, I’ll talk to my lass over in Knebworth Village and arrange a way to
get me inside Melbury Hall on the night when ye’re ready.”

“You told me you had your
women
in the house itself.”  

“I did…I do. I’ve a couple of them
on the string, sir.” He shook his head. “But the servants in that house are a
strange bunch. They’re just too loyal to their mistress for me to rely on them in
a situation like this.”

The man’s reasoning was sound.
“What do you plan to do once you’re inside?”

The stonemason’s gaze was
confident. “This is the way I see it. We meet at the tavern, and I explain the
lay of the land to your men. Then we separate and meet at the Grove. That’s a
bunch of empty huts in the woods to the back of the Hall. Meanwhile, I have my
girl hide me in her cart and take me to Melbury Hall. Once there, I sneak out
and start a fire in the stables. Now, with all the commotion of the fire,
everyone is sure to empty out of the house. We’ll probably have folk rushing up
from Solgrave and the village to help. That’s when your men come out. We snatch
Ohenewaa and go on our way.” Ned Cranch grinned proudly. “What do you think?”

Hyde moved to the window as he
considered the plan. Another minute ticked by on the clock tower. Time was running out, and he rubbed his chest.

“Forget the stables, Mr. Cranch. Burn the house.”

*****

She was huddled beneath a cart to
keep out of the falling rain, a small bundle of woolen plaid with the face of
an angel.

Millicent noticed her as she handed
out the contents of a second basket of food to a family of five gathered around
a smoking fire. The young girl’s gaze flitted nervously to the groom who was
carrying the last basket.  

Millicent took the food from the
groom and walked toward the cart.

“She’ll take it, but the lassie
willna eat any of it herself.” An old woman stood at the head of an ancient cow
still harnessed to the cart. “She’s already hoarding half a loaf o’ bread from
the basket ye gave us yesterday. She thinks her bairn’ll be born with a full
set o’ teeth.”

Millicent crouched in the deep mud
beside the cartwheel and held the basket out to the girl. “It isn’t much, but you
might take some of this bread and cheese and dried meat.”

A thin arm reached tentatively from
the folds of wool. A cold hand brushed Millicent’s. As the girl took some
cheese, Millicent caught a brief glimpse of the young girl’s swollen belly. 

“You are close to the time for
having your bairn, are you not?”

The girl pulled the food beneath
her plaid wrap.

“Why not come to the house with
me,” Millicent encouraged gently. “This is a rough place to bring a child into
this world.”

A look of terror appeared in the
girl’s eyes, and she shrank back farther beneath the cart and turned away.

“She’ll not be coming out,” the old
woman called from her fire.

Millicent reluctantly pushed
herself to her feet and turned to the woman who had spoken. “Is she your kin?”

“Nay, she’s no kin o’ mine nor
anyone else’s hereabout. But I’ve been sharing my cart with her since I found
her on the Glasgow road.”

“Do you know if she has any family
she is going to?”

“She’s going nowheres, mum. She has
no kin, I’m telling ye.” The woman glanced back at the cart. “All the poor
creature ever says is that her name is Jo. I dunno if she’s a faerie child or
just cast out on account o’ the child swelling in her. I reckon there’s no man
she’s going to, and no husband she left behind. Leastwise, she never mentioned
any.”

“I should like to take her back
with me to Baronsford. She’ll at least have her child in a dry room with a fire
to warm her. Will you ask her if she’ll come with me?”

“She understands everything ye are
telling her, mum, but she’ll not listen to me any better than she does to ye.”
The old woman pointed beneath the cart. “Look at her. The daft creature is
terrified now, just by ye asking.”

Millicent looked for Jo and found
the young girl had indeed crawled back away from her. Her plaid was pulled over
her like a shroud.

“If you would come along, perhaps
she would feel safe.”

The old woman shook her head. “I
ain’t moving from here, mum. When the river goes down and these folk move, I
need to be right here. Nay, I need no dry room for a day.” She pulled her wool
shawl tighter around herself and went over the smoky fire. Millicent forced
herself to be strong, but the knot in her throat would not allow her to
breathe. She looked once more at the young mother-to-be.

Millicent had been ignoring the
signs, but she was certain she herself was with child. As she looked at the
frightened woman, the difference between them was crushing. Jo, with little
hope of a future for either herself or her bairn, steadfastly clutched at
broken scraps of bread beneath a cart in the rain.  And Millicent, with a
husband and a home, was delaying the moment of telling Lyon only because she
wished to find the perfect time.