Island of the Swans (12 page)

“Thomas… dear Thomas,” Jane said quietly, bidding him to sit next to her by the fire. She sensed his sudden melancholy, as she had on several occasions since his return to Edinburgh. “We have our whole future before us. The good fortune of the Duke of Gordon matters little to us, darling.”

The tightness in Thomas’s jaw relaxed a bit and he leaned over and kissed her forehead. Jane immediately threw her arms around his chest, tucking her head under his chin. For several moments, they did not speak. The only sound was the fire crackling on the hearth.

Finally, Thomas drew back and took her hands in his, looking somberly into her dark eyes.

“Jenny—” he said hesitantly. “Simon has had word that my Commission has come through.”

Jane stared at him wordlessly, her lips parted, as if to cry “No!”

“In fact, he spoke tonight with your uncle James about it. There’s a company of Black Watch being formed as replacements for patrols at Fort Pitt in the Colonies. Pennsylvania, he said. ’Tis a two-year tour of duty.” Jane looked stunned. “Jenny darling… this is why we must talk. I wanted you to know what lies ahead.”

She rose from the settle and walked slowly toward the window. The world outside suddenly looked bleak and cold. Thomas was leaving.

“Don’t you think you’ve done your duty to Simon?” she said finally, her voice a mere whisper. “You’ve tended his sheep… you’ve followed his orders. Don’t you see? ’Tis time to do what you want to do and be what you want to be!”

“Jenny…” Thomas interrupted, shaking his head. “You know as well as I that your da canna be counted on for a farthing where you lasses are concerned, and besides,
look
at you!” Jane turned to face him. Thomas’s features were etched with worry. “The life of a poor crofter’s wife isn’t what you’ve been groomed for… nor me, either, if the truth be told,” he said candidly. “We’re creatures of the city, and when we go to the country, we want to warm ourselves beside a drawing room fire and live in relative comfort, not in a hovel with a thatched roof and dirt floor! A soldier’s life and an officer’s pay can earn us the place we both want, pet… in only a few years.”

Jane looked at him searchingly. She saw the determination smoldering in his eyes.
He wants to go
, she acknowledged to herself,
he wants so badly to recover what was once his by right.
Jane’s heart sank. She realized Thomas was a man obsessed. He wanted her, to be sure, but he wanted his patrimony with equal fervor.

“I’ll do anything I must, to have you in my life,” she said finally. “I’ve always loved you, Thomas, and now I love you as a wife does.”

He crushed her in his embrace and held her tightly, but disappointment so deep seemed to be tearing at her insides.

“Jenny…” Thomas murmured, kissing her ear and then trailing his lips down her neck, finally resting his cheek against the smoothness of one breast. “You’re the one thing that hasn’t been lost to me… don’t think the next two years will be easy for either of us…”

Jane arched her body toward him, pressing through the unwanted layers of her boned bodice and voluminous skirts.

“Thomas, please don’t go!” she cried. “Tell Simon we’ll live in Monreith or—”

“Jenny, lass,” Thomas interrupted, rocking her gently in his arms. “You know that’s not the kind of life we want… and besides,” he whispered into the soft strands of her hair, “soldiering suits me, I think.”

Jane pulled away from him and stared.

“’Tis what my father was,” Thomas said slowly, “and ’tis the only chance left to me to make my way—
our
way.” He kissed the top of her head, murmuring, “I want so much for us, lass…” His voice began to throb with intensity. “I want us to be able to walk our
own
land when we go to the Highlands. I want to rebuild Struy House… to create a life we can share with those poor souls who are still wanderers in their own homeland…”

Jane looked away, feeling frightened by something she couldn’t identify, but that filled her with a dread she couldn’t seem to put into words. Until now, the stories her uncle James had told her of the savagery of the Indians across the sea had only been exquisitely frightening entertainments. Suddenly, a vision of Thomas, covered in blood and lying motionless, swam before her eyes.

“I’m so afraid you’ll be lost to me if you go to the Colonies,” she whispered brokenly. “Two
whole years!
I don’t think I can stand the wondering and worrying…”

Thomas took her chin in his hands, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“Don’t worry for my safety, pet,” he said softly. “You’re my own lucky talisman… you’ve always been, you know.”

“But Thomas,” she persisted, “how are we to persuade Simon and Mama to agree to our marriage? There’s so little time left!” Brightening, she exclaimed, “We could
elope
to Gretna Green! ’Tis only a half-day’s journey south, and…”

Her voice trailed off as she stared at Thomas, slowly shaking his head.

“I can’t marry you afore I go, Jenny,” he said with finality. “’Tis not just Simon… ’twouldna be fair to you, lass—”

“But—”

Thomas interrupted before Jane could protest further. He took her hands, kissing each gently.

“You’re just a lass yet, Jenny, darling. Just sixteen today! You haven’t begun to taste of life. If I made you my bride and then left you, your mama’d punish you greatly, I fear. You’d be shut up like a nun for two years, at the moment you’re about to bloom like Highland heather. You wouldn’t be a wife and you wouldn’t be a maid.” He kissed her softly on the lips. “You’d grow to think badly of the lad who’d caged you up and left you a prisoner in the prime of your youth.”

Jane stared into his eyes and saw a finality in their depths. She withdrew her hands from his. Her chin tilted up slightly in a pose of characteristic stubbornness.

“I think ’tis more to do with your not wanting Simon’s wrath upon your head!” she said, fighting her disappointment. “He might not lay down the silver for your Commission, would he now, if he thought you were betrothed to
me
!”

“Aye, ’tis true,” Thomas said evenly. “And that would defeat our ultimate plan to be free of Simon, wouldna it?”

“Mayhap by then you’ll feel differently about taking me as your wife,” she replied cuttingly, turning quickly to avoid his gaze. “I suppose you’d like to keep several arrows in your quiver.”

“Jenny!” he said heatedly. “’Twill only be two years. Surely you have stronger faith in our love than you’re showing me here!”

“Perhaps you fear I won’t be
suitable
when you someday recover your lands and your title,” she persisted, driven, by some force she scarcely comprehended, to deliberately misunderstand him. “You’ll need an heiress’s purse to repair and restore your estate, and you know, better than most, that I have none.”

Thomas approached her solitary figure and rested his hands on her shoulders.

“We can’t lose what we
have
, Jenny,” he said simply, his voice low and intense. “No matter where I go, or whatever happens, always remember that: we cannot
lose
this precious thing that has been given us.”

Her eyes brimmed with tears. She stared at him, unable to speak. Thomas always understood her, always knew somehow what words would make her feel like herself again. She closed her eyes and felt him brush away with the back of his hand the moisture that had spilled down her cheeks.

A soft knock, followed by the sound of a deep voice booming outside the library door, startled them both.

“There they are!” said a young man not much older than Thomas, as he burst into the room with Jane’s elder sister in tow. “Not to worry, Kitty,” Catherine Maxwell’s escort exclaimed, and he strode toward Jane and Thomas, who were struggling to look composed. “I told you we could find them in a quiet corner,” the stranger said jovially.

“Mama’s been asking where you were—’tis time for the buffet,” Catherine said to Jane reprovingly. Turning to Thomas, she announced gently, “Simon wanted to know if I’d seen
you
, Thomas. He said he and Uncle James wanted to talk to you straightaway.”

Catherine stepped forward to introduce the ebullient young man who’d led her to the library.

“Jane, may I present John Fordyce? Mr. Fordyce, this is my sister Jane and our friend Thomas Fraser.”

At that, Catherine led her sister out of the library, trailed by the gents. The dining room was still crowded with ravenous guests helping themselves to roast pheasant and joints of beef. The diners scooped up ample spoonfuls of haggis bulging from casings made of sheep’s stomachs, and piled their plates with boiled turnips. Young Fordyce assisted Catherine in selecting the tenderest morsels, and it was obvious to Jane that her sister’s swain was taking a proprietary interest in everything Catherine said or did. Fordyce had a solid, respectable look about him, and yet he didn’t seem pompous at all. What’s more, he seemed to treat his newfound prize with kindness and respect.

Well, well
, thought Jane with a mischievous glance at her sister.
Catherine may just have landed the perfect catch for the New Year!

The New Year.
What would it bring?
Jane wondered. As she and her group passed back through the center hall, Sir Algernon called to them from the Italian Room, the old physician’s favorite spot at Prestonfield.

“Come, come, children… won’t you join us while you enjoy your supper?” he invited them.

Seated at small tables set up for the evening were Sir Algernon and his wife, Mary, and Lady Maxwell, still squired by Simon Fraser. As Thomas and Jane entered, it appeared her mother and Simon had been deep in conversation.

“I saw that nice young Jamie Ferguson and you dancing several times,” Magdalene said with a disapproving glance at Thomas as Jane took her seat. “No doubt that fine lad will take up the responsibility of the family estates in Tobago.”

“Where’s Tobago?” Jane asked politely, struggling to eavesdrop on the conversation Simon had quickly initiated with Thomas. As far as she could make out, Simon was describing a battle called Bushy Run—a clash between a company of Black Watch and those dreadful Indians in North America. All of Edinburgh knew of Bushy Run, and Jane shuddered silently, recalling what she had heard about the bitter battle in 1763 where two companies of Black Watch fought furiously against the Indians deep in the Pennsylvania wilderness. Reports of the scalping and horrifying carnage had been the talk of the town when the first reports filtered back to Britain.

“Why not
ask
Mr. Ferguson about Tobago, Jane dear?” her mother replied pointedly to the question that Jane nearly had forgotten she’d asked. “He’s quite the expert on the sugar trade, you know, since the family is so prominent out there, with vast plantations all over the Caribbean.”

Jane fell silent, straining to overhear more of Thomas and Simon’s conversation.

“Have you been apprised of my rank, sir?” Thomas was asking eagerly.

Jane nearly gagged on a bite of pheasant. She tried to breathe evenly to regain her composure, but waves of anger and fear swept over her.

Tell Simon you won’t go!
she railed at Thomas silently.
They’ll send you to Bushy Run, or some other godforsaken place, and an Indian will have your scalp and you’ll never come back to me… Thomas… Thomas…

Jane’s plate full of untouched food swam before her eyes. Mumbling a brusque apology, she swiftly left the room. She had a chilling thought as she sped up the stairway toward the ballroom. Thomas seemed happy enough to be off on his world adventures. Perhaps, now, he was actually
ambivalent
about marrying her and
that
was why he had urged her to remain silent and be patient! Despite his distinguished ancestry, as things stood presently, Thomas had no real future, save for kindnesses doled out by the likes of Simon Fraser. One thought kept plaguing her: Who would Thomas choose? His godfather or her?

I’m someone worth having!
she thought fiercely, stepping across the threshold into the glittering ballroom.
Thomas Fraser of Struy, you had better realize that and marry me before you leave for America!

She cast her eyes around the room and immediately spotted the Duke of Gordon chatting with Marietta Buchanan whom Jane recognized from dancing assembly. The pudgy girl’s overripe breasts were nearly spilling out of a stiff yellow gown. What a pudding she is, Jane thought contemptuously. Look how she gazes at the duke with those stupid cow’s eyes.

Jane glanced nonchalantly toward the pair. A plan had begun to formulate in her mind. She and Thomas could
still
elope to Gretna Green, if they left tonight! The little border town was famous for waiving bridal formalities when a couple was in a hurry to marry. If Jane were going to galvanize Thomas into taking immediate action to make her his bride before sailing to North America, the Cock O’ the North would suit her purpose admirably, she thought grimly.

Walking briskly, she glanced in Alexander’s direction with precision, locking eyes briefly as she flashed him her most winning smile. She stood among a clutch of acquaintances only a moment before the Duke of Gordon—as she knew he would—strode up and greeted her with an amused look on his face. The abandoned Marietta turned to speak with an elderly relative and glanced over at Jane with a murderous look in her eyes. The scarlet-coated nobleman bowed, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“I must admit, from my brief observations this evening, I never thought Mistress Maxwell free to spare a dance for a stranger. But would you do me the honor? ’Tis the ‘Wives of Kilwinnon,’” he said, extending his arm.

“Well, unpracticed as I am as anyone’s wife, I accept, if you will only tell me how the first pattern goes,” Jane replied, summoning her sweetest smile to her lips.

As the duke talked her through the opening steps, Jane noticed his eyes lingering, as had those of so many men this evening, on her low-cut gown. She noted with satisfaction that the young aristocrat seemed far more appreciative of her slender form than of the milkmaid proportions of Marietta Buchanan.