Read Just Beyond Tomorrow Online
Authors: Bertrice Small
Just Beyond Tomorrow (31 page)
“Why, you are a wee manikin now,” the marquis remarked with a smile. “And, Freddie, how are you, my boy? Keeping up with your lessons, I hope.”
“Aye, uncle. The Anglican priest teaches us each day but Sunday. And we hae a Scots boy, Fingal Brodie, who learns with us,” Freddie told his English uncle. “He is Aunt Flanna's nephew and would read the law one day. Uncle Patrick says he will send him to university in Aberdeen when he is old enough. He is a grand fellow!”
“Indeed,” the marquis said. “Well, it is never a bad thing to have a barrister in one's family.”
“Why are you here, Uncle Henry?” Sabrina, who had just returned to join them, asked.
“I have come to bring you news from your grandmother Leslie, my dears,” the marquis replied smoothly.
“Oh, yes!” the children chorused, and they settled themselves on the floor in the space between the duke and the marquis.
“Your grandmother and Lady Autumn reached France safely,” Henry began. “They were made most welcome by our French relations and settled themselves at Belle Fleurs. That is a charming little chateau that your grandmother possesses. When young King Louis came to a nearby chateau, your grandmother and Aunt Autumn went to meet him.”
“Oh,” Sabrina exclaimed. “Autumn is so fortunate!”
“Why, Brie,” the duke said. “You have met a king.”
“But not a French king,” Sabrina replied. “Besides, King Charles is not much of a king these days, Uncle Henry.”
Her two uncles laughed, and Henry continued on with his recitation.
“Three noble gentlemen have courted your Aunt Autumn. A duke, a count, and a marquis. Now she is to be married, my dears!” he told them all. “Your grandmother writes that at the end of September, Autumn will wed with the Marquis d'Auriville. She is very pleased.”
“So,” Patrick mused, “the bairn of the family will be a wife. Damn, I wish we could all be there, Henry! And I wish she did nae hae to wed wi' a foreigner. We'll nae see her again. At least Mam will return home to Glenkirk now.”
“Mama intends remaining in France with Autumn and her husband,” Henry informed his younger brother. “I do not expect we will see her back in England, or Scotland, until this civil disturbance is concluded.”
“We live in peace here at Glenkirk,” Patrick replied stubbornly.
“Only by virtue of your isolation, brother, but one day you may not have that security,” Henry advised his sibling. “If war engulfed Scotland as completely as it has done in England, you could not even hide here at Glenkirk.”
“May it never come to that,” Patrick Leslie said.
“Amen!” his brother responded.
In the morning, the duke sent a messenger to his wife at Brae, telling her that his brother had arrived from England, and they would come to visit with her permission. The messenger returned in late afternoon to say the duchess would welcome her husband and his brother on the following day, and the children must come along, too.
“She likes the youngsters,” Henry observed to his brother as they sat late that night alone in the hall.
“Aye, she loves Charlie's bairns and hae been a good foster mam to them since they arrived here late last year,” the duke said.
“Do you love her?” the marquis asked frankly.
Patrick smiled softly. “Aye, I hae come to love her for all she is a stubborn and hot-tempered wench. I hae never known such an independent and difficult creature as my wife, but aye, Henry, I do love her.”
“Does she love you?” was the next query.
Again the duke chuckled. “Aye, she does, despite the fact that I vex her sorely,” he told his brother.
“Tell me now, what has caused this rift between you?” Henry coaxed quietly.
“When Charlie was here, he filled her full of nonsense about the king and his noble quest to regain his throne,” Patrick finally began. “Flanna is unsophisticated and ingenuous. I doubt she ever ventured far from Brae or Killiecairn in all her life. I certainly dinna know of her existence. She was intimidated by all the stories our housekeeper, Mary More-Leslie, told her of previous ladies of Glenkirk, so when Charlie departed Glenkirk, my wife followed after him. She wanted to make her mark so, as she so charmingly put it, she wouldnae be remembered as the do-naught duchess.”
“Damn me, the wench must be clever,” the Marquis of Westleigh noted admiringly. “Why did Charlie not return her?”
“He dinna know she was on his trail,” Patrick admitted. “She sent to her family for her nephew, a lad wi' a talent for mischief himself. Then she gained the aid of one of my men-at-arms, a guileless lad who admires her. Together they followed after Charlie, having convinced me that her nephew came from Killiecairn by himself to bring her back for a visit to her da. It wasna until Charlie arrived in Perth that she revealed herself and her purpose to him. Flanna had come to meet the king and to pledge her loyalty to him. She wanted to raise a levy for him, she said.”
Henry chortled. “It sounds just like something Mama or Madame Skye would have done,” he said. “Well, continue on, little brother, and tell me what happened. You obviously quickly discovered the deception, but how?”
“My brother-in-law, the eldest of six of them, came to Glenkirk. It was his son who was wi' my wife,” Patrick explained. “It was then I realized where she had really gone.”
“She bloody well might have succeeded if you hadn't had that piece of good fortune,” Henry noted. “Continue on.”
“I immediately went after her, of course. By the time I reached Perth, the king was crowned, and Flanna had met him not once, but twice. When I arrived, she was alone wi' him, in her shift, a blanket wrapped about her. I dinna know who the man was, and I drew my weapon. Only Charlie's timely intervention saved us all,” Patrick said.
“My God!
You drew your sword on the king?” Henry Lindley was absolutely horrified. Such an action was a treasonable offense.
You drew your sword on the king?” Henry Lindley was absolutely horrified. Such an action was a treasonable offense.
“Calm yourself, brother. I was forgiven my ignorance, but what would ye hae done if ye found yer wife in such a situation?” Patrick demanded.
“In her shift?”
“In her shift?”
“Where were they?” Henry said. “And what were they doing?”
“In the dayroom, and both were on their feet, and he was kissing her hand,” Patrick replied.
“Did your wife seem as if she had been assaulted or tumbled willingly?” Henry inquired.
“Nay,” Patrick answered his elder sibling. “She was like a young queen, I tell ye, wi' her hand being kissed. She stood tall, and elegant, that blanket wrapped about her, holding it to her modestly wi' one hand while he kissed the other.”
“And you asked your wife afterward what had happened?” Henry was beginning to understand, he thought.
“Nay, we fought, but then we finally made it up. Our difficulties stem from the fact that when Flanna told me she was expecting our bairn, I asked her if it was mine or the king's,” Patrick admitted.
Henry Lindley's mouth fell open with his shock.
“You didn't!”
he gasped, horrified. “My God, Patrick, you are a great fool!”
“You didn't!”
he gasped, horrified. “My God, Patrick, you are a great fool!”
“I was jealous,” the duke admitted.
“Worse! A jealous fool,” his brother said. “Well, now I understand your situation. It is nothing at all what I anticipated. If you had no reason to suspect your wife of being unfaithful, Patrick, other than the facts as you have recited them to me, why on earth did you ask such a question?”
“She was still attempting to raise a levy for the king,” Patrick admitted, shamefaced. “Her father was ill unto death, and her eldest brother came for her. She went to Killiecairn wi' him and intended to begin her recruitment there. Then she said she would go on to Huntley.” He sighed. “Her family laughed at her for her pretensions and refused to hae any part in her plans. They also decided to bring her back to me before she could run off. Only when she returned to Glenkirk did she tell me she was wi' bairn, and I, fool I am, asked that awful question.”
“ 'Tis a wonder she didn't kill you,” Henry said, shaking his head. “You know, of course, what you must do to heal this unfortunate rift.”
The duke nodded. “Aye, I must apologize to my wife and beg her forgiveness. Even then I wonder if I can ever heal the breach.”
“If she loves you, she will forgive you,” Henry said wisely. “That she left you for a time tells me that. Rather than remain here to let your words fester each time she saw you, she went to Brae and has occupied herself ever since in the restoration of her mother's home. God's blood, Patrick, your wife was a respectable girl from a good family. She had no reputation for deceit. I do not have to tell you what our mother would have done if Jemmie Leslie had asked her such a question.”
“Flanna is nae our mother,” Patrick said irritably. He knew he had done the wrong thing, and having Henry carry on about it so was like his brother rubbing salt into his raw wound.
“Nay, she isn't our mother, but any decent woman would have been offended by such a query.” Then Henry Lindley smiled. “Now I am even more curious to meet your wife, little brother. That she didn't kill you speaks well of her character and her patience.”
“They call her Flaming Flanna, and nae just for her red hair,” Patrick told his elder sibling.
Henry laughed heartily. “Well,” he said, “we shall see whether that temper has been calmed when we go to Brae tomorrow. Have you seen her since she left you?”
Patrick shook his head. “She said I was nae to come. I took her at her word, for Flanna is a woman who speaks plainly.”
“So you have not seen your wife in over three months, Patrick?” Henry laughed again. “This is, indeed, a formidable woman that you have married, brother, that you obey her will so easily.”
“I dinna want to harm the bairn,” the duke answered.
“Ahhh,” Henry said, “so there is no doubt in your mind that it is your child?”
“Nay, there isna, Henry,” his brother admitted. “She was a virgin when I married her, and a woman of firm principles. I love her, but when I saw her wi' another man, my jealousy simply overcame me. I know Flanna would nae betray me.”
“You had best tell her that immediately when we reach Brae tomorrow, then,” Henry advised.
“I intend to,” Patrick said. “I never want her from me again.”
“After you fetch Charlie back to Glenkirk,”
Henry said.
Henry said.
Patrick Leslie sighed deeply. “Verra well,” he reluctantly agreed, “but ye must remain here at Glenkirk wi' my wife while I am gone, Henry. I canna leave Flanna wi' nay one but a houseful of servants and three young bairns. Angus Gordon hae nae the authority that ye do.”
“I will stay,” Henry said. “It should not take you that long, riding out alone.”
“Aye,” Patrick agreed. “I'll hae to go alone. If I traveled wi' a troop of my men, it might be believed that I was joining the king. I dinna want that. I am safer alone and can move more quickly. Once Charlie and I begin our return journey to Glenkirk, anyone watching will nae think us a threat, for we will be going in the wrong direction for a fight.”
In the morning, the two brothers set off for Brae with their niece and two young nephews. As they exited the forest and came onto the shore of Loch Brae, they stopped for a moment to rest their mounts and to look across the blue water to the small, dark stone castle.
“ 'Tis beautiful!” Brie cried, clapping her hands together. “No wonder Aunt Flanna wants to live there!”
“Is nae Glenkirk beautiful, Brie?” the duke asked.
“Yes, uncle, and bigger, too. Glenkirk is impressive and grand for all it is small, but Brae! 'Tis like something out of a knight's tale. I have never seen a castle on an island.”
They rode around the loch until they finally reached the bridge connecting the island and the main shore. The bridge, which had been so rotted and rickety when he had last been at Brae, was now rebuilt. Their horses clopped slowly across the span. Patrick noted that much of the growth that had obscured his view several months prior was now gone. While some trees remained in the field between the bridge and the castle itself, one could now see the structure quite plainly. They rode from the bridge up a narrow road through those trees and into Brae.
A new stable had been constructed of timbers and stone with a sturdy slate roof. This stable would better stand the test of time than had the previous one. The courtyard was swept clean, and it was very quiet. There were no workmen in evidence. The duke looked up and could see from his vantage that the castle roof was also restored. He led his party up the stairs and into the castle itself. Ian More saw the duke and, bowing, hurried forward.
“Yer Grace,” he greeted his master. “The lady is awaiting ye in her hall.” He led them into the Great Hall of Brae where a fire burned this day in the fireplace.
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