Rebellion & In From The Cold (42 page)

“A deep one, a frightened one.” She rose then to hold out her hands to him. “This I understand, Ian, more than I can tell you.” Pained for him, she brought his hands to her cheeks.

“I cannot change what I am.”

“No, you cannot.” With a sigh, she drew him down to sit beside her. “Neither could I. We are children of Scotland, my love. Spirits of the Highlands.” Even as she spoke, the pain for her lost homeland was ripe. “We are rebels born and bred, warriors since time began. And yet, when we fight, we fight only for what is ours by right. Our land, our homes, our people.”

“She doesn’t understand.”

“Oh, I believe she understands only too well. Perhaps she cannot accept. By why would you, a MacGregor, leave her when she told you to? Would you not fight for her?”

“She’s a hardheaded shrew who wouldn’t listen to reason.”

“Ah.” Hiding a smile, she nodded. She had been called hardheaded time and again during her life—and by one man in particular. It was pride that had set her nephew on his horse and had him licking his wounds in Virginia. Pride was something she also understood very well. “And you love her?”

“I would forget her if I could.” He ground his teeth. “Perhaps I will go back and murder her.”

“I doubt it will come to that.” Rising, she patted his hand. “Take some time with us here, Ian. And trust me, all will be well eventually. I must go up now and rescue your uncle from Parkins.”

She left him scowling at the fire. But instead of going to Brigham, she went into her own sitting room and composed a letter.

* * *

“I cannot go.” Cheeks flushed, eyes bright and blazing, Alanna stood in front of her father, the letter still clutched in her hand.

“You can and will,” Cyrus insisted. “The Lady Langston has invited you to her home to thank you in person for saving the life of her nephew.” He clamped his pipe between his teeth and prayed he wasn’t making a mistake. “Your mother would want this for you.”

“The journey is too long,” she began quickly. “And in another month or two it will be time for making soap and planting and wool carding. I’ve too much to do to take such a trip. And … and I have nothing proper to wear.”

“You will go, representing this house.” He drew himself up to his full height. “It will never be said that a Murphy cowered at the thought of meeting gentry.”

“I’m not cowering.”

“You’re shaking in your boots, girl, and it makes me pale with shame. Lady Langston wishes to make your acquaintance. Why, I have cousins who fought beside her clan in the Forty-five. A Murphy’s as good as a MacGregor any day—better than one if it comes to that. I couldn’t give you the schooling your good mother wanted for you—”

“Oh, Da.”

He shook his head fiercely. “She will turn her back on me when I join her in the hereafter if I don’t push you to do this. Tis my wish that you see more of the world than these rocks and this forest before my life is done. So you’ll do it for me and your mother if not for yourself.”

She weakened, as he’d known she would. “But … If Ian is there …”

“She doesn’t say he is, does she?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then it’s likely he’s not. He’s off rabble-rousing somewhere more like.”

“Aye.” Glumly, she looked down at the letter in her hand. “Aye, more like.” She began to wonder what it would be like to travel so far and to see Virginia, where the land was supposed to be so green. “But who will cook? Who will do the wash and the milking. I can’t—”

“We’re not helpless around here, girl.” But he was already missing her. “Mary can help, now that she’s married to Johnny. And the Widow Jenkins is always willing to lend a hand.”

“Aye, but can we afford—”

“We’re not penniless, either,” he snapped. “Go and write a letter back and tell Lady Langston you kindly accept her invitation to visit. Unless you’re afraid to meet her.”

“Of course I’m not.” That served to get her dander up. “I will go,” she muttered, stomping up the stairs to find a quill and writing paper.

“Aye,” Cyrus murmured as he heard her door slam. “But will you be back?”

Alanna was certain her heart would beat so fast and hard that it would burst through her breast. Never before had she ridden in such a well-sprung carriage with such a fine pair of matched bays pulling it. And a driver all in livery. Imagine the Langstons sending a carriage all that way, with a driver, postilions and a maid to travel all the miles with her.

Though she had traveled by ship from Boston to Richmond, again with a companion the Langstons had provided, she would journey by road the remainder of the way to their plantation.

They called it Glenroe, after a forest in the Highlands.

Oh, what a thrill it had been to watch the wind fill the sails of the ship, to have her own cabin and the dainty maid to see to her needs. Until the maid had taken sick from the rocking of the boat, of course. Then Alanna had seen to
her
needs. But she hadn’t minded a bit. While the grateful lass had slept off her illness, Alanna had been free to walk the decks of the great ship and watch the ocean, glimpsing occasional stretches of coastland.

And she wondered at the vastness and beauty of the country she had never truly seen.

It was beautiful. Though she had loved the farm, the forest and the rocks of her native Massachusetts, she found the land even more glorious in its variety. Why, when she had left home, there had still been snow on the ground. The warming days had left icicles gleaming on the eaves of the house and the bare branches of the trees.

But now, in the south, she saw the trees greening and had left her cloak unfastened to enjoy the air through the carriage window. In the fields there were young calves and foals, trying out their legs or nursing. In others she saw dozens and dozens of black field hands busy with spring planting. And it was only March.

Only March, she thought again. Only three months since she had sent Ian away. In a nervous habit, she reached up to touch the outline of the ring she wore on a cord under her traveling dress. She would have to give it back, of course. To his aunt, for surely Ian wouldn’t be on the plantation. Couldn’t be, she thought with a combination of relief and longing. She would return the ring to his aunt with some sort of explanation as to her possession of it. Not the full truth, she reflected, for that would be too humiliating and painful.

She wouldn’t worry about it now, she told herself, and folded her hands in her lap as she studied the rolling hills already turning green in Virginia’s early spring. She would think of this journey, and this visit, as an adventure. One she would not likely have again.

And she must remember everything to tell Brian, the curious one. She would remember everything, she thought with a sigh, for herself. For this was Ian’s family, people who had known him as a babe, as a growing lad.

For the few weeks she remained on the plantation with Ian’s family, she would feel close to him again. For the last time, she promised herself. Then she would return to the farm, to her family and her duties, and be content.

There was no other way. But as the carriage swayed, she continued to hold her fingers to the ring and wish she could find one.

The carriage turned through two towering stone pillars with a high iron sign that read Glenroe. The maid, more taxed by the journey than Alanna, shifted in the seat across from her. “You’ll be able to see the house soon, miss.” Grateful that the weeks of traveling were almost at an end, the maid barely restrained herself from poking her head out the carriage window. “It’s the most beautiful house in Virginia.”

Heart thudding, Alanna began to fiddle with the black braid that trimmed the dove-gray dress she had labored over for three nights. Her busy fingers then toyed with the ribbons of her bonnet, smoothed the skirts of the dress, before returning to pluck at the braid again.

The long wide drive was lined with oaks, their tiny unfurling leaves a tender green. As far as she could see, the expansive lawns were tended. Here and there she saw trimmed bushes already in bud. Then, rising over a gentle crest, was the house.

Alanna was struck speechless. It was a majestic structure of pristine white with a dozen columns gracing the front like slender ladies. Balconies that looked like black lace trimmed the tall windows on the second and third stories. A wide, sweeping porch skirted both front and sides. There were flowers, a deep blood red, in tall urns standing on either side of stone steps that led to double doors glittering with glass.

Alanna gripped her fingers together until the knuckles turned as white as the house. It took all her pride and will not to shout to the driver to turn the carriage around and whip the horses into a run.

What was she doing here, in such a place? What would she have to say to anyone who could live in such richness? The gap between herself and Ian seemed to widen with each step of the prancing bays.

Before the carriage had drawn to a halt at the curve of the circular drive, a woman came through the doors and started down the porch. Her billowing dress was a pale, watery green trimmed with ivory lace. Her hair, a lovely shade of red gold, was dressed simply in a coil at her neck and shone in the sunlight. Alanna had hardly alighted with the assistance of a liveried footman when the woman stepped forward, hands extended.

“Mrs. Flynn. You’re as beautiful as I expected.” There was a soft burr to the woman’s speech that reminded Alanna painfully of Ian. “But I will call you Alanna, because I feel we’re already friends.” Before Alanna could decide how to respond, the woman was smiling and gathering her into an embrace. “I’m Ian’s aunt, Serena. Welcome to Glenroe.”

“Lady Langston,” Alanna began, feeling dusty and crumpled and intimidated. But Serena was laughing and drawing her toward the steps.

“Oh, we don’t use titles here. Unless they can be of some use to us. Your journey went well, I hope.”

“Aye.” She felt she was being borne away by a small, red-haired whirlwind. “I must thank you for your generosity in asking me to come, in opening your home to me.”

“’Tis I who am grateful.” Serena paused on the threshold. “Ian is as precious to me as my own children. Come, I’ll take you to your room. I’m sure you’ll want to refresh yourself before you meet me rest of the family at tea. Of course we don’t serve the bloody stuff,” Serena continued blandly as Alanna gaped at the entrance hall with its lofty ceilings and double curving stairs.

“No, no, of course not,” Alanna said weakly as Serena took her arm to lead her up the right-hand sweep of the stairs. There was a shout, a yell and an oath from somewhere deep in the house.

“My two youngest children.” Unconcerned, Serena continued up. “They squabble like puppies.”

Alanna cleared her throat. “How many children do you have, Lady Langston?”

“Six.” Serena took her down a hall with pastel wall covering and thick carpeting. “Payne and Ross are the ones you hear making a din. They’re twins. One minute they’re bashing each other, the next swearing to defend each other to the death.”

Alanna distinctly heard something crash, but Serena didn’t blink an eye as she opened the door to a suite of rooms.

“I hope you’ll be comfortable here,” she said. “If you need anything, you have only to ask.”

What could she possibly need? Alanna thought dumbly. The bedroom was at least three times the size of the room she had slept in at home. Someone had put fresh, fragrant flowers into vases. Cut flowers in March.

The bed, large enough for three, was covered in pale blue silk and plumped with pillows. There was a wardrobe of carved wood, an elegant bureau with a silver-trimmed mirror, a dainty vanity table with a brocade chair. The tall windows were open so that the warm, fragrant breeze ruffled the sheer white curtains. Before she could speak, a maid scurried in with a steaming pitcher of water.

“Your sitting room is through there.” Serena moved past a beautifully carved fireplace. “This is Hattie.” Serena smiled at the small, wiry black maid. “She’ll tend to your needs while you’re with us. Hattie, you’ll take good care of Mrs. Flynn, won’t you?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am.” Hattie beamed.

“Well, then.” Serena patted Alanna’s hand, found it chilled and unsteady and felt a pang of sympathy. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Oh, no. You’ve done more than enough.”

I’ve not even begun,
Serena thought but only smiled. “I’ll leave you to rest. Hattie will show you down whenever you’re ready.”

When the door closed behind the indomitable Lady Langston, Alanna sat wearily on the edge of the bed and wondered how she would keep up.

Because she was too nervous to keep to her rooms, Alanna allowed Hattie to help her out of the traveling dress and into her best frock. The little maid proved adept at dressing hair, and with nimble fingers and a chattering singsong voice, she coaxed and brushed and curled until Alanna’s raven locks were draped in flirty curls over her left shoulder.

Alanna was just fastening her mother’s garnet eardrops and drumming up her courage to go downstairs when there were shouts and thumping outside her door. Intrigued, she opened her door a crack, then widened it at the sight of two young male bodies rolling over the hall carpet.

She cleared her throat. “Good day to you, gentlemen.”

The boys, mirror images of each other with ruffled black hair and odd topaz eyes, stopped pummeling each other to study her. As if by some silent signal, they untangled themselves, rose and bowed in unison.

“And who might you be?” the one with the split lip asked.

“I’m Alanna Flynn.” Amused, she smiled. “And you must be Payne and Ross.”

“Aye.” This came from the one with the black eye. “I’m Payne, and the eldest, so I’ll welcome you to Glenroe.”

“I’ll welcome her, as well.” Ross gave his brother a sharp jab in the ribs with his elbow before he stepped forward and stuck out a hand.

“And I’ll thank both of you,” she said, hoping to keep the peace. “I was about to go down and join your mother. Perhaps you could escort me.”

“She’ll be in the parlor. It’s time for tea.” Ross offered his arm.