Chapter Fourteen

After they broke their fast, Blair was pleased to discover a bundle for her on the dressing table. Finlay had taken one of the dusty gowns she’d worn on the trip down to be measured and had a seamstress prepare from ready stock a gown suitable for meeting the residents and servants of her husband’s estate.

It was beautiful, made of the softest silk to ever touch her skin. With the dress, along with a new shift, slippers, and stockings, she felt truly cherished. Her father had never bothered to purchase anything for her, only her mother had with a meager allowance Father had given her.

The material was cream, with blue brocade in swirling designs of vines and flowers. Blue ribbons crisscrossed the top in the front to lace it up and hold her small bosom in what she hoped was an appealing fashion. She held matching ribbons and braided them through her hair.

Finlay came up behind her in his plaid and a clean shirt he’d had delivered to the room. “Do ye have a maid? Ye didnae say anything about one when we left.”

“I did, but she is my mother’s as well, and I didnae wish to take her away. She is also aging and doesnae get about well, so I thought ’twas best if she could stay near her family.”

“Well, ye willnae need one when we are in Scotland, but mayhap we can go into the village tomorrow and find ye one for here.”

“I would like that. How long will it take to get to yer home?”

“We should be there by the midday meal.”

What would his estate be like? Would she be as close to the servants as she had been at home, and would they have enough on hand to feed the group once they arrived? She was about to ask when a pounding jolted her, and she looked to the door.

“We have the horses ready when ye two want to join us.” It was Malcolm’s teasing voice. She blushed, thinking the men must know what they had done, twice, since coming to the room.

“We will be right down.” Gathering the rest of their belongings, he placed them in their bags.

Before walking to the door, she said, “Thank ye.”

He smiled but didn’t seem to understand. “For the gown and everything else. Ye didnae have to.” She waved a hand up and down to indicate the accoutrements he’d purchased.

“But I wanted to,” he said, shrugging and pretending it was nothing. But to her it meant he cared, even if just a little.

…

The road was wide and well trodden here as if it were the thoroughfare to a large village. Blair was struck by the beautiful white flowers that fringed the edges of the seemingly man-made drainage canals lining the perimeter. As the new plants swayed in the gentle breeze, she was reminded of the purple and blue shades of the heather and thistles at home, and she became anxious.

Finlay seemed more rigid and reserved the closer they got to his home. She wished she could put him at ease but didn’t know what to say, so she watched the lovely countryside and thought about how different it was from home.

There was a war going on here in England. Last she’d heard, the king had fled London and had retreated to Oxford for fear of his own safety.

The rest of the men had grown solemn, too. Over the last couple weeks, she’d come to know them quite well, and they always seemed to be slinging barbs at one another, joking and laughing. They did none of those things now as their gazes darted about as if looking for threats from all directions. They’d settled with Robbie between them, while Finlay and she took the lead. Occasionally, the young man rubbed at his shirt, where he wore an ornate cross beneath.

She shouldn’t have worried about her overactive imagination and Bruce, because if he had followed her, these men would have seen him.

A cluster of three children frolicked in an open field down the road. The group laughed as if they had no cares in the world. The children came to a halt, said something to each other, pointed in their direction, and then ran off into the woods as if hiding from someone.

What would their children look like, and would they be gallivanting in the fields of England or the mountains and glens of Scotland? She pictured a brown-haired boy with hazel eyes running in the field, followed by a blond girl, and then a redheaded lad.

“Did ye play in these meadows when ye were a child?” It was hard to imagine the reserved man beside her as a playful youth.

“Nae here. A little farther south near my father’s house.”

“What do yer brothers do?”

“Thomas has an estate a little larger than mine. It’s to the east.” Finlay pointed in the direction. “He is the oldest of my father’s legitimate heirs.” No bitterness or jealousy escaped in his tone, just acceptance.

“Caldwell’s home is at the far south of Father’s lands. He married last year, a woman named Prudence. I’m hoping her influence has evened his temper.”

“And they dinnae treat ye as brothers should?” She couldn’t fathom a world where John and she weren’t as close as the twin trees at the entrance of her father’s castle, even if one of their parents had been different. They had always been able to count on each other.

“My brothers never forgave my father for not loving their mother. They take it out on me when he’s no’ looking.”

She couldn’t imagine going through life with a sibling who resented her.

“Their mother never liked me. She was a duke’s daughter and never expected to have to deal with the illegitimate child of her husband. ’Twas an arranged marriage, and neither were ever happy.”

Blair imagined it would be hard for such a woman to accept that her husband’s heart had been claimed by another woman. While Finlay and she were not yet close, it would be devastating to think his affections belonged to another. But that hurt should never turn into the ill treatment of a child.

“Does yer father miss yer mother?”

“Mayhap, but I havenae heard him say so. I think he would have gone after her if he thought there was still some hope she would join him in England.”

“But yer mother loves him as well?”

“Aye, but they both have loyalties and cannae see past them to make it work.”

“’Tis a good attribute, but loyalties can make ye choose poorly sometimes.”

His lips pursed at her words, and he inspected her as if she’d made an awful admission. Finlay guided them down a thoroughfare that broke off to the west. As they continued on the smaller path, she was struck by the trees uniformly lining both edges. They loomed over each side of the road, creating a cool, dark tunnel that made her think of a portal to a realm where faeries might live.

Halfway through the trees, a massive structure came into view, a house so large that two of her father’s castles would have fit in it. The estate grew to three stories, and the breadth of it was wider than the entire bailey of the Macnab stronghold. One turret tower rested in the center of the magnificent estate, the only thing reminiscent of the stone fortification of her youth. A chapel with a tall, ornate cross at the tip of the entrance was attached to one side of the property. Its flying buttresses lent the visage an air of permanence and stability, while the pointed windows made it appear as if God himself had commissioned the lovely edifice.

“This is yer home?” Her eyes widened, and she gaped.

“Aye. But I’ve seen it only once before.”

She wanted to jump down, run through every part of it and explore, but she held back. That was not what ladies should do. Especially a Highland lass who would be dealing with the English, whom she had heard were stuffy and followed rules to the letter. She hoped Finlay would show her his home once they were settled.

“Will ye give me a tour?”

“Aye, but it may no’ be until tomorrow. After we have some nourishment, I need to send word to my father and brothers I have a message for the king.”

They reached the drive just outside the door, and no one came out to greet them. She’d imagined with this big of a house, the servants would be rushing to help their master with his horses. Finlay seemed confused, as if he’d expected to be greeted as well.

“Wait here,” Finlay said as he dismounted. She didn’t argue, didn’t know that she could do anything to help.

After a moment of knocking, the door swung in. A man dressed in English livery answered the door. Shock registered on his face as Finlay said something to him, but the man composed himself and disappeared behind the stately wooden door. Finlay strolled back down to where they waited.

“’Twill only be a moment. They were not expecting us, so most of the staff is engaged elsewhere.” His speech had become more formal, more English. Unease crept in—she didn’t like the stuffy Finlay. She wanted her Highland warrior back.

A couple of nights ago, as he’d nestled into her back, he confessed, “I’m happy ye will be there with me.”

“I will be certain to make myself useful.”

“Nae, dinnae worry much about what needs to be done.” His hand slipped lower, and his fingers gently thrummed her belly. “I only wish for yer company. I always feel so alone there.”

Then he became silent. It was as if he’d revealed a part of himself he was ashamed of. She’d twined her fingers with his and said, “I will be wherever ye need me.” And she meant it. She would do her best to make certain his home in England was as much a true home for him as the little cottage back on Cameron lands.

Returning to the present, she slid down from her horse’s back. She glanced up at the beautiful house, noticing the ivy growing up the sides, which lent it a rustic charm, but also the untended grounds and the windows in desperate need of a washing. This place needed a lot of work. It had obviously been ignored for years, even before Finlay had come to live in it.

Several lads bounded around the house and took the horses. The group of stable boys appeared too young and untrained.

Once the children had gathered the horses and led them toward the stables, their group made their way up the stairs and walked into the most luxurious entryway she’d ever seen. Beautiful paper with white, flowing designs and a lavender background hung on the wall. The entryway was appointed with a magnificent mirror bordered with a gold trim. In it, she could see the portrait of a woman on the opposite wall. An ornately carved table rested beneath the looking glass, balancing the visual effect and grounding the room.

But at the same time, the space was cold and dark as if it had been abandoned by time and its occupants. She shivered.

“I knew who yer father was, but I never imagined ye in a place like this,” Brodie whispered to Finlay, but the sound carried in the cavernous space.

“I havenae had it long. Until recently when I’ve come to England, I stayed with my father.”

The butler, a tall graying man with pale gaunt features, as if he, too, had been locked away for decades in the neglected estate, appeared again. “Shall I show you to the drawing room and bring some refreshments?”

“Aye,” Finlay said. “But first, Andrew, this is my wife. Blair Cameron.”

“Pleased to meet you, my lady. Welcome to Catriona House.” Bowing, he sounded genuinely pleased to have guests in this long-ago forgotten place that inspired thoughts of a mausoleum.

“Thank ye,” she returned.

As he pulled the butler aside, she overheard Finlay ask, “Did my estate manager no’ send ye staff and the things we had suggested?”

She didn’t like the worry that had crept into his tone.

“He sent word that he was working on it, but no one ever appeared. I’m sorry I didn’t write to you sooner, but he kept insisting he was taking care of it.”

Finlay gestured for the man to lead them to the drawing room. It was dark in the hallway, but she could just make out a hint of red coloring Finlay’s cheeks, along with the tightening of his jaw and possibly his fists.

They followed Andrew to a large room furnished with plush velvet covered chairs and a sofa the color of the English forest. Thick, heavy drapes covered the windows, and before they had a chance to sit, a servant rushed in to pull them back; dust fled from its crevices and spurred a coughing fit from Seamus.

Another young servant bearing a remarkable likeness to Andrew, in fact he might have been one of the lads who helped with the horses, tromped in. He held a tray with tea and some sort of pastries. She took one, along with a cup, and sat down on one of the chairs. As a stale taste hit her tongue, she realized they must at least be a day old.

Before the butler left the room, Blair made her way over to him and inquired, “I ken we are unexpected, but can the cook prepare a meal for us this evening?”

“Yes, my lady, but it will not be much. There is not staff to support a full kitchen, and I am not certain what Cook has on hand.” The man blushed, and despite the admission, he stood tall and proud.

“That will do for now. We will see about hiring some more.” Finlay’s voice sliced through the air, sounding more disgusted with the situation than the servant, whom he seemed to have a fondness for.

“What about someone to prepare rooms for us?”

“There is not much of a staff, my lady.” The butler peered at her, looking as bewildered as she felt.

“Do ye no’ have anyone who can prepare rooms?” She was starting to worry she would have to do it all on her own.

“We do, my lady. Jenny.” Andrew straightened as if proud of the girl in question or at least thankful to have someone around.

“Is she the only one?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Please send her to me, and she and I will see what needs to be done together.”

Jenny appeared only moments after the butler left. A lass probably about fifteen years her senior, with pale cheeks and light brown hair. The woman looked as if she were ready for inspection and expected to fail—Jenny’s blush and painfully evasive eyes kept shifting up and down as if seeking approval. It endeared the woman to Blair immediately.

“Pleased to meet you, my lady. I’m Jenny, and I’m at your service.”

“Happy to meet ye as well, Jenny. Could ye show me to the rooms we need to prepare for my husband, myself, and these guests, please?”

“Yes, my lady. Right away.” Jenny fled through the doors.

Following behind, Blair glanced over her shoulder to let her husband know what she was doing, but he was engrossed in conversation with the men and didn’t seem to notice her departure. It made her feel neglected, just like the home she found herself in now.

…

The house looked the same as when Finlay had stopped by on his way back to Scotland last year. He’d hired an estate manager based on the recommendation of Prudence, his youngest brother’s wife. The man had been instructed to hire a staff and see to it the house was brought to a manageable state, along with caring for the estate’s property and managing the books.

Although Everly Gerrick had admirable recommendations, so far, it appeared the man had done nothing. Was the estate manager responsible for the problems Catriona House was facing? If not, the man was still guilty of negligence for not letting Finlay know his estate was in dire straits. As far as Finlay could tell, the only staff present were the ones who had been in place when he’d left. The cook who had written to him and the family of servants who had maintained the property for the years it had remained vacant.

The thought of telling Blair that he might lose this home due to his inability to understand basic numbers and letters wrenched at his side any time he thought about it. It was a physical pain which made his stomach burn. They were just developing a friendship, and he couldn’t let her know there was a possibility that, at least in England, he couldn’t provide a home and safety for her.

He’d pulled the men aside and discussed walking the estate this afternoon to make certain if someone had been following them, they would have a plan. He also gave strict instructions that until they’d discovered what the threat was, his wife should be accompanied anytime she left the house. As he’d done so, Blair had slipped from the room with the housekeeper.

“I feel the need to visit the sanctuary. Is there a priest in residence?” Robbie paced around the room. He appeared more nervous than he had the whole journey, which was saying a lot, because the lad always looked as if the devil were after him.

“Aye, but I’m afraid he is only here for mass for the few servants on hand.”

“Is he in the village?”

“He should be. But if ye want go to check the chapel, mayhap he is here now. The rest of ye may explore until Blair has some rooms ready for ye. I need to pen a missive to my father and brothers to inform them that I have arrived.

As Robbie departed toward the chapel, the men followed, and Finlay found himself wandering toward his office and sitting at the large mahogany desk his father had picked out for him. Finlay’s hand glided across the smooth surface, but then he coughed as dust flew into the air.

Anger assailed him. What the hell had been going on while he was gone? This place was supposed to be running itself, but nothing had been done.

Banging his fist on the desk, he tightened his resolve and got to work. Upon sticking the quill into the inkpot, he discovered the ink had dried. Cursing, he wondered how he was going to manage in this place without help.

He called for Andrew and requested a new pot of ink. It took only moments for the butler to track one down and return.

“What excuse did the estate manager give for not procuring the help ye need?”

“He said it was because the war had taken many able-bodied men from the villages to the battlefield.”

“Even though the battles have stayed to the south?”

“Yes, my lord, but there is talk of spontaneous skirmishes about the countryside. It might be best to keep your new wife close to the estate until she knows her way around.”

“Ye are probably correct. I’ll have the Cameron men stay a while and keep watch.” He’d heard awful stories of neighbors turning on neighbors. “Have ye had any problems with the Puritans coming onto our lands?” He ran his fingers through his hair to relieve some of the stress that made his temples ache.

“No sir, it has been peaceful out here in the country.”

“Good. Thank ye for the ink, Andrew.”

“My pleasure, sir.” The butler moved seamlessly through the door, shutting it without a sound.

Settling back in, Finlay began the missive to his father. He kept it short, but it still felt as if it took hours to write it out. He’d thought about asking Andrew to do it for him, but he didn’t want to appear ignorant.

Dearest Father,

I have returned and brought a wife. Please join us Friday for dinner. We have much to discuss.

Your devoted son,

Finlay

He then penned two similar letters to his brothers. Once they were all assembled they would discuss the best way to get the news to the king.

The next letter, to his estate manager, took the longest.

Mr. Garrick,

I am in residence at Catriona House. I request your appearance tomorrow, Thursday. Please be prepared to review the account books so that we can determine what needs to be done to get the house and its holdings in order.

Finlay Cameron

The thought of poring over mixed up, jumbled numbers and letters with Mr. Garrick gave him an awful pounding in the head. Standing, he strolled over to the well-stocked cabinet that seemed out of place, considering the condition of the rest of the estate. Shaking off the notion the house was cursed, he poured a serving of whisky, thankful that at least something in this forsaken place had not spoiled.