The following morning, Rosalyn went out into her rose garden, a place where she always felt at peace and could work through her thoughts. She was pruning a small bush that would yield gorgeous pink buds and eventually flower one day, when a shadow passed over her. She glanced up.
“Good morning, Fen, good morning, Ruby.”
Her friend and sister-in-law, Fenella Gordon, dressed in her trousers and a casual shirt, squatted down beside her. Ruby, the ‘sicky’ lamb Fen’s caretaker Reggie had adopted when its mother died, munched on nearby grass. Oddly, it had attached itself to Fen, although it stayed with Reggie in his rooms off the clinic.
“I hear there’s a storm abrewin’.” She exaggerated her own burr.
Rosalyn sat back on her haunches. “Of monumental proportions.” She watched the lamb graze. “Don’t you think it’s a bit odd to have a lamb for a pet?”
Fen shrugged. “Perhaps, but it’s really Reggie’s responsibility. I can’t help it that it follows me everywhere.” At the sound of Fen’s voice, Ruby looked up and bleated.
“You realize she’ll probably outlive you. Remember Harris the Road had one that lived to be nearly thirty years old?”
“Reggie and I will leave her in the care of your boys,” Fen promised.
“They’d love it. What does Geddes think of her?”
Fen tilted her head to one side. “He doesn’t care as long as she doesn’t end up tearing the clinic apart.”
“But she’s a lamb, Fen. She isn’t a dog. She can’t be trained.”
“You’d be surprised. Watch this. Ruby?” The lamb looked at her. “Ruby, sit.” The lamb nosed around in the grass, then plopped down, still looking at Fen. “Ruby? Come.” The lamb stood and made its way to Fen, nudging her pants pocket. Fen pulled out a treat and tossed it in the air. Ruby caught it and ate it. “Good girl,” Fen cooed.
Rosalyn was impressed. “I guess I could be trained too if I knew there was a treat at the end.”
“Ocht, you’ve been trained, don’t think you haven’t.” The innuendo hung in the air between them.
Rosalyn touched her fingers to her chin and gave her a wicked grin. “Hmmm. You might be right.” They laughed together. “And how about you, Fen?”
Before Fen and Geddes fell in love, they were as different as two people could be. Fen, always dressed in trousers and blousy shirts, her curly hair cropped close to her head, brooked no nonsense from anyone. As a nurse in the Crimea, she had seen every hideous thing that man could do to man.
Geddes, on the other hand, was quiet, straight laced, meticulous in his habits, and a bit of a chauvinist when it came to women. He and Rosalyn had many arguments about Fen in the beginning.
“I’m not sure who trained who, but I won’t deny my life has never been so good,” she admitted. She was quiet a moment, then added, “One of my patients told me they have hired a new minister to replace Vicar Fleming.”
Rosalyn looked up. “Who?”
“That I don’t know. But,” she added cryptically, “I do know he comes from America.”
“Really? How very interesting. One has to wonder why a parson from America would want to have a little kirk on a small island off Scotland.”
“Oh, Roz, everyone knows this is paradise.” Fen’s voice was filled with sarcasm.
Rosalyn raised her eyebrows. “Back to the brewing storm.” Fen had learned the whole story from Geddes when he returned home the night before.
“Ah yes: the school and the prodigal son. As for the school, I don’t get called there too often; they usually call Doc Mac.”
Rosalyn had been relieved when they finally got another doctor, for Fen had worked herself nearly ill during the time they didn’t have one. “Well, this whole thing is such a shock. Imagine. There’s a laddie on this very island whose father is my brother-in-law and I’ve never seen hide or hair of him. Fen, he’s my nephew.”
“I imagine the young woman had good reason to think she must keep things secret.”
Rosalyn studied her roses, absently plucking off dried leaves. “But you and I both know she has nothing to worry about. Nor would she ever have had.”
“So dear old Barnaby sealed their fate.” Fen let out a mild chuckle. “Who would have thought he could cause such a ruckus.”
“Barnaby is a loyal servant. No matter what he may have thought personally, if he even did think about it, he has always protected the family. Oh, I know he’s a dotty old soul, and he’s certainly not going to get better—in fact, his memory worsens every day—but perhaps we are at fault. We should never have left him in charge.”
“Wasn’t there anyone else here at all?”
Rosalyn took her handkerchief from her apron pocket and dabbed at her face. “Oh, let me think.” Suddenly she remembered. “It was Geddes.”
Fen straightened. “My Geddes?”
“Yes, yes, but Barnaby was instructed to contact Geddes if there was any trouble, and obviously he must have forgotten the incident the moment he closed the door on them. And I know Geddes came by nearly every day to check things out and make sure everything was running smoothly.”
Fen appeared deep in thought. “Can you imagine what might have happened if Geddes had been alerted to them?”
“What would he have done, do you think?”
“Knowing Geddes, he would have gotten to the bottom of the situation. And he would have reported back to the duke, a thorough investigation would have been made, and when the bairn was born, we’d all have studied him closely to see if there was a resemblance. Frightening the young mother into wishing she’d never said anything at all.”
Rosalyn tucked her handkerchief into her pocket. “Yes, I suppose. But you’re not taking into consideration the mindset of the young woman. From what I understand, she’s strong willed, leery of the lot of us, and very proud. Since she’d been turned away once, she may not have been interested in what either Fletcher or Geddes had to tell her. I dare say I wouldn’t have been too keen on it after having the grand door shut in my face once.”
Fen stood and brushed off her trousers. “It’s water under the bridge now, that’s for certain. But,” she added, a sly smile on her lips, “I’d like to be a fly on the wall as this situation continues.”
Rosalyn gave Fen a sad smile. “Poor Duncan. ’Tis one thing to learn you have a nine-year-old son, and another to learn the mother of your child is threatening to let another fellow adopt him.”
“Do you think she would do that? Out of spite?”
“I honestly don’t think so. I’ve met her a few times, tried to be more helpful to her as she copes with the school situation, and although she isn’t forthcoming with me, I don’t think she’s vindictive.”
“Do you suppose she’s using the threat to rope Duncan into marry her?”
Rosalyn was appalled at the thought. “Nae, she isn’t like that. I don’t know what their relationship was, but knowing Duncan, when he was seventeen all he thought about was himself. Fletcher nearly tore his hair out worrying over whether or not we’d see his likeness in some of the young ones on the island. Surprisingly, we never did. Apparently Isobel and her aunt were very careful to keep the bairn hidden until they could send him off to school on the mainland.”
“Duncan always was a charmer.” Fen helped Rosalyn to her feet. “He seems to have settled down quite a lot. The trip to America must have been good for him.”
“It gave him a world of responsibility that he never acknowledged before. And apparently he did a grand job managing the ranch.”
“Did he ever tell you much about his life in Texas?”
“We would hear from him periodically, mainly to update the state of the ranch, the cattle, the wheat, the horses. Only now and then would he allude to a private life.” Rosalyn placed the trowel into the bucket beside her, brushed off her apron, and gazed up at the castle windows, noting with a bit of weariness that they needed washing. She couldn’t let Mattie do them all by herself, and she didn’t trust the maids to do a good job. “I have the feeling a great deal happened to him that we may never know about.”
She turned her gaze on Fen. “Anyway, about Isobel. I think you should make her a little visit. Make up an excuse if you have to, like inquiring about the children and asking if they need anything. See what you think about the mother of Duncan’s child.”
Fen nodded absently. “Maybe I’ll do just that.” With that, Fen walked off, Ruby stepping lightly by her side.
• • •
The afternoon weather spelled gloom, the clouds resembling dirty laundry tumbling from the heavens. Isobel shivered and moved closer to the fire, wishing she dared use more coal with the peat. But coal was expensive. Peat was everywhere. Moments earlier she had heard the children leave the classroom, no doubt anxious to get out into the fresh air. Children didn’t seem to care whether the sun was shining or not; they simply wanted to be outside. Had she been like that? She couldn’t remember not having chores or lessons. To run and play had been for other children, not her. She could remember pressing her face to the window and watching children roll hoops past the brothel, longing to join them, only to hear Paula’s voice calling her from somewhere, asking her if she’d finished her chores or her lessons.
Ian was off somewhere with Hamish, who had promised to be the lad’s close guardian until Isobel and Duncan could talk with him. She had just finished darning one of her threadbare petticoats when Lily rushed into the room carrying Fifi.
“I think there’s something wrong with her,” she announced.
“What happened?”
“She just keeps scratching her ear, like she’s trying to dig deeper into it. She’s even drawn blood. I looked inside her ear, but all I could see was the redness she’d already made with her nails.”
Fifi whined and tried to squirm loose as Lily held her. “What can we do?”
Isobel understood Lily’s concern. After all, Fifi was all that she had. “Have you talked with Delilah?”
Lily looked embarrassed. “I haven’t. I’m afraid she might tell me it’s high time to get rid of my pup.”
“Do you really think she’d say that?”
“I don’t know. Most of the time I can tell she’s more bluster than anything, but with Fifi, I’m sure she’s serious.”
“Who’s serious about what?” Delilah’s girth filled the doorway.
Lily cuddled the dog closer to her chest. “Oh, it’s nothing, Fifi’s ear is red, and that’s all.”
“She need a doctor?”
Both Lily and Isobel laughed. “Be serious, Delilah.”
“I’m serious as sauce. We don’t have the doctor, but in the parlor is that nurse, Mrs. Gordon. She’s here to see ye, Izzy.” She threw a glance at Lily. “Maybe she can take a look at the mutt.”
• • •
Fen studied the room. It was clean and comfortable, if quite bare. Once, years ago, she had been here when it was a brothel to treat one of the girls who, unfortunately, had developed a bad case of pneumonia. Fen could not save her.
She heard footsteps approaching and two women, one holding a small dog, stepped into the room.
The one she knew to be the owner stepped forward. “Mrs. Gordon? This is a nice surprise. What can I do for you?”
Fen studied her. The woman had a rare kind of beauty. “Well—” Fen wasn’t even sure what to call her.
“Isobel,” she prompted with a warm smile.
“Isobel. I had thought to come here to make sure all of the children were fine and that none of them needed my attention. And if you do need anything like that, I’d be happy to help. But, the real reason I’m here is that it appears that on the return of one Duncan MacNeil, a storm of enormous proportions is about to erupt.” She tried to make her words lighter than the picture they evoked.
Something flashed in Isobel’s eyes, and she brought her hand, which Fen noticed was red and work worn, to her chest. She tossed a quick glance at the other woman. “Oh, pardon my manners. Mrs. Gordon, may I present Lily Varga? She’s helping me with the children.”
The woman was actually little more than a girl. Another beauty. Hair the color of dark honey, eyes a purplish-blue, like the bluebells of Scotland. Her skin was fair; she had been in the sun, for her nose was a little sunburned. She smiled at the girl, and then looked at the dog. “Is something wrong with your pup’s ear?”
Lily gasped. “Yes. How did you know?”
Fen reached out to the dog. It sniffed her fingers. “I don’t have any formal training with animals, but I’ve treated a few in my time. This little fellow is moving his head around as if trying to rid himself of something.”
“It’s Fifi. She’s a girl.”
Fen studied the pup. “Fifi. Do you mind if I look at her ear?”
“No. Not at all.”
Fen gently pulled the floppy ear away from the pup’s head and glanced inside, noting the redness. “How long has she been like this?”
“Since yesterday. She was out romping in the woods with some of the children. Ever since she returned, she’s been digging at her ear.”
Fen always carried a few supplies with her. From her back pocket she drew out a small pair of tweezers. Before going to the pup’s ear, she scratched her chin and crooned her name, hoping to settle the pup down before she went in. “You will hold onto her good and tight, won’t you?”
“Of course.” Lily then bent down and nuzzled the pup’s other ear, talking in soft soothing tones.
Fen went into the affected ear with the tweezers and almost immediately found what she was looking for. She plucked it out and showed it to Lily. “She had a briar embedded in there. She’ll be fine, but I suggest you take a cloth and wash her ear out with warm water. I have some salve in my bag in the buggy; I’ll get you some before I leave. Pups with long, floppy ears often have ear trouble. This could very easily happen again.”
A very grateful Lily hustled away with her dog firmly in her arms.
“How very kind of you,” Isobel said.
Fen felt motherly warmth for the girl. The emotion surprised her. She’d never really been the maternal sort, except for Ruby. “I do things like that without thinking,” Fen admitted. “Now, where were we?”
Isobel released a long sigh. “You mentioned something about a storm and Lord Duncan MacNeil.”
Fen spread her hands in a defensive manner. “I’m not here to stick my nose into anyone’s business. All I want to say is that you have nothing to fear from the MacNeils. They are fine, generous people. Rosalyn has admitted to me many times that she wished she could do more to help you with the school, but you’ve seemed reluctant.” She gave Isobel a side long glance. “Maybe now we all know why.”
Isobel’s cheeks reddened further. “Yes. I will admit I’ve been wary of them ever since the day my aunt and I were so abruptly dismissed at the castle door.”
“No one is sorrier than Rosalyn that happened,” Fen stated. “If you had returned when they were home—”
“No. Under no circumstances would I have returned. I hadn’t wanted to go there in the first place but Aunt Paula insisted, and I was only fifteen; she was my guardian. And then, when Ian was born…” She released a soft sigh. “He became my world. I had to protect him, don’t you see?”
“So, now what?” Fen persisted.
Isobel rubbed her hands over her face and took slow steps toward the window. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”
Digging further, Fen said, “Duncan is afraid you will let that big fisherman adopt the lad.”
Isobel’s laugh was short and harsh. “Don’t think it hasn’t been tempting.”
“After all these years, why didn’t you go through with it?” Fen could tell something was fighting inside Isobel, something fierce.
Isobel’s gaze went from the window to the floor. “I don’t know that either.”
Fen wondered about that. She walked toward the door. “This isn’t a threat, please don’t take it that way, but we’re all very fond of Duncan. He’s finally come home and we want him to stay.”
With that she opened the door, stepped outside, and went to her carriage to retrieve the salve. She returned and handed it to Isobel. “And please, send for me if you ever need to. I’m close by and I’d like to help.” She had come to do what she’d planned to do, but there was something else niggling at her now. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it was there, just the same.
• • •
Isobel slumped onto the settee by the fireplace. By the holy, now what was she supposed to think? That woman may not have thought she was a threat, but Isobel deemed all of them a danger to the quiet life she’d been living for the past ten years. Things were getting so messy.
Lily came in without the dog. “Are you all right?”
Isobel waved the salve at her and Lily took it, slipping it into her apron pocket. “I fear that soon I’ll be inundated by every member of that family.”
Lily sat down beside her and took her hand.
Isobel looked down at both hers and Lily’s, hers red and sore and Lily’s dainty and white. “And that’s another thing. Look at my hands. I’m a worker. I barely make a living. My hands are red and sore because I do my share of scrubbing and cleaning—” She sucked in a breath, hoping it wouldn’t become a sob. “And besides that, how can I compete? Once Ian discovers the truth, he’ll be enthralled. What lad wouldn’t be?”
“But you’re his mother,” Lily encouraged. “He will always love you.”
Isobel drew out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “Oh, he may always love me, but will he want to stay here when he could be living like the royal lad he is?”
“Whatever happens, I imagine you can work something out.”
Isobel twisted the linen until it looked like a tassel. “And what if after he learns the truth, he’s resentful because I’ve kept him ignorant about it?”
“Oh, Isobel,” Lily soothed, patting her hand, “you’re only inviting trouble thinking that way.”
“I’m not inviting it, but by the holy, it’s going to come calling anyway.”
• • •
Rain spattered the castle windows. The sky was the color of slate. Crashing waves pushed against the rocky shore below. Duncan looked out, studying the rugged landscape, remembering the many times he and his brothers had raced their mounts along the beaches, into the wind. He’d had a good life here. Had he wasted ten years by leaving?
He turned away and watched the fire spit and snap as it roared up into the chimney. No. He couldn’t think that way. He may never have matured if he had stayed. He would never have taken over the ranch, discovering that he had a very good head for business.
And he wouldn’t have joined the Confederacy to fight for the rights of Texans to govern themselves. That year, those horrifying memories, would be with him always.
Louisiana—September 1864
A short siege left them in a tiny town on the edge of a swamp. A man in a ragged black coat and top hat stood on a box, spouting rhetoric.
“We’ve got to stop the despot, Lincoln! We want to govern ourselves, not be under his deceitful thumb! We’ve suffered enormously these past years; it’s time to put a stop to it!”
Duncan had heard others complain about the northerners, invading and polluting their land. He had always believed in self-government; he was a Texan after all. But entering the fray when he did, so late in the game, he wondered if deposing Lincoln was just an empty threat, something to keep men from believing that perhaps for them the war was over. If it was, it would be a bitter pill to swallow for all of them.
A log snapped loudly in the fireplace, bringing Duncan out of his reverie. The question of Isobel and Ian clogged his thoughts. He didn’t see any reasonable solution. Not one that would placate both him and Isobel. When the boy learned the truth, would he want meet the rest of his family, or would he refuse to have anything to do with the lot of them?
But when the boy discovered what the twins took for granted, he could easily change his mind. A pony of his own. A whole new world to explore. What kid wouldn’t? If he and Isobel split their time with him, would he be content to return to the brothel after he’d stayed here?
Another thought struck him. What if the lad wanted nothing to do with him, refusing to believe he was his true father? What if the boy resented him for not returning for him, even though Duncan hadn’t known the boy existed?
He dug the pads of his thumbs into his eyes. Everything had to be in order before Ian was told anything. He and Isobel would have to hammer out the details so there would be no question that couldn’t be answered.