Surprisingly Jamie slept soundly that night. She had fallen asleep with the words of Psalm 121 going through her mind:
He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: he that keepeth thee will not slumber. The Lord is thy keeper: the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand. The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore.
And thus, with the words of the unslumbering God in her heart, she did sleep, awaking cheerful and refreshed and feeling as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She dressed quickly in her brightest dress, a red and green plaid, befitting her homeland, brushed her hair, and practically skipped from her room.
Her first destination was Andrew’s room. She found him sitting up in bed, squirming to get out.
“The doctor says you must stay here a day or two longer,” she reminded him.
“We don’t have to tell him.”
Jamie smiled. “That wouldn’t be truthful, my bairn. Besides, he’d know!”
She read him some stories and they talked about where they would go when he was able to get up. She fed him his breakfast when the nurse brought it up, then left to have her own.
The laird usually took his breakfast alone, and when Jamie went to the kitchen she was informed that Robbie had already been up, breakfasted, and was now out somewhere with MacKay—on horseback, the cook thought. Relieved, she ate as quickly as she dared, then went back to her own room.
She did not see Robbie all morning. In early afternoon she went again for a visit with Andrew. After several stories he began to tire and she judged it wise for him to sleep. She rose from his bedside and was preparing to leave when his father walked in.
Her whole being trembled at the sight of him, and what a different trembling this was from when she had seen him that first time in the library!
“I was just leaving,” she said.
“Must you?” cried Andrew. If only she could have known that the boy’s father silently cried out the same words.
“Your father wants some time with you too, you know,” she said.
“You needn’t go on my account,” said Graystone, speaking at last. His words were clipped, forced, and his voice betrayed his sleepless night.
Jamie hesitated.
Was he just being polite? Or did he really want her to stay? “I’ve been with him already twice today,” she faltered. “You need—you deserve some time to yourselves.”
Sensing the sudden rising of a very awkward lump in her throat and the accumulation in her eyes of a mist it would be very difficult to explain, Jamie turned and fled from the room.
“Please—Jamie!” he called after her, but she continued down the hall without turning back, the tears coming in earnest now.
What have I done, he thought! Was she so smitten with the sailor that she couldn’t even carry on the simplest conversation with him any longer? It would have been better for him to keep to himself the whole day! Seeing her was the worst thing he could have done! But after a night spent tossing and turning with visions of the sunlight dancing off her hair and eyes, he could not keep himself from finding her, even if only to gaze upon her from afar. Even to see her in Robbie’s arms would be better than not to see her at all!
At last he turned to Andrew and said, “I must go find Jamie, son, and speak with her. I’ll be back.”
He left the nursery and walked down the hallway in the direction Jamie had gone. He had a suspicion . . . if only he could talk to her alone! Even if just for a moment!
He descended the great stairway and turned toward the rear of the house toward the courtyard where she and Andrew had always been so fond of playing together, where he had lunched with them on the day of the bright red ball. As he approached the glass door his heart gave a great bound within him.
In the distance, partially obscured by tree roses and shrubbery, was the outline of Jamie’s form. And she was alone!
He followed her with his gaze for a few moments, then slowly opened one of the doors with a trembling palm and softly made his way toward her over the grass.
Jamie sensed his approach but did not turn until he had stopped about four feet away. The few extra moments gave her time to gather in the last of her tears and take a deep breath to still her racing, tormented, overflowing heart.
At last she turned.
“I thought you might be here,” he said.
“It’s always been a favorite place of mine,” she answered. “Andrew and I used to be fond of this courtyard especially.”
“I remember.”
“Ah, yes! The day you joined us for lunch.”
“And we played with Andrew’s new ball.”
“Yes,” Jamie laughed, “and Lady Montrose came to call in the midst of it.”
“She wasn’t particularly amused at our games,” said Edward, smiling.
Jamie said nothing in reply. The subject of Candice Montrose brought to the surface the pain which had been the reason for her tears.
“Andrew is much better,” she said at length.
“Yes,” agreed his father. “The doctor says he will be able to come out in a couple days.”
“That’s wonderful,” replied Jamie, then paused. “And then I shall have to return to Aberdeen,” she added.
“Must you? I mean—so soon?”
“I have my duties,” she said, her voice trembling a bit.
“I know—but . . . don’t you think you could be persuaded?”
“Persuaded to what?”
“Well—to stay, perhaps?”
“To stay?” she repeated. “But . . . you mean . . . but why . . . you mean for a few days?”
“Yes, yes! A few days would be marvelous—No! That’s not what I meant—”
He stopped, obviously flustered.
“It was so . . .” he tried to continue, “—it was so dreary after you left.”
He laughed nervously, trying to shake off the tension.
“I know,” Jamie said. “It was rather dreary for me, too. And I missed Andrew—” she stopped.
“And?”
“I mean—of course, I missed all of Aviemere, all the people here, everyone that I had grown to love.”
“And now you want to leave again?”
“But I must. I have the Gilchrist children to take care of.”
“And you have your Lt. Taggart waiting to take you back to Aberdeen.”
“Yes,” she sighed. “He has asked me to marry him.” As she said the words she looked away.
He mistook her. It was as though a bomb had exploded in his ears and his fleeting hopes had been splintered into a thousand pieces.
“He is a good man,” said Edward, desperately struggling to control his voice and to keep the tears in their place. He must not lose himself now! He had prayed for her happiness, and now he must be strong to accept the Lord’s decision. “His wife will be a lucky woman.”
“Yes,” said Jamie, still turned away. “I’m sure she will be—when he finds her.”
“When do the two of you leave?” asked Edward, his mind in a fog, hardly hearing what she said. “I know the two of you—she?” he repeated suddenly, a flash of hope searing his heart.
“Yes. I know Robbie will be happy when he finally finds the right woman.”
“But I thought you said—”
“He did ask me to be his wife,” said Jamie.
“And what did you tell him?” asked Edward in the agony of joyful premonition.
“I haven’t given him a final answer,” said Jamie slowly. “But I can’t marry him. I know that now.”
Like the crashing of a great wave all around him, her words reverberated throughout his entire being, and Edward wrestled with himself to keep his voice from shouting aloud. She was still looking in the other direction and had continued talking, but he scarcely heard what she said. He strained to hear through the thundering silence of his own ears echoing with the pounding of his heart. Then he heard something about Candice Montrose.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“Miss Montrose . . . I understand that the two of you are to be married?”
What? he thought. How could she have heard such a thing? Who was spreading such rumors? The thing was patently absurd!
“No,” he said. “We have seen one another, of course. But—”
He could not go on. His voice was starting to crumble.
Sensing his emotion, Jamie slowly turned. Their eyes met.
“Jamie, Jamie—don’t you know?” His voice faltered in dismay.
“Know what, Mr. Graystone? What is it? Have I done something to displease you?”
“Dear Lord, no!” he said miserably. “I’m going about this all wrong! Oh, perhaps I should keep silent, but I will have no peace until I speak. But this is so difficult to do. Yet if there is even a small glimmer of hope.”
“Hope? I don’t understand.”
“Candice Montrose means nothing to me! Jamie, Jamie—how can I tell you? It’s you I care about, Jamie.”
“Me!”
“Jamie, I love you!”
The words came as a hot blast from a suddenly opened furnace and Jamie reeled where she stood. Edward reached out a hand to steady her. The moment their hands touched they both froze, but neither withdrew.
“I’m so sorry,” she said weakly, referring to her faintness. But he closed his eyes in preparation for her rebuff. “I—I never dreamed . . .”
“I’m sorry, too,” he replied. “But in truth I only realized it myself a day or two ago. I was afraid to tell you.”
“Afraid?”
“I didn’t want to place you in an awkward position.”
“An awkward position? But how could it possibly do that?” she said, the color coming back into her cheeks and a great joy beginning to overflow within her.
“This could make it difficult for you to return to Aberdeen.”
“Oh, Edward! Are you sure of what you said? It’s so hard for me to take in the very words I longed to hear!”
“You longed to hear! Do you mean—”
“Yes, Edward! I cannot marry Robbie—because I love you!”
He took her tenderly in his arms and held her for several moments. Neither spoke for some time.
At last Jamie broke the intense silence. But now her voice was calm and peaceful.
“For so long I tried to convince myself otherwise,” she said, “that I did not love you.”
“And why did you do that, my dear Jamie?” said Edward softly.
“Because how could one such as I ever expect a man in your position—”
“Jamie,” he interrupted, “you’re not a snob when it comes to social rank, are you?” He laughed.
She smiled. “I was thinking of you. What would people think of—you know, a shepherdess and a laird?”
“You forget. I’m no laird. I’m merely a hired caretaker. There’s hardly much rank in that.”
“But your family . . . your name. You are, Edward, a gentleman. And gentlemen don’t fall in love with shepherdesses or nurses. They marry ladies.”
Edward relaxed, then turned and, with Jamie on his arm, began walking still farther from the house, through a grassy path with high hedges on either side. They walked slowly, neither speaking.
At length Edward broke the silence.
“Jamie,” he said earnestly. “However I try to tell you this, the mere words will take away from the depth of meaning I feel in my heart. But can you try to trust me and believe me, as perhaps you have never trusted me for anything before?”
“I will, Edward.”
“Then I have this to say to you, Jamie MacLeod, the woman I have grown to love, and—God willing—I will be allowed to love for many years to come: Jamie, you are a lady! Being a lady is not something you can be born with—it’s something you are! My Olivia had the blood, the breeding, and the family. And she too was a lady. Candice Montrose has all those things, but she is not a lady. You, Jamie, have been bred and nurtured in life that comes from on high. You have allowed that life to grow and deepen within you. You have allowed yourself to become the woman of God’s design. And that is the essence of what makes a lady—being God’s lady! You are a lady, Jamie MacLeod! And here and now, I want to ask you: will you consent to become Lady Graystone? Whether I have a title or not, you will always be my lady to me!”
They had ceased walking by now and were standing hand in hand. With tears streaming down her face, Jamie reached her arms about the man she loved and laid her head softly against his chest. At last she knew what all her years of searching the distant horizons and dreaming of far-off places had been about. All that time she had been looking for love. She had discovered the love of her God, but he had also been preparing her for this moment, so that when it came she would realize the deep sense of completion and fulfillment it gave her.
If you find love, you will have attained the greatest dream of all. Her mother’s words came back to her and suddenly took on the significance she had no doubt had in mind when she had written them to her daughter. Somehow Alice MacLeod had foreseen this search of her daughter’s heart and had done her best to direct her to the fulfillment of that dream.
Her tears of joy were all the answer Edward needed to complete his own bliss. When Jamie looked up at him after a few moments, she saw tears in his eyes too—eyes that had once frightened her. But they were no longer fearsome nor impenetrable. She saw clearly into them and was thus able to read his heart, perhaps even his soul, for he had opened all to her.
By unspoken consent they turned and, arm in arm, walked slowly back toward the house, neither anxious to end the rapture of being together at last, but realizing there were things they now needed to face as a result of the pledges they had made.