Amanda Scott (16 page)

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” Duncan said.

“Bless me,” she said, starting and looking over spectacles that had slipped down her nose, “is that you, Duncan? And who is that with you? I do not think your father will approve of your bringing another young woman here, particularly with Caddell thinking you and Serena will make a match of it and your father hoping the same. I shall not mind if you don’t, but I have nothing to say about it, of course. Serena is pretty enough, but she talks only about how dull it must be now at Inver House whilst everyone waits to see if her sister-in-law has a boy after producing a string of girls, and I did hope you would find a wife who liked lively conversation. I scarcely ever have anyone to talk with, you know, and you and your father rarely listen even when you are in the same room. When your brother was alive—”

“This is Mistress Maclaine, ma’am,” Duncan said, cutting in without apology. “You know her family, I believe. Her aunt is Anne Stewart Maclean.”

“Oh, you were Ian’s friend,” Lady Balcardane said, removing her spectacles and smiling at Mary in such a way as to tell her that she had just been elevated to a class above that of a mere
someone else.
She went on warmly, “How kind of you to visit us. Do come and sit beside me. We miss him dreadfully, you know.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mary said, glancing uncertainly at Duncan.

He shrugged, so she went to sit beside Lady Balcardane, saying, “I miss him, too, ma’am, very much. He was such a kind and gentle person.”

“Oh, yes,” Lady Balcardane said with a deep sigh. “Dearest Ian.”

“Mother, Mary is going to stay with us for a time. There has been some unpleasantness at Maclean House, and Lady Maclean and Sir Neil are away in Perthshire, at Rory’s, for the winter, so Mistress Maclaine has been alone there. I brought her here where she will be well protected.”

“How frightening for you,” Lady Balcardane said sympathetically.

“Yes, it was,” Mary agreed, shooting a speaking look at Duncan.

He said evenly, “She was able to bring only a meager wardrobe with her, ma’am, a problem that I am hoping you can help her rectify?”

“Do you expect me to buy clothing for her, Duncan? Because unless you pay for it yourself—which I cannot think wise, because people are bound to talk, you know—your father won’t stand for spending so much money, particularly since I applied to him only this morning to fund our annual dinner for the villagers and our neighbors on Christmas Eve. His own father began the tradition, hoping to foster peace with his Stewart neighbors, so one would think your father would not cavil so at spending the money, but he does, every year, and I’m certain he will not want me to spend more. Not that clothing need cost so much as all that,” she added, “but he will think that it must, and he will fly into the boughs just as he always does.”

“I don’t mean for you to purchase new clothing, ma’am. She brought things with her but only a few. I don’t want to relate all her troubles. It is for her to decide how much she wants to tell, but she had to leave most of her belongings elsewhere and had little left at home from which to choose. I doubt that the things she brought will be sufficient, or that they are stylish enough to suit your taste or Serena’s.”

“As if I should let that bother me! When, I ask you, was the last time I had any stylish new clothes myself? If it were not for friends sending me drawings of the things they see women wearing in Edinburgh, and Serena bringing pattern cards to show me, I should not have a notion of how one ought to dress. Only think how embarrassed I was when his grace of Argyll last paid us a visit!” She looked Mary up and down. “I do think I might have one or two things for you, my dear. They won’t be the height of fashion, but I daresay few people hereabouts know what that is, so we shan’t let it trouble us. If I am to dress her for dinner, Duncan, you will have to tell them to put it back an hour. I was just waiting here now for Serena and your father to join me.” To Mary, she added, “We generally dine at four, you see, my dear, and we breakfast each morning at ten. Where shall we put her, Duncan?”

“Serena has taken the tower bedchamber,” he said.

“You won’t put her in that little room below it! There is no fireplace there.”

“No, I think she will have to go into the south wing,” Duncan said. “She can have the room next to Ian’s, if that will not distress you.”

“Of course it will not, and I daresay she will like to be close to his room. It is just as he left it,” she said, patting Mary’s knee, her eyes filling suddenly with tears that spilled over and trickled down her plump cheeks. “Oh, my poor sweet laddie!” She burst into sobs.

Mary looked helplessly at Duncan, but his expression had hardened again, and he turned on his heel and left the room without a word. Knowing no other course, and fully in sympathy with the plump little woman, Mary put her arms round her and held her until the worst of the emotional storm had passed.

“There, there,” she said when the sobs had abated at last. “Have you got a handkerchief, ma’am? I don’t have one to offer you, I’m afraid.”

Drawing a ragged breath, Lady Balcardane gestured distractedly toward her sewing box. Correctly interpreting the gesture to mean that she would find a handkerchief inside, Mary soon pressed a lace-trimmed one into her hand.

Lady Balcardane clutched it to her bosom for some moments before she dabbed her eyes, and then suddenly blew her nose hard with it. Folding it tidily, she blotted her eyes again, and said, “How kind you are, my dear. I am so dreadfully sorry to have wept all over you, but when I think of my poor darling Ian just lying there dead at the side of the road. Not that I saw him there, for they would not let me look at him, but still, one’s imagination paints pictures, you know.”

“I do know, ma’am. I did not see him either, and I admit that I’m grateful—”

“What’s this? Why are you crying, ma’am? Has something gone amiss?”

The voice, high-pitched and childlike, announced the arrival of a lovely young woman in a blue gown that looked like silk to Mary, and expensive silk at that. The dress hugged a slender waist and billowed over a hoop that would have been more suitable in an Edinburgh drawing room. Elegant matching slippers peeped out from beneath the young woman’s wide skirt. Over her shoulders, caught up at her elbows, she wore a bright Paisley shawl. Mary, in the camlet jacket and dress she had worn far too long, felt like a mouse in the presence of a butterfly.

The newcomer’s hair was the color of pale new corn in bright sunlight, and she wore it in a dazzling, complex arrangement of twists and curls piled atop her head. Her face was perfectly oval, its features delicate and well formed. The eyes gazing curiously at Mary were a shade of blue so brilliant as to startle her.

She swallowed, gathering her wits, more aware than she had ever been of her dowdy old camlet walking dress and her thick tawny hair that, as usual, she had twisted into a knot and pinned in place. She could feel strands tickling her face and neck. Worst of all, she felt as if she ought to jump up and curtsy to the other girl.

Lady Balcardane patted Mary’s knee, saying kindly, “This is Serena, my dear. I am persuaded that the pair of you will become excellent friends.”

M
ARY STARED AT LADY
Serena, who gazed back expectantly. It did not take second sight to realize that the other young woman, an earl’s daughter, expected her to rise and, if not to curtsy, at least to greet her with the extraordinary civility to which her rank had no doubt accustomed her. Moreover, if they were to live together in the same house, even for a short time, amicably, Mary knew her duty.

Putting aside all thought of her own appearance, she rose, saying politely, “Forgive me if I seem to have lost my wits, Lady Serena. I was a little stunned, I suppose, for I cannot recall when I have met anyone as beautiful as you are.”

Lady Serena smiled, and if the smile did not quite reach her eyes, it was nonetheless a lovely smile. Mary sighed inwardly as she held out her hand in greeting, aware that her own teeth were not nearly so straight. One front tooth slightly overlapped the other, and although she had never thought it a defect before, since her teeth were remarkably white and unblemished, she did think it one now.

Serena said bluntly, “Who are you?”

“Oh, gracious me,” Lady Balcardane exclaimed with a watery laugh, “if I have not failed in my duty to present you, my dear. This is Mistress Maclaine, Serena, and Duncan has brought her here to stay with us for …” She looked blankly at Mary. “How long shall we enjoy your company, my dear?”

“I do not know, ma’am,” Mary said. She nearly added that she was not there by her own choice, but it occurred to her that she might upset her hostess with such a statement, so she said only, “I hope to join my kinsmen in Perthshire soon.”

“Maclean kinsmen?” Lady Serena turned abruptly to her hostess. “Did you say Duncan brought her here, ma’am? How very odd.”

Lady Balcardane blinked, then dabbed her watery eyes again. Mary saw that the redness in them was fading, and she saw, too, where Duncan had come by his dark eyes. His mother’s were the color of coffee beans.

Lady Balcardane said, “Why is Duncan’s bringing her here so odd, Serena? I’m sure he has brought guests to stay, at Balcardane many times before.”

Lady Serena laughed lightly. Catching up her skirt and turning with a rustle of swirling silk to sit on a nearby sofa, she said, “I should think he’d take care not to show up with unknown young women—especially unknown Maclean women—when he is trying to win my hand, that’s all. It is bad enough that he has been at Dunraven nearly since I arrived. To be collecting females of any sort when he has only just returned …” She spread her hands. “I ask you, ma’am, is that civil?”

Mary decided that she and Lady Serena were not destined to become fast friends. She had no more desire now than before to join her relatives in Perthshire, but Serena’s attitude did make the journey begin to look more appealing.

Lady Balcardane picked up the tambour frame she had set down earlier, and said as she put it into her workbasket, “I cannot imagine why you should think it uncivil to offer hospitality to a visitor, my dear. I am sure everyone does that, and Duncan only brought her here because he thought she would be safe—”

“Safe!” Serena turned back to Mary. “Were you in real danger? I find that hard to believe.”

“I am not certain if you mean that I don’t look as if I would ever meet with danger or simply that I don’t look like the sort of woman Black Duncan would rescue,” Mary said evenly. “But doubtless you did not mean to imply that her ladyship is mistaken.”

“Really, Serena, that was unkind,” Lady Balcardane exclaimed. “I do not know the whole, for Duncan would not tell me. He said it was for Mistress Maclaine to tell us about her troubles, and only if she wishes to do so, so we must not press her for information. Oh, and that reminds me,” she added, slipping her spectacles into her reticule, “Duncan asked if we would help her find something suitable to wear. He does not think she has brought enough appropriate clothing.”

“I am very sure I have not,” Mary said, struggling to keep from looking again at Serena’s gown. “We do not keep such state at Maclean House, ma’am.”

Lady Balcardane got to her feet. “Then we must go and see what we can do about you right now, my dear, for it is nearly four o’clock, and although Duncan will have told them to put things back an hour, here you are, still looking just as you did when you arrived. I daresay he did not so much as show you where you are to sleep. Will you come with us, Serena?”

“No, thank you, ma’am. I think perhaps I should stay here in the event that Duncan wishes to see me before we dine. You will do much better without me, in any event, but perhaps you could send someone to pour me a glass of wine.”

“Yes, of course,” Lady Balcardane said, nodding. “You must do as you please, my dear. Come along, Mistress Maclaine.”

“I do hope you will call me Mary, ma’am,” she said, turning to follow. “I am not accustomed to such formality.”

“Well, I will then, and gladly.” Lady Balcardane paused and looked pointedly at Serena. When that young woman gazed limpidly back at her, she said, “I am persuaded that Serena would like you to be more informal with her, too.”

“I don’t mind, I suppose,” Serena said.

“There, you see,” Lady Balcardane said cheerfully.

Mary was not at all certain Serena had meant her words to be taken quite the way Lady Balcardane had taken them, but she was not going to argue. The formality Serena clearly preferred would make any relationship between them even more difficult than Mary already expected it to be. Therefore, she smiled sweetly and said, “Thank you, Serena. You must certainly call me Mary.”

“Oh, I will. I do hope you can manage to find something that will become you.” Her tone left Mary in no doubt that she thought the task an impossible one.

Lady Balcardane took time to ask a hall boy to fetch wine for Lady Serena. Then she led the way up two flights of stairs and along a short corridor to the bedchamber Duncan had allotted to Mary.

“I must first see if you have something you can wear,” she explained as she pushed open the door. “Men generally know so little about these things, you know, although I will say that Duncan displays quite good taste in his own clothing, and frequently compliments mine.”

“I can certainly see why he would, ma’am, because if that dress you are wearing is any indication, your taste is exquisite. Moreover, I can assure you that nothing I brought with me will please you. I do own gowns that, while they do not compare with the one Serena is wearing, are certainly suitable for dining in company, but I was able to bring none of them with me.”

“Dear me,” Lady Balcardane said. She opened her mouth, doubtless to ask for an explanation of Mary’s lack, but turned her head suddenly and said instead, “Who can have left that window open? No doubt someone intended to air out this room, but it’s like an ice house in here.” She moved quickly to shut it, giving Mary a moment’s respite to look around her new bedchamber.

“How very pleasant this room is,” she said when her hostess turned back again, the window fully locked behind her.