Amanda Scott (15 page)

Seeing tears well in her cousin’s eyes, and annoyed that Olivia would take her to task in front of Malcolm, Anne attempted
a diversion, saying, “Fiona is still very tired, Aunt Olivia. Surely, she can change her gown later.”

“I believe I am the best judge of what suits my daughter, Anne. In any event, it is not your position to offer me advice.”

Stiffening but managing to speak calmly, Anne said, “If I sometimes overstep my place, madam, ’tis doubtless because I have
acquired a habit of command that is difficult to set aside. My mother and 1, like most Border women, often found ourselves
alone at the Towers whilst my father and brother were away, and thus I am perhaps too well accustomed to managing a large
household.” She did not add that her ladyship’s lassitude was often the force that drove her.

Olivia fanned herself more energetically than usual as she said, “I vow, I do not know how I shall contrive to find you a
husband if you display such a strong-minded attitude to every gentleman I produce, but I shall do my best as soon as my dearest
Fiona is off my hands. Perhaps Ashkirk will have someone in mind. Pray, Malcolm, go and see if he requires anything,” she
added, turning her head toward him and thus sparing Anne the need to reply, which was just as well.

Fairly choking as she sought to repress a declaration that no one Eustace Chisholm suggested could possibly find favor with
her, she fought to recover her calm as the steward left the room to attend to his mistress’s request.

Olivia watched him go with a fond smile. “If only Malcolm were of suitable breeding and I not plunged so deeply into mourning,”
she said with a light laugh before the door had quite shut behind him, “I declare, I would be tempted to marry him, for he
is exactly the sort of man who would suit me best as a husband.”

“Mama, you don’t mean that; you couldn’t!” Fiona said with a shudder.

Anne watched as the door, which had stopped moving, shut silently behind the steward. Then she said, “Malcolm serves you well,
madam, to be sure.”

“Yes, he does,” Olivia said. “And who knows how custom will have changed by the time I emerge from my mourning—if ever I can
bring myself to do so!”

Fiona stared, but Anne diverted both women’s thoughts by asking what, if anything, Fiona wanted her to do for her before they
returned to the hall for dinner.

“You should more properly ask me, my dear,” Olivia said, just as Anne had expected her to. “If Fiona has broken her fast,
she should hold herself ready to take a turn in the garden with Ashkirk, and perhaps if she does not wish to change her dress
yet, she can wear that gray cloak with the fur trim that becomes her so well.”

Anne glanced out the nearest window at the gardens beyond. The drizzle had stopped, but puddles lay everywhere and the shrubbery
glistened damply.

“It is too wet to walk in the garden,” Fiona said.

“Then you may stroll along the hall gallery with him,” Olivia said, adding with narrowing eyes, “Pray, do not cry again, Fiona.
You will find that gentlemen dislike women who constantly weep at them.”

Anne put an arm around Fiona’s shoulders. “I’ll help her change, madam.”

“Yes, do.”

Practically pushing her cousin from the room, Anne asked a maidservant emptying flowers from an urn to take Fiona to her room.
“I’ll come up soon, love,” she said. “Just rest until I do.”

“Where are you going?”

“Back to speak to your mother again before her Moira returns or Eustace appears. I want to see if I can persuade her to let
you rest a bit more today.”

“Oh, if only you can,” Fiona said.

Anne returned to her ladyship’s bower, where Olivia had drawn her tambour frame near and was examining the progress she had
made on her new design.

“I beg your pardon for disturbing you again,” Anne said when Olivia looked up, “but I feel obliged to point out to you that
if you truly want Fiona to marry Eustace tomorrow, you would be wiser to let her avoid him today.”

“You are being impertinent, Anne. Fiona will do as I bid her.”

“Yes, generally she will,” Anne agreed. “However, she is beside herself with fear of that awful man, and I believe that if
you push her to accept more of his lecherous attentions before the wedding, she will faint at the altar or find some other
means to avoid her part in the ceremony.”

Olivia frowned. “Is she really so terrified of him?”

“You must know she is. I believe it is cruel to make her marry him.”

“Yes, well, your beliefs do not hold sway here, fortunately. Fiona is a foolish girl without enough sense to know what is
best for her. Once she is married to Ashkirk, she will quickly lose her fear, as I know from my own experience. It may surprise
you to learn that I was not overjoyed to marry Sir Stephen. I did so only in obedience to my father’s will, but you certainly
know by now how very deeply I came to care for him.”

“Yes, but my uncle was a kind man,” Anne said. “Eustace is not.”

“You should more properly call him Ashkirk, as I am sure I have reminded you daily,” Olivia said. “He is every inch a gentleman,
and even if he should prove otherwise, do not forget that he controls the Chisholm power in the Borders. As Lady Chisholm,
my Fiona will attend court and be known as a woman of import.”

“Aye, if she marries the Laird of Ashkirk, she will be all of that,” Anne said, deciding to leave it at that in order to persuade
Olivia that Fiona needed to rest.

Matters having reached a point where Maggie suspected she would soon have to take a more active role, she decided to see for
herself how carefully the others were watching their charges, and popped into Mute Hill House in time to see Fergus flick
a hand toward Lady Carmichael.

“What are ye doing?” Maggie demanded.

He turned with a start, the picture of guilt. “Dinna sneak up on a body like that,” he exclaimed. “Ye could cause damage tae
me spell that way.”

“I’ll damage
ye,
ye forgetful maw-worm. Answer me question.”

Grimacing, he said, “Lady Anne wants her cousin tae rest. That’s all.”

“Her cousin isna wi’ them,” Maggie pointed out.

“Nay, she’s upstairs, but me lass were trying tae persuade her mam tae let her sleep. I just helped her a wee bit is all.
Ye’ll no tell me I canna do that much.”

“Nay,” Maggie said. “I’ve a notion we’ll all be doing things we’d as lief no ha’ tae explain tae the Circle afore this business
be done. Where’s Catriona?”

Fergus shrugged. “Wi’ her charge, I expect.”

Maggie nodded. She would see how Catriona was faring, tell her about Jonah’s latest revelation, and then decide how much Fergus
needed to know.

But first, she would seek a private moment with Anne Ellyson.

Having at last persuaded Olivia that her plan for Fiona could only benefit by keeping her separated from Eustace as long as
possible, Anne went upstairs to find her cousin fast asleep and Molly watching over her.

“Keep everyone else out of here, Molly,” Anne commanded. “If her ladyship sends someone to demand Mistress Fiona’s presence
for the noon meal, tell them she puked up her breakfast and looks like puking again at the least mention of food. That should
keep them at bay until suppertime. I’ve seen enough of Sir Toby to be sure he will have a plan to entertain our chief guest
afterward, so I warrant Mistress Fiona will come to no grief then by putting in her usual appearance at supper.”

Anne was still worried about what Olivia would do, but at noon she learned her worries were groundless.

Olivia scarcely waited for her carver to carve the joint before explaining to Eustace that Fiona was indisposed. “Sheer exhaustion,
through wanting everything to be perfect tomorrow,” she said, “but I promise you, sir, her usual vivacity will be completely
restored by then.”

“Faith,” he said, “does she mean to sleep all afternoon, too?”

Anne said with forced lightness, “If not to sleep, sir, at least to rest. She is worn to the bone, and we do not want her
to become ill. Only think how shocking it would be if she were to fall ill at the altar before she takes her vows.”

“Aye, well, that would not do, I agree,” he said, eyeing her narrowly. “Are you sure she means to present herself at the altar?”

“Oh, yes,” Anne said in the same light tone before Olivia could speak. “I will see to that myself, sir, I promise you. Fiona
is very obedient, as you know. As long as she is properly rested, she will carry off her part without a single error.”

And,
Anne thought,
with luck, she will walk away with a more desirable husband.
She wished she could be certain that Sir Christopher would be there, but if he did not show up at the wedding, perhaps another
solution would occur to her.

A
rising early the next morning, and knowing she probably would not have another moment to herself for the rest of the day,
Anne dressed quickly and decided to take the roll Peg had brought her outside to eat in the garden. She had no wish to enter
the hall, where servants were setting up tables for the meal they would serve to the bride and groom and their honored guests
after the ceremony.

The high table would provide food now for any family member or guest who wanted to break his or her fast. However, in general,
the several guests that had arrived the previous afternoon and slept at Mute Hill House would take small, cold repasts in
their bedchambers. Thus, they would not interfere with Malcolm’s preparations for the wedding feast. Both bride and bridegroom
would remain in their respective bedchambers until they set out for the chapel.

Anne used the service stairway near Lady Carmichael’s bedchamber, hurrying quietly past it in case her aunt was still inside.
She did not want to be summoned yet, for she knew Olivia would have tasks for her to perform, and before the bustle began,
she wanted time to think.

Outside, despite days of intermittent rain and a sky the previous evening full of threatening thunderclouds, Fiona’s wedding
morning had dawned golden with sunlight. The air smelled fresh from the rain, and the brook that divided the garden lengthwise
in two splashed through it in merry spate.

As she followed the path to the narrow, arched stone bridge that spanned the brook, Anne saw several gardeners doing last-minute
pruning and trimming so no guest should think the gardens untidy.

Taking the first fork that led away from the chapel in the hope of finding privacy, however brief, she drew a deep breath
and tried to focus her thoughts on finding a way to help Fiona avoid marrying Eustace if Sir Christopher did not come. The
nearer the ceremony drew, the more difficult such an undertaking would be, because interference of any sort would create uproar.
Interference by Lady Anne Ellyson would likely launch the matter into the annals of local history.

“Why would it be so bad if ye believe your cousin shouldna marry the man?”

Stopping short, Anne looked around for the source of the unfamiliar voice.

“Here I be, up here.”

Looking up, she saw a plump little countrywoman in a long gray cloak over a green dress, perched on the lowest branch of a
tall beech tree. “Faith, who are you, and how did you get up there?”

“Me name’s Maggie Malloch,” she said, “and I’m up here because I didna think it wise tae pop up right in front o’ ye. I can
come down closer if ye’d like.”

“Yes, please, but do be caref—”

She broke off when the woman vanished.

“Will this do?”

The voice came from behind her, but whirling, she saw no one.

“Here, on the bush!” A slight movement drew her gaze to a nearby rosebush, where the little woman—much, much smaller now—waved
at her from a leaf upon which she sat in apparent comfort, a bit lower than Anne’s eye level.

Anne gasped. “What did you—? That is, how … ?”

“This be much better, dinna ye agree?”

The hairs on the back of Anne’s neck prickled, and her mouth felt dry. “What manner of creature are you?” she demanded. “Am
I still asleep and only dreaming that it is morning already?”

“Ye’re no dreaming, and ye ken verra well what I am if ye’ll but let yourself believe it, but ye’ve nae call tae fret, for
I dinna mean tae meddle. However, I were that curious tae hear why ye’d fret about doing what ye believe tae be right.”

“Are you one of the wee folk?”

“I am, but we’ll no talk about me. We’ll discuss your troubles instead.”

“But you must somehow have intercepted my thoughts, for I am quite sure I did not speak them aloud.”

“Whisst now, dinna prattle. Tell me why ye canna interfere.”

“Because, as horrid as the man is, one simply doesn’t,” Anne said. “I suppose it would do no good to point out that this is
none of your business ”

Maggie dismissed that with a gesture. “Chatting about a dilemma often helps tae resolve it,” she said. “D’ye fear I’ll tell
others what ye say tae me?”

“No, I cannot imagine that you would,” Anne said, relaxing. She had never seen one of the wee folk before and had thought
them creatures of folklore, but for no discernible reason, she decided she could trust Maggie Malloch. “What made you ask
me about it if you can simply listen in on my thoughts?” she asked.

“I wanted a dialogue, o’ course. Moreover, it takes much more energy tae read thoughts, and some mortals get flustered and
upset if I try tae carry on me dialogue in their heads.”

“Can you do that?”

“Oh, aye, but it generally counts as interfering.”

“And you are not interfering now,” Anne said dryly.

“Nay,” Maggie said, chuckling.

“I see. Well, it might help me to talk about it. Which was the last of my thoughts that you heard, or read, or whatever it
is that you do?”

“That interfering would launch the affair into the annals o’ local history. What d’ye mean, it isna done?”

“It just isn’t. People don’t go about interfering in other people’s marriage plans. I mean, parents do, of course, because
they arrange them, but once they are arranged, one doesn’t try to overset them. And it would be worse if I did it—”