In Search of the Past (Stacey and Shane Mcleod, #2) (22 page)

Stacey reached her hand across the table and said, “I’m Stacey McLeod, and I’ve been on the trail of these ladies for a while now. You say, you have a family history. Do you think I might be able to take a look at it?”

“I don’t see why not, Mrs. McLeod. I’m sure my mother will know more about this sort of thing than I do. Shall we say tomorrow around noon, I’ll meet you here at the hotel.”

“No, Mr. Harden, I’ll meet you at the historical society. I have yet to look there. Better yet, just give me the directions to your farm, and I’ll meet you there.”

“
My farm
?” he said, wondering why she thought he lived on a farm. “I’ll meet you at the historical society, Mrs., may I call you Stacey? And you call me Alistair, all this formality seems a bit over the top, don’t you think. Actually, Stacey, I have no qualms about meeting
at the farm
, but unless you’re familiar with the area there’s a good chance you may get lost.”

Stacey smiled and said, “No problem, we’ll meet at the historical society.”

At the historical society, Stacey found much information on the area, but very little about the inhabitants, unless they were influential. She wasn’t looking for that sort of people, so she lightly skimmed through them, until she saw the name, Sean Harden fifteen-hundred-eight. The laird of Blackthorp, she wondered if this was a relative of Alistair’s. Then she read that the Harden clan was an ancient clan, that went back to the early days of Scotland.

Well, I’ll ask him at the farm, but most likely his mother will know more about it than he would. He didn’t seem the type to be interested in family histories. When Stacey asked the curator about the Harden families, she was very vague about their history. The family only came to prominence in the sixteenth century with Sean Harden as the laird. As Stacey was thumbing through the clan histories, she spied the Scott clan. She stopped and Read: The Scott clan was a rough and saucy Scots. The Scotts settled in the Teviot and Ettrick districts of the Scottish borders during the thirteen century. The original home of the Scotts was a small area round Bellenden, near the head of the Ale Water in Roxburghshire. The Scotts later acquired Branxholme near Hawick, before adopting the name Buccleuch, which later became one of the richest Dukedoms in Scotland.

Stacey was amused and asked, “May I print this out, my gramps will get a big kick out of this.”

“Yes, of course,” the woman said. At the same time, she wondered what the young woman found that was so amusing, about one of Scotland’s finest Dukedoms.

When Stacey came out of the historical society, Alistair was waiting for her. He was leaning against his car with his arms crossed over his chest. He greeted her good morning and asked, “Do you want to ride with me or me ride with you.”

“Neither way,” Stacey said. “I’ll follow you.”

As Alistair turned the ignition, he glanced at Stacey in his rear view mirror and thought; she may be young, but she’s nobody’s fool. She’s clever enough not to get in a car with a strange man, and where the bloody hell is this husband of hers, to be letting her wonder around in a strange country alone, when she looks like that. I hope she can handle herself as well as she handles that car. Alistair had been watching her drive through his rear view mirror. They had driven about four miles when they turned off the main road onto a tree lined gravel drive. Stacey was a little surprised, when the house came into view.

It was a four-story manor house that looked centuries old. As they pulled into the driveway, a dainty woman, came out to greet them. She looked to be in her fifties, Stacey surmised. Alistair introduced her, “Mother, this is Stacey McLeod. She’s an American girl interested in our clan.”

The lady was small, about five-two with bright blue eyes and a bit of gray in her hair. She smiled at Stacey, took her hand and said, “Welcome to Blackthorp manor, my dear. I can’t imagine why you’re interested in us, we are the dullest people I know.”

“I rather doubt that, Mrs. Harden, but thank you for allowing me to come out.”

“Oh, please, call me Alma, Stacey. As soon as Alistair told me about you, I was so intrigued. We don’t have many new people or much excitement around here. So do come in, please. I have coffee ready and waiting.”

Alma Harden, ushered them into a bright sitting room with a warm fire burning. She poured coffee for the three of them. “Alistair tells me you’re interested in one of our ancestors by the same name as my son’s. I find this so very interesting and mysterious.”

Stacey took a liking, to this chipper little woman right away and said, “Yes, ma’am, I am. He was the brother of a monk at St. Gregory’s monastery in Yorkshire, England. Brother Ian was his name. He had a brother here in Scotland by the name of Alistair Harden, who lived on a farm near Hawick. Brother Ian, brought a woman and her three daughters here from Yorkshire, for sanctuary in the year fourteen-sixty-nine.”

Alma Harden, took an old tattered book from the tea table and said, “I reviewed our family history, last night when Alistair told me about you. I’m so sorry my dear, but it doesn’t go back that far. There are many prominent people in our family, and Alistair is a frequent name. Is there anything, else you can tell us that might help in your search.”

Stacey thought for a minute, and then decided it would do no harm at this time in history to divulge their names. “Yes, I can tell you their names. The mother’s name was Eleanor Fitz-Morgan, the countess of Dun-Raven and her twin daughters, Jacquelyn Suzanne and Jessica Leighanne, age fourteen and Cassandra Ann, age twelve. The Earl and his son were killed in battle in fourteen sixty-nine. Brother Ian was the castle priest, and he knew they were in danger, so he smuggled them out of England, and into Scotland to find sanctuary, at his brother’s farm.”

Alistair and his mother sat silently, finally, Alistair said, “So, that’s why you thought I lived on a farm. I wish it had been me, what a riveting story. How did you come by all this information, Stacey.”

There was no way she could tell them the truth, so she said, “I’m an archaeologist and I heard that Lord Wakefield, who lives close to the old castle ruins of Dun-Raven was in possession of some old papers that were found after the old monastery was torn down. The letters were written by Brother Ian about the countess and her daughters. I went to see lord Wakefield and he was generous enough to give me a copy of the papers. I was intrigued and my curiosity got the best of me, so I started searching and here I am.”

“Oh, I do wish we could help, my dear,” Alma said, then her face brighten with a new thought. “Stacey, did you by any chance, go by St Mary’s old parish church. Part of the old church has been there since the eleventh or twelfth century. I believe they kept records of marriages, baptisms, deaths and possibly the countess or one of her daughters may have married one of the Nobleman around here.”

“No, ma’am, I didn’t know about St Mary’s church. This was a hurry up trip for me. Perhaps I can come back another time, and search further. Stacey looked at her watch and said, “I’m so sorry to cut this short, but I have a plane I must catch to London tonight. Thank you both for your help. I truly wish I could stay longer, but I promised my husband I would be home by tonight.”

Alma Harden took Stacey’s hand and said, “It truly has been marvelous meeting you Stacey. If you are ever in Scotland again, please stop by for a visit.”

“Thank you Mrs. Harden, I will. I promise you I will be back.”

Alistair walked Stacey to her car and as she opened the door to get in he said, “You know Stacey, it’s a shame you didn’t come into my life sooner. We’re like passing ship in the night. Listen, how about I do some searching on my own. St. Mary’s is a good place to start. I’m sure Mother would enjoy snooping in the old church records. Should I find something interesting about these folks, how could I get in touch with you.”

Stacey wrote down her e-mail address and handed it to him, “You can always reach me there,” she said, then got in her car and drove away.

Stacey almost missed her plane to London. It took her longer to get back to Edinburgh, there was an accident on the highway. While she was sitting, waiting for the road to clear she called Grandmother McLeod to say goodbye. She also called Shane, but still no answer. On the plane she wrote down all the information she had gathered. She wished she had had time to go through the church records, that Mrs. Harden had mentioned. Maybe the next time, we’re in Scotland I can run down to Hawick and investigate the church records. With a smile, she thought, maybe visit with Mrs. Harden and Alistair too.

London

S
tacey arrived at the flat a little after dark. She was disappointed that Shane wasn’t there. She left her luggage in the hall and went upstairs. She was in the shower shampooing her hair when Shane joined her. “You’re quiet as a cat,” she told him as he took her in his arms and kissed her. “I take it your not mad at me anymore,” Stacey said, as he nibbled at her lips. It was obvious, what he had on his mind. As the warm water sprayed over them, they were consumed by the fires of passion.

Later, in bed Shane asked, “Was your trip worth the effort? I missed you.”

“I missed you too, and yes, I believe it was.” Stacey raised upon her elbow, looked Shane in the eye and asked, “Why didn’t you answer the phone when I called?”

Shane put a hand on both sides of her head, pulled her down and kissed her with a searing kiss and said, “We aren’t going to discuss that now are we? We have better things to do, such as this, as he kissed her breast, and this and this.” When he heard Stacey moan, he assumed the subject was closed.

The next morning at breakfast, Stacey brought the subject up again, “Shane, don’t you think we should talk this thing out. I don’t want you getting angry with me ever time we have a disagreement.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. It won’t happen again. My nerves were frayed from worrying about my grandmother. I must go, I’ll see you tonight,” he said, as he kissed her bye and promised he would try to be home early.

Stacey had time on her hands, so she went to spend some time with Annie. Stacey told her about Shane’s grandmother and her trip to Hawick, Scotland. “Yes, I know,” Annie said. “Shane was quite upset with you, but Hugh had a long talk with him and he calmed down after a while.”

“I’d sure like to know his methodology for future use,” Stacey said, half jokingly. “So help me god, Annie, I don’t understand why Shane got so upset about the whole thing. He has been with me from the beginning of this phenomena, and has been so supportive. I never expected him to blow up like he did in Scotland, and now he won’t even discuss it with me. Plus, I’m not in to this dictatorial attitude, that’s come over him. I’m his wife not his child.”

From Annie’s, Stacey went to the history department at the university to talk with Professor Brown. She now had the idea of searching church records. When Alma Harden mentioned St. Mary’s might have records of birth, deaths and marriages, Stacey suddenly remembered the countess and the earl were married by a priest from St. Michaels. If she could find this old church, then perhaps she could find the records and the name of the countess and what her connection was to her. She didn’t want to upset Shane again, so she would search while he was at hospital.

Stacey left the flat, almost as soon as Mrs. Wyatt arrived. She was very cordial with Stacey now that she knew they were married. She was surprised to see Stacey back in England. She knew that Doctor McLeod, was going to travel to Texas for the Christmas holidays to meet his new in-laws. Stacey told her about Grandmother McLeod having a stroke and that Shane had to cancel his trip to Texas and fly to Scotland instead.  Mrs. Wyatt listened and then said, “Well, to be sure, Mrs. McLeod, the doctor is a good and caring man who loves his grandmother. How is his grandmother fairing? She is a mighty fine lady, to be sure.”

“Yes, ma’am, you’ll get no argument from me there, and I’m happy to say she is recovering quite nicely. I must go out for a while, but I’ll see you tomorrow,” Stacey said with a smile.

Professor Brown, called Stacey to inform her that a colleague of his was interested in helping in her search of medieval architecture. At the university, she was sitting in the history department waiting for a professor from Bradford who specialized in medieval architectural history. When he arrived, Stacey was pleasantly surprised. She was expecting a stodgy older man with a balding pate. This one resembled, a Norse god with a head full of hair as well as his chest, if what she could see from the opening of his shirt was any indication.

The golden Adonis, put his hand out and said, “Mrs. McLeod, I’m professor Mark Webster. I understand you’re interested in London of the middle ages.”

“Yes, I am,” Stacey said, as she shook hands with him. “It’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for coming. I know it sounds like an odd request.”

With a smile that showed off his dimples and his even white teeth, he said, “Not at all, Mrs. McLeod. I’m a professor of history, so therefore I spend much of my time in the past. Sometimes I think the past is more interesting that the present. Now, tell me, what can I do for you?”  That was almost a loaded question. He couldn’t imagine what this very beautiful and very young woman could want from a history professor. Not that he would mind spending time with her, but he did sense a forlornness about her.

“I’m searching for a place, that I’m afraid doesn’t exist anymore, and please call me Stacey,” she said, instantly feeling a connection to him.

“Perhaps it does or doesn’t. Tell me the name of this place, Stacey.”

“It was a small church, by the name of St. Michaels. And it was located not too far from a large manor house by the name of Hampton hall. It was the town dwelling of the Earl of Hampton.”

Professor Webster rubbed his chin and asked, “Have you been to the historical society yet? They carry quite a lot of medieval history.” He was surprised to hear the slight trimmer in her voice. He knew without thinking twice, that he would do all that was possible to help her and to spend time with her.