Read Just Beyond Tomorrow Online
Authors: Bertrice Small
Just Beyond Tomorrow (30 page)
“Ye'll need workers,” the duke noted.
“Aye,” she agreed. “Angus says the roof requires work, and a new stable will need to be built. The old one hae collapsed. The castle is filthy, but 'tis nae a big place like Glenkirk. Once the men do the heavy work, Aggie and I can make it habitable again.”
“Why? I thought ye but meant to repair it so it does nae fall down,” Patrick said.
“Brae is for our second son, my lord, provided we hae a second son. If nae, then for a daughter, one day. I hae always wanted to live at Brae. Once our bairn is born, I canna. Glenkirk's heir must grow up at Glenkirk,” Flanna told him. “So, wi' yer permission, I will restore my mother's home and remain there for a little while.” She gave him a quick, brief smile.
“I dinna like being parted from ye, lady,” he grumbled.
“When ye accused me of deceit, my lord, ye separated us,” she responded sharply. “I need time from ye to cool my ire. My choler canna be good for the bairn, Patrick.”
He nodded reluctantly. “Aye,” he agreed. Reaching out, he took a stray lock of her hair between his fingers a moment and fondled it.
God's boots, she is so beautiful,
he thought. He wanted her now as he had never wanted her before, but Patrick Leslie knew he had turned his wife's passion to fury.
Flaming Flanna,
her family had warned him that she was called. Her anger against him was hot, but it burned a cold heat. Reluctantly he released the silky tress.
God's boots, she is so beautiful,
he thought. He wanted her now as he had never wanted her before, but Patrick Leslie knew he had turned his wife's passion to fury.
Flaming Flanna,
her family had warned him that she was called. Her anger against him was hot, but it burned a cold heat. Reluctantly he released the silky tress.
Flanna arose from the high board. “I am tired,” she said. “Good night, my lord. God grant ye a good rest.” Curtsying to him formally, she then turned and left the hall.
Patrick reached for his goblet and drank deep. Would she ever forgive him? Sultan, the cat, leapt into his lap and began to purr as he settled himself. “Hae ye come to comfort me, old friend?” the duke inquired of the orange feline.
Sultan dug his well-honed claws into the duke's thigh, kneading vigorously as his rumbling purr increased in resonance.
Patrick Leslie laughed softly. And that was all the comfort he was going to get for the interim, he realized. His hand caressed the big cat affectionately. “Well,” he said, “we managed before her, and I imagine we can manage for a while wi'out her, although I dinna like it. I suppose, sooner than later, I'll hae to apologize, although 'tis she who ran off and was a disobedient wife. I may be guilty of foolish words, but is she nae guilty of bad behavior?”
Sultan looked up at the duke as if to say,
“Dinna be a fool, my lord. Apologize.”
The look was so clear Patrick would have sworn he heard an impatient voice speaking the words. Then the cat put its head down on the duke's lap and went to sleep.
“Dinna be a fool, my lord. Apologize.”
The look was so clear Patrick would have sworn he heard an impatient voice speaking the words. Then the cat put its head down on the duke's lap and went to sleep.
Patrick chuckled softly and continued stroking Sultan. The orange beast was good company. His gaze swept the Great Hall, and he found its familiarity comforting. His father had left Glenkirk long ago after the tragic death of his first family. He had gone down into England and quietly served King James. As a boy he had visited the court of the Great Elizabeth. While James Leslie had liked his home, he had not had the passion for it that his eldest son did. Patrick realized that he never wanted to live anywhere else but Glenkirk. Whatever happened with the king, the Duke of Glenkirk would not go to court. His little sister, Autumn, had called him old before his time. She had always been eager to travel, to see new places, but not he.
He considered his brother Charlie, whom he had always thought much like him. But Charlie had left his home at Queen's Malvern and joined with the king after his wife had been murdered by Cromwell's men. Would he leave Glenkirk under similar circumstances? Patrick wondered. Nay. He would not. He thought about his mother's estate manager in Ireland, Rory Maguire. His mother had spoken often, and fondly, of the Irishman who had been the son of the former lord of Maguire's Ford. Rory's family had gone into exile in France rather than submit to the English, but not Rory. He loved his land and felt an obligation to it and its people.
As I do for Glenkirk,
Patrick considered.
As I do for Glenkirk,
Patrick considered.
“More wine, my lord?” Angus was at his side.
“Aye. Get a goblet and join me,” the duke said.
Angus Gordon poured two goblets of wine and, handing one to Patrick, sat opposite him. “To the heir!” he said, raising his goblet.
“Aye, to my heir!” the duke agreed. He took a draught of the rich ruby-colored liquid, then said, “She's leaving me, Angus.”
“Only for a little time so she may work off her temper, my lord. Ye hurt her grievously wi' yer words.”
The duke flushed. “She told ye, then?”
“Aye, she did, my lord. Ye know that Flanna and I are kin. I am her mam's elder brother, but, my lord, I am yer kin as well,” Angus said. “The grandfather for who ye are named, the fourth Earl of Glenkirk, Patrick Leslie who was the husband of Catriona Hay, sired a daughter named Jessie on a lass called Bride Forbes. When she was twenty, my mother died giving birth to me. As ye see, I am a big man, and they say I was a large bairn. Andrew Gordon, the Earl of Brae, was my father. I was born just before he married Anne Keith, who was my sister Maggie's mam. So, my lord, as ye see, we share a Leslie grandfather and are cousins. I am a man who feels strongly about his family. I love my niece, but I hae come to love ye, too, my lord. If ye will trust me as Flanna trusts me, I will guard yer interests as I do hers.”
“I never knew my grandfather Leslie,” the duke said. He was surprised, but not greatly so by Angus Gordon's revelation. “Hae ye seen his portrait in the family gallery? Ye hae his look about ye, and now that I know yer lineage, I understand why ye hae seemed so damned familiar to me since ye came to Glenkirk. How many years do ye hae?”
“Fifty-three come Lammas this year,” was the answer.
The duke nodded. “Ye're a good man, Angus Gordon, and aye, ye hae my trust.” He sighed. “What am I to do, Angus?”
“Ye're nae ready yet, my lord,” came the amused reply. “Ye know what must be done, but ye're nae ready to do it.”
“I must apologize,” Patrick said.
“Aye, ye must,” Angus agreed.
“But 'twas she who ran off,” Patrick complained, a hand brushing through his dark hair fretfully.
“Aye, she did,” Angus concurred, drinking down some of his wine.
“She dinna apologize to me for her conduct,” Patrick said.
“Nor will she,” Angus told him. “Ye must understand, my lord, that Flanna is a verra independent woman. After her mam died, there was nae one to care about her but for Una Brodie. That poor woman had her hands full wi' her own bairns and keeping Killiecairn just like old Lachlann expected it to be kept. None of her sisters-in-law would gie her much help, for they knew Aulay Brodie was his father's heir, and Una was, therefore, the next lady of the house. Una had scarcely a moment for herself, let alone a wild lass who rarely listened to anyone but herself. I did what I could for Flanna, but I am nae a nursemaid.
“My niece has always done as she pleased. Becoming yer wife was nae bound to turn her into a model of deportment. She's too damned old to change, my lord. Her mam, now, was clever. Meg knew how to get her own way while appearing to do exactly what ye wanted.” He chuckled with the memory. “Unfortunately she died before she might pass on that talent to Flanna. But the lass is nae stupid. She will learn in time how to manage us all wi'out butting heads wi' us. And in the meantime, we will hae to be patient because we love her.”
He smiled at the younger man. “She will go to Brae and make it beautiful the way she has always wanted to do. And when 'tis finished she will play at being the lady of Brae. And by that time her temper will hae cooled, my lord. I'll put it into her head to invite ye to see what she has accomplished. I hope by then ye'll be ready to apologize to her for yer words. If ye do, I expect ye'll both come back to Glenkirk together while I remain behind to close up Brae. It must nae be allowed to fall into disrepair again, my lord. Flanna means to hae the earldom back for her second son one day, and his home must be ready for him.”
“I agree,” the duke said, and then he grinned at Angus Gordon. “Ye scheme like a Leslie, my friend.” Then he stood up. “I'm for bed.”
Angus Gordon arose, too. “And I must see that all is locked and the candles are out before I seek my own rest.” He bowed to the duke. “Good night, my lord,” he said.
“Good night,
cousin,”
Patrick Leslie said, and left the hall.
cousin,”
Patrick Leslie said, and left the hall.
For a moment the unshakeable Angus Gordon was startled, but then he smiled to himself and went about his duties as always.
Flanna did not depart Glenkirk for several days after that, for she was secure in the knowledge that she might go unimpeded. With her uncle's aid, she gathered the workmen she would need. Supplies were dispatched along with a party of clansmen who would erect a shelter for the workers and sweep out the hall so their lady might reside there temporarily. The Stuart children were disappointed that they were not to go with Flanna, for they had grown close to their aunt.
“When Brae is restored and ready for visitors, ye shall be the first that I welcome,” Flanna promised them.
“Is Brae to be a hunting lodge?” Freddie wanted to know.
“Brae was my mother's family home. The earls of Brae hae lived there since the time of the first King James, and before that the lairds of Brae were the lords there. If God wills it, Freddie, I will gie yer uncle several sons. Brae is to be for the second of them. I dinna want to wait until he is born.” She smiled.
“I shall be the Duke of Lundy one day,” Freddie told her. “I am my father's heir. Willy is only Lord Stuart. I don't know what he shall have but his good name.”
“Papa will provide for him,” Brie spoke up. “It is a family tradition to provide for all the sons and daughters. I shall marry well, of course.” She sighed dramatically. “If this horrid war is ever over and done with, and I can go home to take my place in society.”
“You are too young right now for society,” Freddie said wisely. “We all are. However, I want to go home, too, so we must pray for our king to be restored to his throne so Papa will come and get us.”
“Are ye nae happy here?” Flanna asked them. Until now, they had not expressed a great desire to return to England. Did it have something to do with her leaving Glenkirk? They had lost their mother, and now she was leaving them as well.
“You are most kind and very hospitable to us all,” Brie spoke up, “but we miss our mother, and we miss Queen's Malvern.”
“Yer mam is dead, Brie,” Flanna said gently.
“I know,” Brie replied, “but it would give me comfort to sit by her grave so I might talk with her again.”
“Ye may talk wi' her wherever ye are, Brie,” Flanna responded. “Yer mam is wi' God in heaven. Only her bones rest at Queen's Malvern.”
“Do you think she would hear me here at Glenkirk?” Brie asked. “She never came to Glenkirk, you know.”
“Yer mam knows just where ye are,” Flanna assured her niece. “Ye can see the whole wide world from heaven, I hae been told.”
“You can?”
Sabrina Stuart's young face was suddenly lit with a smile. “And our mother can see Papa, too?”
Sabrina Stuart's young face was suddenly lit with a smile. “And our mother can see Papa, too?”
“Of course,” Flanna said.
“Will there be a war, Flanna?” the girl asked.
“Aye, there will be a war,” Flanna said, “but we should be verra safe here at Glenkirk. War rarely comes to us. We must march from our Highlands to meet war in this case, Brie.”
“And Papa will be with the king, won't he?” Brie queried.
“Yer papa is a Stuart, Brie. Aye, his loyalty will be wi' King Charles II. All of our loyalties should be wi' the king.”
“Then, why is Uncle Patrick not with them?” Freddie demanded to know.
“Yer uncle is as loyal as any to his king,” Flanna said, “but this war the king will fight is nae about Scotland, bairns. 'Tis about England. Yer uncle will nae fight for England, nor will he send his clansmen to fight for England. Yer da, however, is English. 'Tis his duty to fight for king and country,” Flanna explained. “Yer uncle is an honorable man, and he will remain here to keep Glenkirk and his clan safe, for wars hae a tendency of spilling over into places that they should nae go. If the king's war came to Scotland, then yer uncle would fight, and so would his clansmen.”
Both Brie and her brother nodded their understanding of Flanna's explanation.
Hidden in the shadows, Patrick Leslie had listened to his wife and the children. He was touched that despite their differences Flanna would not criticize him. More and more he was realizing that despite her less-than-elegant upbringing, this young woman was the perfect duchess for Glenkirk in this particular time.
And he loved her.
And he loved her.
Chapter
14
14
O
n July twenty-third, Henry Lindley, Marquis of Westleigh, rode into the courtyard of Glenkirk Castle. He was tired, wet, and chilled;
and
he finally understood the desire his grandmother Gordon and his own mother had for an English summer each year. Only September and October were tolerable in Scotland, he recalled. The marquis dismounted his horse stiffly. He had been riding north for several long days, coming from his own estates at Cadby in England's midlands. Having spent some of his youth at Glenkirk, Lord Lindley knew his way and went directly into the Great Hall.
n July twenty-third, Henry Lindley, Marquis of Westleigh, rode into the courtyard of Glenkirk Castle. He was tired, wet, and chilled;
and
he finally understood the desire his grandmother Gordon and his own mother had for an English summer each year. Only September and October were tolerable in Scotland, he recalled. The marquis dismounted his horse stiffly. He had been riding north for several long days, coming from his own estates at Cadby in England's midlands. Having spent some of his youth at Glenkirk, Lord Lindley knew his way and went directly into the Great Hall.
Angus Gordon immediately came forward to greet the guest, wondering who he was. The man looked weary and worn. “Welcome to Glenkirk, sir,” Angus said.
“I am Henry Lindley, Marquis of Westleigh. Fetch my brother, the duke, immediately,” was the answer.
“At once, my lord,” Angus said low, and he signaled a serving wench to bring their guest wine. Then he hurried from the hall.
“Uncle Henry?” A small figure rose from a chair by one of the fireplaces.
“Uncle Henry!”
Sabrina Stuart threw down her embroidery frame and ran across the hall to fling herself into Henry Lindley's welcoming arms.
“Uncle Henry!”
Sabrina Stuart threw down her embroidery frame and ran across the hall to fling herself into Henry Lindley's welcoming arms.
“Sabrina, my dear child.” The marquis hugged the young girl. Then he set her back from him, and said, “Why, Brie, I believe you have grown since I last saw you. You shall be a great beauty one day.”
Sabrina giggled, pleased, for she did love flattery. Then she said, “Uncle, what are you doing here?”
“I have come to see my brother,” he said with a smile at her.
“All the way from England, and during hostilities?” Brie queried him closely. She was young, but she was not foolish. “Is my father all right, uncle? Tell me my father is safe!”
“I have not heard from your father since you departed England last year, my child,” the marquis answered her honestly. “You would know more, my dear, than I would.”
“We have not seen Papa since Christmas. He left almost immediately afterward to go to Perth to be with the king when he was crowned,” Sabrina explained. “He must be very busy, for he has not been back.”
“You and your brothers are happy here?” Henry asked her. Had it been safe, he would have offered his niece and his two nephews a home at Cadby; but Charlie's in-laws were sour-faced Puritans who wanted to take his three children to raise themselves, and his brother could not allow it. His late sister-in-law's parents were not aware of Glenkirk.
“We love it here,” Brie said, “but we miss Queen's Malvern. Of course, since Aunt Flanna has been at Brae, it hasn't been as much fun as when she is here; but she wants to have Brae for her second son, and it needed to be refurbished,” Brie explained.
“Who is your Aunt Flanna?” Henry Lindley asked his niece, puzzled.
“Why, she is Uncle Patrick's wife, and she's having a baby in a few more weeks,” Sabrina informed him. “She's very fair, and she is the best archer I have ever seen. She has taught me to use the longbow, but I am not nearly as good at it as she is. I don't think I will ever be,” Sabrina sighed.
Henry Lindley sought a chair and sat down heavily. He surely hadn't heard the young girl correctly. When had Patrick found himself a wife? And why had their mother not mentioned it in her letters to him from France? It was all very confusing, and then his younger brother entered the hall. The marquis immediately arose.
“Henry! Welcome to Glenkirk, and what the hell are ye doing here?” Patrick greeted his eldest brother. The two men embraced.
“Send Brie from the hall,” Henry Lindley said softly. “We need to talk, and I would not frighten her.” Then he sat down again.
“Brie, go and find yer brothers,” the duke told his niece. “And make certain they come into the hall looking respectable, nae wi' torn garments and dirt on their faces.” He chuckled. “We dinna want yer uncle to think they hae gone wild in my care, eh?”
“Aye, uncle, I'll see them washed up and properly garbed,” Brie promised. She bustled from the hall to do his bidding.
The duke turned to Henry Lindley, sitting down opposite him as a servant offered them each a goblet of Archambault wine. “To our mam,” Patrick said, raising his goblet.
“To Mam,” Henry agreed, and raised his goblet in toast.
“Now,” the duke said, “why are ye here, Henry? It canna hae been an easy trip. Is Mam all right?”
“She is fine,” Henry assured his brother. “And, aye, it was not an easy trip. You have no idea what it is like in England now, Patrick. There is an air of fear that permeates everything and everyone. You can trust no one any longer, even your own servants. Every word must be carefully thought over before it is spoken lest someone misconstrue its meaning. There is no decent society any longer, for we all fear to meet. We keep to ourselves, pay our taxes, and make a public show of prayer in church each week. Our dress and demeanor have to be modest, and we speak of nothing of any consequence but for the weather, our health, and the farming. Those who have been foolish enough to speak out against Cromwell and his ilk have found their estates confiscated, their families thrown out of their homes and set to wander upon the high road, shunned by friends and relations alike, all of whom are afraid of the same fate.
“In order to come to Glenkirk, I had to go to the local authorities. I told them our mother was very ill in France, that I must notify you and feared to send a messenger lest he be stopped by the Scots rebels once he crossed the border. They understood that only a gentleman of my rank, with a half brother in Scotland, could avoid such a situation. So, I was finally given the proper documents, which I have had to show a dozen times daily as I rode north.” Henry Lindley ran his hand through his dark hair, now showing silver threads here and there, and he sighed deeply.
“If Mam is all right, then why are ye here?” Patrick asked him.
“Mama is very worried about Charlie. Half of all she writes concerns her fears for him,” Henry said. “She understands his loyalty to his Stuart family. From the moment of his birth he was treated as one of them, despite coming into this world on the wrong side of the blanket. Both old King James and his queen doted on Charlie and made no secret of it. I have always thought if they might have made him their heir, they would have. But Charlie has always avoided politics, never pushing himself forward. Even the late king's French queen adores him for his deferential manners. And had Bess not been murdered by Cromwell's people, Charlie would have done what I am doing. He would have kept his lips sealed and his head low, waiting for better times to come again to England. But mama is now afraid for our brother. While she knows he cannot return home to Queen's Malvern, she wants him to remain at Glenkirk with you and his children until this chaos is over and done with and reasonable men rule once again.”
“Charlie is wi' the king, Henry,” Patrick said.
“I know, Brie told me,” the marquis answered. “You have to go and fetch him back, make him understand that he cannot throw his life away in this civil strife. God only knows if this particular Stuart will ever again sit on England's throne, but our brother must not throw away his life in this struggle, Patrick!”
“Why do ye ask me to go?” Patrick demanded of his elder. “Why can ye nae fetch him back to Cadby?”
“If I am found to have visited this king, I will be considered a traitor to Cromwell's regime. Most people do not even know that my half brother is Prince Henry Stuart's only child. If they did, it would be even worse for my family than it is now, Patrick. Mama is frightened that Charlie will be killed, or worse, that he will not be killed, but captured and made an example as a traitor to Cromwell's government. I have not a doubt that our brother would go gallantly to his death as other Stuarts before him have, but do we really want that?”
“I hae other responsibilities now, Henry,” Patrick said. “I hae a wife, and we will soon hae a bairn. And I hae Charlie's bairns to shelter and protect.”
“Brie told me that you wed. Who is she? I did not think you would ever marry, little brother,” Henry chuckled.
“Her name is Flanna. She was a Brodie of Killiecairn. They are simple Highlanders. Flanna had something that I wanted. I offered Lachlann Brodie double its value. But the old laird, her father, would only gie it to me if I took her to wife. So I did! Our mother advised me to marry before she left England for France. She said I had a duty to Glenkirk.” He grinned. “Flanna's uncle, the great fellow who welcomed ye, is Angus Gordon. His da was the last Earl of Brae. He was, of course, born on the wrong side of the blanket like Charlie,” Patrick explained. “And to make things even more interesting, Henry, Angus's grandfather, was my grandfather Leslie. The Patrick for whom I am named. Angus was a part of my wife's dowry.” The duke chuckled.
“When do I get to meet your wife?” Henry asked, quite curious.
“Tomorrow, when ye're rested, we'll go to Brae. Ye can meet her then,” Patrick promised.
“Why is she at Brae?” Henry queried.
“The lands that belong to Brae were what Flanna possessed that I so desired. She has always wanted to restore the castle. She has been at Brae since late April doing just that. She wants it for a second son one day. But she is rightly angry wi' me. I shall soon hae to apologize to her if my heir is to be born at Glenkirk where he should be born,” Patrick explained.
“What did you do?” Henry wondered.
“ 'Tis between us, brother,” Patrick responded, “but I shall hae to make it right wi' her verra soon. So, ye can certainly see, I canna go after Charlie.”
“You must,”
Henry Lindley said. “You can get through the lines because you are a Scot. You have to do this for Mama, Patrick.”
Henry Lindley said. “You can get through the lines because you are a Scot. You have to do this for Mama, Patrick.”
“Charlie will go down into England wi' the king, and all will be well, Henry. Ye worry too much,” Patrick gently mocked his brother. “And the English royalists will join wi' their king as he marches south. There is little danger that I can see, and Charlie will hae put the king in his debt for the future by his loyalty.”
“You don't understand,” Henry said grimly. “Few, if any, will join the king, Patrick. The Scots do not now have a big enough army, and the English lords, like me, do not want to endanger what they still retain to fight for Charles II. There is also, and you well know it, a prejudice against the Scots. The English have never liked the Stuarts, but they had no other choice but to accept them. As for your countrymen, Patrick, they have lost too many battles of late despite the fact they had the superior odds. This time it is Cromwell who has the greater force. You must believe me, Patrick, the English will not rise up for the king! He is on his own, may God have mercy on him and all who foolishly follow him right now.”
“Are the Stuarts finished in England, then?” Patrick queried.
“I don't know,” Henry answered his sibling. “I honestly don't know. If the king won a great victory, then perhaps some would flock to him. And if he then won a second victory, the momentum would grow. Then perhaps he might retake his kingdom, and the royalists would rise up once again and crowd to his banner, but not now. He must prove himself worthy first, and he has not the forces to do so. You have to find Charlie and make him see reason. If he will only return to Glenkirk, I can deal with him myself, but I cannot be seen anywhere near the king and his forces, Patrick. And let me assure you that there are spies everywhere these days.”
“I dinna know, Henry. Wi' Flanna so near her time, I hesitate to leave her,” the duke said. “We will resolve our dispute when I take ye to meet her. Then she will come home, and our first child will be born here, which is as it should be. I am nae even certain that I know where the king's forces are right now.”
“They are massing at the border,” Henry said. “Cromwell's forces have outflanked the king's people to the east, keeping them in the west. They must go south now. There is no other choice. The Scots have not exactly rallied to the Stuart banner either, so they can't go north. I don't know when the king plans to advance, but surely if you travel alone, you can reach Charlie before he ruins himself. Then bring him back, and you will be in time for the birth of your child. Patrick, I did not come this far to fail. We must do this for Charlie, for his children,
for Mama.”
for Mama.”
“Uncle Henry!” The marquis's nephews ran into the hall.
“We will discuss this again when we are alone,” the duke said. “I dinna want the bairns frightened. Say ye came to bring them news from Mam. They need nae know how difficult things are in England now.”
Henry Lindley nodded in agreement and then, reaching out, enfolded his two nephews in a bear hug. “Bless my soul, lads, you have grown. Willy! You are out of skirts, eh? And what has happened to your curls?”
Lord William Stuart grinned proudly at his uncle. “Gone!” he said triumphantly. He did not mention to his Uncle Henry that he had cut them off himself for they kept getting tangled in the brambles. Nor did he mention how his old nurse, Biddy, cried when she discovered what he had done.
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