Tamed by a Laird (7 page)

Jenny could appreciate their care, although she thought it unnecessary at such a damp time of year. The surrounding shrubbery
fairly dripped with dew, and what little sky showed through the canopy of leaves overhead was gray and dismal. The air retained
an icy crispness and smelled of rain if not snow in the offing.

Her hooded cloak of moss-green wool was fur-lined and warm, her boots and gloves likewise. Like most Borderers—indeed, most
Scots—she was used to inclement weather and paid it little heed. But had Mairi been there to ask how comfortably she had slept,
she’d have found it hard to do aught but agree with that young lady’s condemnation of the conditions under which minstrels
traveled.

A mug of hot cider warmed her, and oatcakes hot from a griddle over the fire and spread with bramble jam sated her appetite.
Peg introduced her to some of Bryan’s friends in the company as a distant cousin, and she soon found herself chatting amiably
with a number of people, including two women, a mother and daughter named Cath and Gerda, who identified themselves as gleemaidens.

Jenny learned that although there were but a dozen minstrels in the company, including three women, many other folks accompanied
them, some as apprentices but most being family members or others simply wanting to travel with them. They earned their keep
by providing services for the company such as cooking, mending, hunting, and fishing, or helping to care for their animals.

By the time Bryan returned, Jenny and Peg were comfortably chatting with the others. However, Jenny viewed his approach with
some trepidation, gathering her wits so she might counter any further objection he might make to her staying.

“The Joculator wants to talk wi’ ye,” Bryan said. “If ye follow yon deer trail through the shrubbery, ye’ll find him in a
green tent after ye cross the rill.”

“I’ll go with ye,” Peg said.

“Nay, lass,” Bryan said, catching her by an arm. “He wants to see her alone.”

W
hen Sir Hugh learned at the high table that morning that the maidservant who attended young Baroness Easdale had likewise
gone missing, he said dryly, “Do your people make it a habit to run away from Annan House, my lord?”

“Dinna fash yourself, lad,” Dunwythie said. “My lady wife has sent for her own maidservant. She’s a friend o’ Peg’s, and will
likely ken where she has gone.”

“I’d think Peg must be with her mistress,” Hugh said, nodding to a gillie to fill his mug from the jug of ale the lad held.

“You are mistaken if you think Peg is Janet’s servant,” Phaeline said. “She is ours and answers to me… or to my lord,” she
added with a coy look at Dunwythie that stirred in Hugh only a wish that her husband would occasionally slap her.

Repressing the thought, he said mildly, “It would hardly be unusual if Peg’s loyalty has shifted to the young woman she serves.”

“I should be most displeased if that were so,” Phaeline said. Frowning, she added, “
You
would please me more, brother, had you taken the trouble to dress properly before joining us at this table. To present yourself
in riding dress—”

“Dinna scold him, my love,” Dunwythie interjected. “I have persuaded him to go after the lass. He’ll leave as soon as we learn
which direction he should go.”

Fiona said, “I think—”

“Hush, Fiona,” Phaeline said.

Hugh saw Mairi touch Fiona’s hand in clear warning as Phaeline went on: “Mercy, but it must be plain to the simplest mind
that one must ride north to go anywhere from Annan House but into the sea. I expect Jenny grew homesick and is foolishly trying
to return to Easdale. That
is
north of here, is it not?”

“Aye, it is,” Dunwythie said, patting her hand. “But she may not ken that as clearly as ye do, my love. She may have thought
that she could more easily elude pursuit by crossing the river straightaway.”

“Such speculation is useless without facts on which to base it,” Hugh said, helping himself to some rare sliced beef. “It
is true that her most likely direction is north, but the lass—indeed, both of them—may have gone anywhere and must be some
distance away by now. We would be wise to learn as much as we can before I set out after them. I can go in only one direction
at a time, after all.”

Phaeline said with edged calm, “I still fail to see why her departure should interest
you
, sir. Our brother is quite capable of retrieving his own betrothed wife.”

Taking a manchet loaf from the basket, Hugh took a bite without replying. He was hungry and had no interest in discussing
his decision or Dunwythie’s with Phaeline. As he chewed, he put down the roll and applied his knife to his meat.

Dunwythie said then, “As I told ye, my love, I
asked
Hugh to see to the matter. Sithee, I want no scandal, and thanks to his years of service with Archie Douglas, he has more
experience with such delicate matters than Reid does.”

“But this is Reid’s business, not Hugh’s,” Phaeline said. “He should at least go with Hugh if Hugh is to find Janet.”

Hugh continued to eat, but his jaw tightened at the thought of having to deal with his brother on such a mission. It was enough
that Dunwythie expected him to run after their baroness and drag her back without saddling him with Reid, too.

Apparently Dunwythie agreed, for he said in the mild tone he seemed always to use with Phaeline, “I fear ye’ll find Reid in
no shape this morning to ride out for anything, my love. He never made it to bed but slept here in the hall with the men.
I had two of them carry him to an empty bedchamber before I went to wake Hugh.”

“Why did you not have them carry Reid to his own bed?” she asked.

“Because I did not think the sight of him would aid me in persuading Hugh to see to this matter for me,” Dunwythie said with
more bluntness than usual.

When she bristled at his tone, he added soothingly, “Nay, my love, dinna fidget yourself trying to defend Reid. I will own
that he is young and deserved to enjoy his betrothal feast. But, believe me, he would no thank ye for rousing him now to ride
after Jenny. Only think what his reaction to her disappearance will be, and ask yourself if ye want him tearing off in such
a state to find her.”

“It would serve her right if he did,” Phaeline said. “She wants beating.”

“One surely cannot blame him if he is angry with her,” Fiona said. “It was wrong to leave without permission. But surely he
does not have the right yet to—”

“It was indeed wrong of her, Fiona,” Phaeline interposed. “But, prithee, do not interrupt us again. You know better than to
do that.”

“She spoke nowt but the truth, my love,” Dunwythie said. “However, until we talk to Jenny, we canna tell what drove her to
leave. Ye must admit that such behavior is most unlike her.” After a pause, he added, “Hugh suggested that perhaps she doesna
want to marry Reid.”

Shifting position enough to see how Phaeline would react to that statement, Hugh saw that Mairi, sitting between Phaeline
and Fiona, had apparently done likewise to see Dunwythie.

As their gazes collided, Phaeline said testily, “Do not fidget so, Mairi. If you have finished breaking your fast, you may
go upstairs and see to your duties. You, too, may be excused, Fiona.”

Fiona, standing, looked as if she might protest, but Mairi turned as she stood up, and gave her sister a gentle push. Making
their curtsies, they left the hall.

Phaeline, still irritable, said, “How did you come to think that Janet does not want to marry Reid, Hugh? You must agree that
’tis an excellent match. After all, you made it plain these two years past that you will not marry again. So if Thornhill
is to remain in the family, Reid must produce an heir to succeed, himself.”

“Did you ask Mairi and Fiona if Lady Easdale had confided her plans to them?” Hugh asked, wanting to avoid discussion of his
position and seeing naught to gain from pointing out that any benefit from the match between Reid and Janet Easdale would
clearly be Reid’s. “I’d think she might have talked to them.”

“Of course, I asked them,” Phaeline said. “I was not surprised, though, to learn that Janet had said naught to them of her
intention to leave. She does not seem to converse easily with anyone, and therefore has had much to learn since she came to
us. I am sure her father meant well by her, but he was only a man, after all, and scarcely equipped to teach any daughter
how to get on in life.”

Dunwythie said, “I find Jenny sweet and charming, but she did have an unusual upbringing. Still, she is a gey competent lass,
so I warrant she will manage to look after herself until ye find her, Hugh.”

Looking toward the lower hall, Phaeline said, “Whatever can be keeping that girl? Oh, there she is,” she added as a plump
young woman hurried into the hall. “Sadie, come and tell us what you know of Lady Easdale’s whereabouts.”

The maidservant hurried forward, pushing stray dark curls back up under her cap as she did. Without stepping onto the dais,
she curtsied, saying, “I ken nowt o’ her ladyship, me lady. Be she not in the house?”

Sensing Phaeline’s impatience even from two seats away, Hugh looked at Dunwythie, but his lordship had already put a calming
hand on his lady’s.

He said, “Sadie, lass, we depend on ye to aid us. Peg doesna seem to be in the house this morning. D’ye ken where else she
may be?”

Color flooded Sadie’s cheeks, and her eyes widened, but she remained mute.

Dunwythie said, “Come now, if ye ken aught, ye must tell us.”

Biting her lower lip, Sadie glanced at Phaeline.

“It becomes clear, Sadie, that you feel some mistaken notion of loyalty to Peg,” her ladyship said. “Let me remind you—”

“My love,” Dunwythie said gently, “this morning has been a most unrestful one for ye, and I’d have ye consider our wee son’s
well-being. I’m thinking we should let Hugh talk with Sadie whilst I see ye laid down on your bed. Come now, and I’ll take
ye up m’self,” he added with a speaking glance at Hugh.

To Hugh’s surprise, Phaeline made no objection to her husband’s decision but rose at once and let him take her from the hall.

Alone with a nervous Sadie, Hugh said, “I must order my horse saddled, lass. Stay a bit whilst I finish this fine beef, and
then you may walk with me to the stable.”

If it occurred to her that he could easily shout for someone to take his order to the stable, Sadie did not say so. She just
nodded and waited patiently until he had finished his meal. He did so without haste, as usual, and tried to decide how much
he should tell her. When he stood at last, he noted with satisfaction that she looked less fearful albeit much less patient
as well.

“You’ll do, lass,” he said approvingly. “I suspect we’ll get on well. So, as we walk, I want you to tell me all you know or
suspect about where your friend Peg may have gone. I vow you’ll not suffer for the telling. Whatever the tale may be, I’ll
make all right for you with his lordship before I leave Annan House.”

She glanced up at him as he touched her shoulder, urging her toward the stairway to the courtyard. “We’ll go this way,” he
said. “If my man comes looking for me, I want to be sure someone tells him where I’ve gone.”

Motioning a gillie over, he gave his order, then turned back to Sadie. “Now then, tell me what you know,” he said, gesturing
for her to precede him.

“Aye, sir,” she said. “I canna tell ye much, except Peg canna ha’ meant to be gone for long. Certes, but she never said nowt
about going away overnight.”

“But she
was
going somewhere, I think.”

“Aye, for her brother Bryan be one o’ the jugglers wi’ the minstrel company that performed here yestereve. Peg had been busy
all day and had nae time to talk wi’ him, she said. So she meant to walk a wee while wi’ them after they left.”

“I expect she saw no reason to seek permission for this walk,” Hugh said, glancing down at her as she stepped aside to let
him go ahead of her into the yard.

Her color rose again at his words, telling him she was still nervous.

“Well?” he said when she did not reply.

“She didna mean to beg leave,” Sadie said. “ ’Tis why I ken fine that she didna mean to be away overnight. She’d lose her
place did she do that a-purpose.”

“I cannot speak for what his lordship will do about Peg, but I will do what
I
can to protect her. I
can
tell you that he is most interested in finding her.”

Sadie was silent until they reached the stable, where she paused to look up at him. “The lady Phaeline did speak earlier o’
Lady Jenn… Lady Easdale.”

“Aye, for it looks as if she went with Peg, or Peg with her,” Hugh said.

“I dinna ken, sir, but I do mind one other thing Peg said about the minstrels.”

“What was that?”

“That they be bound for the town o’ Dumfries.”

Hugh frowned. “If that were so, would they not follow the Roman road that fords the river a mile or so north of Annan and
goes straight on to Dumfries?”

“I expect so,” Sadie said. “But Peg didna say that. The only other thing I can recall be summat she told me a time ago. I
doubt it would help ye now.”

“Tell me,” Hugh said.

“She said the company be going to entertain the Laird o’ Galloway a few weeks hence, when his great new castle on the river
Dee be finished.”

“I hope that information will
not
prove helpful to me,” Hugh said with a grimace. “I want to find her long before then.”

“Aye, sure, sir, but I warrant she’ll be back soon now. She’ll no want to lose her place, I can tell ye. Forbye, I doubt she
would ha’ taken Lady Easdale with her, or that her ladyship would ha’ consented to go in such company.”

Hugh doubted it, too. He tried to conjure up an image of the elegant young noblewoman he had seen, traveling with assorted
minstrels and players, some in patchwork motley and all easily recognizable as common folk.

He dismissed Sadie, certain that he had learned all she could tell him and uncertain whether it helped him. Dunwythie and
Phaeline both assumed that Peg’s disappearing at the same time Janet Easdale had meant the two had gone together.