The Last Heiress (29 page)

“I did not know that,” Elizabeth said slowly.

“You were a little girl, and not supposed to know of such things,”

he replied. “And your mother was in bed with Logan before they wed.”

“I certainly did not know that!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

“You must follow your heart and your instincts where Baen MacColl is concerned, my pet. Neither will disappoint you,” he assured her.

“Uncle, you surprise me,” Elizabeth said.

Thomas Bolton chortled. “It seems to me that your mother and each of your sisters has said something along those lines to me at one time or another. I may have no wife or mistress, dear girl, but I understand love quite well.” He arose from the bench where they were seated. “It is growing damp, and I am too old to remain outdoors of a summer’s night. I am going to bed.”

“I will come too,” she told him. “Tomorrow is not a holiday, though most will be slow to their tasks, I suspect. When do you think Will is coming back?”

“He should be gone no more than a few days,” Lord Cambridge said as they walked towards the house. “I will send a message to your mother tomorrow, but I will word it in such a way that perhaps Logan will remain in his own home when she comes here to Friarsgate.”

“It would be best,” Elizabeth agreed. “If my stepfather ever knew that I was considering a Scots husband he would have all his friends’

sons calling upon me.” She sighed. “He waited all those years for Mama, and yet he does not understand that I want to love and be loved too.”

“It is your mother we must convince, dear girl. She will make her own brazen Scot understand that your heart must lie where it must lie.”

***

A messenger was dispatched to Claven’s Carn the following morning, and several days later Rosamund Bolton Hepburn returned to Friarsgate in the company of that same messenger. Her husband was not with her, but her stepson, John Hepburn, was. Lord Cambridge hurried to greet his beloved cousin, enfolding her in a warm embrace.

“My dearest girl!” He kissed both her cheeks. “You are as radiant as ever. Welcome home to Friarsgate.” He led her into the hall, where Maybel was waiting to greet the woman she had raised. Lord Cambridge let them hug and sit together to chatter. After a short time, however, Maybel arose slowly.

“I must see to the meal,” she said, and bustled off.

Lord Cambridge now rejoined Rosamund, handing her a goblet of wine and sipping from his.

“I suppose I shall need this,” Rosamund said quietly. “Where is Elizabeth?”

“Out in the meadows making her weekly count of the sheep, as she should be,” he answered. “She’s a good chatelaine, cousin.”

“Without a husband. Without an heir,” Rosamund responded.

“Was there no one at court who would have suited? Whom my daughter could have accepted and loved?”

“No one,” Lord Cambridge said. “She had a mild flirtation with a bastard of the late James Stewart who is his brother’s messenger to Henry’s court. The king sends you his regards.”

“Not the queen?” Rosamund wondered.

“The queen was not with the court, but sent to Woodstock. Mistress Boleyn rules in her stead. The king is utterly besotted,” Lord Cambridge explained.

“Poor Katherine! For all her royal breeding, her great piety and devotion to God, she has had a far harder life than many a humble woman. I know she considers it a penance, and thinks her soul the better for it,” Rosamund said. “I am sorry for her. Had it been her court I have no doubt a suitable husband could have been found for Elizabeth. You say you have a possible solution to this conundrum. I beg you, tell me what it is.”

“Baen MacColl has returned to Friarsgate,” Lord Cambridge began.

“The Scot who was here last winter? Why has he come back?”

Rosamund wanted to know. She sipped thirstily at her wine while her other hand worried the dark green fabric of her skirts. “What does he want?”

“His father, the master of Grayhaven, sent to ask if he might return and learn how to set up a small industry, as we have done. Edmund saw no harm in saying he might come. A small attraction sprang up last winter between him and Elizabeth. It still exists. The man cannot inherit from his father, for he has two legitimate brothers. Elizabeth would accept him as a husband if she could but convince him. Baen’s loyalty to his own father is deep, however.”

“A Scot would be master of Friarsgate?” Rosamund said slowly.

“I doubt Baen has any loyalties except to his family,” Lord Cambridge said quietly. “He is not a political creature.”

“Scots always become nationalistic when faced with an English war,” Rosamund said. “Logan and I have been fortunate, but should war break out between our two countries in our lifetime, I do not know what we should do, Tom.”

“You would barricade yourselves in Claven’s Carn, and wait till it was over and done with, dear girl. Besides, the English always make for Edinburgh in a war, and that is on the opposite side of the country from both Friarsgate and Claven’s Carn,” he reminded her. “We have always been relatively safe here.”

“But what do we know of this Baen MacColl, Tom? Really know?” Rosamund wondered aloud.

“We know he is a good man,” Thomas Bolton said. “Stay with us for a few days and observe him yourself.”

“Does he want to marry my daughter?” Rosamund asked her cousin.

“My dear girl, the subject hasn’t even come up,” Lord Cambridge said. “Nor should it until Elizabeth decides the time is right,” he cautioned.

“Are you telling me that this Scot has evinced no interest in marrying my daughter?” Rosamund demanded to know.

“He is not a presumptuous man, dear girl. He thinks himself not worthy of her,” Lord Cambridge responded, attempting to mollify her outrage.

“But she intends to convince him otherwise,” Rosamund said.

“I fear she does, dear cousin,” he answered her.

“I am sorry she did not find a good English husband at court,” Rosamund began. “But I question why this particular man?”

“Because, Mama,” Elizabeth Meredith said, entering her own hall, “ever since the Earl of Glenkirk I have always had a weakness for Scots.” She hurried to her mother and embraced her warmly. “Welcome home, Mama.”

Rosamund hugged her youngest daughter; then she set her back so she might look into her face. “You are in love with him?”

“I suppose I am,” Elizabeth said, “but I am not really certain what love is, though perhaps I am learning.”

“Has he taken advantage of you?” Rosamund wanted to know.

Elizabeth laughed aloud. “Nay, Mama, but I have certainly taken advantage of him, though he resists me and prates about honor, and how he is unworthy.”

Rosamund sighed. “I shall take your advice, cousin, and remain for a few days to observe this reluctant Scot,” she said.

“Please, Mama, say nothing to him. I do not wish him frightened off,” Elizabeth said softly. “I really do like him.”

And Rosamund found that she liked Baen MacColl too as she came to know him over the next few days. He was a bit rough, but in an odd way he reminded her of Owein Meredith, Elizabeth’s father. He was thoughtful. He had a great care and respect for the land. He treated the lady of Friarsgate with consideration, just as Owein had done. But he was a Scot. And not just a Scot. A Highland Scot! Why did he have to be a Scot? It was obvious to her mother’s eye that Elizabeth did care for this man. The night before her return to Claven’s Carn she confided her concerns to her cousin.

“I don’t know what to do, Tom. For the first time in my life I honestly do not know what to do. Help me.”

Thomas Bolton sat quietly in his chair stroking the half-grown Domino, who was lounging in his lap purring loudly. “You set the example, dear one. You wed a Scot,” he said. “Elizabeth isn’t like most girls her age. She feels a great sense of responsibility to her position. She would not be happy sitting by the fire weaving and mothering her bairns, Rosamund. She has become Friarsgate, and she needs a man who will not be afraid of that, or try to take it away from her, attempting to make her into something she isn’t. Do I wish he were English, or a borderer? Does it really matter, cousin?

She is falling in love with him, and she has never loved any man.

And he has fallen in love with her. Last winter, I suspect. But he, too, carries a strong sense of responsibility for who and what he is.

What will happen? I do not know. But I am of a mind to let fate and nature take their course, Rosamund. And that would be my council to you.”

“But how will Elizabeth resolve his concerns? And how will she gain his promise to remain neutral in the face of a conflict between their two countries?” Rosamund asked her cousin. “We cannot have Friarsgate caught between warring parties.”

“Let them find their own way, dear girl. They will do it together, because their love for each other will surely overcome all else. Elizabeth will convince her reluctant Scot to take his place by her side. Of that I am certain. And his father should not object to having his bastard wed with an heiress, even if it means he will lose him.”

Rosamund giggled. “Logan is going to be furious,” she said. “He will be disappointed that Elizabeth did not choose one of his friends’ sons if she is to wed a Scot.”

“He will survive the disappointment, dear girl,” Lord Cambridge said dryly. “Ah, I remember him when he sought to make you his wife.

He was brazen. Dashing. Dangerous! But now, content with you and his lads, he has become a rather ordinary and dull fellow, I fear. That seems to happen to most men once they are wed. Why did you bring John with you? He has spent all his time with Father Mata, and we have scarce seen him at all.”

“Mata is taking him to Prior Richard in a few days,” Rosamund said.

“Logan has relented? Dear girl, why did you not say so sooner?”

“Logan has not relented. He has just come to realize that John’s fate lies away from Claven’s Carn, but he still has hopes that after his novi-tiate, before he takes his final vows, John will change his mind,” Rosamund explained.

“But he won’t,” Lord Cambridge said, “and so your eldest son becomes his father’s heir, eh? John will make his own destiny even as Elizabeth will make hers.”

“Even as I made mine,” Rosamund said softly. “Thank you, Tom.”

Chapter 10

B
efore she departed the following morning, Rosamund sought out Baen MacColl and spoke with him. He towered over her, and she could suddenly see some of the attraction that Elizabeth felt.

He was very masculine. “Do you hear news of Glenkirk?” she asked him quietly. “How is the earl?”

“Well, but older, they say, than God himself,” Baen replied. “I have not seen him out riding recently. They say he leaves most of the business of Glenkirk to his son, Lord Adam. The earl has not been well in many years now, lady. His memory is faulty, it is said, but he is still well thought of by all. My father is friends with Lord Adam. Did you know the earl, lady?”

“Once,” Rosamund said. “Long ago. I am pleased to learn the earl remains in good health. Should you see Lord Adam when you return home, please tell him that Rosamund Bolton sends all at Glenkirk her kind regards.” She smiled up at him. “I think you a good man, Baen MacColl. I am glad you have returned to Friarsgate. I hope you will gain all you desire while you are here.”

“Thank you, lady,” he said. Her smile was dazzling, and her words kind. “Mistress Elizabeth has been very kind and helpful.”

“My daughter, I think,” said Rosamund, unable to resist, “has a weakness for Scots, Baen MacColl. Since I am wed to one myself, I can hardly object.” There! She had given her tacit approval of him.

He did not understand the true meaning behind her words, of course.

It was up to Elizabeth now, but Rosamund had come to realize over the last few days of her visit that she would not object to Baen MacColl as a son-in-law. “Farewell, sir,” she concluded the conversation, and she gave his arm a friendly pat.

Thomas Bolton had heard all, and now he came forth as if just entering the hall. “Are you ready to leave, dearest cousin?” he asked her. “Allow me to escort you to your horse. I sent ahead yesterday to your good lord to let him know you were returning home. You will be escorted to the border by Friarsgate men, and met by your own Claven’s Carn folk. I have not a doubt dear Logan will ride with them. Do not fret about Johnnie. We shall see him safely to St.Cuthbert’s, my precious girl.” He took her arm and drew her from the hall.

“You heard, you sly fox!” She chuckled.

“I did. Not all, but enough to know you will not forbid a match between the bastard of Grayhaven and the heiress of Friarsgate,” he told her. But he had heard all, and the knowledge that a small flame still burned secretly in her heart for Patrick Leslie had almost brought him to tears. But then, did one ever forget such a great love?

They found Elizabeth awaiting them outside of the house. “I will ride a ways with you, Mama,” she said, and mounted her own horse.

Lord Cambridge bade his cousin a most effusive good-bye. “Who knows when we shall meet again,” he told her dramatically.

Rosamund laughed down at him from her saddle. “Dear Tom,” she said, “I have not a doubt it will be sooner than later. When will you return to Otterly?”

“Will arrived last evening. My wing is but half-finished. That wicked daughter of yours had convinced the builder to put in another door between my private quarters and the rest of the house. Will remained while it was removed and bricked up. Banon has been severely admonished, and the builder as well. It would appear I shall not be able to return home until sometime in October, if the snows hold off, of course,” he explained. “I shall send a most stern missive to Banon regarding this matter, you may be assured.” He took Rosamund’s hand in his and kissed it. “Travel in safety, dearest girl, and tell your good lord that I send him my most affectionate regards.”

The two women and their escort rode away from the house. The day was cloudy, muggy, and hinted of rain.

“I like your Scot,” Rosamund told her daughter as they traveled along. “If you can bring him to the altar, I will not object, Elizabeth.”

“Thank you, Mama. What will you tell Logan?” she asked her parent.