Annabella laughed. “Sometimes I wish it would come now, for I am as fat as a well-fed shoat, and I can no longer see my feet.”
“I think it is a good thing we have come now,” the lady Anne replied.
Robert Baird, however, after greeting his two daughters, was eager to know whether he and Angus would be hunting grouse anytime soon. He was delighted to learn they would be going out on the morrow. “Not today?” he said, not keeping the disappointment from his voice.
“’Tis past the noon hour,” Angus told his father-in-law, “and the sun will be setting soon, Robert. The grouse will be awaiting us tomorrow.”
The laird’s glance turned to Agnes. He looked her up and down. “Ye’ve grown some since we last saw ye,” he said. “Ye’ll be needing a husband, Agnes.” Then, turning, he followed the rest of his family into the castle’s hall. The entrance to Duin Castle across the worn oak drawbridge had given the laird of Rath pause. He had known that his son-in-law was a wealthy man, but the solid stone walls and the iron portcullis had come as a bit of a surprise. Inside, however, the house proved to be gracious and warm. More important, Annabella was obviously very happy.
There was a fine hot meal to greet the guests: rabbit stew, venison, a roasted capon, fresh bread, two kinds of cheese, and butter. There was a choice of wine or ale.
And apples baked with cinnamon were served when the rest of the meal had been cleared away. “Ye keep a good table, daughter,” the laird of Rath praised his daughter.
Afterward they gathered about one of the two large fireplaces in the hall to exchange news. Sorcha had delivered a son, and her husband’s family was well pleased. Nothing had been heard from Myrna in the north, although the laird’s sister had written once to say they had arrived, and Myrna seemed to be settling into her new home. The lady Anne expressed her disappointment at not having heard from her second daughter.
“Be glad, Mama,” Annabella said. “If she were unhappy the whole of Scotland would know it by now. She is obviously content wi’ her lot and wi’ her man.”
“Else she would hae filled our ears wi’ her complaints by now,” Agnes said mischievously. “Her Highlander is probably wondering what he got himself into.”
They all laughed, but Annabella was more sympathetic. “Aggie, dinna say it. Pray our sister and her husband will live a long and happy life wi’ many bairns.”
“Myrna was foolish,” Agnes said without the slightest hint of remorse. “She gave away her most precious possession to that cad Melville. A man who was already deceiving her wi’ another. I will never do such a thing! I will preserve my virtue until my wedding night.”
“But will ye preserve it after yer wedding?” Matthew Ferguson said wickedly.
The laird of Rath shot a quick look at his wife, confused to see her suddenly smile a very knowing smile. What was this all about? he wondered silently.
Agnes Baird gasped with shock at his question. “How dare ye make such inquiry of me?” she demanded of him. “Do ye imply I would behave dishonorably after I am wed?” Her cheeks were pink with her outrage.
“I simply wish to learn whether ye will be a willing and faithful bedmate once we are wed,” Matthew responded calmly.
“
Wed?
” Agnes practically screeched. “How dare ye even presume to think I should wed ye, Matthew Ferguson?”
“If I can gain yer da’s permission, Aggie, of course ye’ll wed me,” he said, and he looked to the laird. “May I have the honor of yer daughter Agnes’s hand, my lord?” he asked Robert Baird. “I have become quite fond of the lass these two years past that she has been wi’ us at Duin. I am my brother’s steward. He will tell ye that I serve him to his satisfaction. I hae the means to care well for Aggie. We will live here in the castle, where she will hae her sister for good company. Our bairns will hae their cousins for playmates. If this dinna suit yer daughter I will build her a stone house on lands that I own nearby. I have more than enough coin for it.”
“Do ye hae yer brother’s permission to ask for my daughter’s hand?” the laird asked, knowing the answer but preserving the formalities.
“Aye, my lord, I hae Angus’s permission,” Matthew replied.
“I’ll nae wed him!” Agnes shouted, jumping up and stamping her foot.
“Be silent, lassie!” her father roared back. Then he looked to his wife.
“We will speak in private,” she told him.
“’Tis a most generous offer, sir,” the laird of Rath said to Matthew Ferguson. “My wife and I will consider it. We will gie ye our answer in due time.”
“I am satisfied to await yer answer,” Matthew responded politely.
“Well, I am nae satisfied!” Agnes said.
“Be quiet, daughter!” the laird of Rath snapped.
“Aggie, do gie over, and cease yer turmoil,” Annabella chided her sibling. “Ye’re tired, overexcited by this long day and our parents’ arrival. Ye hae our permission to seek yer bed, dearest.”
“Aye, Agnes,” the earl spoke up, backing his wife’s decision. “Go and rest, lass.”
Agnes Baird looked briefly as if she were going to cry, but then she turned, running from the hall. When Matthew made to follow, his brother bade him remain. The laird of Rath was pleased by the firm hand with which the earl ruled his household and his lands. He spent many a pleasant hour in the weeks that followed in Angus Ferguson’s company, coming to like his son-in-law better and better with each passing day. And the lady Anne’s previous concerns of sorcery were erased entirely. Both parents were touched by the devotion between their daughter and her husband.
When November was half-gone, the matter of Agnes Baird’s betrothal came to the forefront once again. The laird of Rath was willing to accept Matthew Ferguson’s proposal for his daughter’s hand, but both Annabella and her mother felt that Agnes had to be allowed to make the choice to wed him or not.
“I’ll nae return to Rath,” Agnes said stubbornly.
“The scandal over yer sister has long died,” the laird told her.
“And there are several fine young men seeking wives,” the lady Anne added. “There are Bobby Lindsay, Ian Scott, Alexander Bruce, Jamie Elliot, and several of our Hamilton cousins who look most favorably upon ye, Agnes.”
“But I like it here at Duin. As for the swains ye offer me, Mam, Bobby Lindsay has a nose like a turnip! I’m taller than Jamie Elliot, and he stammers every time he looks at me. I thought Alex Bruce was to wed Mary Douglas. If that light-skirt cried off I certainly wouldn’t want him. As for Ian Scott, he has a face full of pockmarks, and lips that are much too big. He always looks like a salmon gasping for air.”
“What of our Hamilton cousins?” Annabella said sweetly.
“Never! They may be our kin, but one of their ilk stole my sister’s laddie. I’ll hae nothing to do wi’ any of them,” Agnes said angrily.
“Ye’re getting a bit long in the tooth for us to marry ye off well,” the laird noted.
“Annabella was twenty when she wed Angus!” Agnes snapped. “I’ll just be seventeen next month, Da. I certainly hae time.”
“Yer brother will nae take a wife until all of his sisters are wed and gone,” the laird told her.
Agnes laughed. “’Tis but an excuse for Rob to play the tomcat, Da.”
“ ’Tis yer brother who will inherit Rath one day. It is important we find him the best match, which we canna if I must worry about ye. Besides, I want to see another heir before I die. I’m nae a lad, daughter.”
“Bah!” Agnes laughed again. “Ye’re nae old, Da.”
The laird sighed. No one knew how to irritate him more than his youngest daughter. “I canna hae ye causing a calumny like yer sister,” he told her. “There is a certain willfulness in ye, Agnes. What respectable family will gie us a well-dowered daughter for yer brother if ours is considered a scandalous household? Ye’ll settle on a husband here or I’ll take ye home and pick a man for ye,” Robert Baird threatened her. “Yer mam was fifteen when she wed me. Seventeen is nae too young to marry.”
Agnes burst into tears, sobbing piteously, but her father was not moved.
Annabella put a comforting arm about her little sister. “Why will ye nae accept Matthew when I believe that ye love him, Aggie?”
“He doesna love me! He has nae said it! He never asks. He only tells me what I am going to do! I’m nae his servant!” Agnes said.
Blessed Mother!
Why was it that beautiful girls thought they could have their way in everything? But Agnes was correct in one thing: Matthew was too bossy and set in his ways. But it would be up to Aggie to change that. No one else could do it for her. Annabella sighed. “Ye hae to tell him,” she advised Agnes. “If ye care enough for him ye canna refuse him. I dinna want ye unhappy, Aggie, but I do believe ye care.”
“He is the only man who can make me angry,” Agnes said slowly, “but he also makes me happy,” she admitted. “And he is so very handsome. Not as handsome as the earl, but handsome enough to make me the envy of many a woman in the borders when I become his wife. But I’ve been so mean, Annabella. Will his offer to Da still stand?”
“We’ll only know that if Da gives him an answer,” Annabella said.
Agnes looked up at her father. “I’ll wed him, Da.”
“Good!” Robert Baird said. “I’ll be glad to hae this drama over and done wi’.”
The earl echoed his father-in-law’s sentiments. “Now my brother can stop hiding his love for the wench. I’m tired of his moaning about over her.” He sent for his sibling.
“Let us sit together by the fire,” Annabella suggested to her sister, taking her hand and drawing her over to a cushioned settle, where they sat down. Their parents remained at the high board with the earl, awaiting Matthew’s arrival. “Now you will learn the fine art of patience,” Annabella told her sister.
“What is happening?” Agnes wanted to know.
“All is well,” Annabella responded reassuringly.
Matthew came into the hall and went directly to his brother. They watched as the four heads at the high board came together. They could not even hear an echo of what was said, but Annabella could well imagine.
Then Matthew came over to where the two young women sat. He bowed politely to them. “Will ye consent to walk wi’ me, Agnes?” he asked her, holding out his hand.
“I will,” the girl said, taking his hand, standing up.
Then together they walked to the far end of the hall, where they appeared to be engaged in animated conversation.
Annabella got up from her place by the fire and joined the others at the high board. As she reached it she heard her father saying to her husband, “Aggie’s dower isn’t large, my lord. Each of my daughters has had the same dower, excepting Annabella, who brought ye the land ye wanted instead.”
“If such a dower portion was good enough for me, and yer two other sons-in-law, then it is certainly good enough for my brother,” the earl reassured the laird. “Especially since Matthew’s birth on the wrong side of the blanket dinna bother ye.”
“I’ve come to learn that he is a fine young man, and he hae yer favor,” the laird said. “I am content in the match.”
“I’m glad,” the earl replied. “Agnes’s presence is good for Annabella, especially now. I would suggest we hold the wedding sooner than later.”
“Agreed,” the laird said.
Matthew and Agnes returned from the end of the hall. They were both smiling.
They were in favor of having their wedding celebrated quickly. The marriage contracts were drawn up and signed. On the eighteenth of November the marriage was celebrated in the Duin village kirk. The bride wore a pale blue velvet gown with a cream-and-gold-colored silk damask underskirt. Her beautiful straight brown-blond hair was left loose, but topped with a wreath of dried white heather. A small feast for the family was held afterward. Both Matthew and Agnes seemed calmer now for their union.
A week after the wedding Annabella went into labor. The day had been oddly warm for late November. They watched as a storm blew up seemingly from nowhere, lightning forking down into the green water out over the sea. The storm, Jean said, would blow itself into Ireland, and not disturb them. Under the circumstances Annabella had felt the urge to take a leisurely ride to the village in the dog cart. She had been very restless these past days, which worried the lady Anne.
“’Tis good of ye to visit old Margaret,” Jean said, referring to a cottager in the village. “She and her Sim were wed for over forty years. His death was quite a surprise for us all. He seemed indomitable.”
“What happened?” the lady Anne asked.
“He just dropped down dead hauling wood the other day, but he was old,” Jean said. “Well past seventy, I believe.”
They entered the village, greeted by each person they passed. Annabella spoke to all by name, and with a smile. Her mother was impressed by her daughter’s gracious behavior, for there were a goodly number of clan folk. The dog cart came to a halt before a small neat cottage, where a smiling elderly woman stood waiting to greet them. Jean and the lady Anne helped Annabella from her transport.
As the Countess of Duin’s slippered foot made contact with the earth, there was an odd little sound. Annabella gasped, a look of shock upon her face. She looked down to discover herself standing in a puddle. “Holy Mother!” she cried. “I think my bairn is coming!’Tis too soon! Holy Mother! Holy Mother! I can feel it.”
The two older women took Annabella by her arms and hustled her past the startled old lady into the cottage. Instructing her to lie upon the bed, Jean pushed her mistress’s skirts up to see what was happening.
“Holy Mother!” she echoed Annabella. “I can see the head. The bairn is indeed coming.”
“We must get her back to the castle,” the lady Anne cried, thinking of the well-scrubbed birthing table, the feather bolster and down pillows for her daughter’s shoulders and head, the waiting cradle.
“There is nae time for that,” Jean said. “If we attempt it Annabella will hae the bairn out on the moor.”