The laird greeted both men cordially, noting that the priest did not wear the robes denoting his office. A wise move, he thought, considering the recent law of the land outlawing the old Church. Then Robert Baird introduced his wife, his son, and, finally, Annabella.
Matthew and James acknowledged each introduction pleasantly. Then Matthew turned, nodding to his sister to step forward. “This is the earl’s half sister and my sister, Jean, my lord. She has been raised to serve my brother’s wife. Angus thought that since the journey back to Duin is one of several days, his bride would feel more comfortable in the company of another woman.”
“How kind!” Annabella exclaimed before anyone else might speak. She would indeed enjoy having another woman with her. Her family could not send a female servant with her, for she and her sisters had always been taken care of by their old nurse, who was too ancient now to leave Rath. “I must thank the earl as soon as we arrive,” the bride said. “To send me a companion was a most thoughtful gesture.”
“I commend your good manners, Annabella Baird,” James Ferguson responded. “My brother is a man who values the courtesies.” He already liked this young woman. There appeared to be no deceit about her. As a priest, he had learned to quickly assess those about him. Despite Matthew’s concern over her lack of beauty, his eldest brother’s bride seemed a sensible lass, which would serve Angus far better than some flighty beauty. He turned to the laird. “I have brought the marriage contracts with me, my lord. May we sit and go over them? Then, with Matthew standing proxy for the earl, I will perform the ceremony making your daughter Angus Ferguson’s wife.”
The four men moved off to sit at the high board, where the marriage contract was now spread out upon the long rectangular table. The lady Anne and her daughter moved away to seat themselves by the hearth.
“Who are the mothers of these men?” Annabella asked her mother. “Did the earl’s father have a second wife?”
“Nay,” the mother told her daughter. “The earl’s mother was a Frenchwoman. The story told is that when she was enceinte with her first child, she begged her young serving woman, a lass who had been raised with her and come with her from France, to fulfill her husband’s manly needs, for he was a lusty man. She swore to raise any bairn born of such a union with her own bairns. She gave her husband three, and her serving woman gave him two. That is the tale your da told me, for the earl told him when they met at Hermitage several weeks ago. The five were raised together.”
Annabella was shocked. “How could the old laird’s wife bear to keep such a servant? Did ye not tell me that if my husband takes a mistress I am not to acknowledge such a woman?”
“ ’Twas the earl’s mother who suggested the arrangement, for she trusted her servant. She did not want her husband in the clutches of another woman. The laird was always respectful of his wife, and she loyal to him. There was no conflict between mistress and servant over this matter. I am told the old laird had several other bastards whom he acknowledged over the years of his life. Those bairns, however, remained wi’ their mams. Men will be men, Annabella, but unless your husband’s behavior threatens you or your bairns, ye would be wise to look the other way. The wives of the Stewart kings certainly have, and those bairns who are born on the other side of the blanket are useful and loyal to their sire’s family. It is the custom among the high nobility to raise their bastards as trusted servants and confidants. Queen Mary is advised by her half brother, Lord James Stewart, whose mam was once King James’s mistress. And the Earl of Duin’s half brother serves him well, as you see. His half sister will serve ye, and will prove a valuable ally for ye, my daughter.”
“I am not certain I am comfortable with my husband’s half sister serving me,” Annabella admitted to her mother.
“Do not worry yourself,” the lady Anne advised. “Jean Ferguson has been raised to fulfill this position. She will take pride in it.” She turned to look about the hall and see where Jean was now, and, finding her standing quietly across the hall, the lady Anne beckoned to her to come and join them.
Jean came immediately. “How may I serve ye, my lady?” she asked politely.
“By reassuring my daughter that although you are the earl’s half sister, you are glad to serve her,” the older woman said.
Jean Ferguson smiled a sweet smile. “Do not be uncomfortable, my lady Annabella,” she said, looking the girl directly in the eye. “My own mam was the lady Adrienne’s serving woman. I was raised to one day serve my brother’s bride. I am honored to do so,” she told her new mistress, curtsying.
“Having a personal servant is new for me, and I am used to a simple life,” Annabella replied.
“Life is not overly complicated at Duin,” Jean reassured her new mistress.
The lady Anne arose from her seat, indicating that Jean should take it. “Why do not you two become better acquainted,” she said, “while I go and fetch your sisters? As soon as your father has approved the contracts, you will be formally wed.” She hurried off.
“Do you think the earl will like me?” Annabella asked shyly.
“Of course he will. Angus is a good man, my lady,” Jean said.
“I realize ’tis that bit of land he really wants,” Annabella remarked.
“Aye, he does,” Jean replied, “but it is also past time he took a wife. He has no legitimate heirs. He did not obtain the earldom to have it expire on his death. My brother wants to found a dynasty, and he needs a wife to do it.”
“He’s being forced to the altar,” Annabella said softly. “I hope he will not hate me for it.”
Jean laughed. “All men are
forced
to the altar, my lady. Few go willingly. Marriage is about gold, land, and power. These are the things that make a family strong.”
“He will certainly be disappointed in me, for I have no beauty,” Annabella said bleakly. “I have never before wished for my sisters’ beauty, but I do now.”
“Aye,” Jean said candidly. “Ye’re plain. There’s nae denying it. But ye’re nae ugly. Yer features are neat. Yer skin is clear, and”—she reached out to catch a length of Annabella’s sable hair between her fingers—“yer hair is glorious. My brother has been told of yer deficiencies, and did nae object.”
Annabella didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at this bit of information, but then her father called her to come to the high board. She rose and hurried to his side.
“Look here in the marriage contract,” the laird of Rath said, pointing. “Here is where it is acknowledged that ye possess ten unclipped gold coins, and that they are yers in perpetuity to do with as ye will.”
Annabella’s gray eyes scanned the parchment. “Aye, Da, I see the clause. Thank ye for that.”
“Ye read, my lady?” James Ferguson asked her.
“Aye, sir. I read, I write, and I have been taught to work simple numbers,” Annabella admitted to the priest, hoping the earl would not disapprove of her knowledge.
I need no more deficiencies
, she thought.
Well, well, well
, Matthew Ferguson considered.
Perhaps there is hope for the lass after all. She does not appear unintelligent, and with these small skills may be of use to us in more than just her ability to breed. ’Tis all to the good. Angus should be pleased.
“Are the contracts to yer satisfaction, my lord?” James Ferguson asked politely.
“They are,” Robert Baird said. “Everything is as it should be.”
“Since all has met wi’ yer approval,” James responded, “let us sign the contracts now, and when that is done I will perform the ceremony.” He looked to Annabella. “Ye will want to sign for yerself, my lady. There are three copies: one for yer father, one for the earl, and the third will be kept by the church.”
“They must be wed in the Reformed kirk as well,” the laird of Rath said. “I want no one doubting my daughter’s status, nor that of her bairns. While the old Church may recognize only its own rites, it is no longer legal in Scotland.”
James Ferguson sighed. While the queen might proclaim religious tolerance, John Knox and his ilk had made the new kirk the law of the land. “My brother understands this, my lord. Lady Annabella will be wed at Duin in the Reformed kirk. My brother wishes no disputes over his marriage either, which is why he sent a proxy to Rath rather than come himself. This way his own people can proclaim the marriage legitimate under the laws of Scotland, having seen it performed at Duin kirk with their own eyes.”
Robert Baird nodded, satisfied. While he found John Knox’s lack of tolerance for the Catholic Church objectionable, the Reformed Church appealed more to him and his kin.
The lady Anne now reentered the hall in the company of her three younger daughters. The lasses curtsied prettily as they were introduced to the three Fergusons.
Myrna flirted with the two men, unaware at first that James was a priest. Sorcha giggled nervously, as was her habit when faced with young men.
But it was fourteen-year-old Agnes who caught Matthew Ferguson’s eye. He thought her utterly adorable and lively. She was almost ready for marriage, but not quite. Yet in another year or two, he might very well come courting the lass. She had to notice his interest, but if she did she gave no indication of it at all. Matthew didn’t know whether he should be amused or offended. The lass obviously had spirit.
The women waited patiently as the contracts were signed. A fresh quill with its sharpened point was inked and handed to Annabella. She signed each copy in a neat, legible hand. Her father also signed, as did Matthew Ferguson, both as witnesses. Then James Ferguson carefully sanded each signature so that it would not smudge, but dry easily. Annabella noted that the Earl of Duin had already signed the contracts before sending them off to her father. His signature was a strong if impatient one. He was obviously doing what he had to do, she thought. Taking a wife was a duty for him.
Annabella felt another flutter of worry, but she was not allowed any time for her fears to build up. With her family and her servants about her, and Matthew Ferguson standing by her side as proxy for his older brother, Annabella Baird was married to Angus Ferguson by the local pastor of the Reformed kirk without any further delay. James, however, pronounced the blessing himself. Her mother had been correct, the bride realized sadly. Marriage was not about romantic love. Did romantic love even exist?
Marriage was all about alliances and trade. Daughters had no other use than that. Whether a union was between a man and a woman, or a woman and the old Church, daughters were born for this sole purpose. The Fergusons had accepted her as the earl’s bride in exchange for a piece of land. She would be expected to produce bairns for her new family. Sons, preferably. There was nothing more to it. And she could hardly consider herself abused for having just been wed to a wealthy nobleman. She found she was suddenly eager to meet this mysterious man and learn the truth of him herself.
As Annabella, Countess of Duin, she now presided over the high board with a smile, seated in the place of honor at her wedding feast. While her father’s table was usually simple, with one or two dishes and bread and cheese, today was different. There was broiled trout and poached salmon set upon beds of green cress. A large roast of beef had been packed in rock salt, roasted, and set upon the board, along with sliced venison, goose stuffed with apples, and a large pie filled with game birds and topped with a flaky crust. There was a potage of vegetables, a rabbit stew, fresh bread, butter, and a small wheel of hard yellow cheese. Cider, ale, and wine were for drinking. And finally, a large dish of poached pears in marsala wine completed the meal.
The Baird’s piper, along with the two Ferguson pipers, entertained them after the meal had been cleared away and the trestles below the board set to one side of the hall. Jean and Matthew Ferguson sang several songs, delighting the Bairds, for their voices were particularly sweet. In exchange, the four sisters danced together most gracefully for the small gathering.
Outside the tower house, the last sunset of September blazed across the border skies, and night came. The Ferguson men-at-arms had encamped outside of the house. It was not cold yet, but two fires burned to take the chill away. Matthew and James joined them, understanding that such a small dwelling as Rath could not hold much company. Jean Ferguson was settled comfortably into one of the two bed spaces in the hall near the great hearth. The laird and his wife went to their bed. And in their small bedchamber, the four sisters huddled together in their large bed, chattering softly.
“Well,” Myrna said, “I suppose Mama has told ye everything you need know.”
“Enough to get me started,” Annabella admitted. “She said it isn’t wise for a virgin to be too knowledgeable. We spoke of other things.”
“There’s nothing to it,” Myrna informed her, sounding more knowing than she should, Annabella thought. “All you have to do is lie on yer back, open yer legs, and he’ll do all the rest.”
“Not at all like the bull and cow,” Annabella teased.
Sorcha giggled. Agnes was silent but alert with her curiosity.
“Nay,” Myrna replied with a chortle. “All ye have to do is lie upon yer back, and he’ll put his cock into ye,” she repeated. “We have a wee opening in our bodies for it.”
“And how is it that ye’re so well-informed?” Agnes demanded to know.
Myrna flushed with guilt, saying, “Ian Melville told me. After all, we will be wed before the snow flies, now that Annabella is married.”
“Be careful, sister,” the new bride said softly to her sister.
“Ye let Ian Melville speak of such things to ye?” Agnes was shocked. “I don’t think Mam would approve, nor our da.” Then she said, “Ye let him touch ye too, didn’t ye?”
Sorcha giggled again, for she knew the truth of her sister’s involvement with her laddie. They had best be wed soon, she thought, for their games out on the moor could prove dangerous sooner rather than later.