“I’ll speak to Scrope,” Hugh said, “but I cannot promise it will do any good.”
“I’d be grateful, nonetheless,” Quinton said.
They exchanged another long look, and Hugh found himself wondering what the other man was thinking. They had a certain respect for each other, and now that Quinton was Janet’s husband, the man had become family, whether either of them liked it or not. Still, there was little love lost between them.
Hugh watched as Sir Quinton took Mistress Halliot aside and began to speak quietly to her. All around them, groups of men chatted energetically, each man making no secret of his personal viewpoint. Instead of a murmur of conversation, the noise had grown to an uproar. Hugh saw Scrope talking with several of his men and strode over to join them.
“A word with you, my lord, if you please,” he said firmly. A sweeping, authoritative look told the others to take themselves elsewhere.
A moment later, despite the crowd, he was as good as alone with Scrope.
“What the devil do you want?” Scrope demanded. “I saw how you leapt to defend the wench. You are supposed to be my deputy, I’ll remind you.”
“Aye, and so I am,” Hugh said evenly. “Your anger was like a spark to tinder, my lord, and the Scots are ever quick to flare up. You saw how our men swarmed forward. Their action threatened her, and the Scots were quick to defend her. Had I not moved to her side as well, we’d likely be in the midst of pitched battle now. I thought it was your fondest wish—as it is her majesty’s—to avoid any hint of violence or foul play by our side this time. After last time—”
“Enough,” Scrope snapped, cutting him off with an impatient gesture. “What would you have me do? Nay, do not answer that. I have seen how easily you bow to the damned Scots now that your sister has married one of them.”
“If you will recall the details of that arrangement,” Hugh said, controlling his temper, “you will recall that you and Buccleuch arranged that marriage without my leave and that you ordered me to consent to it.”
“Aye, well, there was naught I could do about it once her majesty and James of Scotland decided to stick their royal noses into the business. We both know that the marriage was naught but a move in the game of politics, one they hoped would help lead to peace in the Borders. They expected us to support it, and since Buccleuch desired the match, they hoped he would be grateful. Instead, he attacked my stronghold and came damned near to murdering me and all my men.”
Knowing that it would be futile to point out that Buccleuch, at least, had had good reason for his actions, Hugh said, “That Scottish jury is unlikely to order the hanging of one young woman, my lord, let alone two.”
“Well, they are not going to turn them both loose, either,” Scrope said. “I don’t care what they do, as long as those wicked wenches pay for killing Loder. I mean to see to that, my lad, I promise you.”
With a sigh, Hugh turned his attention to helping restore a semblance of calm to the proceedings.
When the wardens and their deputies had taken their seats again, and the crowd had quieted, the clerk said formally to Scrope, “What will you, my lord?”
Without waiting for his answer, Hugh said, “His lordship is loath to accept the word of any single person in such an important matter. Is there not someone else who will step forward to speak for May Halliot?”
Silence fell again. Men and women in the crowd looked to their neighbors. No one stepped forward.
When one of the Scottish jurors made a gesture to draw attention to himself, Hugh feared briefly that the man would offer to speak for May Halliot. Since jurors were not supposed to support any defendant, that would create another crisis. Then he recognized the man as one he had hoped would side against the Elliots.
“Begging pardon for the presumption, m’lord,” the man said to Scrope. “We believe the lassie be tellin’ a wee fable, and nobbut standing up for her sister. Still and all, do we no ha’ an established procedure to deal wi’ a case like this? If May Halliot ha’ taken leg bail, as it seems she has, can we no demand that some’un pledge hisself t’ stand hostage in her stead till we can lay her by the heels?”
Halliot said on a note of profound relief, “Aye, sure, you can do that! I am persuaded that my daughter will not stay long away from her home and family. When she returns, I’ll see to it that she makes everything clear to us at once.”
“’Tis a fine notion, that one,” Scrope said sarcastically, “but who will offer to stand pledge for the lass when none would speak for her?”
Hugh scanned the crowd, looking for movement that would indicate someone’s willingness to offer himself as pledge for May Halliot.
No one stirred.
The silence lengthened until Mistress Halliot said clearly, “I will stand for my sister until she can speak for herself or until some other event occurs to make her innocence plain.”
When her words provoked a burst of laughter, color leapt to her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled angrily.
Hugh raised a hand and saw that Sir Quinton was doing the same. A semblance of quiet was soon restored.
“Your offer reveals a kind spirit, mistress,” Quinton said gently.
“It’s daft,” Scrope snarled. “No one would accept a female hostage. Let Sir William Halliot stand hostage for both of his daughters.”
Hugh’s irritation with the man flared to anger. He said impulsively, “I’d accept a female hostage, my lord. Brackengill is well equipped to house one.”
Every eye turned toward him.
Hearing the echo of his words, Hugh wondered what madness had possessed him. He met Scrope’s angry gaze, however, and managing to instill a note of amusement into his voice, added, “I believe she would prove a less taxing guest than some prisoners I have housed.”
Chuckles from some of his men died away when Halliot said curtly, “I will not hear of such a thing. Do you make a game of my daughter, sir?”
“That was not my intent, sir, I assure you,” Hugh said.
Ignoring the reply, Halliot continued angrily, “Even if anyone here were mad enough to agree to such a thing, surely you must admit that for any unmarried man to hold a maiden hostage would be most unseemly.”
Feeling heat in his cheeks and knowing that they must be flaming now as brightly as Mistress Halliot’s were, Hugh said stiffly, “You are mistaken if you think Brackengill lacks a proper hostess, sir. My uncle’s widow, Lady Marjory Graham of Brampton, presently makes her home with me.”
Unimpressed, Halliot snapped, “Am I to believe that this Lady Marjory would stand between my daughter and the nephew on whom her ladyship depends for her home? Do I look like a simpleton, sir?”
“Take care, Halliot, lest you go beyond what I will tolerate,” Hugh said, restraining his temper with difficulty. “If it will ease your mind, you may send another woman as companion to your daughter.”
Doggedly, Sir William said, “Though it may further offend you, sir, I doubt that another woman would make much difference if you decided to take advantage of the situation. Nor can I think of any gentlewoman who would agree to dwell in England under such circumstances.”
“Her mother, perhaps,” Hugh suggested.
Mistress Halliot winced, but Halliot said only, “Even were I to allow it, Lady Halliot would not agree. The very suggestion is absurd.”
“Aye,” Scrope agreed. “’Tis a foolish notion.” Sarcastically, he said to Hugh, “If you’re so damned hot to keep her at Brackengill, sir, perhaps we should arrange for you to marry the wench. Our esteemed sovereigns have already agreed to one match for your family across the line. Doubtless, two will delight them.”
“No, thank you, my lord,” Hugh snapped.
He heard Mistress Halliot echo his sentiments in exactly the same words.
Scrope said, “Then put Mistress Halliot to judgment with her sister, and let us have done with this. We’ve much still remaining to do today.”
“Perhaps I can suggest an acceptable compromise,” Halliot said hastily.
When all eyes turned toward him, he said, “If my daughter Laura truly wishes to stand as a pledge for her sister’s honor, and if Hugh Graham agrees to honor that pledge, perhaps there is a way.”
“What way?” Scrope demanded.
“I will agree to the arrangement if they will agree to be handfasted. He must also agree that if he beds her and then fails to marry her after the usual year and a day—assuming that the situation is not resolved long before then—he will pay a
tocher
equal to the amount of her present dowry. That is, after all, the customary way to arrange handfasting betwixt persons of the nobility and gentry. Moreover, doubling her dowry would give my daughter at least some small chance of finding another man willing to marry her if Sir Hugh does take advantage of her.”
Rendered speechless by the outrageous suggestion, Hugh glanced at Laurie Halliot and saw that she looked equally stunned.
Scrope, however, clapped his hands together gleefully and shouted, “Done! We accept your terms, Halliot. The clerk will proclaim their handfasting at once, so we can move on to the rest of our business. When May Halliot returns, I expect you to inform me at once, Halliot, so that we can immediately arrange another meeting to decide her fate.”
“Wait!” Hugh cried.
“Be silent, sir,” Scrope ordered. “The wardens have agreed. It is finished.”
“It is
not
finished!”
“It will be once the clerk proclaims the handfasting,” Scrope said, adding curtly, “Proclaim it, man. We have much work yet to do before sundown.”
Turning to Hugh, he said in a vicious undertone, “You brought this on yourself with your foolish ways, Graham, so sit down and accept the consequences or answer later to me and to her majesty. I have already written to inform her that, in my opinion, you have far too many connections in Scotland, and with your uncle dead—yes, I know about that, no thanks to you—your sun is setting, sir.”
“Forgive me, my lord,” the clerk interjected. “Sir Hugh and Mistress Halliot must stand before me and agree to the arrangement before I can inscribe the log.”
Glaring at the interruption, Scrope growled, “Trust a Scottish clerk to throw a rub in the way. I should have insisted on an English one.”
“Had he been English,” Halliot said testily, “he would doubtless refuse to inscribe it at all. Recall that English law does not recognize handfasting.”
Laurie Halliot said nothing. She had neither moved nor spoken.
“Forgive me, sir,” Hugh said quietly, still watching her. “But how can you accept my word in this when you know the laws of my country will not support it?”
“I’ll accept it, because Border law does support it,” Halliot said, giving him a straight look. “Whatever we decide here today will legally bind you, my lad. Moreover, sir,” he added on a softer note, “my deputy informs me that your sworn word is your bond. I will put my faith in that.”
Hugh was silent for a long moment, still watching Laurie. She was like a statue, her gaze blank, unseeing. The murmuring of the crowd had died away until he could hear the wind blowing. A bird shrieked overhead, and the sound startled her. Her gaze sharpened, meeting his:
Only then did he speak. “Mistress Halliot can rely upon my sworn word, sir, if she is willing. Will you agree to a handfasting betwixt us, mistress?”
Her soft bosom swelled as she inhaled deeply. Still meeting his gaze, she said, “I have agreed to pledge myself for my sister, sir. What form that pledge takes does not matter. My sister will return soon, and she will explain everything to the jury’s satisfaction. Then you will have to release me.”
“There is a bit more—”
“She has agreed,” Scrope interjected swiftly. “Sign the agreement and have done. Then, if May Halliot has not returned before the next wardens’ meeting, her sister can stand trial in her place.”
Hugh did not press the point, for he knew that to do so might well result in the violence they had so far avoided.
The clerk required only simple agreement from each, so the words were quickly spoken. However, for the rest of the day, Hugh’s thoughts kept returning to the huge responsibility he had so impulsively accepted.
Whether Laurie Halliot realized it or not—and he believed that she did not—she was now legally his wife and subject to his authority in all things.
“Are you truly resigned to this business, daughter?” Sir William demanded during the brief midday recess when the wardens took time to eat a hasty meal.
Laurie shrugged, thinking it was like him to ask her the question only after the agreement was made and the papers signed.
“May cannot stay away long,” she said, “and the Englishman will not harm me in the meantime. Only think what everyone would say if he did and what dreadful consequences could result!”
“Nevertheless, handfasting is a serious business, lass.”
“Oh, aye, in the normal way of things, it is. But this is hardly a normal handfasting, sir. When May returns, it will be over and I can return home. The handfasting was necessary only to impose some semblance of propriety into an otherwise prodigiously awkward arrangement.”
“An otherwise impossible arrangement,” he amended. “I have no faith in any aunt of Sir Hugh Graham’s being able to keep you safe from him. Indeed, I am not at all sure that—”
“Sir William,” Scrope said, approaching them and interrupting in his usual imperious way, “you should eat your dinner, sir, so that we can finish today’s business. The matter of your daughter is done, and you cannot undo it.”
“Aye, that’s true enough, but ’tis a brave thing she does.”
“Oh, aye, ’tis wondrous brave,” Scrope agreed. Turning to Laurie, he added briskly, “You must come with me now, mistress. It is your duty to present yourself to Sir Hugh Graham and ask for his instruction. After all, Sir Hugh, not your father, is now your lord and master. Take yourself off to him at once, lass.”
A shiver raced up Laurie’s spine, but she could hardly debate the point with Scrope, and she saw Sir Hugh nearby, talking with some other men. Feeling conspicuous and certain that everyone on the field was watching her, she made her way toward him through the crowd.
He soon saw her and turned away from the man who was speaking to say, “Mistress, where is your maid?”