Dawn on a Distant Shore (60 page)

Hannah was tired, but
she would not let herself be lulled to sleep by Meg's easy gait or the fact
that Thomas Ballentyne radiated warmth like a well-laid fire. She must be the
one to remember their route along these unmarked roads: Curiosity was preoccupied
with Lily, and Elizabeth with Daniel; her father had lost too much blood to
stay alert for long. It would take all of his concentration to stay upright in
the saddle.

They were barely out
of Dumfries when the first shifting light of dawn came up, and she turned her
attention to the Scottish countryside, severe but still alive with new light.
There were some trees now. Here and there a birch or elm crowded with rooks; a
clutch of pines at a turning of the river, and in long misty stretches between
the swelling hills. If they could be called hills. They put Hannah more in mind
of children sleeping under blankets worn thin with use, crowded close together
for warmth, rounded shoulders and hips and elbows jutting up. Nothing like the
mountains of the endless forests.

Hannah wished for some
quick look at her father, but he was hidden from her. An hour passed, and then another.

As they came around a
corner there was a scattering on a far hillside.

"Wild
goats." She did not realize she had said it aloud until Thomas Ballentyne grunted.

"Aye." And
then, grudgingly: "Ye're sharp-eyed."

After that he began to
put names to things, speaking them out over her head for her to take or leave,
as she pleased. The Threewater Foot was a tangle of streams where they paused
to let the horses drink without dismounting. It was a pretty spot, where
guelder roses grew among the elms and willows overhung the stream, full of
mossy boulders.

The dark-haired young
man who had come into the inn at the earl's whistle stared at her from the
other side of the water. Hannah was surprised to find that while she could
ignore him, Thomas Ballentyne could not.

"Lucas! Stop
oglin' the lass or I'll tell Mary!"

There were shouts of
laughter. The younger man turned his horse away, blushing furiously.

"You embarrassed
him," Hannah said.

He shrugged. "I
canna thole sic impertinent behavior in ma own son."

Hannah craned her neck
for another look at Lucas to see if he resembled his father. Instead she caught
sight of Elizabeth and Curiosity, horses side by side, their heads together.
They seemed preoccupied and worried but not desperate, and that put Hannah at
ease, for the moment. Just beyond them her father was a vaguely upright shape.
He was very pale, and even from here she could see how it was with him.

"It's a braw
mannie wha' can ride shotgun wi'oot complaint," said Thomas Ballentyne,
showing a talent for reading thoughts that made Hannah shift uneasily.

They started up the
river valley on a narrow road, now in groups of three and four. Low mountains
came into sight: Gateshaw Rig, Croft Head, Loch Fell, like a gathering of old
men with hunched backs.

"We're on Carryck
land now," said Thomas Ballentyne, pointing to a mountaintop. "That's
Aidan Rig."

The name meant nothing
to Hannah, so she turned her attention to the pastures along the river, full of
sheep and cows with heavy thick coats; men working in a field of oats who
straightened to raise a hand in greeting. Young women raking hay into ricks,
smiling and calling out names. One flipped her skirt in their direction and the
others laughed and scolded.

They passed through a
small village, and then another, moving so fast that Hannah could make out nothing
about them except thatched roofs and stone walls, a common well, a low church
steeple, a mill on a stream. Crofters' cottages with children playing around
them, a boy herding a great sow, a woman scrubbing clothes in a stream, her skirts
tucked up to show round knees purple-red with cold. The road began to work its way
upward toward the summit of Aidan Rig, twisting with the curves of the hill.
The soil was thin here and everywhere stone pushed up out of the ground as if the
earth were set on shedding her bones. A young bullock grazing among the heather
raised a heavy head to watch them pass.

Meg began to blow and
snort, surging forward eagerly in spite of the steep climb.

"Aye, lass,"
said Thomas Ballentyne. "Soon. Ye've earned yer oats this night."

Hannah sat up
straighter, as anxious as she had ever been.

"There," he
said, raising a gloved hand to point. "Carryckcastle."

She had steeled
herself for this, and still Hannah was taken by surprise. To her mother's
people, to the Kahnyen'kehâka, a castle was nothing more than a fortified
village, longhouses surrounded by a wall of logs lashed together and sharpened
to a point at the top. Carryckcastle was something very different: a vast
expanse of smooth walls, turrets and towers, a hundred glass windows catching
the sunlight and casting it out again. The castle grew out of the rock where
the mountain thrust out over the valley below. Above it was only timber and a
treacherous rock face; no man could approach it from below without being seen
from a mile away. The home of a man who did not trust his neighbors.

Behind them, the sound
of her father coughing from deep in his chest.

"Ye'll be safe
here," Thomas Ballentyne said.

Hannah shuddered in
the warm sunlight, and was silent.

All through this long
journey, Elizabeth had dreaded the moment when they would first see this place,
but when that time came she could feel only relief. Nathaniel had been listing
hard to one side for the last half-mile of the winding road up the mountainside.
She focused all her energy on him, willing him to stay upright for these last
few minutes, trying at the same time to comfort Daniel with soft words. He
mewled and hiccuped his unhappiness, straining away and clutching hard at the
same time.

As the party turned
the corner and started through the gate into the courtyard, Lily raised her voice,
crying in earnest now, hungry and angry about it. Elizabeth turned her head for
a moment in Curiosity's direction, just as Nathaniel began a slow slide from
the saddle.

It had been many years
since she had played at such games, but now she left her horse in a vault, one
arm wrapped around Daniel and her skirts flying. And still the earl was there
before her, leaning over from his own mount to grab Nathaniel by the collar
before he fell to the cobblestones. A legion of servants, men in leather
aprons, footmen in blue and gold livery, sta2oys, all rushed in to help, and
Elizabeth lost sight of him until she could push her way through.

He was barely upright,
supported on either side by two burly servants so that his cape gaped open.
Curiosity had immobilized his left arm against his chest, and then bound him
tightly from shoulder to waist. Now the whole expanse of linen was bright red.
He looked down at himself and up at her with a puzzled expression.

"Boots." His
voice was raw, and she saw now clearly what this ride had cost him. "The children?"

"All well."
Her knees were trembling, but her tone was firm and she managed a small smile.

"Good," he
said. "Good," and slumped forward in a faint.

There was no help for
it: she must leave Nathaniel to the care of others while she tended to the
babies. As soon as he had been carried into a room on the ground floor where
the Hakim waited--Elizabeth caught his eye in passing, and was calmed by his
kind and earnest expression as he turned to greet Hannah--she let herself be
led, squalling children firmly in arm, down halls and up staircases to a
chamber the size of their entire cabin at Lake in the Clouds. When the footman
closed the door behind her, she went straight to the bed and its little flight of
carved stairs.

Elizabeth climbed them
and settled herself against the mountain of bolsters and pillows. She did not look
up again until the twins had begun to nurse, and then she found she was not
alone.

Three lady's maids
stood waiting on the far side of the room, watching her. They curtsied and
bobbed as if she were the king's consort rather than the wife of an American
backwoodsman, coming forward in a rustle of skirts to take her shoes, spread a
rug over her legs, and adjust the pillows under the twins more comfortably.
Through all this they said very little, but Elizabeth saw them taking in every
detail, from the pitch-stained hem of her gown to the way Daniel played with a
stray strand of her hair as he nursed. The two older maids kept all expression
from their faces, but the youngest one stood for a moment smiling at the sight
of Lily's feet, which stuck out from under Elizabeth's arm, toes wiggling
madly.

Elizabeth bore it all
patiently until they stood away again, eyes downcast. The earl must have a very
strict housekeeper, one who inspired real fear in her staff.
Or perhaps
it's
me
, she thought.
Perhaps they are afraid of me.

"Thank you,"
she said. "You may leave me now."

They bobbed again,
hands folded over starched aprons, and slipped away without a word. But the youngest
one paused at the door to throw a curious last glance at her.

Elizabeth returned her
shy smile. "What is your name?"

"Mally,
m'leddy."

She bit back a smile.
"You bestow a rank on me that is not my own. I am Mrs. Bonner."

"Aye, mem. Pardon
me, mem."

"If there is any
tea to be had, a cup would be very welcome."

"Och, aye, mem.
There's coffee and hot chocolate, as weel."

"Tea is all I
require." And
Nathaniel,
she might have added.
In good health.

"Is there aught
else, mem?"

Elizabeth said,
"Yes. Tell me, whose chamber is this?"

"It was the
laird's mither's, Appalina she was, the auld Leddy Carryck. But it's stood empty
these many years since she passed on. That's her likeness, hanging there."
She pointed to the portrait that hung over the mantelpiece.

"The earl's
mother?" Elizabeth asked.

"Aye, she came
ower fra' Germany tae marry the auld laird."

"And the earl's
wife, where is she?"

The girl's brow lifted
in astonishment. "Leddy Carryck's been deid these fifteen years, mem.
There's a bonnie likeness o' her hangin' in His Lairdship's own chamber, and anither
in Elphinstone Tower. But those chambers are locked."

"Elphinstone
Tower?"

Mally nodded so that
her white cap slid sideways and had to be righted.

"Aye, mem. The
northeast tower, called Elphinstone for her faither. She was Marietta, a French
leddy. Dauchter tae Lord Balmerinoch wha lost his heid after the Rising. Ye'll
ha' heard o' Lord Balmerinoch?"

But Elizabeth had not,
and so Mally went away, no doubt to tell the entire staff how poorly informed
these visitors were about their host, while Elizabeth leaned back to study Appalina,
once of Germany. A dark-haired woman in yellow brocade with Valenciennes lace
at her wrists. She wore no jewels at all, but her arms were filled with
long-stemmed tulips of such rich deep colors that Elizabeth thought the artist
must have taken some liberties. But he had done Appalina no favors, and perhaps
she had wanted it that way, insisting that he paint her as she was, neither beautiful
nor plain. The extravagance of flowers in her arms drew a strong contrast to
the resolute expression in her eyes, a firm and unflinching gaze the color of
good brandy.

The earl had inherited
his eyes from his mother. But how was it that his father had taken a German
bride?

Elizabeth had time now
to look at her surroundings, and the answer was all around her. It was there in
the fine molded plasterwork of the ceiling, in heavy mahogany furniture, in
silver candle sconces and Turkish carpets, in Chinese vases and marble
mantelpieces. This was not the home of a Scots earl impoverished by years of revolt
and warfare. No doubt Appalina had brought her new husband a handsome fortune.

A breeze from the open
windows made the embroidered silk of the bed hangings flutter, stirring the
roses and lavender that stood in a vase on a small table and spreading their
scent through the room. She wondered if Appalina had seen to the planting of
the garden, and if it had been a comfort to her in those first years so far
from her home. Sometime soon after she arrived as a new bride, the earl's twin
brother--Hawkeye's father--had gone off to seek his own fortune. Leaving his
home as she had left hers, to look for a new life, a farther shore.

"Your
great-grandfather was most probably born in this very bed," she whispered
to her children. "But you were born in the endless forests, and that is
where you will grow up."

Lily yawned in
agreement, and Daniel followed her example.

Mally brought her tea
and a tray crowded with scones, jam and cream. And she brought a word from the housekeeper,
Mrs. Hope.

"If it pleases
ye, mem, she'll be by shortly. Tae show ye the nursery."

"Will she?"
Elizabeth hid her face in her teacup while she considered. In a great house
where the lord had lost his lady and remained unmarried, a housekeeper's
authority was likely to grow to formidable proportions; this one, Mrs. Hope by
name, was testing her to see what she was made of. Aunt Merriweather would be
gratified to know that all her training and counsel were finally to be put to
good use.