Authors: Leigh Greenwood
“Good day,” Sara said by way of greeting. “Do you mind if I walk with you?” The woman stared at her. “I promise not to talk a great deal, but I feel the need for some company. My name is Sara Carlisle.”
“Mine is Letty Brown, but ‘tis no’ for the likes o’ me tae be talking tae ye, much less calling ye by yer Christian name.”
“Well, you’ve got to call me something, and I would much prefer Sara.”
“Suit yourself, but don’t blame me if ye get into a heap o’ trouble,” Letty replied. They walked in silence for a short space.
“I do think it’s rather bad of the men to go off and leave us unattended,” Sara said.
“They’re always glad o’ our company when they return,” Letty replied, laughing a little too loud.
“I know, and that’s what has me puzzled,” Sara said, getting to the core of the issue immediately. “Why is it that men depend on their wives to run their household and raise their children, but as soon as they want a little fun, they go looking for some female their wives would blush to meet on the street?” Letty stopped in her tracks and turned to face Sara.
“What are ye doing, trying tae get me tae share confidences ye can laugh about over tea with your ladyfriends? Everybody knows men like their wives pretty, innocent, and stupid, and their ladyfriends painted, worldly, and up tae every trick in town.”
“I don’t have any ladyfriends, and I’m not trying to laugh at you,” Sara answered. “My husband was driven away by my being just what you describe, innocent and stupid. I’m on my way to join him now, and I don’t want to drive him away again. Obviously just loving him isn’t enough. There must be something more.” Letty stared at Sara like she couldn’t credit a word she heard, then she suddenly burst out laughing.
“There’s not a soul I know would believe a word o’ what ye just said, even if I was tae swear it was true. Ladies don’t want tae know what pleases a man.”
“I do,” insisted Sara. “I don’t want to be married to a man who thinks of me only when he thinks of his dependents. I want to be the one he comes to when he wants to have fun.”
“Ye are serious, aren’t ye?” said Letty, still not sure whether to trust Sara.
“Completely,” replied Sara.
“The men I know don’t want their wives tae be jolly and full of fun,” said Letty after a space. “They like tae keep both parts o’ their life separate, and from what their husbands say of them, the ladies are agreeable.”
“But
I’m
not,” insisted Sara.
“Their wives don’t approve o’ spirits. They turn up their noses at a little dirt and sweat, and refuse tae endure a man’s amorous attention, except under the necessity o’ wifely duty. Hrump!” Letty snorted. “If they’d give themselves half a chance, they might find it’s no’ so bad as they think.”
“But is it pleasurable? I mean, do you
pretend,
just to please them?” questioned Sara.
“Are ye daft? Do ye think I would put up with traveling on a muddy road in the middle o’ winter, sleeping in stinking hovels, and eating out o’ a sauce pan for the sake o’ a few dresses and a cheap trinket now and then?”
“Betty says women like you do.”
“Then your Betty, whoever she might be …”
“She’s my maid.”
“… is a fool. I’m as fond o’ my man as any woman, no matter that our union hasna been blessed by a preacher, but I would no’ set foot outside me own door tae follow him, if I dinna enjoy our little roll in the hay just as much as he does. I don’t have a fondness for spirits—though there’s many a lass I know that canna leave it alone—and I like a good time as well as anybody, but I can find a tankard of ale and a snug party at a dozen places back in Inverness. But tae a man, a cold bed is worse than no bed at all, and if a man doesna have his woman tae cuddle up tae, he’ll find another. You can bet I willna stay home while he cavorts with some strange hussy. Now you hurry back before someone sees us. I don’t think that good-looking Fraser would like it.”
“Oh him,” Sara said dismissing her guardian. “He takes care of me because the Prince told him to.”
“The Lord knows ye need help, ma’am, but I’m no’ the one tae give it. If that Fraser don’t care who ye go about with, I’ll lay my life that maid o’ yers will throw a fit if she finds ye talking with the likes of me.” Sara couldn’t deny that.
“But there’s so much I wanted to ask you.”
“A lady like you shouldna be asking anything of me,” said Letty with a kind smile. “We live in two different worlds.”
“Well, my husband spends a lot of time in your world, and I’m determined to find out why. Whatever he finds there, I want him to And with me.”
“If ye truly mean that, ye are one in a thousand,” said Letty. “Why don’t ye ask him what he wants? He’ll probably be shocked, but he just might tell ye. Now ye must go. I hear the hunt returning.”
Sara would have continued their talk despite the sound of approaching riders, but Letty turned off the path. She had barely disappeared into the wood when a troop of about thirty horsemen topped a rise a short distance away, and Sara recognized the Prince at their head.
There was much celebration of the hunt that evening, and many stories to be told, so it was several hours before Sara found the solitude to reflect on what she’d heard that afternoon, but she committed it all to memory. She didn’t want to forget a single word. It was possible, that something Letty said might hold the key to her future.
The Prince entered Glasgow, a town of more than thirty thousand, on the twenty-sixth of December. Sara rode a little way behind, with Betty on one side and Ian Fraser on the other.
Glasgow was a town of cozy homes and lofty spires, framed in green meadows, and wealthy if not well-bred citizens who viewed the Prince’s army with disgust. They jammed the street up to five and six deep on either side, but not one of them
uttered a single sound!
The army rolled through the town in dishevelled plaids and carrying the grime which accompanies any army on the march. They looked more like savages than soldiers, and appalled the fat Glasgow merchants and their self-satisfied wives.
At the very same moment, unbeknownst to Sara, Gavin, deep in thought and quite impatient with the crowds that blocked his path, was making his way to the home of a man he hoped would mine the coal that lay buried under his Scottish acres. The street was tightly packed with spectators, rich and poor alike, and not even for a horse would they give up their positions. From his vantage point in the saddle, he could see over the impenetrable crowds to the seemingly endless columns of kilted clansmen marching to the sound of pipes. He had just about decided it would be quicker to circle the town, when his attention was caught by two women riding close behind the Prince. The party had come to a halt before the imposing mansion of a Mr. Glassford—a man who had made his fortune in colonial trade—and was preparing to dismount.
What foolish creatures they are to ride openly at the Prince’s side in a Whig city, he thought to himself. There won’t be a respectable house that will open its door to them. But no sooner had the thought crossed his mind, than he sat up rigid in the saddle, his eyes starting from his head, his gaze fixed on the face of the smaller female who had just been helped down from the saddle; the female riding with brazen nonchalance at the Prince’s side was Sara,
his wife.
All thoughts of coal and mining costs were cast from his mind. Sliding from the saddle and giving the reins of his horse to a boy nearby, Gavin began to push his way through the throng that lined the street.
Though he had thought about Sara continually, he had never envisioned her in Scotland—it somehow seemed an invasion of his private domain—but now that she was here, he experienced a tremor of excitement, of anticipation.
Why
was she here? That question teased his wits until they were in a frenzy of perplexity. Had she come with his father? Had she come alone, and if so, had she followed him? But if that was true, and he could hardly allow himself to believe it was, what was she doing with the Prince’s army? And what was she doing on the opposite side of Scotland from Estameer?
Gavin tried to sort through the emotions that clamored for his attention. He had no trouble identifying and understanding the immediate physical response to her presence. His body’s need of her had continued to grow during these long weeks, and seeing her suddenly appear within reach sent his senses into chaos. As much as Gavin had been aware of his growing fascination with Sara, he was dismayed at the magnitude of his response to her presence. Only now did he realize how utterly uninterested he was in Clarice, Colleen, or any other woman who wasn’t Sara.
But when he got to his emotional response to her presence, he lost his way. It seemed that the entire cabinet of his emotions had been emptied out into the Glaswegian streets, and every one of them was clamoring for his attention. Anger, frustration, irritation he could understand. But joy! He was acting like he was about to meet an old love after a long separation, not a woman who was a virtual stranger and had married him for his social position.
He realized he was becoming excited at the thought of being with her again, of holding her in his arms, and he told himself not to be a fool. She was no more experienced or sophisticated than she had been on their wedding day; things would be no different. They might even be worse, but still he pushed ahead vigorously, drawn by a kind of jealous possessiveness he did not yet understand.
But as he elbowed his way through the throng, Gavin became angry that she could have been so foolish, so completely without understanding of the rules and customs of war, as to be seen in the company of the Scottish rebels. But even more disastrous, it looked as if—even if it should somehow mercifully prove to be untrue—she had been traveling with the army. Setting aside the fact that having it known that his wife was a sympathizer of the Stuart Prince could endanger his life—if one
could
set aside such a consideration as that—didn’t she realize what it would do to her reputation? Mercifully, Glasgow was miles away from Estameer and Edinburgh, and even farther from London. If she were fortunate, no one would ever hear of her mad escapade, but he had to remove her from the Prince’s company, before he could introduce her to a Glaswegian merchant who just might happen to be doing business with his father.
“Have a heart!” “Find yer own place!” “Why does every big bleeder think he has the right tae step on us little people!” were but a few of the comments thrown at him as he rudely elbowed his way through the onlookers. Had he had time to think about it, Gavin would have remembered that he had never been good with words, that he was more likely to rub a person’s feelings the wrong way by his terse replies than by his impolite silence, but even he was taken aback by the thoughtlessness of his first sentence. He would not have spoken to his mistress like that. Why did he do it to Sara?
“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded, coming upon her so unexpectedly she uttered a gasp of fright.
Sara’s heart leapt within her when she realized Gavin stood before her. Her memory had not lied; he
did
exceed every other man in the charms most likely to cause any resisting female heart to crumble. If there had been any remaining doubt as to why she had undertaken the perilous journey from London, it was gone now. Her heart beat so rapidly she was unable to form the words that rose to her lips, and her stupefied silence led Gavin into the error of believing she was speechless with contrition.
“You’re supposed to be waiting for me in London, not following a ragtag army through the streets like a common doxy,” he said, as he reached out and took her by the arm. “Gome on. I’ll have you on your way back to London in the first coach I can hire.”
Sara came out of her daze with a jolt. It had taken his threat to send her back to London to break her trance, but now his other remarks also registered. His immediate, thoughtless censure overshadowed all her joy in their reunion, and she was instantaneously vibrant with cold anger. She would not be run roughshod over again, not by him or anyone else. She had come all this way in search of him, but she had not come crawling on her belly. She had come with shoulders squared and head erect, determined to fight for what she wanted.
“Let me go,” said Sara, wrenching her elbow from his grip. “You have no right to send me anywhere.”
“As your husband, I have every right.”
“Twould be a good idea for ye tae reconsider,” suggested Ian Fraser, facing his old friend with a look that contained no sign of friendly greeting.
“Ian! I might have known you’d be up to your neck in this bloody mess, but did you have to drag my wife along with you as well?”
“He didn’t drag me anywhere. In fact, he’s done everything he could to insure that I received the kind of treatment that benefits
your
rank and station.”
“We are waiting for you to join us,” said the Prince, breaking into the circle gathered around Sara. He noticed Gavin and frowned. “Who is this man?”
Sara answered before Ian could reply. All the hurt and fury from her wedding night, of being left in London, of being forced to undertake a journey by herself, rushed to the surface. She would show him she was no longer a helpless, timid female, waiting quietly in a corner until he wanted her.
“I can not tell you, Sire, since he failed to introduce himself. However, it’s clear he is possessed of Whig leanings and seems to have an unusual knowledge of the persons on your staff. I would never presume to instruct your Majesty, but it might not come amiss if he were detained until it could be determined how much he knows, where he gathered the information, and whether or not he might be injurious to your Majesty’s cause.”