Authors: Leigh Greenwood
Gavin was livid. He had never met his cousin before, had only decided on the spur of the moment to see what he was like before he left Edinburgh. He was shocked by bis senseless bigotry and then enraged by his stubborn arrogance.
“You seem to feel that being in command of the army gives you the right to trample over the rights of ordinary citizens.”
“We’re in enemy country.”
“You are in England, even though some may want a different king on the throne. If you continue to treat Scotland as you have begun, you may find the whole of it in revolt. Does the Duke know what a buffoon he has on his staff?”
“You’re insulting.”
“And you’re a fool,” Gavin declared flatly, rising abruptly from his chair. “My father said it would be a tragedy for you to step into my shoes, but by God, I don’t think he knows the half of it.”
Gavin stormed out of the room, but paused in the outer room to regain some control over his temper. A tall young man of clear eye and smiling mein entered and regarded him quizzically for a moment.
“Your interview with the Lieutenant-General didn’t go well?”
“My interview was a mistake,” Gavin stated unequivocally. “If he doesn’t raise the whole countryside against you, I’ll be surprised. Why does Cumberland keep him?”
“He has rank and birth.”
“I know he’s descended from an Earl, but earls can sire imbeciles as well as anyone else.”
The officer laughed easily, not discomfited by Gavin’s anger or the obvious difference in class.
“Who are you?” Gavin asked.
“Brigade-Major James Wolfe.”
“And what do
you
think of him?”
“He has a reputation as a savage disciplinarian, but he combines beastly ignorance and negligence, and embodies all the vices and stupidities of his class.”
“You don’t mince words, do you?”
“Neither do the soldiers. He’s called
Lard Chief Justice
for his frequent and sudden executions. They hate him, dread his severity, and hold his military knowledge in contempt. He has some dangerous illusions about the lack of courage and resolution of Highlanders, particularly that they wouldn’t stand up to cavalry, even though they have already done it at Prestonpans and Clifton.”
“I must try and make Cumberland realize he’s going to lose more than he will gain by keeping that man.”
“His Crace has been called away to protect against a French invasion. Hawley is in sole command.”
“Then God help you, because I won’t.”
Sara stared out the coach window, a tight ball of apprehension bouncing about in the pit of her stomach. They were approaching Estameer, and she didn’t know what to do. She had hoped that she and Gavin could have established some kind of understanding while they were in Edinburgh, but Gavin had not come to her bed the second night, and she had found little opportunity to talk with him, because he was out on business most of each day. He had been unfailingly polite and considerate of her comfort, but there was a chasm between them she could not bridge.
And the gap grew wider when they boarded the coach for Estameer. With the passing of every mile that brought them closer to Gavin’s home, he withdrew a little more from her. Sara felt confused and abandoned, but she was determined to discover the cause of this withdrawal. After four days of companionable coexistence, she found she liked being married to Gavin, and she was not going to give up because of some ancient problem with his father, or whatever ghost was haunting him now.
The coach slowed and turned into the gate of the avenue, which opened under an archway that was battlemented on top and adorned with two large weather-beaten pieces of upright stone. The avenue was straight and lined with ancient horse chestnuts and sycamores. Beyond were two high walls overgrown with ivy. Though it was half-hidden by the trees, Sara could see the high steep roofs and narrow gables of the mansion, and she felt herself tense. This was Gavin’s home, and she doubted he was any more willing to let her inside its walls than he was to let her inside his heart.
The house, which seemed to consist of two or three high, narrow, and steep-roofed buildings projecting from each other at right angles, formed two sides of the enclosure. It had been built after the period when castles had ceased to be necessary, but before anyone had learned to design a domestic residence. The windows were numberless and very small; the roof had some nondescript projections and, displayed at each frequent angle, a small turret, more resembling a pepper box than a gothic watchtower. Nor did the front indicate absolute security from danger. There were loopholes for musketry, and iron stanchions on the lower windows, probably to repel predatory visits from their neighbors. Stables and other offices occupied another side of the square. The front court was spacious, well paved, and perfectly clean. The solitude and repose of the whole scene seemed almost monastic.
“Sure is a big place,” Betty said in surprise. “I always thought Scottish lords were poor.”
“They usually are, when compared to the English,” Gavin told her. “Fortunately, I’m not.”
They entered almost directly into the great hall, undoubtedly the largest room Sara had ever seen. The massive black oak beams that supported the ceiling were hardly less than whole trees hand-hewn and fitted into position with wooden pegs. A fire blazed in a hearth big enough for Sara to enter standing, but it seemed to have no effect on the icy cold of the room. The unrelieved whitewashed walls gave Sara the impression of a cold, winter landscape.
“Estameer used to belong to the laird of the clan. He built this hall so he could feed all his men at once,” Gavin explained when he saw Sara’s dismay. “It’s never used now except in summer.” A man and a woman of middle age hurried from one of the side doors to greet them with a warm welcome.
“This is Tom Campbell, my bailiff, and his wife, Mary, who acts as housekeeper,” Gavin told Sara.
“And delighted I am tae see the young master has taken a wife at last,” Mary said, beaming warmly at Sara. “It was the dearest wish o’ his sainted mother for the last years o’ her life.”
“Mary has managed everything for years,” Gavin said, a little stiffly. “You shouldn’t have to do any more than come down for dinner.”
Immediately Sara could tell that Gavin didn’t want her to interfere with the household. She knew she couldn’t let herself be managed by a housekeeper for the rest of her life, no matter how kindly, but she hadn’t quite made up her mind how to respond, when Betty, who was in no such doubt, answered for her.
“Her ladyship can’t be expected to live by anybody else’s arrangements, though she’s bound to be too tired from bouncing over those nasty roads to be thinking of anything but her bed right now.”
“I am rather tired,” Sara said, hoping to pacify Gavin before he could become angry, “but I would appreciate it, Mary, if you could wait on me in the morning.”
“At what hour?” inquired the housekeeper, showing none of Gavin’s stiff reluctance.
“Is nine convenient?” Sara asked. She would have preferred that Betty let her make the first step, but now that it had been made, she wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.
“I’m sure you’ll find that everything is being managed quite well,” Gavin began.
“So am I,” Sara agreed, cutting him off before he could actually forbid her to interfere, “but I must become familiar with the household routine.”
“My yes,” added Mary. “There must be dozens of changes ye shall want tae make.”
“I doubt there’ll be dozens, but there are bound to be some.”
“They are my mother’s arrangements,” Gavin informed her ominously. He knew he shouldn’t be responding this way, but he couldn’t stop himself.
“And I’m sure they are quite excellent for a household set up for the care of an invalid,” Betty struck in, “but her Ladyship is no such thing.”
“I dare say I shall find them most suitable,” said Sara, stepping in to prevent a quarrel. Betty had never liked Gavin, and only waited for any imagined slight to her mistress to flare up. Sara appreciated her help, she couldn’t get along without it, but she didn’t want to find herself fighting a battle not of her own making. “Now, if you will show me the way upstairs. It seems like years since I had a room of my own.”
“Certainly, your Ladyship.”
“Gavin?”
“I’ve business with the bailiff. I’ll see you at dinner.”
“When is that?”
“Dinner is always at half past four,” Mary informed her.
“Four-thirty! Why that’s in the middle of the afternoon!” exclaimed Betty.
“So it is,” Sara said, giving her maid a fierce glance. “I must hurry if I’m to be ready in time.”
“You can’t be sitting down to dinner before you’ve had time to swallow your tea,” Betty protested, aghast, as they reached a corridor out of Gavin’s hearing. “That’s heathenlike.”
“Nor shall I, but it would be better to move the dinner hour back by degrees rather than all at once. The same goes for any other changes I might want to make.”
“Aye,” agreed Mary. “The young master is mighty loyal to anything his mother set up. It is wise to proceed slowly.”
“But if—”
“No, Betty,” Sara said firmly. “I don’t intend to give up my rights, but I won’t have my husband badgered by a lot of poorly considered changes, certainly not so soon after the Countess’s death. But I’m afraid we must move dinner back to five-thirty. I doubt I can be ready quite so early.”
“Certainly, your Ladyship. It’s terrible late now.”
Gavin didn’t look pleased when she came down, and Sara decided to speak first.
“I’m sorry dinner’s so late, but our arrival caught everyone by surprise. By the time everything was settled, it was impossible to have dinner ready on time. Please say something nice to Mary. She’s upset, but I told her you’d rather have dinner late than ill-prepared.” Sara settled herself into a chair. “How was your afternoon? Is it going to be difficult to extract the coal?”
Gavin regarded her with skepticism, but he began to tell her of his plans for the mines, and his displeasure vanished as he became caught up in his enthusiasm.
“It will be a real boost to the whole county,” he said. “Scotland’s extreme poverty is half the reason the clans are willing to fight for the Stuart prince. If you remember the villages we passed through, then you know how poor they are. The lairds can’t help, because they have all they can do to provide for their tables. It’s the custom in the Highlands, that the laird must feed anyone at his own table who comes to eat with him. Well, more and more are depending on him, because they can’t feed themselves. The mines won’t solve everyone’s problems, but it’s a start.”
“You’re more interested in Scotland than your Father’s trading empire, aren’t you?”
“I’ve never had any interest in that.” Gavin paused suddenly and looked at Sara, an arrested expression on his face. “I really don’t know. I’ve never had anything to do with his business.”
“Why?”
“My father keeps everything firmly in his own control. I couldn’t work with him in any event, but I did enjoy planning the mining operation and working out the arrangements with contractors and agents in Glasgow and Edinburgh. I admit I wasn’t always thinking just of the poor Scots.” An unwelcome thought seemed to cheat him of his pleasure. “I seem to be growing more like my father every day.”
“Not in the ways that count,” Sara said, determined his old hobgoblins would not deprive him of his well-earned satisfaction.
“What do you mean?”
“You may enjoy the work for its own sake, but no matter how much it means to you, you always have the good of others as your reason for doing it. It’s just like your relationship with me.” Gavin immediately looked uncomfortable. “No matter how much you resent your father’s forcing you to marry me, you’ve still managed to take my feelings into consideration. I know it hasn’t been easy.”
Sara’s compliments made Gavin feel like a heel. He
had
been gentle with her, but he hadn’t done it out of love; it was probably equal amounts of salving his own conscience and common consideration for another person caught in an awkward situation. Yet it was obvious in everything
she
did, in all she said, that his happiness was uppermost in her mind.
Now he had brought her to his home—
her
home, too—and had virtually ordered her not to touch anything. Yet here she was trying to convince him he wasn’t like his father. Wasn’t his treatment of her the worst indictment of all? Gavin swore under his breath. The least he could do would be to approach everything with the same open, uncondemning attitude she had toward him. If he wanted to prove himself different from his father, if he wanted to justify her faith in him, he must behave differently, and he could start by accepting the change in dinner time. After all, he had complained about it himself for years.
Mary announced dinner.
“Let’s go in,” Gavin said, offering his arm to Sara. “You’ve got a long day ahead of you tomorrow. By the time Mary gets through showing you over the whole place, you’ll be too tired to suggest any changes, and I’ll still be dining in full daylight come spring.” An errant thought amused him. “Wouldn’t Cousin Hawley be pleased to know that.”
Sara took the arm offered and went into dinner, her feet almost floating on air. She understood that Gavin was giving her tacit approval to make any changes she wanted, and her heart beat with gladness. If he could accept her into his home and turn over its management to her, even though he knew she had no experience and might make an incredible muddle of things, then he must care for her after all.