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Authors: Liz Curtis Higgs
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sister.”
Nonetheless, while Jamie shed his muddy breeches, she found her writing desk and began her letter yet again.
My dear sister, I have news that cannot keep, though it would be far better to tell you in person …
Rose had forced herself to continue writing even when her hand shook and the ink splattered.
God has answered my prayers…
She included several stories about Ian, praying such details would comfort Leana rather than add to her sorrow. Jamie was only mentioned in passing.
We will leave for Glentrool at Lammas …
The finished letter now rested on the narrow hall table inside the front door. Willie promised to take her letter to Milltown in the morning. From there it would disappear inside the coat pocket of a westbound coach driver and arrive in Leana’s hands a few days hence. Monday at the latest.
“Rose!” Spoken like a bark. “Where have your thoughts wandered off to this time?”
“Nowhere, sir.” Rose turned toward her father as she gathered her wits. “That is …” She looked round the table, aware of their curious gazes. “I’m … not quite myself of late.” At least that was a half truth; she could not seem to concentrate on any one thing for long.
“Do not concern yourself, Rose.” Morna Douglas offered a slight smile. “I know how tired you must be. Neda has promised to serve the pears from Edingham’s orchard, and then my sons will take their leave. Despite the lingering light, the hour grows late.” Batting her lashes even more than usual, she added, “Your father has kindly invited me to stay ’til the morn.”
The widow twittered on while the servants placed dishes of sliced fruit at each place, the creamy flesh pale against the patterned china. Picked at the end of the season and stored in a dry, cool spot, the bergamot pears still had a pleasant flavor, despite their wrinkled flesh. No doubt the widow was emptying her store before the early summer varieties yielded their harvest.
Rose ate her dessert in silence, watching the others. Her father looked pleased with himself, gazing toward the dining room window and ignoring Morna, who rested her hand on his sleeve in a proprietary manner. He’d wooed her with a gift of five milk cows last winter, an appropriate gesture from so
glaumshach
a man, knowing the cows would be his again someday. The brothers had been quiet through dinner, exchanging covert glances but little else. Their tour ofAuchengray—most of it conducted without Jamie—had stretched nigh to the supper hour. Were they duly impressed, or was Edingham a grander property? After his first visit there, Jamie had pronounced their Urr parish farm merely “tidy.” But then, Jamie had no interest in cattle. All he cared about were his lambs. And Ian. And her perhaps.
Jamie leaned back from the table without tasting his dessert, his features resolute. “I believe one member of the family has yet to be introduced to our guests.”
Rose closed her mouth, lest it fall open in astonishment. Surely the man did not intend to bring his illegitimate child to table!
“Mistress McKie, if you might present my son to the Douglases.”
Jamie, whatever are you thinking?
There was naught to be done but obey his bidding. She curtsied to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze, then quit the room and headed up the stair, her heart beating faster than her footsteps.
My son.
Did he mean to conceal the true mother’s identity? Pushing open the door to the nursery, Rose forced herself to smile and was greeted with two genuine grins in return—from Ian, dressed in a fresh gown, and from Eliza, her cap knocked askew.
“Look who’s awake.” Rose gathered her stepson in her arms and hugged him close as his bare feet kicked about.
Sweet Ian.
One chubby fist grabbed her braid and tugged hard until she bussed his neck, causing him finally to let go. Her smile fading, she turned toward the door. “Come, Eliza. The lad is to meet the Douglases.”
Agog at the prospect, the
Nonetheless, while Jamie shed his muddy breeches, she found her writing desk and began her letter yet again.
My dear sister, I have news that cannot keep, though it would be far better to tell you in person …
Rose had forced herself to continue writing even when her hand shook and the ink splattered.
God has answered my prayers…
She included several stories about Ian, praying such details would comfort Leana rather than add to her sorrow. Jamie was only mentioned in passing.
We will leave for Glentrool at Lammas …
The finished letter now rested on the narrow hall table inside the front door. Willie promised to take her letter to Milltown in the morning. From there it would disappear inside the coat pocket of a westbound coach driver and arrive in Leana’s hands a few days hence. Monday at the latest.
“Rose!” Spoken like a bark. “Where have your thoughts wandered off to this time?”
“Nowhere, sir.” Rose turned toward her father as she gathered her wits. “That is …” She looked round the table, aware of their curious gazes. “I’m … not quite myself of late.” At least that was a half truth; she could not seem to concentrate on any one thing for long.
“Do not concern yourself, Rose.” Morna Douglas offered a slight smile. “I know how tired you must be. Neda has promised to serve the pears from Edingham’s orchard, and then my sons will take their leave. Despite the lingering light, the hour grows late.” Batting her lashes even more than usual, she added, “Your father has kindly invited me to stay ’til the morn.”
The widow twittered on while the servants placed dishes of sliced fruit at each place, the creamy flesh pale against the patterned china. Picked at the end of the season and stored in a dry, cool spot, the bergamot pears still had a pleasant flavor, despite their wrinkled flesh. No doubt the widow was emptying her store before the early summer varieties yielded their harvest.
Rose ate her dessert in silence, watching the others. Her father looked pleased with himself, gazing toward the dining room window and ignoring Morna, who rested her hand on his sleeve in a proprietary manner. He’d wooed her with a gift of five milk cows last winter, an appropriate gesture from so
glaumshach
a man, knowing the cows would be his again someday. The brothers had been quiet through dinner, exchanging covert glances but little else. Their tour ofAuchengray—most of it conducted without Jamie—had stretched nigh to the supper hour. Were they duly impressed, or was Edingham a grander property? After his first visit there, Jamie had pronounced their Urr parish farm merely “tidy.” But then, Jamie had no interest in cattle. All he cared about were his lambs. And Ian. And her perhaps.
Jamie leaned back from the table without tasting his dessert, his features resolute. “I believe one member of the family has yet to be introduced to our guests.”
Rose closed her mouth, lest it fall open in astonishment. Surely the man did not intend to bring his illegitimate child to table!
“Mistress McKie, if you might present my son to the Douglases.”
Jamie, whatever are you thinking?
There was naught to be done but obey his bidding. She curtsied to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze, then quit the room and headed up the stair, her heart beating faster than her footsteps.
My son.
Did he mean to conceal the true mother’s identity? Pushing open the door to the nursery, Rose forced herself to smile and was greeted with two genuine grins in return—from Ian, dressed in a fresh gown, and from Eliza, her cap knocked askew.
“Look who’s awake.” Rose gathered her stepson in her arms and hugged him close as his bare feet kicked about.
Sweet Ian.
One chubby fist grabbed her braid and tugged hard until she bussed his neck, causing him finally to let go. Her smile fading, she turned toward the door. “Come, Eliza. The lad is to meet the Douglases.”
Agog at the prospect, the
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