The Mark of Salvation (24 page)

Robert asked, “What news do you bring from Ireland's new king?”

“Your brother sends you greetings. He still must subdue a few more Irish chieftains but essentially he is in command of the country.”

“Good. I hope this gives him the contentment he's searched for. I love my brother, but Scotland truly is too small for the two of us.” He set his glass down and tapped his fingertips together several times. “I've decided to raid England again, Ceallach. Would you like to come along?”

This surprised Ceallach. He'd thought the raids were over. “What has Edward done to anger you this time?”

“He still doesn't acknowledge me as the rightful king of Scotland. Says I'm a propped up puppet with no support from my people. I thought I'd show him the reach of my ‘propped up' government by harassing his subjects.”

Ceallach considered whether or not he would go with Robert or return to Dunstruan. “When do you plan to leave?”

“I can wait until you've had time to see to things at Dunstruan.”

“How far south do you expect to raid this time?”

“At least to Ripon, if not further.”

Ripon, Ceallach knew, was less than a day north of Radbourne Hall. Perhaps he could inquire after Orelia's welfare. Or even see her. He shook his head to rid it of such a fanciful thought. He would do nothing to jeopardize her life or that of her child. He just needed to know they were well and safe.

“Aye, I'll go with you.”

A messenger called Robert away, and Ceallach stood in the solar and stared at a painting hanging on the wall. He smiled, remembering when it had been painted, the year Ceallach joined the Bruce household as a foster son. Robert's stern father had threatened them with a thrashing if they so much as moved during the sitting. The warning had been needed—he had followed Robert into any number of rousing adventures.

Just as he was about to do again.

ORELIA SAT ON A WOODEN BENCH in the small garden behind her cottage at Radbourne, watching Iain play. She took advantage of the listless summer sun this morning to be outdoors for a change. Iain ran about on sturdy legs, chasing after a butterfly that flitted cooperatively amongst the rock-strewn paths.

Iain was the image of his father, and Orelia's heart clenched at what John was missing—at what the child was missing by not knowing his father. Nearly two years after John's death, Orelia could only conjure the image of his face when she looked at their son. Her memories about what he had been like were fading as well, and she'd begun to tell Iain stories to help her remember.

The cottage had proven very agreeable. A path led to the main house, but was quite overgrown with grass, as only the servants who brought food and other supplies used it.

Though hard to imagine, Orelia had not stepped foot in Radbourne Hall for nearly a year, nor had Alice come to the cottage. Richard visited regularly to make sure they were quite comfortable and faring well. His visits were surprisingly pleasant; she sensed that he came to the cottage to escape Alice's sharp tongue as much as he did out of duty.

But otherwise Orelia might as well have lived miles away. The arrangement suited Orelia just fine, although she feared that as Iain grew older, the confines of the cottage would not be sufficient. She must speak to Richard. It was time to resume some semblance of normal life; to visit her old acquaintances, to find new friends. Her grief was at last subsiding, and it was time to think upon the future. Surely Richard did not intend to keep up this charade; Iain was clearly a Radbourne and must take his rightful place some day. In the meantime, Orelia needed to return to her own life as well.

The scrabble of pebbles on the garden path drew her attention and she looked up as Mary walked into the garden. The maid wrung her hands, her expression anxious. “My lady, the earl and countess are walking down the path. They'll be here in a few minutes.”

Orelia stood up from the bench. She went to Mary and laid a hand on her arm in reassurance. “Take Iain inside and I'll see what we have in the way of refreshments.” Mary glanced down knowingly and Orelia clasped the material of her skirt to hide her trembling hands.

Richard and Alice coming together to visit? Were they here to at last acknowledge Iain as John's heir or did they have darker intentions?

Mary took the toddler by the hand. Iain protested at being separated from the butterfly he was chasing, but Mary deftly distracted him with the promise of a sweet. “Come, let's wash your face and make you look a proper gentleman for your aunt and uncle.”

“Thank you, Mary.” Orelia followed them into the cottage. She put water over the fire to heat and readied her meager store of tea to offer refreshment. The wet spring weather hindered the growth of herbs as well as crops, and supplies for tea were dwindling.

Soon the sound of footsteps announced her guests, and Orelia carried Iain outside to greet Richard and Alice. Even for such an informal visit, they were dressed as if they were visiting royalty. Clearly their new station in life suited them.

They were followed by their sullen, five-year-old daughter, Anna, and a maid carrying a child that must be young Richard, six months younger than Iain. Except for the reddish tints in Iain's dark hair, the boys could be brothers. Certainly no one would dispute that the two were cousins.

Richard allowed his gaze to go from one boy to the other and silently acknowledged the resemblance with a sigh. With a brief glance of malice toward Iain, Alice came forward and greeted Orelia with a kiss to the cheek and a false smile on her face.

A cold kiss of disaffection, like the one Judas gave the Lord. Orelia suppressed a shiver of dread. Her motherly intuition sensed danger for her son. Was she being foolish? Orelia didn't think so. As soon as possible she would pull Mary aside and warn her not to let Iain out of her sight.

Richard looked at the child in Orelia's arms and his expression showed his lack of ease. What was the purpose of this visit?

Orelia handed Iain to Mary. “Why don't you take the children into the garden?”

“No! Young Richard must stay with me!”

Alice's outburst shocked Orelia. “I'm sure the servants can watch—”

“My son is too delicate to play in the open air.” Despite her obvious devotion to the boy, Alice made no move to take him from the maid and hold him.

“Alice,” Richard said, his voice placating and patient. “Remember we came to talk to Orelia. We mustn't have little ears about.”

Alice threw a cold look toward her husband, and Orelia was again surprised, this time by Alice's obvious animosity. Then she smiled warmly at him, changing her demeanor with frightening speed. “Yes, you are right. Go on, let the boys play together with Anna.”

Alice's changeable moods had Orelia questioning the wisdom of letting Iain play with his cousin. But Mary could be trusted to watch over him so Orelia dismissed her misgivings. She cleared her throat. “How nice of you to visit.” Orelia forced some warmth into her voice and invited her guests into the cottage.

Orelia served refreshments, then sat facing Richard and Alice before the fireplace in her tiny parlor. Orelia made small talk wondering how long it would take for Alice or Richard to reveal the reason for the visit. No one mentioned the similarity between the boys, but the knowledge seemed to hang in the air around them.

“The wet weather doesn't bode well for the crops again this year,” Orelia commented.

Richard cleared his throat. “No, not at all.”

Silence.

“I thank you, Richard, for allowing Iain and Mary and me to live in such a lovely place. We quite like it here. Although I do miss having visitors.”

Silence.

Alice raised her cup of tea and sipped from it.

Orelia thought she detected a glazed appearance in Alice's eyes and wondered if the woman felt ill. Did Richard not notice how strangely the woman had behaved earlier?

Very deliberately, Alice set her cup down. “We are expecting visitors of our own soon but regretfully, you will not be joining us.” She looked at Richard as if daring him to contradict her.

Richard explained. “We are having a celebration of young Richard's first birthday and have invited quite a few friends. From London.”

His meaning was quite clear to Orelia, even without Alice's hostility. The guests must not see either her or Iain. If someone should happen to see Iain, they might remark upon his resemblance to his late father. Such a remark could very well be repeated—the idea of John's wife bearing him a child after his death would be an interesting topic of conversation that could eventually make its way to King Edward.

Richard could probably explain away his earlier assumption that the child was the result of “an unfortunate incident,” as he'd put it. Few would doubt his word on that. But how would he explain that after seeing the child he continued to insist the child was not his brother's?

The answer would be obvious—they wanted the title. And while Orelia wasn't sure how convinced Richard was, Alice had never hidden her desire to have her own son become the earl.

But Iain would have to live long enough to be identified. Orelia's blood chilled at the thought. She considered confronting Richard and Alice with her suspicion, but feared their reaction.

Alice's facial expression became cool and she looked at Richard. Some sort of understanding flowed between them. “The boys look nothing alike, Richard. I don't know what all your fussing is about.”

Richard looked uncomfortable but remained silent.

Alice went on, “Still, Orelia and her . . . son must remain hidden until our celebration is over and the guests have left. I think they would be more secure in the main house.”

Orelia couldn't believe Richard was nodding, agreeing with Alice's absurd statement. She did not want to stay in the main house. Here in her own little cottage she had control of her life and of Iain's. In Radbourne Hall, Alice controlled and manipulated the inhabitants. Who knew what Alice might do in order to remain the Countess of Radbourne?

Panic nearly undid Orelia. She must dissuade them, if only for a short time. “That isn't necessary. I will ensure that your guests don't even know anyone is in this cottage. There is no need for us to stay in the Hall.”

With calm assurance, Richard set down his cup. “I'm afraid I must insist.”

Orelia's cup rattled as she placed it on the bench beside her. “If Iain isn't John's child, why concern yourself with what your friends think?”

Richard eyed his wife. “Come, Orelia. Surely you can see that the child looks like John, just as I do. But everyone . . .” He seemed to search for the right words and failing, simply looked away to the window, misery on his face.

“Everyone believes that you both died,” Alice put in. “We can't have your ghosts scaring our visitors.”

“Wh—what?” Orelia fought for breath. “You've told everyone I
died?”

Alice rose. “We had to tell them something. There were too many inquiries.” A catlike smile grew across her face. “The whisper of a horrible illness, spreading like wildfire in Scotland, and how you apparently succumbed to it explained your quick demise and the reason we did not have a public burial. People were actually relieved to have not been exposed.”

Alice bent, took a sip of her tea, and stared at her husband but spoke to Orelia. “Your son will never take his father's place at Rad-bourne. It belongs to young Richard.”

Not bothering to hide her trembling, Orelia stood. She was enraged and terrified at the same time. These people would do anything! They could kill her and Iain now at any time and no one would ever ask! How could she have become so cornered? How could she have been so foolish, thinking she could remain here and some day they would do the honorable thing?

“You . . . acknowledge Iain as John's son?”

“What difference does it make? The lie is told and I'm not about to have you return from the dead,” Alice said.

Richard made a sound as if he was choking, and Alice gave him a sharp look.

Something wasn't right between these two, and again Orelia felt reluctant to leave the cottage. “So you will lock us away in the tower room?”

Richard looked directly at his wife before returning his gaze to Orelia. “You will remain in that room, yes. But if you give me your word to stay there, I won't lock you in.”

Alice said, “Well, I think we should lock the door.”

Alice,” Richard warned. “

Alice stood abruptly. “Fine. Now that everything is settled to
Richard's
satisfaction, I shall leave.” Alice stalked out the door.

Orelia considered trying to escape from Radbourne rather than submit to this new form of imprisonment. Richard and Alice might lock her away permanently. Or worse.

Richard shoved his hands through his hair. “Orelia, I'm sorry. Please be patient with Alice. She has not been herself since the boy was born. I keep hoping she'll get better.”

Richard's confession astonished Orelia, and his distress was not feigned, of that Orelia was certain. She felt as if she had been hit; her head spun. Was this man friend or foe? Was there still hope that he might do the right thing? That this was all Alice's idea? “She doesn't seem quite . . . rational, Richard. Have you talked to the healer?”

Richard stood and paced in the small space before Orelia's fireplace. “Yes. Alice is taking some potion that is supposed to calm her nerves but . . . you saw her. She is either angry or anxious, rarely at ease. And I fear for my son if she doesn't stop coddling and spoiling him.”

Should she believe Richard? Or flee Radbourne? Everything in her said she should leave as soon as possible, that Alice meant her and her son harm. But Richard might be willing to protect her. “When your guests have left, will we be allowed to return to the cottage?”

“Yes, of course. I mean to right this wrong I've done to you and my brother's son, Orelia.”