Wedgewick Woman (7 page)
Now as he sat in James’ seat, his thoughts returning to the present, he wondered how they had gone wrong. James had been stealing from the servants and giving the money to Helen. For what purpose? Most likely she had gambling debts, which his English wife was so well known for. He could not, in his Scot’s nature, imagine why people would give their money away for such whims as betting on horses, a very unsure thing to his way of thinking, or placing wagers on most any foolish inclination they could think of.
Had they no discretion
? He wondered. Evidently not, for his wife was the worst of them. And now James had been found out. All this under his roof.
The servants said they had received money back faithfully from James, so he was making restitution but what would cause him to flee now? He had given James freedom to assert himself as his accountant and worse, he had truly trusted him.
Had it been Helen’s youngest sister he assisted for reasons other than Paris gowns? Had she some sinister notion of thieving the Carmichaels as her mother and elder sister had done? Perhaps because he had been a weak husband?
He took the papers with the girl’s name…what was it? Annabel Wedgewick. He committed the name to memory.
Knowing this woman had lived here in his castle precisely under his nose, made his blood boil. Why hadn’t she shown her face after her sister’s death? What was she trying to hide from him even now? Had Helen hated him so much as to intentionally injure his name in England and ask the assistance of her youngest sister to espy the deed? The thought turned his stomach.
Well rid of her he was. Those were evil thoughts, to be glad of your wife’s death, he realized. “God forgive me.” He whispered and realized he had not spoken to his mother’s God for a very long time.
Chapter
12
Finding nothing to ease his mind regarding James’ flight from his castle, Lee took the stairs to his parents’ rooms. Entering first into his father’s, he remembered he had not been in it since his death, more for lack of time than any other reason.
But now he needed something. What, he didn’t know. Outside the bleating of sheep could be heard through the open windows. The shearing was taking place and he had naught to do than to command that this would be the day and it was done. The air, thick with the aroma of wet wool entered his nose as he slowly opened the massive door to his father’s inner quarters.
There upon the over-sized bedstead, lay the armor he had worn at his death; weapons of steel with the Carmichael impression hammered into the huge flat plate, helmets dented from arrows that slung to the ground in defeat of their purpose. The Carmichael banner was spread across the bed as Ross had arranged it after his father’s death. The plaid of Gold and Green lay folded in it’s majesty…and shame. His father had died at the hands of a Campbell, yet Lee felt little sorrow for his dead father and wondered why.
Picking up his father’s sword, he realized it was much easier to handle. As a boy he’d barely been able to lift it and now the sword lay in his hand easily. Somehow the sight both sickened him and filled him with dread. Would he, too, become an evil man like his father? Slay those who dare to disobey him without cause? His father had been a Jacobite…a man who claimed the Church of England and Rome to be the only religion. His mother had been a Covenanter believing that man should choose how he worshipped God.
Both zealots to their separate causes the two lived together as man and wife; but he had sensed, even as a child, there was no love between them. His father had long hoped to make his only son a fierce warrior, his duty to protect the Church of England; his mother wanted her son to be someone who would serve God and the people.
Standing in the room, he stared at his father’s sword, now in his own hand.
He must have the sword; it was the Scot’s chosen weapon of defense; it afforded the safeguard they needed from the other, more rebellious clansman, who would in a moment’s anger, relieve one of one’s head.
His father had often said he’d rather face the guillotine than to hang on a wooden gallows. All that for power? Even though he had died in battle, supposing to be a hero, Lee wondered now what had it gained him in the end?
He was now Laird of the lands he had inherited from his father and his dead wife. They were good lands, the hills and dales, the beauty of Scotland lay before his eyes every day to be enjoyed and yet…
He had cottages to see to, peasants to protect, both inside and outside the walls of the castle. Miles of lands and the river Tweed flowing nearby. All of it belonged to him. Yet there was no heir. No one with whom to share his legacy. His family was now The Four and the others he was bound to by the one simple fact that he’d been born into it. He had not achieved it by skill, God knows he had fashioned his own young life by his foolishness and now stood before God and his people a failure.
He knew they talked of an heir to the lands and feared that he, too, would become a harsh laird in the days to come. He’d surprised them by taking a more gentle hand, but had learned as well that too gentle a hand, caused as many problems as it solved. His marriage had been a farce, an unfortunate circumstance brought about by his own wild behavior. Yet he had possessed a kind of love for Helen that had broken his young heart. But that love died. Now he wondered if ever he’d trust a woman again.
Rising from his thoughts came a voice behind him. He turned. “Blithers, what is it?” he heard himself say.
“I’m sorry to inform you sir that we have trouble in the yard.”
“What kind of trouble?” He turned his thoughts to the present.
“It seems that there is a ruckus among the women.” Blithers studied his fingernails for a moment too long.
“Is it jealousy again?” He found the matter, if it was to be believed, most absurd. Glad to be diverted from his own thoughts, he found himself laughing deep in his chest.
Blithers looked up and allowed a slight smile to cross his features. “It would be that, my lord.”
“Tell Bria to handle it.” He informed his valet in no uncertain terms and with great effort kept his laughter stuffed inside.
“You wish a women to settle the problem?” Blithers blurted.
“Of course.” He stated firmly and dismissed him with a look.
“As you wish, my lord.”
Lord Carmichael picked up his father’s sword and replaced it in the scabbard.
There it will stay until I have need of it
, he promised himself.
He took himself to the window on the courtyard side of the room, lifted the heavy curtain and watched as the circle of women whispered amongst themselves, Bria now speaking from the center of the group. In a few moments he could see them separate into their own ways without any visible discontentment. How had she done it? He wondered, when each time he was brought to the center, there was more talking, crying, and begging until it had muddled his brain.
Musing, he decided he would call on Bria this eve and find out what she had said. He turned from the window and made his way through the large double doors and entered his mother’s room. There he found more simple furnishings, unlike his father’s elaborate black and red drapes and bed coverings.
On the bed stand lay the cross she’d worn around her neck. Made of Scottish stone, given to her by her great-grandfather, a survivor of the Glencoe Massacre some 100 years previous, he’d remembered playing with the cross as he sat on her lap. Next to the cross was her Bible covered in dust; it had lain thus for more than twelve years. By his father’s order, the room had not been touched and until now he had rarely entered himself. For the first two years after her death, as a small child he had snuck away in the night and slept in her bed. Blithers had found him thus many evenings, but had never spoken a word of it to his harsh father.
When he was ten he was pressed into the training befitting the position of a Laird’s son. From that time until his unfortunate marriage he had lessons and learned the high points of being a good and faithful soldier.
His musings finished, he turned his thoughts to duties at hand and left the rooms. The shutting of the heavy door behind him seemed a symbol of peace to his aching heart. He had thought about his past and now would choose his own future. With God’s help.
Chapter
13
The day of shearing sheep was now ending, while the Laird spent the entire day wasting his thoughts within the castle. Even now he sat at the table among the noise and bustle of the kitchen, Emerald Calvert, her blue eyes shining, was telling tales about his mother. Unlike other Lairds he preferred to mix with the servants, especially Mrs. Calvert who had been with the Carmichaels since before his birth and had dearly loved his mother.
At the sound of a large clanging commotion in the storage room, she rose quick and waddled away, her broom in hand. He watched as she protected her kitchen with all she had within her.
She rounded the corner with Cork’s shirt in her meaty fist. “Found him snooping around in my pantry.” She accused the boy and took him straight to the Laird.
“What have you to say Cork?” His voice deep.
“Sir, I was seeking a spoon.”
“Whatever for?” Mrs. Calvert interrupted and then caught the eye of her Laird and quieted.
“Well, lad?”
“Sir, it was to plant a garden. There’s a small little square at the back, right near the door,” he pointed, “and it would serve me well to plant a few seedlings I have right here in my pocket. They were me mother’s. It was all I could save from our…our home.” He finished.
Lee’s heart softened at the boy’s notion of trying to save himself by planting his own food.
“Cork, we have gardens, plenty of food planted already. Surely you’ve seen the them?”
“Yes, I have, but Sir the food is not mine to have. It is yours. I must look out for me’self…so that you won’t…”
“Sit down lad. Ye are in my castle. Ye are mine. I have bought you fair and you belong to me. And you have given me your honor?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“As it should be. Now show your seeds to the gardener and tell him to give you a square of your own. It is my command. See to it.”
The boy jumped from his chair, threw his arms around the Laird and hugged him. Even in front of Mrs. Calvert, Cork knew it was a foolish thing to do, because the old woman’s eyes were streaming tears. Quickly, before they thought him a mere child, he quit the room and ran to seek the gardener.
“The boy is happy to know he belongs to you.” Her voice wavered. “And here ye be, the Laird sitting in the kitchen speaking all kindly-like to the boy, and me blubbering like I am.” She wiped her eyes with her apron and set about her work.
Strangely calm, he lifted himself from the fireside chair and taking himself above stairs found Blithers arranging his nightclothes. “See to yourself, this eve, Blithers, I am about a brisk walk. Rest. Tell Ross I shall return within the hour.”
Blithers bowed slightly, turned quietly from his work and was off to seek Ross.
Chapter
14
London
“James, please come in. You have brought my cheque?” Annabel pulled his arm bringing him into her Mother’s townhouse on London’s east side. “I sent you a note thinking you had forgotten. Let me take your coat. May I get you tea?”
Turning to the silence she started, “Why whatever is the matter, James? You look positively ill.” She led him to a chair where he sat down heavily.
“Annabel, ‘tis not good news I bring you, I’m afraid…”
“He’s not found out has he?” Her brown eyes grew large.
“No, but I’m quite certain he will know soon enough.”
Annabel calmed her nerves, took a seat on the edge of the chair across from her guest and clasped her hands together in her lap and said softly, “Tell me all James.”
“I’ve been in London a fortnight having left Dunbeernton under duress. One evening while I was working on your account, Lord Carmichael came in and asked to see the books, most especially the ones I held in my hands. I turned them over and he read through. I thought he was about to turn them back to me when he saw your name on the list of accounts.”
“Oh dear.” She whispered.
“Immediately he went into conniptions, asking why a Wedgewick woman’s name was on his accounts and what could he possibly be paying out in such large sums. I was so caught in my regards that I informed him that the amounts were for fashionable gowns. It was most unfortunate that I chose those very words, I’m afraid.” He said quietly, looking aside.
“Do go on.” She encouraged.
“He shouted and raged that he’d had enough of Helen’s expenditures on clothing, having found out about the silks from China.”
“The silks?”
“Yes, your sister’s annual clothing allowances equaled the price of ten stallions, not to mention the last and most extravagant purchase she made before she died…and for which the Laird is still paying. The silks from China. Why, a sizeable family could live an entire year on the monies that the silks alone cost.” He explained.
“Oh, tis no surprise then why the Laird’s hackles were raised at seeing my name on the books then.” she mused aloud.
“I’m afraid…” he looked at the innocent woman sitting across from him and decided it was best the truth be told… ”that whenever the name of Wedgewick is brought up, Lord Carmichael becomes, shall we say, quite unhinged.”
“I see. Then I will not receive my monthly allowances.” She stated rather than asked. “I must have them.” She said quietly. “I must.”
“Yes, but I’m afraid you cannot make your presence known to him at this time be it on paper or in person for he will surely find you out. He is quite ruthless when it comes to Helen’s indiscretions.”
“Yes. Indeed. But I must try.” Tears came to her eyes now.
“Annabel, your mother was paid a small fortune to remove herself from the castle.” He named the price. “Can’t you appeal to her? Tell her it’s for you…I know you cannot tell her about Eleanor; but couldn’t you concoct some sort of a story? That your health requires
you
to have an operation, perhaps?”
“Oh I cannot tell untruths to Mother. She would know instantly and come running home. Besides she is managing Meredith’s successes.”
Her face colored at the huge amount that James had mentioned. “Tis no surprise then why Mother has not returned but few times to London since Helen’s wedding.” She whispered.
“I’m thankful I can be about my business without Mother. She would never allow me to live at the cottage if she knew about Eleanor.”
“You still live at the cottage? For goodness sake come and stay here in this huge house while they are away. You need to care for yourself, Annabelle.”
“Twould not be wise. People would ask about the child and word would get back to mother. I must dedicate my life to Eleanor. I gave my word to Helen and I intend to keep it.” Her voice bore the same determination James noted on her face.
“You will not marry then?”
“I cannot. What shall I say? That the child is not mine, yet I cannot tell whose it is? I daresay a true gentleman would not be interested.” She smiled wanly.
James stood then knelt at her knee. “I would take you, Annabelle. I know that you are worthy.”
“Thank you James, but you have your own life to live and the heavens know that I have mine. You are kind to think of it.”
Inwardly thankful for her dismissal, for truly he did not want to become entangled with the life Annabel was sure to live…one of deceit and hardship…he moved to his chair once again and waited while she served him tea.
The clinking cups rang loudly in the silent room. Sipping quietly, Annabel thought for a few moments, wondering how she was to raise the money for Eleanor’s operation. Her own savings were dwindling.
“I shall go see Lord Carmichael myself.” She stated, her shoulders straightening.
James stood, nearly toppling his cup out of the saucer. “You must not, Annabel. He will not give another Wedgewick woman any more money, surely you must know that.”
“I will make up a story and he will give it to me.” She stated firmly.
“And what shall I do when he finds me?” He sat down hard.
“I am sorry. I am not thinking of you, James. And you’ve been so much help to me even to the point of losing your position. Please forgive me.” Her gentle brown eyes pleaded his forgiveness.
“Don’t worry, I have already attained another position here in London; actually it’s a good opportunity for me…if my former employer does not intercede.” He acquiesced.
“Indeed. Well, then I am glad for you…that all has turned out well.”
“I shall consider assisting you, now that I am clearing a small bundle more than before.” He smiled at her.
“I cannot let you.” She stated firmly. “I will not have it.” James knew the matter was closed.
“But I must be about finding a way to pay the surgeon. The time to fix the foot is drawing close and I…I have to find the money.”
“Perhaps you could marry?” He repeated.
Her clear soft laugh filled the room. “James I have already told you no one would want a young woman with a fatherless child, especially one with Eleanor’s problem. Besides, I am not beautiful like my sisters.” She added contemplatively.
“You are beautiful, Annabel.”
Realizing she’d fished for a compliment…”Please, I’m sorry…you need not try to lift me up…I know my place.” She thought for a moment and continued. “It’s just that Helen was so beautiful and Meredith is both beautiful and talented. Have you heard? Meredith is studying voice and is singing Opera on the Rue Delarare in Paris next month? It will be her first performance with so large an audience. No doubt she will return famous, I daresay.”
James smiled indulgently and wished Annabel knew how lovely her own face and voice was.
“Mother is so very proud.” She continued, a look of dreaminess in her eyes. “Meredith left last week to join Mother, who set it all up. Isn’t that wonderful, James?”
“Yes, it is good to hear of Meredith’s good fortune…but we need to find a solution for little Eleanor’s problem.” He stood to his feet, set his cup aside and paced the room to and fro for several minutes. “Perhaps I could make a loan to you.” He tried a new tack.
“No.” she stated firmly and he continued to pace. “It’s too much and after all it is the Laird’s child that I keep. I will get the money from him.” She stated firmly and James knew she meant to do it.
“Oh, but you must never underestimate the power of Laird Carmichael, Annabel.” James’ voice turned serious as he clapped his eyes on hers. If he finds he has a child…and you have kept it a secret, it will not go well for you, my dear.” He warned. “Nor I.”
”Yet he is nothing like his father.” James continued. “For I worked for his father my first year out of university and I can tell you he was a wicked man. The new Laird is not like his father in most ways, but he does have a way of intimidating when he deems it necessary.” He mused…remembering the night he spent in the locked pantry.
Annabel remembered very well the kiss he placed on her lips to shame her. Indeed he would not be agreeable.
Annabel watched him pace, his coattails flapping each time he turned. “Please, sit down, James. You are not helping.” She laughed.
“You laugh at such a time as this? If we are found out, we will pay the piper until the last and well you know it.”
“Don’t. Please don’t say it like that, James.” Her voice quieted, her eyes looked away. “I couldn’t let Helen down and I gave her my word as did you. And that is all there is to it. Laird Carmichael would have despised little Eleanor, because he hated Helen so well. And now I know I do the right thing after you have told me about Mother’s fortune and the way he hated my sister.”
“And for good reason.” James said and was immediately sorry at her sad look for it was not in Annabel’s heart to speak unwell of people. “I apologize, Annabel. It’s just that Helen was so devious. You did not see her or hear her when she ranted and raved against Lord Carmichael. You do not know the trouble she caused him.”
Annabel remained quiet.
“Aye the woman nearly drove him mad, and he a young man of seventeen. You were below stairs most of the time in your little room, seeing your sister wandering the gardens and eating her meals alone, feeling quite sorry for her, when upstairs she was maneuvering her way with no thought of her husband, dallying with his guards and making a general nuisance of herself to all of us in the castle, not to mention she nearly corrupted the Laird’s fortunes.”
“Oh James, you should not speak of such things to me.”
“You have eyes that see only the good in people, I’m afraid, Annabel. The truth of it was that she was a terrible wife to the Laird.” James said and fell back into his chair.
“Oh.”
Silence followed for a few moments. Misery filled the room and the two occupants. She hesitated then spoke, her voice low.
“I used to watch them from the balcony while I hid behind the plants.” She looked shy at her confession. “I saw how he looked at her sometimes when Helen was being playful. His green eyes were so…so true those first days.” She whispered. “Even as a young girl I knew he loved her and I was jealous.” She smiled, examining James’ eyes for disapproval.
“The Laird is a comely man.” He agreed. “But his temper precedes his good sense at times.”
“As with all Scots.” She defended him.
“Aye, ‘tis the way of it.” he agreed solemnly.
A few moments passed, then Annabel spoke again, her eyes fixed upon her hands lying in her lap.
“James, did you know that Mother planned the entire episode?”
“Which one?” he asked absently, sipping his tea.
“The day Helen broke her ankle.” She looked at James and trusting him continued… “Meredith told me just a year ago. I was only a child at the time, spending most of my time playing games in the castle with the other girls my age. Meredith was fifteen and Helen seventeen at the time. Mother and Helen made plans for her to step upon the greens when Lord Carmichael’s horse went by just enough to ruffle her and she was to fall and pretend to be injured.”
“What?” James stood to his feet abruptly then sat down and said, “Continue.”
“Well, the horse came up so quickly that she lost her footing and fell into the hooves and actually did injure herself, but only slightly.”
“They planned it all?” he said stupidly, staring at Annabel.
“Meredith said she overheard Mother and Helen’s planning of it. Isn’t it just awful? Lord Carmichael had no idea…and my mother is so difficult.”
“Difficult?” James laughed now. “Difficult is not the word, my dear Annabel. No wonder it has all come to this.” He whispered. “And Meredith, does she know about the child?”
“No.”
“When the babe was born she was two months early and I hardly had time to seek the doctor. He came to the cottage and only Phoebe and I were in attendance. The birthing was so bad for poor Helen. Eleanor’s little foot was caught and the doctor had to break it to save her life.” She paused.
Tears broke into her sad brown eyes. I remember the sound of it. It sounded as though the doctor had broken a twig.”
“Poor Helen had suffered so much and when she looked upon death’s door the doctor informed me that she would not be long for this world. Helen died in my arms not an hour later.”
“I told no one. Not mother, not even Meredith as I promised Helen. I kept the child at my cottage and she’s been mine ever since the day of her birth. Phoebe helped me raise her and cares for her if I am away.”
“The doctor did not report Helen’s death to the authorities?” He looked shocked, for that would have put them on the wrong side of the law.
“Of course; the death report says she died from complications of childbirth; but I’m sure no one will read it.” She bit her lip, then continued. “Helen insisted the record of birth show the last name of Wedgewick. Worse, the father is not listed, because Helen forbade it.” Annabel felt a sense of guilt climb up to her heart. “I tried to reason with Helen, but she was dying…” her voice trailed off.
