Dreamer (Highland Treasure Trilogy) (22 page)

Ignoring the insult, Catherine
smiled pleasantly at the group and dismissed all of them for the time being.
With a wry smile, Tosh took up a position beneath a gnarled pear tree at the
far end of the garden. Catherine could see that from there he could keep an eye
out for any potential danger.

As for the rest, the parting looks
were mixed. Some were obviously amazed, though pleased, to have someone in the
castle brave enough to induce the dowager to leave her chamber. Others were
obviously worried for Catherine and the possible outcome of leaving her alone
with the demanding invalid. Nonetheless, the women turned back up the hill
toward the castle gates, leaving only Auld Mab--the dowager’s oldest
companion--and Jean, who together wandered off to talk of the herbs and autumn
flowers that remained in the garden beds.

Catherine smiled at her husband’s
mother. Her little plan was working out nicely. The color in the old woman’s
cheek was already better than Catherine had seen it in weeks. But the ease of bringing the dowager out for some air lay simply in the fact that Susan had not
been at Lady’s Anne’s bedside when Catherine had announced the little outing.
The younger woman seemed perfectly content to take care of her aunt in the
confines of the airless chamber, and Catherine had a good idea that she would
be certain to object to such a rash change of pace. It didn’t hurt, though,
that Auld Mab had quickly sided with Catherine.

And by the time they returned to
the keep, the dowager’s chamber would be cleaned and well-aired.

“You’ll be the death of me,” the
dowager started again before the last serving woman had hastily fled the
garden. “I am certain to get a chill. Mark me, I’ll be dead by nightfall.”

Again ignoring the old woman’s
comments, Catherine removed her cloak and, spreading it on the blanket, took
the volume of poetry she’d chosen from her husband’s library out of the great
inside pocket of the cloak.

“I never expected you to be so
villainous, young woman. You want my position, my chambers, no doubt. Why,
I...”

Catherine sat on the ground next to
the dowager’s feet, receiving a mild nudge from the older woman’s foot for her
efforts. She smiled, opened the book to a marked passage, and began to read
aloud.

“Where, in a lusty plain, I made my
way,

I found a river, pleasant to
behold,

Embroidered all with flowers gay.

There, through glittering stones of
gold,

The crystal water ran clear and
cold,

And in my ear, a melody.

The sounds of joy and harmony...”

Lady Anne Stewart continued with
her complaints. “Do not think this is any way to treat me, young woman.”

Catherine continued to read.

“...At the last, beholding all
these things,

I saw a garden, with walls around.

Amid the flowers I suddenly spied

Fortune, the goddess, and on the
ground

Before her feet, a wheel...”

Catherine paused for a moment, and
then read on.

Accepting her fate of remaining
John Stewart’s wife and staying at Balvenie Castle, she was now determined to
find peace with the others who lived there. Resolved on her mission, Catherine
knew her most important challenge lay in the earl’s mother. Though the dowager
acted infirm, the young woman was convinced Lady Anne Stewart had plenty of
life left in her. She just needed some provocation and a purpose to live. If
all worked out as Catherine planned, the aging woman would have plenty of both
today.

But that was not all. Catherine
herself desperately needed knowledge and support that she knew the dowager
could provide. Selfish as it was, she had to admit inwardly that this outing
was as much for herself as for the ailing mother of her husband. 

Finishing the page, Catherine
looked up and found Lady Anne leaning forward in the chair. The older woman’s
eyes were fixed longingly on the book in Catherine’s lap. She waited until the
older woman’s gaze lifted and met hers.

“You’ve been prying into my past.”

“I’ve been seeking out your
interests,” Catherine corrected. “Your love for verse, both in reading and
composing, is well known among the folk of Balvenie Castle.”

The dowager glanced back down at
the page. “‘Tis the work of the first James Stewart to reign as king of Scotland.”

“Aye.” Catherine nodded. “The
King’s
Quair
.”

“Why are you doing this?” Lady Anne sank back heavily in the chair. “Why must you bother? You could let me be! I do not need
all these daily visits, you know! The constant bickering with me at my bedside!
Don’t you understand that I just want to be left to die!”

Although the sharpness of her
tongue was clearly intended to rile Catherine, the vulnerability in the older
woman’s expression and voice touched Catherine inwardly. They were each
tormented in some way. And whether they admitted it or not, they each longed
for love.

Looking up and meeting the piercing
gray eyes, Catherine wrapped a hand around the thin fingers, trying to put some
warmth into them.

“Do you remember the first day that
we met? The day that you called me a fool for asking the unreasonable...for
wishing the impossible...for not recognizing and appreciating my good fortune
and all I had to be thankful for?”

“Do not compare yourself to me! And if you start calling me names in the same fashion I did to you, I’ll have Tosh whip you
across the glen and up the side of Ben Aigan!” The dowager paused and when she
spoke again, her voice shook a bit. “I am old and spent. I’ve had a full life
and am now ready to relieve you and my son of the troubles of caring for an invalid.
But you, on the other hand...you are young, strong, full of life. And despite my mocking you on that first day, I believe you are just the perfect wife for John.
You do not need an old fool like me...”

“But I
do
need you,”
Catherine broke in. “Despite any show of strength, I am frightened, Lady Anne. And I need your help desperately.”

The dowager stared at her in
surprise.

“What have you to be frightened of?
Has my son hurt you in some...?”

“Nay, Countess. ‘Tisn’t that at
all.”

“Then what? You have people around
you who will help you with your school. Everything may seem to be taking too
long in getting started, but...”

“That’s not the problem, either.”
Catherine shook her head. “Though I didn’t know I already had the bishop’s
approval, I know that planning and arranging the rest is something that I can
easily handle.”

“Then what else, child? You and
your sisters and your mother are all safely out of England. What could be
bothering you?”

Catherine couldn’t stop the heat
from spreading into her cheeks. The feelings that were coursing through her
were so new that she didn’t know how to restrain them.

“‘Tis...’tis a suspicion that I
have.” Catherine closed the book and placed it on the blanket. She tried to
pull her hand from the dowager’s lap, but the old woman grasped it tight. Her
grip was surprisingly strong.

“What is it, Catherine?”

“I...do not know for certain. But...I think...I...have these signs...of what I know goes along with...” She took a deep
breath. “...In one who is with child.”

“Bless the Lord! By the Holy Mother, ‘tis a wondrous day!” The dowager’s face brightened immediately and her loud
laugh drew the looks of Tosh and the two other women in the garden. “Have you
told Athol the news?”

Catherine shook her head. “I wasn’t
certain. I still am not. But I do not have anyone here at Balvenie Castle that I felt confident enough to...well, no one who I could be sure was
knowledgeable... of whom I could ask such things.”

Lady Anne beamed a moment, then
squeezed Catherine’s hand before charging on with her questions. Catherine
answered her, giving a detailed description of her periodic lightheadedness, of
her queasiness at the smell of the cooking wafting up from the kitchens, and of
not experiencing her monthly.

“Aye, it must be,” the dowager whispered,
almost to herself. “I knew I could count on Nichola Erskine’s daughter making
me a happy woman before I die.”

“But that is what I mean,”
Catherine argued. “I am frightened. I don’t know what to do!”

“‘Tis easy, child! Many a woman
before you has gone through this. With the help of a midwife, some herbal teas
Auld Mab there can fix up, and a few prayers...”

“Not the birthing, dowager. That is
not even real to me yet. What has me frightened right now is the thought of how
my husband will treat me once he discovers the truth.”

“He’ll be delighted, lass. He wants
a bairn. That was why he chose a wife.”

Lady Anne’s words confirmed her
fears. She couldn’t stop the tears from gathering in her eyes.

“And then what?” she asked
miserably. “Now that I am bearing his child, don’t you think that he’ll lose
interest in me? He has told me more than once that I should not harbor any
dreamy notions about our marriage. He’s told me often enough that there is no
love that will ever grow between us!”

“He’s a fool, Catherine--like all
men. And you are foolish to believe him.”

“Please don’t try to tell me things
I know are not true.” Catherine slipped her hand from the old woman’s and sat
back on the blanket. A patch of clouds covered the sun for a moment before
passing by. “I remember the conditions under which we married.”

“You remember and yet you allowed
yourself to fall in love with him. Knowing the danger, still you could not
protect your heart.”

Catherine’s vision became a blur as
she stared at her hands clasped in her lap. She hadn’t been able to voice the
truth to her husband. She hadn’t even permitted herself to admit it inwardly. But here it was, plainly and clearly said by the dowager--she had fallen helplessly in love with
John Stewart.

“It warms my heart to know you care
about him so much. ‘Tis a blessing to learn that, despite all of his foolish
delays, John has ended up marrying someone as worthy as you.”

These were the kindest words Lady Anne had ever spoken to Catherine, and yet they only served to choke her more with emotion.

“But I...I don’t know what to do!”

“Tell him the truth, child. All of
it! About your love. About the bairn! Only a dolt of a man wouldn’t be affected
by such a revelation.”

“But ‘tis not so easy.” Catherine
looked up and met Lady Anne’s intense eyes. “Do you consider John like yourself
or like his father?”

The older woman cocked an eyebrow
at her. “Why, he is very much like his father! In appearance, he is the
spitting image. The same height. The same build. The same handsome Stewart face
that made me fall in love with his father the first moment I laid eyes on him.
Why do you ask that, lass?”

“Because...well, what of his
temperament, Lady Anne?”

“You know yourself our temperaments
are not the same. Nay, in that Athol is very much like his father--easy to rile
and passionate. And my husband was a man who was fearless in his determination
to win--especially when setting a wrong to right. If there were ever any two
people who had so much in common...” Lady Anne’s words came to a abrupt stop.

Catherine had to bite her lips to
stop their trembling. Whatever she did, she couldn’t hold back the ache that
was breaking her heart in two.

“My answer was not what you’d hoped
to hear, was it, Catherine?”

“I asked for the truth. You simply
told me what I expected.”

The dowager’s frail hand reached
over and wiped a tear from Catherine’s cheek. “I can see that you know the
truth. You know about Adam, don’t you?”

Catherine gave a small nod, unable
to find her voice.

“I now understand why you are
distressed. You believe that now that you are with child, he’ll lose interest
in you. That he, like his father, will wander. Is that it?”

Again, all Catherine could do was
to give a simple nod.

“But such an assumption is
erroneous, my dear.” The dowager’s frail fingers rested on Catherine’s
shoulders. “Though it has only been a short while that you two have known one
another, I assure you that I’ve never seen my son more enchanted with a woman
than he is with you. I know you think me indifferent to what goes on in this
castle. Well, there is not a bit of news that my serving women do not bring
back to me.  I know everything.” The dowager gave Catherine a knowing smile.
“Everything. From what I understand, if you are not waiting for him in his
chamber when he returns to Balvenie, then he comes after you. This is a very
good start, child.”

“But isn’t this the same as ‘twas
between you and your husband, Lady Anne?” Catherine’s question appeared to
catch the dowager off guard, and the older woman looked sharply away. “From
what I’ve been able to gather from some of the older servants, the old earl was
a devoted husband, a man committed to his wife and to his son.”

Catherine waited for an answer,
hoping against hope that Lady Anne would tell her that their marriage had all
been false--a loveless arrangement that had simply connected two great
families. That there had never been anything between them. But the dowager chose silence instead.   

A brisk breeze riffled the leaves
of the rosebushes, and the late buds bowed their heads before it. Running her
hands over her arms to ward off the sudden chill, Catherine looked up at the
dowager, suddenly concerned about the woman’s frail condition. She appeared
lost in her thoughts.

“Perhaps, Lady Anne, I should call Tosh! I think ‘tis time that we...”

“We
did
have a wonderful
marriage.” Her voice sounded hoarse. “I thought myself blessed that I had a
husband who had eyes for no other woman but me.”

Seeing the pain reflected so
plainly in the older woman’s face made Catherine feel guilty for even asking
the question. She wrapped a hand around Lady Anne’s bony fingers. “I should not
have brought up such things. I am sorry for being so unfeeling.”