The Heart Queen (7 page)

He gave her what she was sure was meant as a reassuring smile. “Now Janet, you do not want to bother yourself with that. I will take care of everything.”

“That is very kind of you,” she said, holding her temper. “But Lochaene belongs to my son, and I feel responsible. I believe I should know what is happening.”

“Tis a mon’s business,” Reginald said. “The servants and tenants would no‘ pay mind to a lass.”

“Mayhap,” she said, “but that is not your concern. Our debts are not being paid, the horses are not being fed. I want to know what rents are being paid and what are owed.”

Reginald’s face turned the shade of a ripe apple. “You are a woman,” he said.

“I have not been under the illusion of being anything else over the past twenty-seven years,” she retorted. “But my son is an earl, and I am Countess Lochaene.”

“My brother died before his time, before”—he added with emphasis—“he made a will.”

“The estate is entailed,” she said calmly, though her stomach was roiling.

“But a guardian could be appointed,” he said. “A
competent
guardian.”

She felt as if he had hit her in the stomach. She wondered whether that was where he’d been the past several days. Trying to have himself appointed her son’s guardian?

Then, she knew, she could lose Colin. She would never, ever let Reginald and her motherin-law control her son.

She saw the expression in his eyes. He hadn’t meant to tell her that. So he hadn’t been successful yet. But that was the plan. It was written all over his florid face. Or was it just one of the plans? Could last night have been another?

A chill crept up her back. If Marjorie and Reginald had control of her son, they would control Lochaene and its rents. And they could bring up her son as an angry, greedy selfish man, after their own image. She would die before she would let that happen.

But one thing was true. Reginald, as a man and as a member of a family loyal to King George, would have far more influence with Cumberland and the English king than a Jacobite widow. Law meant nothing in the Highlands today.

Reginald turned away. She had no doubt that he and Marjorie had been plotting together and had meant to tell her nothing until they won.

“The books,” she insisted. She was not going to let him get away with his arrogance, not however long she had as countess.

“No,” he said flatly.

“It is my right.”

“Not for long.” He turned around rudely, as if to go back in his room.

“I will go to the solicitor.”

“He was Alasdair’s solicitor and he agrees with me that a woman is incompetent to run an estate.” He went into his room and closed the door behind him.

Janet was so angry she could not move. She stood there for a moment, wondering whether she should pound on the door, demand to see the books.

And if he continued to refuse?

What could she do except look like a fool? She was not large enough or strong enough to take them from him. Nor could she ask any of the servants to risk their positions, or worse, to do it for
her
.

Was he lying about the solicitor?

Fear played havoc with fury. Lochaene was not personally important to her. It was important only because of Colin and her three stepdaughters. And they were everything. If Reginald was appointed their guardian, he could send her away. He could limit her contact with her son. Dear God. She’d believed that once the authorities had not brought charges against her that she was free.

Alone. She was so alone. And she could lose the children.

If you need a friend...

How could she go to Neil? He had made promises before, then had abandoned her. How could she trust anyone who would do that?

Or could he be a part of some devious plan? He had shown up so unexpectedly.

But as she explored her alternatives, she kept coming back to his offer. She detested the idea. She could barely stomach it. How could she ask him for help? The very idea ripped through her pride.

Think of Colin, Grace, Rachel, Annabella
. Think what would happen to them if their uncle gained control over them. In just the past few days, their smiles came faster. The wariness was fading from their eyes.

Pride should be nothing compared to their welfare. At least, it was a chance.

Or should she call on the solicitor first? Mayhap Reginald was bluffing.

Yet every time she reviewed the situation she saw little hope. Could she afford the time?

She went up to the room occupied by the lasses. She had offered to replace her husband’s great bed with smaller ones, but her daughters had clamored to sleep together. They felt safer that way. They were up, eating their morning meal. Colin gurgled happily at seeing her, and she lifted him up in her arms.

The lasses looked up at her with hopeful eyes. “Can we go to the fair?” Rachel asked.

Janet looked toward Clara, whose face flushed.

“There is a fair in the next village. Kevin said he would take us if your ladyship approves.”

Janet raised an eyebrow. “Kevin?”

“Aye, my lady,” Clara said, her blush deepening.

Janet smiled. She remembered how she had felt with Neil, how her heart had pounded and her soul soared. He had been so unlike any other suitor. Quiet yet full of depth. Or so she had thought. She jerked the thought from her mind.

“When?”

“Tomorrow after he finishes his chores.” Clara stared at her hopefully.

“Can we go?” Annabella asked again. Her arms were full of kitten. “Pleathe.”

“Yes, Mama, please,” chimed in prim Rachel.

Janet hesitated.

Clara’s face fell, and Janet understood she wanted to be with Kevin. Janet tried to decide whether that was good or not. How much protection should she give Clara? How wise was she in the ways of young men? How wise was any woman?

Janet looked at the girls. “I will think about it. In the meantime, would you like to go to the vicar’s and borrow a book?”

“Oh aye,” said Rachel blissfully. She was the little scholar among them.

“We will take the pony cart,” Janet said.

“Can I drive?” Grace asked.

“I was hoping you could care for Colin,” Janet said, knowing how much Grace liked playing mother.

“Can we take the puppy, too?” Rachel said.

“I think both of them need some rest,” Janet replied gently.

“But the vicar will like them.”

“Some other time,” Janet said, thinking of the horror of the pony cart with a baby, kitten and puppy.

The prospect of an outing made the bairns’ eyes sparkle. They all liked the vicar, Timothy McQueen, who somehow managed to annoy no one, partially because he lived in his books and demanded little of his parishioners. He had helped her in little ways, secretly loaning her books she hid from her husband.

That was as brave as he got. He was in mid-life with a mother to support and was totally dependent on Lochaene for his living. He had survived by asking nothing of her late husband. The only time he had ever gone against Alasdair, she thought, had been regarding the books and even then with a promise from Janet never to let her husband know.

Despite his timidity, he was a good man, and Janet liked him. She knew he wanted to be braver, to fight for his congregation, but somewhere in time he had lost his will to fight. Just as she had.

He was in his garden when they drove up. His face broke into a smile when he saw them and he went over to the pony cart, taking Annabella and swinging her to the ground, the same for Rachel. Grace handed Colin to him, then clamored down on her own.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” he said, beaming at Janet.

“I hoped to borrow some more schoolbooks,” she said, knowing that he taught the village children in addition to presiding over the church. “Rachel races through them.”

His slightly moist gray eyes regarded her somberly. “Trouble?”

“Aye, I think so.”

“My mither has some pastries inside,” he told the lasses. “She will be verra happy to have someone to eat them.”

The three hesitated. “Go on,” she urged them, and took Colin in her arms. They did not need more prompting.

Once they had disappeared inside the small house, Timothy led her into the church and they sat on a bench. “What is it, my lady?”

“I think Reginald is going to try to have himself declared guardian of the children,” she said.

He looked distressed. His loyalties were going to be tested again. She felt guilty at asking him, but she had to know. “I have heard rumors,” he admitted.

She swallowed hard. She had hoped he would say something else. Hoped against hope. “Could the court do that?”

“They will do what the Duke of Cumberland wants them to do,” Timothy said sadly.

“I cannot let Reginald and his mother control my son.”

He shrugged helplessly. “The good Lord will protect you.”

“The Lord left Scotland years ago,” Janet said bitterly.

“You must have faith, my lady.”

“I will take my son away first.”

“And the lassies? They need you.”

“If I’m dead?”

His eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“I think someone tried to kill me last night.” She quickly told him about the figure on the parapet.

“Could ye have seen a shadow?”

“Nay.”

Distress crossed his face. “I do not know how to advise you, my lady. Do ye not have someone to turn to?”

She wanted to say nay. She had thought about this moment since her encounter with Reginald. “There may be someone,” she said cautiously. “I do not know how to get word to him.”

His face cleared. “I can see to that,” he said.

“I do not want to get you in trouble,” she said. “But I do not know who to trust at Lochaene.”

“I do have a few people I trust,” Timothy said, “and ‘tis little enough to do. I regret...”

“Please do not,” she said. “I know my husband threatened to discharge you and that you care for your mother. I know how ... persuasive he could be.”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “The lasses have fared well with ye,” he said. “I would not like to see that light in their eyes quenched.”

Janet bit her lip. “If I can write a note ...”

“Aye. And ye must have a sweet, too.”

She swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

“Can ye rely on this person?”

“I do not know,” she said. “But I know no other way.”

“Who is it?”

She hesitated, but he would know when he had the message. “The Marquis of Braemoor.”

His eyes widened. “A powerful friend.”

“In truth, I do not know if he is friend or no‘, but I have nowhere else to go. All my father’s friends died at Culloden.”

He nodded. “He will get your letter within three days.”

Neil rode over to the new properties. They had been seized from a Jacobite after the Battle at Culloden and came to Braemoor as the dowry of Rory’s wife. Neil had half expected Cumberland to take it back after Rory’s death and his wife’s flight, but the Black Knave had not been seen since Rory’s disappearance and the duke had somehow attributed that fact to Rory. It had been tragic that the marquis had died in the crown’s cause, but Neil had been permitted to keep the properties.

There had been no one left to farm the newly acquired properties. All had been killed or driven from the land. Neil had been too occupied with events at Braemoor to do anything about it, but now that Jock was beginning to share his enthusiasm he felt he could start buying sheep and cattle. First he had to comb every part of the land, decide where cottages should be built and what land should be planted.

The manor house had been burned. There was nothing but a pile of stones. Much of the land was rock and unfit for farming. He saw several crofts, but they were little more than hovels. He wanted something better for his tenants.

Satisfaction surged inside him. He’d felt Jock’s excitement when he’d come back after talking to the tenants. Ten young men, all of them bachelors, had agreed to move. Two of them wanted to marry but hadn’t had the means until now. They’d lived in already overcrowded crofts.

After talking with each one, he’d caught their own anticipation of having chances they never thought to have. Most had believed they would be cleared from the land. And, if not, the younger sons had little hope to make a living from the land. They had thought to leave Scotland as so many others had.

The land was mountainous and good for little except grazing. But it was very good for that. Streams meandered the land and rock fences were already in place. Craggy mountains framed the horizon, and the hills were purple with heather. He spent one night on the ground. He woke at dawn and watched the sun rise over the mountains. He wished Janet was there beside him, watching the pink rim turn into gold. Saddling his horse, he wondered whether she would always accompany him in his thoughts.

He wondered how she was faring. As a young widow, she should have a choice of suitors.

He forced her out of his thoughts, knowing that she would not stay banished, then saddled his horse. Another day and he would be back at Braemoor. It was not home, though. He did not think it would ever be home. There were too many bad memories there.

As he rode his horse into Braemoor’s stables, he noticed an unfamiliar horse there. He unsaddled his own mount before Jamie, one of the stablelads, came to rub him down. He paused a moment to watch the boy, thinking how much he had grown in the past year. Rory had asked him to look out for the boy, who had been abused by his father. One of Neil’s first acts as marquis had been to buy an indenture from the father, then banish the man from Braemoor.

“There’s an unfamiliar horse here.”

“Aye, my lord,” Jamie said. “A messenger came for you two days ago. He has been staying in the great hall.”

“He did not leave the message?”

“Nay. He said he was told to wait for an answer. He has been working here with me. He comes from Concarnie.”

Concarnie was near Lochaene.

Without more conversation, he strode quickly to the tower house. He was met there by Torquil, his butler and valet, though Neil seldom had need for the latter. He preferred taking care of his own person, including shaving. But Torquil had needed a position and had been unwilling to take charity.