Chapter 28
The morning after her wedding night, the sun had been up for some time before Meleri was able to move. When she finally did open her eyes, she saw Robert was gone. Then she saw the sprig of heather on the pillow next to her. A note attached to it read, Last night my soul found peace, and today I have awakened like a newly opened flower.
She smiled and stretched luxuriously, then threaded the heather through the button on her gown and went back to sleep.
Later, when she awoke again, she felt rested. She attempted to get up, but nothing felt the same as it had the day before. She stretched and smiled, remembering their night of lovemaking. The result of all that lovemaking was that today her body felt like it had aged a thousand years. It creaked and ached, and she moved like an old woman. It took her a while to even stand up straight.
Agnes opened the door and came into the room with a breakfast tray. “You are finally up. I was beginning to wonder if you had been drugged.”
Meleri smiled to herself. She had been drugged with the elixir of love.
Elixir of love? she thought as she sat down to have her breakfast of scones and tea. The rather pathetic attempt at being the poet amused her and she could not help smiling.
By the time she bathed, dressed and made it down the stairs, her body had limbered up considerably. She was almost back to normal as she reached the gallery. Her body revived and her heart soaring, she walked by the painting of the missing earl and felt a cold, damp chill that made her hair stand on end.
The dogs must have felt it, too, for they began to whimper. She spoke to them and patted each of their heads as she passed, telling them not to worry, that it was only “the old earl making sport, because he was bored and had nothing better to do.”
She did not tarry any longer, for there was much to be done, with more rooms on the east wing that needed to be cleaned. Lady Margaret and the twins announced they would like to help. Shortly after they set to work, Meleri heard Catriona and Ciorstag giggling. When she turned to see what amused them, her curious gaze fell upon the sleeping form of Lady Margaret, her hand draped over the arm of the chair, a feather duster dangling precariously from her hand. Meleri smiled and brought her finger up to her lips, signaling the twins to be quiet.
“She missed her afternoon nap,” Catriona said, her eyes sparkling brightly with true affection as she gazed at her great-grandmother.
“No, she didn’t” Ciorstag replied. “She’s getting it now.”
The three of them worked quietly after that, until Hugh walked into the room, his boots thudding against the stone floors with each step. They tried to signal Hugh to walk softly by pointing at Lady Margaret, but they were too late.
Without opening her eyes, Lady Margaret said, “Hugh, must you come into the room like your feet were chiseled from stone?”
Hugh stopped and gazed at her curiously. “How did you know who it was, Gram?”
“You have the heaviest tread of anyone in the family. There was never any doubt. Now that you’ve awakened me, come and give me a kiss.”
Meleri watched Hugh dutifully kiss his grandmother’s cheek. “Have you seen Robbie?” Meleri asked. “Did he come back with you?”
“No. I left after we finished the harvesting. Robbie stayed to let the sheep out into the field, so they can eat what is left of the turnips.”
Meleri turned to the twins. “I think we’ve done enough for today. You need to practice your music lessons.”
“Ugh!” Catriona said. “I’d rather clean than practice.”
“Me, too,” agreed Ciorstag.
“Then you should be happy since you will have had a chance to do both today,” Meleri said.
“Couldn’t we practice tomorrow?” Catriona asked. “I wanted to embroider the last flowers on the nightgown Gram gave me for my birthday.”
Catriona’s comment reminded Meleri of something she had been meaning to ask. “That reminds me,” she said. “The first night I was here, someone left a gown on my bed. Do you know who it was, or who the gown belongs to? I wanted to thank them and return it.”
“It was mine,” Ciorstag said. “Catriona and I overheard our uncle telling Gram that your trunks had not arrived, so we thought you would need something to sleep in.”
Meleri gave them both a fond embrace. “Your thoughtfulness far exceeds your age. If I ever have daughters, I hope they are just like the two of you.”
“Does that mean we don’t have to practice our lessons?” Catriona asked.
Meleri laughed. “No, it means you will practice your lessons knowing I think the two of you are quite the loveliest people I know.”
Reluctantly, the twins left to do their practicing, followed shortly after by Lady Margaret and Hugh.
Once everyone had gone, Meleri put away her cleaning supplies. She was on her way upstairs when she passed the front door and found herself drawn by some inexplicable reason toward it. She paused a moment in the open doorway and stared out at the beautiful day. She thought how nice it would be to spend the rest of such a day with Robert, when she remembered Hugh said he was still in the fields.
She decided she would walk out to meet him.
The sky was anthracite gray, streaked with white clouds and rays of sun, although she did not know how long that would last. There was thunder in the air, and she could see that in the distance, over the purple hills of Dumfries, the blue clouds had turned turbulent and dark gray—a color she dubbed Scots gray, for its dark, brooding intensity.
As she went in search of Robert, she discovered a second vegetable garden, smaller than the first, this one planted with carrots, onions and cabbage, most of it overgrown with brambles. She pulled a few succulent blackberries and ate them as she walked, but when she saw the scratches on her hands, she wished she had been a bit more careful of the sharp prickles on the stems.
She stopped for a moment in the middle of the garden to inspect several plants. Gathered around the weathered base of an ancient sundial were several herbs, some she recognized—parsley, dill, mint, rosemary, thyme, rue—and some she did not.
She scooped up a handful of soft, moist earth and let it sift through her fingers. God must have loved gardening, she thought, for He planted the first one. Truly, it was the purest of human pleasures. She smiled to herself, remembering what Lady Margaret had said earlier in the day, when Meleri had commented on how much she looked forward to planting more flowers and vegetables and how she enjoyed working with them.
“According to an old saying, the best thing about gardening is when you’re finished. If God intended for us to till the earth, He should have given us better equipment.”
“In what way do you mean?” Meleri asked.
“To be a gardener, one needs an iron back with hinges on it.”
Meleri thought about her life since coming to Scotland, about how she was already feeling so much a part of everything. Memories were meant to be gathered, like flowers, and when she was old, she could take each memory, different from the others, and arrange them in a bouquet to enjoy all over again.
Already she could recall much with tender affection. Unbelievable as it sounded, she knew she was becoming devotedly attached, not only to Robert, but to the other members of this most special of families, all of whom she regarded with particular affection and admiration. It was like having her own special chair, a place she could always go to find comfort, support and rest. She could not believe her good fortune. How was it that she was blessed with what she had always wanted—a family and a sense of belonging?
She was uncertain as to which feeling overwhelmed her the most. Was it a thankful spirit, or the irrepressible urge to do everything possible for them in return? She was so happy.
She loved Robert. She loved this family.
She loved this day. Everything about it was perfect, and for a moment she believed there was nothing she could not do. She was Michelangelo painting the Sistine Chapel. She was Hannibal crossing the Alps. She paused and looked back at the castle, hearing the thunder in the distance. She walked on a bit farther and climbed up an embankment. The beauty and bounty of the earth was gathered about her feet. From where she stood, she could look out over the Borders, where heather-clad hills and emerald valleys were laced with silver streams and rivers that teemed with salmon. Everything existed peacefully. A baronial castle, tucked into a hillside, and the ruins of a Spartan stone tower were both reminders of a battle-filled past. She thought of the missing earl, and wondered if he had ever visited these ancient places she saw. How much they had changed since he was alive.
She was immediately glad not only that she had come here with Robert, but also that his home was in this place. Having grown up on the English side of the Borders, she knew the heartbreaking history of the area, where every stream seemed to sing out and each valley rang with the sound of battle. She could still recall a few bars of a Border ballad of derring-do that Agnes would sing to her when she was a small child. Even now, the magic of this place seemed tangible and reached out to her in such a way she almost felt she could touch the wild magic of its hills and ancient fortresses.
She brought her hand up to shield her eyes to make out the ruins of a distant peel tower where it had resided for centuries on a hill of commanding height. She remembered Robert pointing out such a place to her on their journey here. “Beacon hills,” he called them, explaining they were once an integral part of the survival of the Borders: upon sighting the English, the fires were lit on the hills and the message got to Edinburgh in five minutes.
Thinking about Robert made her yearn to see him, so she walked faster. She was as in love with him as she could be in such a short time, and she knew it would be a love that would grow. Surely, no one had a right to be so happy. Her life had meaning and a purpose now. She had never been so gladdened, so full of contentment. She was Lady Douglas now, and nothing could rob her of her newfound joy.