Chapter 9
BY THE FOURTH day Eleanor was confident in her manners, poise, and feminine disguise.
Mrs.
Beldorney, who insisted she be called Baroness as Eleanor could not rightly pronounce the Gaelic term Banbharun, showered her with kindness, taught her the most modern aristocratic manners that Lady Beth had failed to teach her, and pampered her with beauty treatments that neither Eleanor or Hannah had ever heard of.
“Your education is going rather well,”
the Baroness said, keeping her accent and syntax faultlessly British.
“You were a lovely lass three days ago, but now …”
she lowered her voice “… your beauty could compete with Helen of Troy or Cleopatra or Queen Charlotte herself.”
She quickly put her fingers to her lips to stop herself.
Then she continued in a conspiratorial tone, “I do not approve of the more gruesome parts of this plan.
I have met Queen Charlotte, you know.
She was barely seventeen when she married the King.”
She clucked her tongue.
“She married George the same day they were introduced and has been churning out his issue like a barn cat ever since.
It would not surprise me if she died in childbirth.”
She waved her fingers near her nose.
“And that would relieve me of some guilt that I am a part of this.”
Her hand went to the piece of embroidery she’d been working on before Eleanor entered.
“Baroness …”
“Yes, sweet Nora?”
The corners of Eleanor’s mouth swept up at the nickname the Baroness had given her.
“I was hoping that you’d allow my maid to accompany me on a ride.
Bernard is leaving tomorrow to collect some soldiers and he offered to show me the rest of the grounds here.”
“Oh, my, my, no.
Bernard could not find his way from one pasture to the next.
Why, when we visited his parents in England last, they were most concerned about his prospects, but someone handed him a commission and voilà, he seems in control of his future, however dangerous it may be.”
“Baroness?”
Eleanor lowered her chin exactly as the Baroness herself had instructed her to do when making a request.
She looked out from under blinking lashes.
“Oh, listen to me, blathering on like an old lady.
Well, I am an old lady, a grandmother now.
I told you of my daughter’s new babe, the one we were visiting when your arrival was delayed.
But I have another.
A grandson.
Huey.
Seven years old. I expect him to visit any day now. Perhaps today.”
She lifted her eyes from the stitches she’d begun.
“Oh … your question about a tour of the grounds … I will allow it.
But take the new carriage and have Briggs drive it.
You won’t need your maid for a chaperone then.”
Eleanor nodded.
She was anxious to get outside.
The rooms were bright and spacious in this castle, but she needed sunshine and fresh air and some peaceful time in the stable.
She’d tell Hannah to remake herself as Pascoe—they’d hidden those clothes under the bed—and be ready to follow the carriage.
She suspected that one of the McKelvey men might make contact soon.
Her heart fluttered at the thought that she might meet Keir again.
She put a hand to her chest and absently touched the brooch she always wore now.
“Pardon me, ma’am,”
the butler stood at the doorway, “your son and grandson are here.”
“Oh, Briggs, send them in immediately.”
The Baroness set her embroidery down and looked to Eleanor.
“Remember this morning’s lesson: a lady’s tongue is the last member she moves.”
She rose and walked toward the door, but stopped suddenly as a streak of young flesh pitched into her.
She swung her arms around the child and let loose a high note of joy.
“Huey! Huey! My how you’ve grown this spring.”
The child looked around his grandmother’s skirts at Hannah and gave her a shy smile.
The Baroness kissed the top of the boy’s head and looked up at her son.
“Mum.”
“Hubert.
How good to see you.
You’re an uncle again.
Have you heard? Rhona has had a daughter.”
She leaned over Huey to receive a kiss on the cheek from her son.
Eleanor kept her hands in her lap and waited.
Half of her wished Hubert would recognize her as the lad pretending to be a lass, but she was equally hopeful that there would be no spark of recognition with these finer clothes and hair style.
“Hubert,”
the Baroness said, putting her hands on her grandson’s shoulders and stepping behind him so he could face Eleanor, “and Huey … let me introduce you to our houseguest.
This is Nora, from England, another distant cousin of yours, Hubert.
Bernard brought her.
You remember Bernard Luxbury, don’t you? The little lad that tagged after you when we stayed in London?”
Hubert nodded and crossed the room to stand two feet before Eleanor.
“Miss Nora.”
He bowed deeply.
“’Tis most pleasant ta meet ye.”
He lifted his head, stared intently at her, and extended a hand.
Eleanor watched for a glimmer of detection, but Hubert gave nothing away and certainly his son, who’d shared his loft with her so recently, acted as if she were a stranger.
Of course, she thought, she did have her head piled high with a hairdo Carla had fixed this morn.
A cockernonnie, she’d called it.
And then this new dress was absolutely a distraction.
She hadn’t recognized herself in the mirror.
She accepted Hubert’s hand, carefully nodded her head in greeting, and said, “Your mother has told me such nice things about you.”
She noted admiration in his gaze.
Hannah had predicted she’d have men falling at her feet.
She hadn’t believed the mirror, but perhaps it was true: she was beautiful.
And this man that she knew, did not know her.
“Then she’s forgiven me.”
He straightened, turned, and lessened the distance between himself and his mother.
He put an arm around her.
“Have ye forgiven me yet? For if ye havnae given me pardon yet fer marryin’ a McKelvey and not a McDonough, I have news that will hurry me exoneration … Fenella is wi’ child.”
The news was not expected.
The Baroness slipped out of the English accent she’d been using and into her natural Scottish brogue.
Eleanor barely understood another thing that was said between mother and son, but the tone and the excitement made her smile.
She waited a bit and then made an excuse to leave the room.
She needed to warn Hannah that Hubert was here and to send her out where he could find her on his way home.
She stopped a moment outside the door to listen.
“Is she really royalty, ma? Have ye gotten yerselves into mischief and intrigue? Or will ye break wi’ the rebels and have a ball instead to marry her off?”
***
KEIR AND LOGAN were finishing the chores when Hubert and Huey returned home.
“I saw her,”
Hubert said as soon as Huey ran off to play.
“I saw the royal heir.”
Logan brushed the dirt from his hands and asked, “What name does she go by? I been meanin’ to think up a name fer me horse.”
“Nora.”
“Och, a fine name fer me mare.
Now if I’m the one to happen upon the princess she’ll nay be leery of me when she hears me say ‘Whoa there, Nora’ or ‘Easy, Nora.’”
Keir ignored his brother, leaned on his shovel, and said, “An’ did ye meet the princess?”
“Aye, we did.”
He glanced at the house.
“Ye ken I love Fenella, yer sister is a bonnie lass, but the princess’s beauty is beyond compare.
There be a glow upon her.
An’ a knowledge, as if she kent me from the heavens afore I was born.”
Keir cocked his head, a smirk forming.
“Beauty can betray a woman.”
Logan frowned.
“An’ did ye see El or Pascoe?”
“Aye,”
Hubert gave the reins to Logan to hold and began to unsaddle his horse, “met Pascoe on the trail out the side.
Dressed in the rags we first saw’em in.
Musta wore’em under the dress so he could sneak out.
Clever lad.”
“Mm,”
Keir nodded, “and he told ye what?”
“He said El is one of the maids who attends the princess, stays by her side, fetches things fer her.
I dinnae see her as the princess was alone wi’ me mum.
Pascoe mostly works in the kitchen, catchin’ bits o’ gossip whilst he’s pretendin’ to be a lass choppin’ carrots and boilin’ porridge.”
He gave a slight chuckle and pulled the saddle off.
“But we have a problem.
The redcoat.
’Tis Captain Bernard Luxbury.
Ye’ll nay guess it, but he be a faint relation of mine.
Up me English line somewheres.
I kent him when we was lads. I cannae have him killt. Ye’ll have to call off Thomas.”
Keir nodded again, but kept his words to himself.
Hubert glanced at the house.
“When the princess left to go fer a carriage ride with Bernard, me mum told me there’s to be a ball.
She’s agreed to invite me wife at last since I told her of the new bairn comin’.”
He walked to the small shed and heaved the saddle onto the railing there.
“An’ I learnt she already sent an invitation to Castle Caladh.
I think she means to subvert the plan in her own way.”
“A ball?”
Logan groaned.
He led Hubert’s horse to the corral, and called over his shoulder, “All six of the McKelvey lads and lassies in the same room? There’s sure to be trouble.”
Keir laughed and Hubert raised his brow.
“I’m jist hopin’ Fenella dinnae give her best gown away to the lads.”
“There be plenty of gowns at Caladh.
When is the ball?”
“A week Sunday.”
“She needna fash aboot it.
I’ll ride back and send along a trunk of dresses.
An’ a sister or two.”
***
“brIGGS, YOU DROVE the horses too fast,”
Luxbury complained.
“The lady and I will sit here and recover while you unhitch the horrid creatures.”
He turned his head to Eleanor; they were seated close together and once again she could feel his breath on her face.
She’d endured the carriage ride, bumpy and uneventful, and now had to endure a few more moments completely alone with Bernard.
“You’re doing a lovely job, my dear,”
he crooned.
“Already you have mastered the art of conversation with someone cultured, like me, but … I’m afraid you do not sound, shall we say, royal enough to fool the aristocracy.”
Eleanor planted a contrite expression on her face.
She was anxious to get back to her room and very much aware that Bernard was slithering closer as he spoke.
“Dear Bernard, you are so kind to be honest with me.
Whatever shall I do? The Baroness has planned a ball in my honor, nine days hence.”
“I shall pray that you succeed in rising to their standards.
But should you not … I would be most honored to spirit you away.
To the colonies.
To America.”
“Oh, Bernard.
You would surrender your commission? For me?”
She fought the urge to gag.
“Of course, my dear.
I’m … I’m in love with you, you know.”
Another inch closer.
She squirmed.
Thought fast.
Let out a howl of a low-class laugh.
“Oh, you amuse me so, Bernard.
Thank you for the lovely tour of the estate.
I almost wish I was a Beldorney.”
She moved to rise.
A voice outside caused them both to be more alert.
“Eleanor?”
Bernard quickly exited and helped Eleanor down.
He turned to Hannah and scowled.
“There is dirt on your face, Mistress Hannah, or whatever they call you here.
And you are to address the princess as Nora; it is what the Baroness has decided.”
“Yes, sir,”
Hannah gave a slight head bow, “I will remember, sir.
Mistress Nora, I am here to escort you inside.”
She smiled at Luxbury and moved so Eleanor could walk beside her.
Once inside, they wound their way through the halls and up the stairs to their suite of rooms.
Neither spoke until the door was closed.
“Oh, that was dreadful.
I wish the captain would go back to England.
He’s going to make it hard for me to escape.”
“What? You’ve changed your mind again?”
“Yes, since I saw Fenella’s husband today and he did not know me, I’ve been thinking.”
“I saw him, too.
I changed to the boy’s clothes and met him on the trail like you told me to.
I delivered the lies you suggested.”
“Good.
Also … I didn’t tell you before … there’s to be a ball.
A ball, Hannah, with guests and musicians and dancing and feasting.
I don’t think I’ll survive it.”
“But we used to spy on the galas at Ingledew.
You always dreamed of one day—”
“Yes, I know,”
she interrupted her, “but the McKelveys will be invited.”
“That’s wonderful,”
Hannah trilled.
“I’ll see Logan again.
Oh, I hope I’ll be allowed to attend.”
Doubt tainted her words.
Her face suddenly fell.
“Well, of course you will.
I’ll insist.
But … the captain wants to take me away to America if I fail at … this whole enterprise.”
Her face changed as she repeated what he said to her.
“Oh, El, so many choices.
But you wouldn’t consider marrying the captain, would you?”
“I don’t know what the right choice is.
Be a princess, marry a king, run away to America, stay in Scotland, search for my mother … my decision seems to change daily.”
She sighed.
“I do want to see Keir McKelvey again.
I wonder if his betrothed will attend the ball.”
“I can check the guest list from Mrs.
Perkins.
Do you remember her name?”
“I do.
It was Anabel MacLeod.
Keir cut his brother off with an angry growl the moment he mentioned the name.
Remember? It was when we got to the gate, riding sideways in our dresses.”
“Ah, yes.
Mostly I was enjoying the warmth of Logan’s breath on my neck and not paying so much attention to their words.”
“Hannah … I’ve never been anybody.
Now I’m … important.
I’ll give myself till Sunday next to decide.
What happens at the ball will help me make up my mind.”
“I have to ask again.
Is running off with the captain still a possibility?”
Hannah ran her finger down her neck and stopped at the brooch.
“Maybe.
But first I must meet this Anabel MacLeod.”