Chapter 13
THE VICARAGE STOOD behind the kirk, a modest stone hut with a thatched roof and shuttered windows.
Keir led his horse and his brother Logan’s mare and tied them up under the back eves.
The door was not locked and he opened it for Eleanor.
There was a single chair at a small table nearest the fireplace, a longer table stood against the wall holding a few simple supplies, a cooking pot, a dish, a cup, a spoon, and nothing more.
Two buckets sat under the table.
Against the fourth wall a pallet bed lay upon the floor, neatly covered with a blanket.
On the wall a cloak and a robe hung from hooks.
Keir set his hat on the table and held the chair out for Eleanor.
“Please sit.”
He crouched before the fire and poked at the coals that still glowed orange.
“Are you warm enough?”
She could tell that her plight, her prospects, scratched at him like a poorly sewn shirt seam.
“Yes.”
She kept her hands in her lap and her eyes averted from the bed.
“What are we doing here?”
He cleared his throat, put a single stick on the coals, and stood up.
“I rode out here early this morn.
Copper kens the way now.”
His chuckle sounded strained.
“I spoke to the vicar.
He’s agreed to it.”
“It?”
Eleanor pulled her shawl tighter.
“He’ll help us … he’ll marry us.”
He thrust his hands out in an imaginary stopping gesture.
“Now, ye needna fash aboot it.
’Twill be a marriage in name only.
’Twill thwart the plan to have ye marry the King and …”
his eyes flashed “’twill free me from me father’s oath to the MacLeods.
They’ll nay be happy, but …”
He gave a short grunt, his hands back at his sides.
He looked over at the buckets, took one, flipped it and made it his seat.
He sat with his knees almost as high as his chin.
Eleanor thought he looked more like a child than a man who’d just proposed the most irrational thing she could think of.
“M-marry us?”
“I’ll nay bind ye to the oath.
We’ll barely whisper the vows.
I’m payin’ the vicar fer the parchment.
’Tis all.”
He ground the last two words between his teeth, demolishing them before they exploded like pine tar in the charged air.
Eleanor took in a slow and long breath of air and let it out as slowly.
Outside the rain began and though she heard no plinking sounds upon the roof, the stones outside started to echo the tiny splashes.
A healing sound was how she’d always imagined the rain drops on Ingledew’s stones.
And this was a healing rainfall, undeniably.
She gulped, thought of a dozen questions.
Would they still go to the ball? Would they leave to search out her mother right away? Would he allow Hannah to come too? What would Bernard do? Would this news get back to Lady Beth? Would King George and Queen Charlotte be safe now? How much did Keir have to pay to bribe the vicar into performing a false marriage? Would Anabel be crushed by the news?
Oh, what did she care about Anabel?
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
Unless Anabel was one to plot revenge somehow.
To hurt Keir.
She’d die before she’d let that woman or anyone hurt this man.
She clenched her lips to school the trembling that compromised them.
“Eleanor? Are ye thinkin’ it over? I cannae read yer mind.”
Her body answered before her mouth.
Her head began to bob, a smile lifted her lips, and then at last she found her voice.
“Yes, Keir.
I’ll marry you.”
There was no lightning bolt for punctuation, no sign from God, no flash of flame as a victory of the devil’s lies.
But his face … she could read it well enough.
Keir was elated.
“’Twill be a good thing, El, ye’ll see.
We’ll go to Castle Caladh first, get supplies, another horse.
I ken ye’re a good rider.
I’ve planned it all out.
Ye’ll hafta dress in Jack’s old things if we’re to travel fast, but we’ll have some lady things as well … fer when we find yer mum … and ye’ll want to be presentable.”
Their gaze held fast a moment.
“Och, ye’re beamin’.
The plan pleases ye, I see.”
The blush mounting in her cheeks made it impossible to speak, so she gestured helplessly.
He understood.
***
KEIR HAD NO hesitation that he was doing the right thing, but he’d been afraid he’d be unable to convince Eleanor.
He almost fell off the bucket when she said yes.
He sputtered through a list of what they’d do, trying to hold back the smile he felt throughout his body.
She said yes, she said yes.
There was a brief moment when he thought he could see straight through to her soul.
She was the one for him; he had no doubt.
He told her she was beaming, told her he could see the plan pleased her.
Now he waited for her response.
“Yes, you’ve thought of everything,”
she looked at her hands, “except for Hannah.”
She looked back up at him.
“She’s been with me since we were little.
We’ve never been apart.”
“’Twould be harder for the three of us to travel, but dinnae fash, I’ve talked it over wi’ Logan.
He and Jack will take her to Castle Caladh and there she’ll be safe wi’ me sister.”
He studied her, intent on every detail of her expression.
The subtle change in her countenance set his heart to thumping.
He’d pleased her again and the little lines that formed around her mouth, the beginnings of another of her precious smiles, made him want to breach the two feet of space between them and kiss that mouth.
A flash of light startled them both, followed immediately by a crack of thunder.
Keir said, “Och, the priest must be preachin’ a sermon on hellfire and brimstone.
The Good Lord is addin’ his tuppence worth.”
Eleanor tilted her head slightly, the faint smile still there.
“Or perhaps He’s sending a sign of caution to us.
Is marrying in vain like taking His name in vain?”
Keir gulped and reached for her hands.
“I’ll nay hurt ye, El, the Lord kens me heart.”
He didn’t let go; she didn’t pull back.
He looked at their joined hands, hers soft and trembling, his rough and holding tight.
And then a second flash came, but it took longer for the snap to follow.
The heavens rumbled.
“There,”
Keir proclaimed, “ye hear Him? ’Tis settled.”
He gave her hands a final squeeze and let go, grabbed a stick to throw on the fire, and rose.
“I mean to check on Copper and the mare.
I’ll only be leavin’ ye a minute.
Here, I’ll light one of the vicar’s candles.”
He did so, set it on the table and took his hat.
He was out a moment, but when he came back in his hat and shoulders were wet.
This time he set the hat on the floor by the fire.
“Copper doesna mind the rain.
And he’s spun a sian on the mare.”
“A sian?”
“A charm … a spell that’s keepin’ her calm in the storm.”
He leaned against the wall and talked of horses.
Eleanor had plenty to say and he enjoyed the fact that here was a woman who knew the withers from the muzzle, a mare from a gelding, a fetlock from a forelock.
When she told him she’d helped a mare foal, he dropped himself onto the bucket seat and wrinkled his brow.
“How is it a princess spends so much time in a stable?”
She told him more of her history.
The night before, when she’d cried in a heap at his feet in the stable, she’d only said she’d been raised at Ingledew.
Now she told him how Lady Beth had kept her hidden.
That she’d worked as a lad, dressed as a lad, played like a lad, endured beatings like a lad, and had only learned the feminine ways most recently.
“I was not raised as a princess.
I don’t think or act like one.
I’d rather remain a secret princess.”
Keir shook his head.
“’Tis hard fer me to believe such a thing.
Beatin’s ye say? A salty oath comes to mind.
I’d give a beatin’ meself to the one who laid a hand on ye.”
He muttered under his breath.
“And yet, ye tricked me over an’ over with yer boyish looks and ways.”
He reached for the strings of her bonnet.
“May I see yer real hair?”
Eleanor finished tugging on the strings, pulled the bonnet back, and let her hair come loose.
It fell almost to her shoulders.
Keir gently touched the ends then drew his hand back.
“Aye, ye fooled me when ye slicked it back.
Did ye wear it shorter still?”
Eleanor put her fingers to her ears to show him.
They talked on about Ingledew, her life, and then about Castle Caladh and Keir grinned as he described his older sisters, his father, and lastly his mother.
“I miss her so,”
he said, turning toward the fire which had sparked to life.
“If I can help ye find yers, it’ll be a wee bit like honorin’ me own.”
The rain lessened and Keir got up to look out the door.
As soon as he opened it, he could hear faint chanting from the kirk.
“They’ll be finished soon and the vicar will arrange for two witnesses.
We’ll go back when the Beldorney coaches leave.”
He closed the door.
Eleanor fixed her hair back under her cap and said, “What about Captain Luxbury? I’m sure he’ll come looking for me.”
“Nay.
Fenella can be quite convincin’.
She’ll have everyone expectin’ to see ye at the ball.”
“But we’ll be on our way to your castle?”
“Aye.
The storm willna slow us down.
We’ll be suppin’ at Caladh afore the ball begins.”
His brows knitted together.
“Ye’ll nay be sorry to miss it, will ye?”
Eleanor rose.
“I’m relieved, actually.
The thought of dancing … well, I’ve only just learned.”
“The minuet?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve heard there be a type of dance in far-off Austria where a man holds his partner in his arms.”
Keir took a long stride toward her.
“Like this.”
He drew her close and looked deep into her eyes.
There was no space between them.
He shouldn’t have been able to feel her heat, but her chest was heaving, and the wild beat of her heart matched his.
The door opened.
They both stepped apart.
“The vicar says to come now.”
A young man, one of the acolytes, held the door and motioned for them to follow him.
Keir grabbed his hat and caught Eleanor frowning at the weather outside.
The rain had stopped, but there was fog, and there were puddles.
Her shoes were going to get ruined.
He swept her up into his arms and ran ahead of the acolyte.
***
ELEANOR KEPT HER eyes tightly closed.
She didn’t know if she should enjoy it this much that Keir was carrying her in his arms.
To the kirk.
To get married.
To ride off with her to a castle.
A castle that would be hers should they stay married.
Ah, the feel of him.
His strong arms holding her tightly but protectively.
His ginger-stubbled face, so handsome and only an inch or so from hers.
The warmth seeping off his skin, like summer sunshine, like Cook’s best stew, like warm apple pie, like … ah, the bath.
Her eyes popped open.
What was she thinking? How could she be so brazen in her thoughts? She’d laughed with the Chadderton boys when they talked boldly about things not said in polite company.
She’d overheard the maids telling tales of midnight trysts and cuckolded husbands.
This base perspective was rising from the suppression she’d exerted on it these last days spent learning the feminine arts.
But, he was so close.
Holding her.
Moving with the strength of a bull.
Taking long strides with a purpose.
Ah, she marveled in the moment.
Ignored the damp chill in the air, the muddy scent, the latent drops of rain shaking off new leaves.
There were better things to feel. His body. Her body.
And all too soon they were at the side door to the kirk.
He set her down on the stone threshold.
“Can ye stand, El?”
“Yes.
I’m fine,”
she answered in a whisper as a blush climbed her neck.
But she was not fine.
Trembling overtook each muscle.
Had he not kept an arm around her waist she wouldn’t have been steady enough to walk through the nave and up to the altar.
A second acolyte stood behind the old priest, a rolled piece of parchment under his arm and quill and ink in his hands.
The priest eyed Keir from under hooded lids, but did not look at Eleanor.
He coughed and beat his chest twice with a closed fist.
“Best ye sign it now and pay yer due.”
He clicked his fingers at the acolyte who hurried to lay the items out on the altar.
Keir bent low to sign, handed the quill to Eleanor who, when she finished with her careful strokes, tendered the quill to the priest.
He snatched it from her fingers, dipped it in the ink and made his marks, coughing again as he straightened.
The acolyte picked the parchment up and, in the absence of blotting paper, he blew on the signatures.
Keir produced the money and Eleanor watched it disappear into the priest’s robe.
“Now we will begin,”
the priest motioned for the other acolyte to come forward.
“We have our witnesses—”
A third coughing fit struck the old man.
He clutched at the front of his robe and pounded harder on his chest. “I … I …”
He stumbled backward against the boy with the parchment who dropped it as the priest clutched at him then fell.
Keir rushed forward and knelt by his side.
The two acolytes stepped off to the edge.
“Is he all right?”
Eleanor dared to move further into the space she was sure was consecrated and off limits to mere parishioners.
The priest’s face had gone as grey as the pewter candlesticks, but he’d stopped the racking cough.
And gone still.
She knelt across from Keir and pressed a shaking hand to the old man’s neck.
Keir did the same.
“I’m afraid he’s passed from this land to the next.
And right afore our eyes.”
He looked at the acolytes.
“Shall I carry him back to his bed? Do ye ken what ye must do, lads?”
“Our father will come fer us.
He’ll ken what to do.”
Keir nodded, glanced at Eleanor, and said to the closest lad, “The vicar has nay need of gold or silver now.”
He found the pocket and withdrew the money he’d paid.
“Here, lads, ye’ll have earned this if ye dinna tell a soul that this lass was here.
Understand?”
He rose from his knees, dropped the coins in their palms, and helped Eleanor up.
“Come,” he said.
“But …”
“The vicar will be tended to.
Dinna fash.”
He bent down to swipe the parchment, rolled it tightly and stuffed it in his shirt.
“’Twill serve fer now.”
Eleanor nodded, found her voice, and said, “I trust you, Keir.”
***
DESPITE THE WEARINESS brought on by miles of travel and the shock of death and a plan gone awry, Eleanor kept her balance in the saddle.
Her skirts were bunched and wet, her bonnet kept slipping back, her shawl was sodden, but her excitement still danced in circles in her stomach.
When they could, they rode side by side and talked.
First it was about the vicar’s tragic death and the fright on the acolytes’ faces, then, with the sky brightening, they found happier topics.
He seemed as animated as she felt.
She wondered if he was truly happy to be with her.
Perhaps the burden of the plot against the king was lifted from his soul now that he’d committed to helping her instead.
She certainly was happy, and surprised that she didn’t think more about Hannah being alone.
She trusted Keir’s brothers to come through with their promise to see to her welfare.
It was tempting to relax herself, but somehow conversation felt safer than the tense closeness of silence.
“The poor Baroness,”
Eleanor said when they came to a narrower path and she had to follow, “she’s going to be embarrassed to be throwing a ball for a princess who has disappeared.”
“Och, if I ken me sister, and I do, she’ll endear herself to the Baroness by thinkin’ up the right excuse.”
“Or maybe Hannah can play my part.
With the wig I wore last night and the best dress, perhaps no one will notice.
I hardly spent a moment meeting each of yesterday’s guests.
And there will be new people tonight.”
They guided their horses through the trees.
Keir had insisted she take Copper as he wasn’t as sure about the mare’s disposition.
The rain had finally stopped a while ago; there were still some clouds, but between them the sun burst through with warming rays.
“Aye,”
he chuckled, “she deceived me as easily as ye did.
And when I first saw her in a dress … well, no wonder me brothers are besotted wi’ the lass.
I wouldna bet against one o’ them takin’ her fer a wife.”
“But … she’s not of their station.
They would not marry Hannah Pascoe of Feock, Cornwall, a servant from Ingledew.”
“Was she nay a ward of Lady Beth?”
“Yes.”
She reined in Copper when he started to trot.
“Me brothers, like me sisters, can marry who they choose.
’Twas only I, as oldest male heir, who seemed to be destined to accept a match of me father’s choosin’.”
“What will your father do when you tell him … whoa, Copper, slow down.”
Eleanor yanked on the reins.
“Copper kens the way now.
We’re but a few arrow lengths from home.
Ye best hold tight and not give’im his heid or ye’ll be racin’ fer the barn.”
He urged the mare forward and took the lead.
“I’ll block yer way a bit, but when we crest yon hill, ye might hafta show me yer ridin’ skills.”
Eleanor smiled.
She’d like nothing better than to gallop.
Lose the bonnet, let the shawl fly away, feel the spring air on her face.
“I’m ready,”
she shouted at his back when they got to the top of the hill.
But Keir stopped and so did she.
The view took her breath away.
She could see for miles.
The seedtime sun seemed to bow and fill the valley, making the white flowers in the grass shimmer like stars.
A pair of golden eagles soared over the loch.
There were mountains in the distance, but what stood out was much closer: a castle, a pond, fields of heather, meadows of gold, flocks of sheep. There were small homes as well, with thatched roofs and small corrals, dotting the pastures wherever there was a tree to shade it.
“This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen, Keir.
“’Tis indeed.
And when we get to the castle ye’ll see … there’ll be arbors an’ benches an’ birdbaths waitin’ fer ye beside carefully laid stone paths.
But I ken another spot, a secret place, I hope to show ye.”