Chapter 52
52
He whom love touches not walks in darkness.
Plato
“Sister, you seem unusually preoccupied this morning. I hope you’re not worried about Minette’s malady.” Loveday’s query nearly made Juliet miss a stitch as she worked her embroidery. “The leading Glasgow physic is attending her, remember.”
Juliet was worried that Minette’s ailment seemed to have worsened. Her sister, édith, was never far from her thoughts of late. Though Minette had said no more about her, the puzzle of her disappearance haunted.
But far more than this beat about her beleaguered brain. She could hardly share her concerns about last night and Leith. The very memory made her lightheaded if not lighthearted.
When she hesitated, Loveday pressed, “You’re not skittish about the Paisley ball, are you?”
Juliet looked up from her tambour frame to the window she sat beside. On a clear day she could see Paisley’s chim neys across a vast expanse of parkland. “I’ve not much time left to worry about it, you mean.”
“Time enough for the mantua-maker to finish our gowns. A spring engagement is lovely to look forward to.” Loveday turned coquettish. “As is a spring proposal.”
For a moment Juliet forgot her misery. “Has Niall asked you?”
“I expect he might declare himself after the ball.”
“And judging from your rapturous expression, I don’t have to wonder at your answer.” Juliet’s eyes narrowed. “This doesn’t have to do with a certain stillroom and garden, does it?”
“Such doesn’t hurt, but in truth he’s always been first in my affections. I just wanted to be sure it was best for us both.” Loveday leaned over and lifted a meowing Hobbes onto her lap. “There’s only one thing the matter. He’s not fond of cats. They make him sneeze.”
“Poor fellow,” Juliet replied. If only my situation were as simple.
“I’d like to wed before Father leaves for England.” Loveday ran a hand over the cat’s silky back. “Speaking of gardens, let’s go out and walk in yours. ’Tis much too pretty to stay indoors.”
A quarter of an hour later, they did just that. Bella and Cole were gamboling down gravel paths ahead of them while a small army of gardeners sheared and rolled and cultivated the lawn and flora all around them.
“Look.” Loveday gestured to a bench where Father and Zipporah sat watching the swans upon the lake. “Lovebirds abound.”
With a small smile, Juliet returned her attention to Bella, who stood beneath a flowering cherry tree, reaching for a blossom on her tiptoes, while Cole made a clumsy effort to climb its trunk.
“Nay, Master Cole.” Loveday removed him from the danger as Juliet plucked some blossoms for Bella and tucked one into her dark hair.
They walked toward the central fountain, then paused when a footman appeared, announcing Loveday had a caller. Soon Niall arrived as her escort, leaving Juliet and the children alone. Might Loveday receive a proposal before the ball and not after?
Juliet looked toward the wilderness and deer park. Where exactly had Havilah been laid to rest? The twins were too young yet to visit with any understanding. But when they were older, she hoped to take them there and bring flowers, honoring their mother’s resting place.
Hand in hand with the twins, Juliet walked toward the summerhouse, lush foliage and blooms pressed against the glass. This was the very place the Royal Vale gardener had told her about months before. Never had she imagined she’d stand here and literally see it for herself.
“’Tis summer inside,” she told the wide-eyed twins as they entered the glassed-in space perfumed with oleander and camellias and exotic blooms she had no name for. Cole found the pineapples fruiting in large clay pots, returning Juliet’s thoughts to Arthur, the chimney sweep. Such a tragic chasm between him and her stepchildren.
“Mrs. Buchanan.” The summerhouse gardener gave a courtly little bow. “’Twould seem your hands are a wee bit full at present.” He chuckled good-naturedly as Cole began playing with a daisy grubber, while Bella only had eyes for stone lambs beneath an orange tree.
“Let’s go see the live lambs,” Juliet said with a smile, steering the twins outside again. “And leave Mr. McFee to his fine work.”
“Take care not to fall into the ha-ha trenches,” he cautioned. “They’re mostly hidden.”
Father and Zipporah were still overlooking the lake, while Loveday and Niall were playing croquet on a far lawn. Glad as she was for Loveday, the thought of her marrying and leaving, even to move across the park, left Juliet at sixes and sevens.
Lord, why must all these leave-takings happen at once?
The hammering at her temples began again, and she thought longingly of Royal Vale’s stillroom remedies. She’d not yet ventured to the stillroom here, as it was overseen by the head housekeeper. Like the servants from Royal Vale, she had yet to find her place.
Bella yawned and held up her arms. “Mam.”
The tender word turned Juliet’s heart over. ’Twas a marvel she’d become Mam to them both at first meeting. Picking Bella up, Juliet kissed her cheek, then smiled down at Cole as he kissed her hand with childish fervency. She led them the rest of the way to where the sheep grazed beyond a ha-ha. Watching the wobbly-legged creatures leap and run made them all laugh.
The joyful moment banished the worry of before, and with a full heart she said to the twins, “You are my beloved lambs.”
How good and necessary it was to belong to someone.
Leith finished his perusal of all business done in his absence, a study that required long hours and more than a few headaches. He kept returning to the name Sinclair, the newest limited partner in the Buchanan firm. Who was Sinclair? Someone had signed him on but had left no paperwork or contractual documents. Odd.
Leith summoned his foremost clerk, Leo Tate, and waited until he appeared and shut the door.
“What do you ken of Malcolm Sinclair?” Leith asked.
Tate took a seat, his wary expression perplexed. “Never heard of him, sir.”
“Nor have I. But he’s now a limited partner with considerable shares.” Leith handed him a ledger. “Go to the bank and ask the attending clerk what transpired the day Sinclair became a partner in my absence. We’re missing needed paperwork.”
“An apprentice clerk—Thompson—also recently reported missing papers that I’ve not been able to track down. Ledgers involving recent transactions about mining rights in Berwick and beyond.”
“Then find out all you can about that matter too.”
“Of course, sir. Anything else?”
“Nae, for the moment.” Leith cleared his throat. “Actually, now seems a good time to tell you that I’ve decided to conduct most of my business from Virginia Street in future.”
“From home, sir?” Understanding dawned in Tate’s eyes. “Many merchants do, aye.”
Tate left his office, and Leith looked at the clock as it struck seven. Supper was at hand. If he left now he could return to Virginia Street for the meal, but without Juliet and the children the past sennight, the mansion seemed especially hollow. Yet his offices, in his current agitation, seemed unbearable too. Restless, he reached for his coat against the smirr of rain darkening the streets. And his mood.
As he left the countinghouse and began to walk down Ingram Street, that uneasy feeling overtook him again. Unlike a shadow on a sunny day, this felt cold. Dark. Darker than before. Fisting his cane, he wanted to beat away that unwelcome presence like he would a pickpocket or ne’er-do-well.
He walked faster, his cocked hat lowered against the damp, the sheen of his scarlet cape aglow in the lamplight. The doors of Ramshorn kirk stood open for evening service. Rarely did he give the place a glance, though his parents were buried in the large graveyard.
As he sought a back pew, some congregants turned to look at him. Few knew him here, though they knew who he was. Wasn’t that the mark of his entire life? To be unknown. To keep himself apart. To let his head rule, not his heart.
Here, in the kirk’s light, the shadows seemed to recede. He’d come in late, mid-service, he guessed. He wasn’t particularly interested in the sermon. He just needed a refuge from the rain that didn’t hold the absence of Juliet. Yet the very thought of her cut him, and with that laceration rushed in fresh despair. It seemed an ocean lay between them, the way together too deep. Had his losing his wits with her in his midnight bedchamber done irreparable harm?
“A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you: and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you an heart of flesh.”
Weighted, Leith wasn’t listening, yet somehow the preacher reached him. It seemed he sat alone in the kirk and the words resounded to no other. He stared down at his clenched hands and imagined other roughened, invisible places. His very soul seemed callused. Encased in granite.
He had become his father all over again. Frozen with arrogance. Caustic of tongue. An intimidating presence.
His base nature blinded Leith to the good around him. To those nearest him. The deeper into the shadows he descended, the more life’s beauty was blunted. He seemed to see no color. All was hues of gray, darkened by his own smallness and selfishness. And yet into his darkness had come a glimmer of light. Someone warm. Gracious. A welcoming presence.
He felt for the miniature in his pocket, never far away. Beside it curled a blue satin ribbon.
How did one exchange a heart of stone for one of flesh?