Chapter 63
63
Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.
William Wordsworth
The next day Juliet awoke in one of Lamb Hill’s bedchambers, her first thought always of Leith.
She slipped from the bed to her knees, praying till she heard the house waking around her. Forcing herself to have tea and toast, she began another letter to Aunt Damarus, trying to be optimistic and inviting her to visit them if there wasn’t to be a war. That was truly a stretch. Since Leith’s detention, war with the colonies had been the farthest thing from her mind, even if it was on everyone else’s.
After donning a simple linen dress, she joined Loveday and the twins in the summerhouse to check the progress of the pineapples and melons, then her sister showed her the stillroom. Of painted white brick, the chamber boasted enormous windows and more cupboards than one could count, a lovely hearth at one end large enough to stand inside of, and even an oven. Juliet was taken aback by the beauty of so simple a space.
Loveday looked right at home. “Niall has been calling me his stillroom queen, and I plan to be quite happy here, filling the shelves with jams and jellies, vinegars, spices and herbs, perfumes and cosmetics, and the like.”
“What’s that?” Juliet asked, pointing to a contraption that the twins were examining in a corner.
“An ancient seventeenth-century device to distill cordial waters. I cannot wait to try it.” Loveday began bustling about.
Juliet’s focus narrowed to the medicinal cupboard that rivaled Williamsburg’s apothecary. “I spy calomel, which returns me to our prior conversation and the ongoing investigation.”
“I’ve done a little digging since then.” Loveday stopped her bustling. “Alchemists say ’tis a form of mercury. A white powder.”
A sick sensation formed in the pit of Juliet’s stomach. What was calomel doing at Lamb Hill?
“’Tis used sparingly, as it’s known to cause tremors and severe nervous symptoms, though it is often found in Scottish cupboards.”
Their eyes met in mutual concern, then Loveday passed to a window. “Who can that be that I hear on the drive? Father? Why don’t you go meet him, as he might bring news.”
Leaving the stillroom, Juliet saw Father arrive without Zipporah, who was nursing a cold.
“I’m feeling my age today,” he said. “I had the coachman deliver me to Ardraigh Hall instead of Lamb Hill, quite forgetting where you are.”
“I’m sorry, Father.” They moved into the house and the smallest drawing room. “This travesty is taking a toll on everyone.”
“Don’t be sorry, Daughter. None of it is your fault.” He reached inside his weskit and withdrew a letter.
From Leith? Juliet almost seized it in her joy, then pressed it to her bodice as if it could steady her rolling emotions.
“Shall I give you a few moments alone?”
“No, I don’t want you to tarry, as Zipporah might need you.”
“Tarry I must, and gladly.” He took a seat in a chair Leith preferred. “While you read privately, I’ll just have a bit of quiet and peach brandy.”
“’Tis there in the decanter on the end table.” She sat in the twin chair beside him, reminded of the times she and Leith had done the same, and broke the seal with some surprise. Somehow he’d been given the tools to pen her a few words.
My beloved Juliet,
So unlike Leith. Yet she had never had a letter from him, so how was she to know his style? Her heart, so sore, was assuaged somewhat.
I ken not how much longer we are to be separated, though I pray continually for our reunion. If anything good can come from our situation, it is this—being removed from myself, as it were, and all the temporal routines and obligations that bound me, has caused me to regard any time left to me, to us, as altered. My former life with all its trappings seems naught but dross. Little glitters or has value but you, the children, a life dedicated to what matters eternally. I apologize for being insufferable and behaving badly ofttimes.
I miss you more than words can say. My heart is yours, has been yours since the moment we met. Nothing can alter that, not separation nor silence nor even death.
You are my first waking thought and my last, and in all the hours between. You alone are keeping hope alive in me. You and God Himself
The letter left off abruptly and she felt the wrench of it, held captive midsentence by what he’d been about to say. Someone had come in, likely, and told him to stop. Pondering what might have happened since he wrote it, she folded the paper and slipped it into her pocket to peruse again later.
The twins’ laughter carried from the walled garden where they were walking about with Beatrice. The sound buoyed Juliet like a drowning soul thrown a rope. The double rainbow, the twins, Leith’s letter. All good things that kept her from unraveling completely.
Father poured himself another brandy. “The trial has now begun, and though we know nothing of what’s happening inside those legal chambers, we will hope for the best ... while preparing for the worst.”
The worst. Juliet laced her hands together in her lap. “What preparations do you have in mind?”
“Let’s start with the trial. Tennant has informed me of how matters stand. I’m stunned by the family perfidy, but it seems increasingly clear Euan is complicit. If he and Cochrane somehow manage to have Leith convicted, then we need you to leave Glasgow, as his estate will be contested, including the custody of Bella and Cole.”
“Oh, Father. I couldn’t bear it if Euan took the twins. I hope Loveday and Niall fight for them if it comes to that, if Leith and I cannot have them—”
“They are prepared to fight, aye. But first they will fight for your rights, and that Leith’s will, which named you their guardian on your shipboard journey here, be upheld.”
“Go on.”
“Leith’s legal counsel believes they have enough evidence to expose Euan and Cochrane as accomplices guilty of murder, fraud, embezzlement, and whatnot. The list is long.”
“At least Niall is innocent of all this.”
“Thank heaven for that. The guilty parties will likely go to trial,” Father continued grimly. “If convicted, they face death or transportation.”
“Transportation?”
“To the Caribbean is my guess. But I’m here to talk about you primarily, not them.”
Mind awhirl, she was trying to keep up with all the repercussions and possibilities. Leith could go free. Leith could be transported to somewhere other than the colonies, once the favored destination for convicts. Or Leith could hang. On the other hand, Euan and Cochrane faced all of the same. She still knew nothing of Lyrica’s involvement or the lack of it.
Another headache beat at her temples. “’Tis terribly complex.”
“Should the worst happen and Leith is convicted, I advocate your coming immediately to Bath. Niall and Loveday will remain here, of course, for the time being, depending on what happens next.”
Bath. Without Leith, Bath was an empty shell of a place. Would she spend the rest of her life missing him? Grieving him? Mourning the life they would have had with the twins?
“The tolbooth chaplain is the one who conveyed Leith’s letter to me to give to you. If you’d like to pen a response, I will carry it back to him in hopes Leith will have it.”
“Of course.” She went to a writing desk along one damask-clad wall. Her hands fairly shook, and she willed her headache away.
Just then, Loveday swept in with a medicinal toddy. “I know that look,” she said, setting the hot beverage down atop the desk. “You’ve had few of your spells since coming to Scotland, so ’tis especially apparent to me here.”
Juliet thanked her, then took out ink, sand, and a newly sharpened quill. For a moment she froze as she stared down at the pristine paper. She exchanged her pen for a bracing sip of the toddy as Loveday took her seat beside Father and they conversed quietly by the fire.
Dearest husband,
I did not think it possible that I could love you more in absence, but I do. Each day without you seems a lifetime, though I continue to hope and pray the door of that cell will swing open and you will take me in your arms again. Not once have I ever doubted you. The grievous wrong done you will come to light. ’Tis only a matter of time. God Almighty will make a way. Do not worry for a moment about me or our children. They are a consolation and joy to me without you, though bittersweet. More and more I see you in their changing faces, their moods, even the tone of their voices. They do you proud, and I am beyond blessed to be their mam.
We shall all be reunited. Think not of any future other than beautiful, restorative Bath. We shall have the honeymoon till now denied us. See you soon, my heart.
Your ever loving wife, J
She leaned closer, a tear spattering the paper where she’d signed her name. The drop gave an extra flourish to the J . After drying the ink with sand, she affixed the indigo seal with her intaglio ring and wax from a lit candle.
She had sold Royal Vale to Nathaniel Ravenal, who’d manumitted the Africans. She was no longer an indigo heiress. She was Leith Buchanan’s wife, and her future had never been more uncertain.