Chapter 6
Six
When Lord Finlay Mackenzie, Eighth Duke of Galloway, arrived punctually at ten that morning, he found his cousin still seated blearily at his breakfast. Helping himself to some sausages and a slice of cake on the sideboard, then being served with a steaming dish of tea by a bustling Archibald, Finn made himself comfortable.
“Bad night?”
The response was a raised eyebrow and a sardonic, “How did you guess?”
“Wet upon your return?”
“Thoroughly soaked. The streets were devilishly crowded on my ride back and it was miserable all around.”
“And the state of things at home?”
“I arrived to find both Marjorie and Peg in tears. Knots were in ample evidence. Marjorie couldn’t untie Peg, and both of them were tired and hungry. Marjorie was determined not to waste the rope and fail in her sailor’s duties by cutting it, and it was a right hullaballoo.”
“So, what happened, Alec? You are no sailor.”
“No. My knot-tying skills are too rusty. Well, non-existent. I had to cut the rope. The level of hullaballoo increased. My daughter has a very carrying voice. There were complaints.”
Alec directed a glare at his cousin. “A lot of complaints.”
Finn raised his hands up in surrender. “I had nothing to do with them. A completely innocent party here.”
“And how did you sleep, Finn?”
“Like a baby.”
“Humph.”
Finn fixed his cousin with a most emphatically mild look. “Truth to tell, I rather think the bears are here and not at the Tower this morning. Have you considered charging admission? Perhaps you don’t need an heiress after all.”
“Oh, you are in a capital humor. Marjorie! Peg! Are you ready yet?”
“Alec! You are bellowing! Is this how you manage your household? No wonder Marjorie is considered untamed and wild.”
“Finn, she is nothing of the sort. Thoroughly civilized. Paragon of decorum. Marjorie!”
“Alec!”
“All right, perhaps not a paragon. Marjorie! She has to have heard me.”
“Alec, the entire street has heard you. From one end to t’other. Snuff?”
“Absolutely not, Finn. That stuff is vile! Do you actually partake? I have never seen you do so before. Good God—and at this hour of the morning, too?”
“Not at all. It is part of the entire,” and here Finn paused, and made a sweeping gesture from the crown of his head to his feet, “ensemble.”
Alec shook his head and stood. “I shall have to go and fetch them myself. Terribly managed household. No respect. None. Marjorie!” and he walked out the door into the hall.
Finn settled himself more decidedly in his chair. He heard a loud rapping down the hall and a bellowed, “Marjorie! Time to rise and get ready! Uncle Finn is here, and it is nearly time to leave.”
He heard the door open and a firmly stated, “But I am not ready yet, Papa. Peg, you must tell him!” and the door slammed shut.
“Marjorie!” If a door could be said to open reluctantly, Finn could hear that door do so.
The rest of the conversation was conducted at a lower volume, thank God, and the door shut again.
He heard heavier footsteps clomping a few feet further down the hallway, another door opening and then shutting.
Lord, this was a small set of rooms. Ah, but finally! Blessed silence. Finn closed his eyes in appreciation and slowly sipped the rest of his tea. Then a door opened and the sound of light, eager footsteps alerted him that his moment of relaxation was at an end.
Into the room stepped Marjorie, properly coiffed, neatly dressed and with a demure expression on a carefully innocent face.
She was a small child, elfin even, with delicate features, dark brown eyes, and hair which was transitioning from the light blonde of toddlerhood to a light brown, and which would likely end up as dark as her father’s by the time she was fully grown.
It was not in her features that she resembled Alec, more so in the way she held herself, unconsciously imitating her father’s soldier’s posture.
Finn could see that she retained her favorite pose, which was the despair of each governess who attempted to mold her: legs firmly planted in a good wide stance, and with her arms held behind her back, ostensibly waiting for the coming command.
She was clearly completely uninterested in carrying herself the way a young lady of her rank should.
It made him want to both sigh and demand that she never change.
As she had told them the last time they met, such a secure footing was good practice for serving on board ships.
And, as she declared to him that said opportunity to go to sea might come upon her at any time, “It is best to be prepared, Uncle Finn.”
He came to himself with a start, as the object of his reflections had begun to address him, accompanied by a rather determined look.
“Good morning, Uncle. Papa has told me I have kept you waiting. I am so terribly sorry.” She briefly scrunched up her face, eyes wandering up and to the left as she attempted to recollect the remainder of her precisely prepared phrase. “It was most … remiss of me.”
Finn attempted to receive the message with the same carefully cultivated air in which it had been delivered, but his eyes gave him away, prompting Marjorie to launch herself at him. “I did try. I did! You must tell Papa!”
“I will, my poppet. I will! Ow! Leave off! I must say, you look very nice.”
Hearing this prompted Marjorie to cease her assault. She stood up straight and bobbed a little curtsy. “Thank you ever so much, Uncle Finn.”
“Now, remember, when we are out in public in London, you are to refer to me as Uncle Henry.”
At that, Marjorie blinked a couple of times and then asked, “Isn’t your name Finlay?”
“Yes, it is. Well, one of my names.”
“How ever many do you have?”
“Several. Too many to mention. A ridiculous number. Suffice it to say, Finlay, or Finn, is how I am known among m’intimates, such as yourself. And Henry is how I am known down here in London, among all these Normans, err, English. Henry is a Norman name. Came over with the Conqueror himself.”
“Why must you use a different name?”
“Well, it allows me to be two people. I’m Finlay at home, and Henry in Town.
Besides, I wish to be viewed as a Nonpareil here in London.
And one cannot be such a personage with a name like Finlay.
Won’t do. Won’t do at all. Anyway, history.
Now, you know my mother, the Dowager Duchess, and your grandmother, both sisters of the finest water, were English. Well, are in m’mother’s case.”
“Yes.”
“When I was born, she insisted at least one of my names be properly English and Henry is a frequently appearing one in her family tree. Very old and distinguished family. Generations of stuffy old men in plum-colored waistcoats, don’t you know.”
Marjorie giggled.
“I gather they wrangled over it for a bit. That is, my revered parents did. M’mother is very stubborn when she wishes, and m’father, not wishing to have to repair to another of his estates and bring about an estrangement, eventually acquiesced.
Additionally, I rather think he had a soft spot for her.
Oh, hang it—completely besotted, head over heels. So, Henry.”
“Finlay in Scotland and Henry in Town.”
“Absolutely. Tip-top. You have it right. Don’t forget now, mind!”
“What does my papa say?”
Finn rolled his eyes. “What do you think he says, Marjorie? When I remind him, only bear-like growling ensues. And speaking of bear-like, are you ready to go meet these fine animals?”
“Most decidedly! Oh! Should we bring them something to eat? They must eat meat, yes? Their jaws are so big. And is this meat to be raw, or cooked? And, if raw, how bloody should it be?”
“You possess a most violent imagination, young lady. No, we do not need to bring meat with us to feed the bears, bloody or cooked. Do you have your guidebook at the ready?”
In response, Marjorie reached into the pocket of her pinafore and extracted the volume in question.
“Excellent! Then all we need is your Papa and Peg, and we shall be off.”
“Oh, do let’s leave Peg behind. Please? Would it be improper if we did? You see, I think she has a bit of a headache at the moment, and I believe she could use some time away from me.”
“Time away from you? That sounds like a very grown person type of thing to say.”
“Well, that is what Papa said when he came upon Peg getting me ready for our outing. She was a bit red in the face and beginning to look like a thunderstorm, you know, when her hair is coming out of her cap and her eyes look as if they would give off sparks. Like that.”
“Hmmm. Well, this means your father and I will need to manage. On your best behavior, then, miss?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Sailor’s honor?”
“Sailor’s honor. Oh, and Uncle Finn?”
“Yes?”
“Are we Scotchmen? That is what the butcher’s boy called out at Archibald when he delivered the leg of lamb yesterday.”
Finn sighed. How to begin to discuss the intricacies of the long and wrangled history of the English-Scottish relationship?
“Is this not a question to ask your father?”
He received a decided shake of the head in the negative.
“Very well, then. No, Marjorie. We are Scots. But the English prefer to refer to us as Scotch. ‘Tis one of those things. Best to pay them no mind. It is too long and dreary a tale for today.”
At that moment, Alec re-entered the room, the remaining pieces of his outfit in place, and plainly ready to leave.
“What is too long and dreary a tale? Never mind. Have you made amends, Marjorie?”
“Yes, Papa. Tip top.”
Her father blinked at the phrase and looked over at his cousin. “Tip top, is it? Hmm. Finn, it will just be the two of us with her Highness. Peg is―”
“Marjorie has explained the current situation with Peg. I have slapped on m’armor and am ready to depart.”
“Excellent. Then we shall set off. Marjorie, retrieve your coat and hat so we can leave. To the bears!”
“To the bears!” responded Finn and Marjorie, and out they headed once coat, hat, and gloves had been added to the girl’s attire.
But before they stepped over the threshold, Finn saw his best friend and cousin pause briefly, take a deep breath, and set back his shoulders.
Finn relaxed his cultivated gaze of disengagement and allowed his visage to turn sympathetic.
He knew this trip was not easy for Alec.
Alec and his sense of honor. Alec and whatever grief he might retain concerning his late wife—feelings he never shared with Finn.
But he knew a look of compassion would bring out a fresh volley of grumpiness.
Finn therefore had resumed his usual mild expression the next time Alec happened to glance at him.