Chapter Twenty-Six
Despite his calm demeanor in front of Penelope, Callum was angry with his father.
He had hoped for more, and that Maxwell was behaving in such a stubborn, grumpy manner disappointed him.
As for this luncheon . . . he wished they were not sitting down with their neighbors.
He had hoped that they would refuse, but of course they were curious about Penelope, even Sir Hector who had sworn he would not enter Bonnyrigg again after Luna’s outburst about the oatcakes.
Penelope seemed to think this was some sort of test set by his father, and Callum feared she was right.
“Could Maxwell not have waited until we had settled in?” he demanded of Angus, when they met in the forest.
Angus looked as if he was having trouble keeping the smile off his face. Being married to Selina suited him. But he tried for a serious expression for Callum’s sake.
“Your father is giving your wife a chance to prove herself. If she fails then mabbe you could say at least she tried. Luna likes her, as do your brothers and sister. As far as I can see, ’tis only Maxwell who is the thorn in the stocking.”
Callum gave a gloomy nod. His mother and siblings did appear to like Penelope. They treated her as one of them, which she told him she found delightful. “It makes me feel like I have a family at last,” she explained.
He understood. She had been alone after her parents died, and then estranged from Mortimer. Naturally, she was enjoying being part of a larger family.
He just wished Maxwell would stop being such a prick.
Last night at dinner, his father hadn’t been at the end of the table as he usually was.
The duke’s chair had been empty and his mother had explained he had business to attend to.
But she had appeared to be worried. Callum had wanted to go and hunt him out and give him a piece of his mind, but he knew that would only make it worse.
He decided he would wait until after luncheon today and then he would make it clear to Maxwell that he was not going to stand for his behavior.
If he did not stop treating Penelope like an unwelcome guest, then they would leave.
All very grand, but he had the sinking feeling that Maxwell would think that was a good idea. Perhaps that was what he wanted? Would he go so far as to disinherit his eldest son just because he did not marry as he had been instructed?
“Let the lassie do her thing,” Angus said now. “She is good at soothing ruffled feathers.”
Callum agreed, but in his mind he was already deciding whereabouts in Inverness they could find a suitable house.
*
The long dining table in the great hall was set with glassware and silverware, the many-branched candelabra in its center.
There was even some greenery but thankfully no stuffed boars.
Callum knew word had got back to his family about that because Rory had shared his thoughts on it and Cat had giggled uncontrollably.
It made him wonder why Penelope wanted a family like his. There were times when he could have happily done without them.
The neighbors were treated to sherry before the meal, and Sir Hector pulled a face as he finished it off in one gulp, the tiny glass even smaller in his great paw. “What’s wrong with whisky?” he demanded. “We are real men here.”
“Some of us are women,” Luna retorted, glaring back.
Callum asked himself again why on earth his father cared what such fellows thought, but he knew why.
He had been told often enough. Maxwell was ambitious for his family, and he needed powerful friends rather than enemies if he was to see the MacKenzies rise higher.
It had always been his dream, and made all the stronger by the stinging comments he had received from others who thought him too lowborn to hold the position of duke.
“The fools say I do not deserve the title,” he had said bitterly. “One day they will change their tune.”
Penelope stood at Callum’s side and was introduced, curtsying prettily. She was a strikingly beautiful woman, but he worried that her looks might be held against her. People might say he had been blinded by her beauty and married her despite his father’s opposition.
“Ye are from London then?” Hector said disparagingly. “I do no’ see the sense of the place myself. Why go south of the border when we have the grandest towns here? Edinburgh for instance. London is nothing to Edinburgh.”
Penelope listened with polite attention. “If that is so, then surely you have much to teach the people of London,” she said earnestly.
Hector eyed her doubtfully. “Do you think they would listen?”
“I think they would. Although . . .” she hesitated. “Your accent might cause them some difficulties. You may have to speak very slowly, Sir Hector, because Londoners are rather slow learners.”
His clever wife had said the right thing, and Sir Hector looked pleased as he took his place at the table with the others. The courses were brought forth, proper servings Callum was glad to see, and he helped himself to seconds.
“Have ye cooked the oatcakes the way they should be cooked?” Hector said at one point, reminding them again of his falling out with Luna.
“I have them cooked the way they are always cooked,” Luna retorted, setting down her cutlery with a clatter.
“I have heard your oatcakes are the best in Scotland, Your Grace,” Penelope bravely spoke up. “But then I know so little about them. Tell me, Sir Hector, how do yours differ?”
Hector gave her a considering look. “I don’t quite know. My cook is the one who makes them and she assures me they are the best.”
“Oh. Perhaps she could show me.”
“Ye want my cook to show you how to make oatcakes?” Hector asked, surprised and with a touch of cynicism.
“If she wouldn’t mind,” Penelope said deferentially. “Then I could taste them and decide for myself. Her Grace wouldn’t mind, would you, Your Grace?” She looked at Luna with a smile.
“Of course not!” Luna declared, happy to join in. “I will rise to the challenge, Sir Hector. What say you? Are you brave enough to pit your cakes against mine?”
Hector seemed to be searching for the trap. “Aye, verra well. No tricks, mind.”
“I do not need any,” Luna said sweetly. “My oatcakes are the best by far.”
Callum looked doubtfully at his wife, and she gave him a wink. He remembered Angus’s saying he should trust her, but it was difficult to do so when there seemed to be so much at stake at this blasted luncheon.
The conversation turned to other matters.
Maxwell spoke of the sheep owned by his neighbors encroaching on his borders.
“I do not mind them,” he said, “but they take the land that feeds my tenants.” Hector thought the opposite, that there was good money to be made from the beasts.
They argued, but to Callum’s relief, it did not become hostile.
After the meal, they sat about the great fire, the men drinking Maxwell’s whisky, and the women chatting about children and their households.
“The ladies do not withdraw at Bonnyrigg?” Penelope asked curiously. “In London, the ladies withdraw to a separate room and leave the men to their talk.”
The room fell silent. “We do not withdraw at Bonnyrigg,” Luna said with a decided snap. “Not while I have breath in my body.”
“We ladies have just as much to say as the menfolk,” Cat spoke up, clearly echoing something her mother had told her. “We want our part in any decisions that have to be made.”
Luna gave her a pleased nod. “We are equal partners here.”
“Oh, I agree,” Penelope said with feeling.
“I always thought it very unfair. An old fashioned practice. This is so much better. My mother always wanted to stay to hear what was being spoken about,” she frowned, “and perhaps to stop him making another unwise investment, but my father was a conventional sort of man.”
Luna watched her curiously. “Your parents are in London?”
“No, no, that is . . .” Penelope swallowed and Callum reached for her hand—he was seated beside her.
“Penelope’s parents were killed in an accident ten years ago. She and her brother were left orphans.”
Sir Hector was quick to respond. “What sort of accident? A shooting accident? My brother died when one o’ his guests shot him instead o’ the grouse. Bloody fool.”
“It was a coaching accident,” Penelope said. “The coach rolled over and they were killed. My brother was only eight years old, and I had care of him.”
Luna exchanged a glance with Maxwell. “You were barely a child yourself,” she said with feeling. “Were you supported by other members of your family?”
Penelope seemed to be struggling with this subject and Callum wanted to put an end to it, but then he saw how those around them were hanging on her every word.
“My father had lost what money we had left through his bad investments, so we had no financial support. As for family . . . I have an uncle, but he is a selfish sort of man who did not want to be bothered with his sister’s children.
A friend of my father’s stepped in and offered me assistance and I took it, to my cost, but what else was I to do? ”
Penelope’s cheeks were fiery red. Her meaning would not be clear to most of the guests here, but Callum was sure his parents knew exactly what she was saying.
Jennie would have explained matters to them.
He admired his wife’s bravery in telling the truth when she could so easily have brushed it aside.
“Callum is so lucky.” Penelope looked at him, love in her eyes, before turning to the rest of his family seated nearby.
“If he needs help, he has you to ask. I am sure most of you here have families to depend on, and to love, and who love you. I do not know all of your circumstances, but I hope to. I had no one, and I still feel that loss. My brother was estranged and only lately has reunited with me. I have Callum to thank for that,” and no one could doubt she meant it.
Callum sought to lighten the conversation before they were all in tears. “He was a wee nightmare when I first met him,” he said, “but I quite like him now.”
That made them laugh and Callum felt the mood shift. Even his father was watching Penelope as if she was no longer his enemy.
“You have a brother?” Cat’s blue eyes were wide. “Why didn’t you bring him with you?”
Penelope bit her lip so Callum answered for her. “He did not want to come.”
“Then you must write to him,” Maxwell declared loudly. “Tell him he must visit as soon as possible. It is important to have your family around you.”
“But aren’t we Penelope’s family now?” Cat asked innocently, eyes even wider.
Maxwell stared at her a moment like he might reprimand her, and then he shook his head in defeat. “Aye, we are,” he agreed.
Callum felt such a wave of relief wash over him. He lifted Penelope’s hand to his lips, silently thanking her, and she gave him a shaky smile before turning her full attention on Maxwell.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said, heartfelt. “After my parents died, I longed for someone to say those words to me.”
Hector raised his glass, getting rather unsteadily to his feet. “To the boy’s wife! Even if she is an English lassie, she is one of us!”
They all drank, heartily echoing the toast.
Later, when the guests had gone, Luna and Maxwell invited Penelope to walk with them in the walled garden.
Cat and her stripy kitten—more of a cat now—joined them, while Callum dawdled behind, listening to the sound of their voices.
His father was telling the story of Callum running off to live in a tree, and Penelope was smiling as if she had never heard it before, and then Luna told the story of her meeting with his father, and Penelope was laughing.
Callum heard footsteps behind him and turned to find his brother Rory, casting an interested glance over the domestic scene.
“She is quite a woman, your wife,” he said. “Well done, Callum. And thank you. Our father has been telling me that it was up to me to bring home a suitable wife since you had failed.”
“Has he?” Callum shot Maxwell a dark look.
“Yes, but my point is, he is won over. I will be able to remain fancy free.”
“Don’t count on it,” Callum said. “He’ll want us all married to ‘suitable’ partners. It’s your turn now.”
Rory laughed. “I’ll never marry.”
Callum looked across at his wife. “Then you’re a fool. I heartily recommend it.”
But he could see Rory did not believe him. Oh well, one day his brother would fall in love and then it would be Callum’s turn to laugh.