The Chevalier (7 page)

 
Seven

The journey to Scotland was at best an ordeal for Madeline as well as her mother. Madeline could not help but worry about her mother’s pain and discomfort although Maman did not complain. In their well-sprung coach, they took only her mother’s maid, Marie. The driver and footman rode together on top, pistols handy, watching for highwaymen. Informed of the famine that swept Scotland, her mother had seen fit to carry with them sacks of oats and barley and other staple provisions so that their visit would be less of an imposition on their relatives.

“I would not for the world offend their pride,” her mother explained, “but from what we’ve been told, there’s great need in the country of my birth.”

Maman also saw fit to have her many valuable jewels carefully sewn into specially made seams in her traveling gown and cloak. An inside pocket in Madeline’s own gown concealed a number of gold coins. Her Maman did not close the London townhouse but kept the servants working there as usual.

“I will not be returning here,” Maman had explained in a calm voice, “but the house will be yours and it should be in readiness for you if and when you wish it. A woman must always have something of her own if it is possible.

When I am gone, you will keep my jewels and use them as you see fit. We will not depend on the generosity of Roland for your portion. Even if a woman has a good husband, as I did, it is still advisable that she maintains economic independence. One should never be at the mercy of any man if one can help it,
ma petite
. I pass this bit of information on to you and hope it will help you make fewer mistakes.”

Madeline nodded her head solemnly, recalling that her mother had a hard life before she met Papa. It seemed so unfair; now that Maman could live a life of ease, everything was being taken from her. Madeline’s eyes filled with tears.

“Do not be sad. I will die in peace if I know that you are provided for.”

“I wish you would not talk of such matters,” she protested.

Her mother touched her face with thin, trembling fingers. “You are still just a child, and I wish that I could live to see you well married and content, but I fear that is not to be. I must talk of practical matters with you, for I know that you have a wildly romantic spirit; therefore, I must attempt to protect you from what might bring your downfall. Please try to think with your head rather than your heart. I do not wish my child to be hurt.”

“I will be careful, Maman. You have my word.”

“That Englishman made me most uneasy,” her mother said.

Madeline nodded her head mutely, although she could not bring herself to meet Maman’s eyes. What could she say? Maman was right as usual. Gareth Eriksen was so overwhelming that when he kissed her, igniting a passion in her that would not be denied, she could not imagine refusing him anything he might ask of her. He truly was a dangerous man.

♥ ♥ ♥

Madeline disliked the many hours of sitting stiffly in a moving coach. After a time, watching the scenery go by became monotonous. Their trip was as uneventful as it was uncomfortable until they reached Derby. Here they found people in total panic. Merchants were shutting their shops and local residents were running to the banks for payment of their notes.

They disembarked at the local inn only to discover the landlord and his wife frightened out of their wits.

“What is all the agitation about?” Maman asked them.

“Your ladyship, don’t know that the Highland army is coming this way? The barbarians will kill us all!”

“Nonsense,” her mother said indignantly. “That is totally absurd.” She demanded that they be served and offered to pay the landlord double his usual price, which had a remarkable effect in allaying his fears.

They dined on wine and capon and were soon on their way, in spite of warnings from the citizenry. Six miles out of Derby, their coach was surrounded by riders, and they were stopped. Jim Wenders, their coachman, knocked on the door of the vehicle.

“Beg, your pardon, milady, but there seems to be some soldiers wishing to speak with you.” He sounded very nervous.

Maman stiffened her spine and opened the door immediately. The men who stared at them were rough-looking and bearded. Madeline saw immediately that they wore the tartan and the kilt, and allowed herself to breathe again.

“Why they’re Highlanders,” she exclaimed excitedly.

Maman gave her a sharp look that silenced Madeline, then turned back to face the men. “What is it that you want?”

“We saw the white cockade on your driver’s hat and knew that you were sympathizers. Are you on your way to Scotland?”

“That we are,” Mama responded. “And who would you be?”

“Happen we’re of the clan Glengarry, Madame. And who would you be?”

“My father was the Chief of the MacCarnan until he was attainted and forced to flee to France.”

The Highlander rubbed his dark beard thoughtfully. “The MacCarnan clan is here with the Prince’s army. If you’ll wait, I’m certain you might visit with your relatives.”

“Thank you. We’ll remain where we are.”

Maman gave orders for their coach to be pulled to the side of the road. However, there was hardly a need: no one else was coming along the narrow country lane at this time. It was clear to Madeline that the deserted nature of the road was due to the panic surrounding the advent of the Highlanders.

Madeline observed that her mother’s eyes were brilliant emeralds in silent anticipation of the meeting. “Perhaps you will finally get to see your cousin,” Maman said happily, “then you will think of no other man.”

Did Maman realize how attracted she had been to Gareth Eriksen? Probably, for even in illness, there was no one more sensitive or perceptive. Madeline waited, uneasily shifting her weight from one side to the other. It seemed as if an eternity passed before riders returned again. Madeline looked out to see that only two men were actually on horseback. Although there were other soldiers, they were all on foot. Her mother was right; they were a handsome people, these Highlanders; tall, fair-skinned, fierce-looking warriors. They simply took her breath away.

The man who rode up to their coach made her gasp in surprise. His hair was auburn, a dark red-brown, and his eyes were a deep forest green. His broad, muscular build made him seem quite formidable and virile.

Leaning on Marie’s arm, her mother climbed out of the coach, straining with effort. Madeline quickly followed.

“You are James and Annie’s son. I’d know you anywhere. I’m your cousin Katherine and this is my daughter, Madeline.”

Andrew MacCarnan stared at them both as they came out of the coach. “They told me I had relatives here but I thought it some sort of joke.”

“Indeed, we are going to visit your mother.”

“It is bad times for a visit,” Andrew told them. “But you will be welcome nonetheless.”

Madeline could feel his eyes on her and she turned her look modestly downward.

“I did not know I had so lovely a cousin,” he said.

Her eyes came up and she caught the warmth of his smile.

“You’ll be staying until I come back from the fight?” he asked hopefully.

“And then some, I expect,” her mother answered.

Andrew took her mother into his huge, strong arms and gave her a bear hug. “I’ll be looking forward to celebrating our victory with you and my family,” he said. Then he turned to Madeline. “In olden times a lady would give her knight some token to carry with him into battle. Will you give me something of yours?”

She nodded her head shyly. From her sleeve, she removed a blue, silk scarf and handed it to him. He took it into his hand, and as he did, his fingers brushed her own. Then he put the scarf to his nose.

“What a fine scent, like fragrant spring flowers, just like yourself.” His smile was a brilliant sunburst. “When I come home, I’ll welcome you properly to Scotland. You have my promise as the Chief of the MacCarnan.”

“Please take a sack of oats back with you,” her mother hastened to say. “We would consider it an honor to in some way help the Prince’s army.”

“I won’t deny our need is great. Thank you, Cousin.”

“Is there a message for your good mother?” Maman asked.

He favored them with a wide grin displaying pearly teeth to advantage. “Just tell her you saw me as our army began the march to London. Tell her we’ve marched into the heart of England, no more than some one hundred and twenty five miles from the capital and 13,000 men strong. Tell her we intend to face the Duke of Cumberland’s army without fear as true Highlanders with courage in our hearts.” His eyes glistened proudly.

Madeline clapped her hands with joy and blew him a kiss.

Andrew MacCarnan swooped down gracefully from his mount and kissed Madeline’s hand in return. “You’re a bonnie lass and I’ll ne’er be forgettin’ ye.” Then he put the proffered sack of meal across his saddle and rode away.

“I told you he would be wonderful,” Maman said in a soft, husky voice.

Madeline agreed silently. Andrew was quite impressive. But strangely she found herself thinking about Gareth Eriksen again. By now he must have joined his own regiment of English soldiers. Would they soon be fighting her cousin’s Highlanders? The thought made her feel ill. She could not think well of war, not if it meant that good men would have to fight and kill each other. To consider either Gareth or Andrew killing the other was unbearable, insupportable. Surely, there must be some better way to settle disputes?

♥ ♥ ♥

When they reached Scotland, the countryside changed dramatically. For one thing, the beautiful rolling green farmlands and forested acreage so typical of Northern England were gone. Scotland, it seemed, was mostly ugly flatlands. When Madeline commented on this, her mother observed that the trees in the Lowlands had long since been depleted, never to be replaced.

“But the Highlands are quite different; you will see.”

They did not go directly to the Highlands however. As they had promised Constance, they made a brief visit to her father. The elderly Baronet seemed quite happy to make them welcome to his home. The laird was a country gentleman and lived in a tall, stone mansion with a corbel-stepped gable roof that stood gaunt and fortress-like in the treeless and hedgeless stark landscape. There was no lawn or garden to speak of, but cornfields came up to the mansion wall on one side. The interior of the house boasted no luxuries, the furniture simple while the floors had no carpets. The walls lacked paintings and seemed bare with their lack of decoration. The bedchamber that she and Maman were shown to even lacked a fireplace.

Madeline’s first impression of lowland Scottish aristocratic life was that it was impoverished in comparison to England or France. But the old man was so chivalrous that it more than made up for the gloom of his meager home.

They ate with the laird that evening, a plain meal of grouse and salmon, served in one course with Scottish ale. The talk was all of Prince Charles and the Jacobites.

“They might have a chance this time around,” the old man said, excitement showing in the glimmer of his eye. “My daughter thinks I’m an old fool in that regard. She prefers her dead mother’s English relatives to her family in Scotland and takes the English side in political matters. She went and married herself a titled Englishman much against my wishes. But she’s a strong-willed lass and I would not fight her. She’d ne’er have forgiven me. What will your lassie do? Will she marry a Scot?”

Maman smiled with an inner radiance. “A Highlander if I have any say in the matter. She’ll marry her cousin, the MacCarnan.”

“The MacCarnan, is it?” the old man smiled roguishly. “Perhaps then you will be able to get him to stop coming down to filch my cattle each year.”

“The clansmen steal your cattle?” Madeline asked, truly appalled.

The laird nodded at her. “‘Tis the way of the Highlanders, lass. They’re a wild lot. We lowlanders have suffered their incursions for centuries. ‘Tis nothing new, I do assure ye.”

He and her mother seemed to just accept the fact that the Highlanders were cattle thieves, but she found the information quite disturbing. What other disagreeable things did she not know about the nature of the clansmen?

As if he were reading her mind, the laird continued to speak. “They’re a damn sight better than the English anyway. Our neighbors to the south are purse-proud and overbearing, you may be quite sure. Why there’s hardly a place in the kingdom but its inhabitants could tell how the English had burnt it, and we’re still unavenged.”

“Perhaps that will change when Prince Charles rules.”

“Aye, let’s drink to the Stuarts!”

They lifted their glasses and drank.

“Will you be seeing Constance before I do?” the old laird asked them, blinking through watery eyes.

“I think not, sir. We are going on to the Highlands. I believe your daughter intends to visit you in the spring. But she will, in any case, be sending word to you,” Maman responded.

The old man looked pleased. “Perhaps by then there will be word of a bairn,” he said. “It’s high time.”

At the Baronet’s insistence, they remained several days before resuming their journey. These were days that her mother desperately needed to rest and Madeline was glad for them as well. She did not sleep well at night. Her nights were tortured by dreams from which she would awaken with remembrance all too vivid. Usually, she was held in Gareth Eriksen’s powerful arms and he was kissing her, his hands moving sensuously along her body. She would wake up yearning, wanting, she knew not what. But always, the dreams were so real. Sometimes her nigh-trail was soaked with perspiration.