Fair Is the Rose (13 page)

“It hasn’t fit me for many months,” Leana reminded her, pressing a hand to her waist. “Neil Elliot will think you’ve had the tailor fashion a new gown just to please him. Whatever your decision, you’ll want to look your best.” She steered her into the hall. “We’ll have Annabel press it for you.”

Within the hour Rose stood before the looking glass mounted over her dressing table, ducking her head to take it all in. The wine-colored
gown was a perfect fit. She’d had Annabel pull the laces tighter, accentuating her small waist and blossoming figure, then piled her black tresses high on her head to make her appear more sophisticated. A grown woman, not a
green
lass of sixteen. She dared not touch any rouge to her cheekbones, or her father would banish her to the washstand. Instead she pinched her cheeks hard and sank her teeth into her lips, hoping they might appear rosier as well.

A knock on the door sent her spinning toward it. “Aye?”

Annabel called, “Miss Rose, they’re here.”

They?
Rose hurried into the hall, the rustle of her petticoats a distinct counterpoint to the male voices booming up the stair—among them a jovial one that belonged to the grocer from Newabbey.
Mr. Elliot!
She backed away from the top step, her heart in her throat. Neil’s father had not come to deliver the necessary foods for their Martinmas feast.
Nae
. He had come to do business with her father.
Marriage business
.

“Baith father and son,” Annabel confirmed, peering down the stair at the commotion in the front hall. “My, aren’t they a pair? Look, here comes Neda tae collect ye.”

The housekeeper reached the top step. “ ’Tis guid that ye chose sae fine a gown this day,” Neda said with a broad smile. “Baith Mr. Elliots will see what a loosome bride ye’ll make.”

Father and son stood side by side, watching Rose descend the stair. Why did she feel as though she were a loaf of sugar to be bought and sold at market rather than the daughter of a prosperous bonnet laird? The elder Elliot wore a bright blue waistcoat with silver buttons. Neil’s suit of clothes were cut to a smart fit, though his hair cried out for scissors. If she married the man, would that task fall to her?

“Mr. Elliot.” She offered her hand as any lady of quality would. Colin Elliot obliged, looking amused as he bent to brush an airy kiss across her fingers. Neil followed suit, taking his time, pressing his lips to her skin with uncommon tenderness.
Dear Neil
. He truly did care for her.

“Enough with your highborn manners, Rose.” Her father, standing behind their guests, glowered at her. “We are not dining at Maxwell Park. Gentlemen, if you’ll join me at table, I’ll see our meat served.”

Rose grasped her skirts to calm her nerves and trailed after the men into the dining room, where Jamie and Leana stood waiting by their chairs. Brightening at the sight of her in the claret gown, Leana stretched up to whisper in Jamie’s ear. He offered a smile as well, brief though it was. If Jamie admired the dress Rose wore, his expression did not tell her so. Neil’s face, however, was an open volume, with an earnest declaration of love written across its pages in a plain, sure hand.

Rose bowed her head for prayer, grateful for any diversion. Please God, she would know what to say to Neil when the moment arrived.

While her father intoned a lengthy blessing on the food, her thoughts drifted back to a Sabbath conversation beyond the Elliots’ cottage door.
Suppose we save those words for a more private time and place
. Without meaning to, she’d welcomed an offer of marriage from the first. Now that time and place had come.

Rose blinked back tears while three maidservants swept into the room bearing dishes of steaming hotchpotch. The pungent aroma of stewed mutton and well-seasoned vegetables set her stomach churning. While the lasses ladled the thick soup, Rose watched naught but Jamie, praying she might find sympathy there. Her cousin glanced up in time to catch her staring at him, imploring him with her eyes,
Do something!
She noticed the faint lines across his brow. Was it concern? Or irritation?

“So, Uncle.” He looked toward the head of the table where Lachlan McBride busied himself with his soup. “As the Elliots are here at my invitation, when might we address the issue at hand?”

Oh, Jamie!
She’d hoped he might stall the proceedings, not hurry them along. What was the man thinking? She held her breath and gripped the round spoon next to her untouched plate as her father prepared to speak.

Fourteen

So comes a reckoning when the banquet’s o’er,
The dreadful reckoning, and men smile no more.

J
OHN
G
AY

T
is nothing that concerns you, Jamie.” Lachlan McBride’s words were a slammed door. “Mr. Elliot and I will discuss the matter later. In private.”

Colin Elliot started to make a comment, then glanced at his son, who shook his head without shaking it, so slight was the movement. Jamie must have noticed, for he shifted his gaze to Rose, who’d seen it as well. From one corner of the dinner table to the other, unspoken words hung in the air like stale peat smoke.

Her father seemed oblivious to the awkward lull in conversation, consuming his soup with noisy relish. After a lengthy pause, Mr. Elliot introduced the subject of Martinmas, which led to a spirited discourse on the changeable nature of weather and market prices. By the time her father called for the last course, Leana had disappeared to tend to Ian, and Jamie had returned to his ewes, leaving Rose to fend for herself. She offered a wan smile when necessary and ate her cranberry tart in silence, while the men talked all around her. Soon they would talk
about
her, and that would be exceedingly worse.

When Eliza and the others came in to clear away the last of the pewter plates, Lachlan stood to his feet. “Mr. Elliot, join me for a dram. I believe these two can entertain each other.” His eyes narrowed. “From a respectable distance, of course.” The two fathers disappeared behind the spence door, shutting it firmly behind them.

It seemed the men had taken all the sound from the room with them. Rose and Neil sat mute, eying each other across the empty table. Even the north wind, which had rattled the panes all through dinner, had fallen quiet.

Neil spoke first. His voice cracked, as if he were a
hauflin
no older than twelve. “R-Rose? W-will … ah, that is … will you …”

In his timid question came her certain answer:
Nae. I will not
.

“Mr. Elliot,” she said tentatively, then stood and began again. “Neil, we must come to some understanding.”

“Aye, Rose, we must.” Neil vaulted to his feet and skirted the table, ignoring her father’s edict. A moment later he stood beside her, taking in great gulps of air. She tucked her hands behind her skirts before he could reach for them, though he touched her elbow and confessed, “I … I should not have … have kissed you, Rose. But you seemed so …” His freshly shaved face turned scarlet. “So … taken with me. So interested. When I told my father about … about our walk through the abbey …”

Her eyes widened. “Whatever did you tell him?”

“Well, that I … that we kissed. That I intended to marry you. He agreed to speak to Mr. McBride at once. To …” He looked away, unable to meet her unflinching gaze. “To discuss the terms of your … bride price.”

“My
price?
” She had not even given him an answer yet, and already they were discussing financial matters. “Do you intend to purchase me like a ewe at Keltonhill Fair?”

“Rose! I—”

“Would you have my hand and not my heart?”

“Nae!” His eyes flew open in shock. “I would have them both, Rose. In truth, I … I thought I
had
your heart.”

Oh, Neil
. “Forgive me, Mr. Elliot.”

His eyes widened in confusion. “Will you not even call me
Neil?
”

Rose dropped her hands to her side, taken aback by his obvious despair. Amends must be made. “I do care for you, Neil.”

His head shot up, hope lighting his brow. “You do?”

“Aye, as a friend.” She hastened to add, “Or a brother. As a lad I’ve kenned all my life.”

His countenance fell. “But not as a husband.”

Biting her lip to keep from hurting him further, she only shook her head. “The fact is, I’m too young—”

“Och! I would wait for you, Rose.” He tugged on her elbow, pulling a hand free for him to clasp. “A year, if need be. Twa, if you like.” Neil squeezed her hand with a firmness born of desperation. With his other hand he touched her cheek. “You’re the bonniest lass in the parish. As fair as any
flooer
that e’er bloomed in Scotland.”

“But I’m not the flower for you,” she said, stepping back, tugging her hand free as she did. “I’m far too headstrong and full of opinions. You’d be miserable in a fortnight, Neil. Besides, you deserve a lass who loves you alone. And I …” She glanced away, swallowing her pride, speaking the truth at last. “I love another.”

Behind her, the spence door banged open. “What’s that you say, Rose?”

Father
. She froze, afraid to answer. How much had he heard? He walked across the room with Neil’s father close behind. The two men—one older, one younger by a dozen years—positioned themselves between the young couple, oblivious to their strained expressions.

Her father pressed a forefinger to his lips, as though considering something. “I’m certain I heard you use the word
love
with young Elliot here. Am I to assume you’re ready to move forward with the arrangements his father and I have discussed?”

She nearly fainted. “Arrangements?”

“Aye.” Colin Elliot beamed, obviously pleased with himself. He held up a parchment between two stout fingers. “As this marriage contract states, Neil is the eldest of my children. My property—the shop, cottage, and farmlands—will belong to him someday, which well pleased your father.” The men nodded at each other. “Since I’ve enough silver in my thrifite to meet the price set by Mr. McBride for your hand, there was little left to do but drink to your guid health and give you both our
blissin
.”

“Blessing?” Her lips were so parched she could barely form the word. “Perhaps …” Rose sought Neil’s gaze, pleading for him to speak. “Perhaps your son might explain.”

“But I am the one who is confused, Miss McBride.” Neil’s bewilderment was clear, from his knitted brow to the nervous manner in
which he tugged at his waistcoat. “I thought your intentions matched mine. That you loved me, as I do you.”

“Och!” Her father jerked his head to the side, as though he might spit on the hearth. “She’s confessed her love once, lad. Press her no further. Marriage has little to do with love and meikle to do with carrying on the family name.”

Neil grimaced. “When your daughter spoke of love a moment ago, sir, ’Twas not directed at me.”

“Who then?” Lachlan barked, staring hard at Rose, then back at Neil.

“She … did not say.”

“Aye, but she
will
say!” Her father planted his foot a step closer, scowling as he did. “What manner of man would woo my daughter without my knowledge or permission?”

“None,” she hurried to say, grateful for a slender thread of truth to offer. “No stranger has wooed me, of that you can be sure.”

“So you’ve no other suitor than young Elliot here?”

She shook her head. “No sir.” Jamie was many things, but a suitor was not one of them.

Her father persisted, “And you do not wish to marry this prosperous grocer’s son?”

Rose looked away, unable to bear another glimpse of Neil’s pain or her father’s fury. “Forgive me,” she murmured.

Collin Elliot threw up his hands. “Is there to be a wedding this Yule or not?”

“Not,” Neil answered, his shoulders sagging. “Come, Father. ’Tis best we take our leave. Whatever family business the McBrides have to settle, ’twill not involve us.”

Rose’s apology was ignored by all three men, who turned their backs on her and made their way into the hall. Staring at the hearth, her hands clasped before her, Rose heard their voices fade out the front door, carried away by the strong winds. It was just as well, for though the words they spoke were true, they were not kind.
Thoughtless. Immature. Flindrikin
.

The front door banged shut. Rose swallowed the knot of apprehension that threatened to choke her and prepared to face her father’s wrath. He came directly, his coattails flapping behind him, his gray eyes ablaze.

“What the de’il were you thinking, lass? Playing our young neighbor for a fool and his father as well!” He stormed about the room, his fist raised as if he were General Hawley at Culloden Moor. His voice rose with it. “Do you not see? The disgrace you’ve brought to my doorstep with your capricious behavior will leave a black mark no amount of silver can scrub clean.”

“Father, Neil and I were naught but friends—”

“
Friends?
” He spun on his heel. “ ’Twas not the word young Elliot used. He said he
loved
you, Rose. You can be sure he’s ground that sentiment into the dirt beneath his boots by now. ’Tis a long ride back to Newabbey with a sullen father and a broken heart.”

She gripped the wooden back of a chair for support and stared out the window at the bleak, gray sky. “I did not mean to hurt him.”

“What
did
you mean to do then?” He walked in front of her, blocking her view with his menacing stance. “Dishonor the Almighty? Shame this household? Or did you hope to make a certain cousin jealous enough to forget his marriage vows?”

“I did no such thing, Father!” Her heart leapt into her throat. “Jamie belongs to Leana, not to me. You of all people ken why that’s so, Father.”

Lachlan McBride did not flinch at her clear accusation. “ ’Twas the will of the Almighty.” He spoke with such conviction she almost believed him. “The burden falls on me to find you a proper husband. How can I manage, Rose, when you confound me at every turn? Pining after your married cousin for months. Trifling with a neighbor’s son and refusing his honest offer of marriage.” He glanced at the mantel clock, then shook his head with a decided frown. “The village gossips will not soon let go of this meaty bone, I can promise you that.”