Authors: Bertrice Small

Just Beyond Tomorrow (15 page)

BOOK: Just Beyond Tomorrow

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But the time of Christ's Mass was approaching. While the new church in Scotland did not favor undue celebration, if indeed one celebrated at all, Flanna knew here at Glenkirk the old traditions would be kept. And no complaint would be made to the distant authorities who were, after all, strangers. Each clansman, and his family, able to make the journey would be welcome at the castle. There would be gifts for everyone. Knives, honingstones, and arrows for the men. Ribbons, thread, and lace for the women. Sweets for all the children. Each family who came would receive a silver coin. Rents were forgiven the most ancient of the pensioners. There would be feasting in the Great Hall for everyone over the twelve days of festivities.

It would be an odd celebration, Angus knew, as he began the preparations. James Leslie was dead, and his wife, beloved by the clansmen and women, was gone from them to foreign places. Still, it would be his niece's first Christmas as mistress of Glenkirk. He wanted it to be a memorable one for her and a happy one for their guests. Angus had made a friend of Mary More-Leslie. It had not been easy for Mary had been devoted to the Duchess Jasmine and practically worshiped her servant, the legendary Adali. If the duke had been embittered by the events of the last few months, so, too, had Glenkirk's housekeeper. But Angus Gordon had charm, and he had manners. Mary realized immediately that he was a bit more than a mere servant.

Adali, Angus quickly learned, had overseen all the domestic arrangements at Glenkirk, ruling the servants with a firm, but kindly hand. Angus now did the same. Relieved to have a strong hand in charge again, the castle folk responded to his authoritative rule. Mary, pleased, was suddenly Angus's good right hand. The new duchess might be a bit rough and wild, Mary considered, but hopefully that would change as the lass felt secure. Glenkirk was alive again. There were children laughing and causing mischief. It was just like old times, Mary More-Leslie decided, content for the first time in months.

“There's the Yule log to find,” she told Angus. “Perhaps her ladyship would like to take the children out into the forest to seek it. The duke and his brothers always went for the log.”

“An excellent suggestion, Mistress Mary,” Angus agreed.

“And the duke and his men must find a boar. I dinna care what these dour Presbyterians think. We celebrate the Lord's birth here at Glenkirk. Come Christmas Day the good Mr. Edie will be sitting next to Father Kenneth eating and drinking wi' the best of them, and ye'll hear nae complaint from him, I can assure ye.”

“Ye know the castle folk verra well,” Angus remarked with a chuckle, and he smiled at Mary.

“Oh, go on wi' ye, Angus Gordon,” she said, laughing. “I'm already charmed by ye. Ye're a good man, and between us we'll manage verra well, I'm thinking.”

He gave her an elegant bow. “Wi'out ye, Mary, I couldna do it, and ye know that's the truth of it.”

“I wonder if we can get turkeys,” Mary mused. “It's too far to the town. I suppose we can make do wi' capon, beef, and fish. Better we hae too much than nae enough,” she decided. “I've baskets of apples in the cellars, so we'll hae tarts for the sweet. The bairns from the cottages dinna see sweets often. Wait till ye see how big their eyes get when we bring them in, Angus. It just does a body good.” Then she wiped her eyes with her apron.

“Ye've a soft heart, Mistress Mary,” he said softly.

“I suspect ye're nae better than I am, Angus Gordon,” she replied sharply. “I've seen ye patiently working wi' her ladyship over her letters. Why on earth did the lass wait until now to learn? She hae to know that one day she would wed and hae to manage a home. She should hae been educated long since. Did her mam nae care?”

“I am my Gordon sire's bastard, and dinna look so innocent, Mary, for ye hae guessed it already even if the others dinna see it. My half sister died when Flanna was ten. Our father and Meg's mam, God assoil them, raised us together. My sister, being true born, was the heiress to Brae, but I was never treated as anything less than my father's son. When Meg wed Brodie, I went wi' her to Killiecairn. Flanna resisted her mother's efforts to teach her to read and to write. After Meg died, Flanna's sister-in-law tried to take charge of the child, but it was almost impossible, for all my niece wanted to do was run wild out-of-doors. I taught her to ride, to hunt, to fish, and to shoot. The women in her family, wi' difficulty, taught her how to sew, weave, and cook, but they are nae pursuits that she relishes. When she came to Glenkirk, she realized her error in refusing to be educated. She looks at the portraits of the previous ladies of Glenkirk, and she is intimidated. She longs to make her own mark, but knows she canna as she now is. Aye, I am patient wi' her, Mary. Meg would want me to be, although I will admit to ye there are times when I should like to turn the lass over my knee and smack her bottom.”

Mary burst out laughing at the big man's acknowledgment. “I think,” she said, “ye can leave that to the duke. He canna ignore her like her sire did. He doesna understand that he is already in love wi' her,
and she wi' him.
I've seen them looking at each other when they dinna think anyone notices. I'm looking forward to a new generation of Leslies, Angus. His mother would be verra happy.”

“Even if Flanna is a bit wild?” the big man teased the housekeeper.

“Nae all Glenkirk's ladies can be born princesses, and most werena,” Mary said calmly. “Ah, Angus, I hope that one day ye will meet her, our Duchess Jasmine, but she couldna remain here wi'out her Jemmie Leslie. Still, wi' them gone, there is a void at Glenkirk Duke Patrick and his wife will hae to fill.” She sighed and wiped her eyes again with her apron. Then, straightening up, she said briskly, “Now, Angus Gordon, what else do we hae to do to make this a happy Christmas for us all?”

When Angus told his niece how helpful Mary More-Leslie had become, the young duchess was openly grateful to the older woman. She took her suggestion, and with the three young Stuarts in tow, and in the company of a group of clansmen, they rode into the forest surrounding the castle to find the perfect Yule log for their celebrations. The day was unusually sunny and mild for a December morning. There was no wind.

“We canna linger,” Flanna told the children. “There will be a storm before tomorrow. Nor should we go too far from the castle.”

“How do you know there will be a storm?” Brie asked her aunt. “I wish it would be like this all winter. I haven't seen the sun a great deal since we came north.”

“It should nae be sunny now, nor should we hae the warmth,” Flanna explained. “Then, too, there is nae wind, lassie. All this portends a coming storm.” She sniffed. “Smell the air,” she told the three children. “Can ye nae scent the snow? And while the air is soft, there is an underlying chill to it.”

“How do you know all of that?” Freddie Stuart asked her.

“This land is where I was born and where I was bred,” Flanna replied. “I hae nae been a prim lass to sit by my loom, Freddie. I was out wi' Angus learning how to hunt and track my quarry. Ye canna depend upon the weather to remain constant, so ye must learn how to understand the signs it gives ye.”

“I want to learn,” Freddie said.

“If ye stay wi' us long enough, Freddie, I'll teach ye,” Flanna promised him. “And yer sister and wee brother.” Then she kicked Glaise into a trot. “Come along now, bairns. Angus says Cook is making scones today. The sooner we find our Yule log, the sooner we'll be home to eat them. And Mary says there is plum conserves.”

They searched through the forest for over an hour before they came across a great oak that had fallen only recently. The clansmen dismounted and, taking their saws, began to cut off the bottom of the trunk where the roots were still in evidence. When the stump had fallen away, they cut several great logs, each one destined to fill a fireplace in the Great Hall. The largest piece would serve as an official Yule log. Ropes were wrapped about it, and it was dragged back to Glenkirk in triumph and stored outside the hall until Christmas Eve when it would be brought in with much ceremony. Several parties of men returned to the forest to drag back the rest of the oak logs before the storm.

Flanna shepherded the children to the kitchens from where the scent of baking was coming. Seeing them enter, the assistant cook smiled and drew forth a tray of freshly baked scones from the brick oven next to a great fireplace. She set the tray upon the wooden table in the center of her domain. Then, carefully splitting three of the scones, she buttered them lavishly and spread plum conserves upon them. With much formality she handed each child a scone. The look on the three young faces caused her to chuckle.

“Thank ye, Cook,” Flanna said to the woman. “The bairns are already looking healthier and plumper because of ye.”

“And thanks to yer good mothering,” the cook replied. “Puir Master Charlie to lose his wife and be left alone. I remember him when I was but a scullery maid in this kitchen, and he a wee lad like this angel.” She ruffled Willy's hair, beaming down at the youngest Stuart, whose face was liberally smeared with purple jam.

“Everyone here hae history wi' it,” Flanna said softly.

“And did ye nae at Killiecairn?” the cook replied.

“Aye, but 'twas different,” Flanna responded.

“I should think so,” the cook said.
“This is Glenkirk.
There is nae place like it, m'lady, on the face of the earth. And when 'tis gone one day, for all things fade eventually, there will nae be anything like it again.”

In the next few days that followed, Flanna, the children, and several of the servants decorated the hall with greenery, boughs of pine, and bunches of holly. Flanna knew the Christmas customs that were to take place from Christmas Eve until Twelfth Night. The number twelve played an important part in the festival. Twelve candelabrums were set about the hall. Each bunch of holly was made up of twelve sprigs. Gifts, totaling twelve, would be exchanged over the twelve days of Christmas. There would be Yule dolls made of gingerbread. On the afternoon of December twenty-fourth, a green line was drawn about the hall. At the appointed hour, the guests would enter the Great Hall, being careful not to disturb the green line. No feasting would begin until the lucky bird stepped across that threshold.

“We do not have such a custom at Queen's Malvern,” Brie told Flanna when her aunt explained.

“Is it a real bird?” Freddie wondered aloud.

“Ohhhh!”
Little Willy cried, and pointed his fat finger toward the door.

There stood on auburn-haired man, dressed all in green clothing sewn with bells and wearing a bird's mask. With a great leap he crossed the threshold and began to dance about the hall to a tune played by reeds and drums and flute. Going first to the high board, he flourished a bow and tipped his cap. The duke gave him a silver coin. The lucky bird continued to dance about the hall, greeting all the guests and receiving pennies from each table. When he had visited everyone, he brought the purse of coins to Mr. Edie, the Presbyterian cleric, saying, “For the puir, guid sir,” and then danced gaily from the hall.

“Papa missed the lucky bird,” Brie said, disappointed.

“He had to guard the Yule log,” Freddie replied.

“It can come into the hall now,” the duke said. “Would ye three like to escort it since ye found it?”

The three children scrambled from their places and ran from the high board.

“Will Charlie hae time to change?” Flanna wondered.

“He hae done this before,” Patrick explained to her. “When my brothers and I were small. I canna think of the lucky bird wi'out thinking of Charlie. Henry wanted to do it one year, but he canna dance like Charlie. Even now he leaps higher than any.”

Flanna reached out and placed her hand over her husband's. “Ye miss them, I know, but we will make new memories, my lord.”

His eyes met hers, and he smiled. “Aye, lass, we will,” he promised her. “Now, tell me how it is ye're so damned intuitive, Flanna Leslie. I am nae certain I am comfortable wi' a wife who understands my deepest thoughts so well.” He took her hand up and kissed it.

“Christmas was always a special time at Brae,” she said. “My mother and Angus told me all about it. It wasna so special at Killiecairn, and I know that she missed it. She never complained, but I could see it in her eyes. She loved my father, but Killiecairn was never really home for her. Perhaps that is why I love Brae and want to restore it to its former glory.”

“And what will ye do wi' it when 'tis habitable again?” he asked her with a small smile.

“It shall be there for me should ye become impossible to live wi', my lord,” she told him pertly. “Glenkirk is yers; but Brae will be mine, and one day one of our bairns will hae it. Ye may own the land now, but the castle is mine alone.”

“Ye would leave me, lass?” His look was amused.

“If we dinna get on, I would, indeed,” she responded.

“Ye're an independent woman, Flanna Leslie,” he said, chuckling.

BOOK: Just Beyond Tomorrow

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