“With a bairn in her belly?” Gilbert Hay asked slyly, unable to restrain himself despite the black look his father shot him. But why else would these two gentlemen have come to Grayhaven in the dead of winter, he thought, except the lass was breeding?
But Baen laughed at his youngest brother’s jibe. “Aye,” he acknowledged, “but I handfasted her in the summer, Gilly. Now I’ll return with our father’s blessing to wed my Elizabeth in the church.”
“Will you come back to Grayhaven?” Gilbert Hay asked, suddenly serious.
“Nay,” Baen said. “Elizabeth has her own lands, and I will steward them. I will have no time to return to Grayhaven, for my duties to Friarsgate will fill my days.”
“But we’ll never see you then,” Gilbert said softly.
“You can come and visit me, Gilly,” Baen told him. “Da has you betrothed to Alice Gordon, Jean’s sister, and she is but a wee girl barely out of leading strings. You will have time to travel, and the Hays of Grayhaven will always be welcome at Friarsgate. Is that not so, Tom, Logan?”
“Aye,” the laird of Claven’s Carn agreed. “The Scots are always welcome at Friarsgate, unless, of course, they come in large numbers uninvited.” He chuckled.
The other men laughed.
James Hay stepped forward and embraced his eldest brother. “I wish you well, Baen,” he said enthusiastically. Secretly he was relieved to see his eldest brother well settled and soon to be gone. He had been a very little boy when Baen had arrived in their midst, and their youngest brother not even born. From the time he was old enough to understand their place in their father’s life, James Hay knew he was his father’s heir, though he was his second-born son. But he also knew that Colin Hay loved Baen best of all his sons, though he would never have said it, and he treated his lads with an equal hand.
Their father had always been concerned with finding a place for Baen. Now one had been supplied, and James Hay, while wishing his brother good fortune, would not be sad to see him gone from Grayhaven. Gilly would miss him more, James knew, but then Gilly had always looked up to their oldest brother. Not to Grayhaven’s heir, but to Baen. James Hay loved his brother Baen, but he had always found it disconcerting that even though he was their father’s heir, Baen came first with so many others. He smiled broadly at Baen now, for his elder’s departure was like a great weight being lifted from his shoulders. But he also felt a little ashamed to think it.
It would be several days before Baen MacColl was ready to leave Grayhaven. March had begun, and the weather was raw and wet. The master of Grayhaven gave his son a covered cart to transport the few lambs that had been born the previous month. They were still too young to travel with the flock, and there was still snow on the ground. It was not the best time of year to move the animals, but Baen was anxious to get back to Friarsgate, and to Elizabeth. The sheep had not thrived well over the long months, although it had at first seemed they would. At least a third of them had died, been poached, or taken by wild beasts. But once back at Friarsgate, Baen knew, they would do well once again. He and Friar would bring the flock home safe.
The master of Grayhaven had read over the marriage contract his son was to sign. He was not pleased by the strict terms Elizabeth Meredith was imposing upon her husband. Baen would have no rights to the manor should she die in childbirth. The land would revert to her mother then. Should she produce an heir or heiress, and then perish, the estate became the child’s, and her mother its legal guardian. If the child should then die, again Friarsgate returned to Rosamund Bolton, and not Baen MacColl. Elizabeth appointed him her steward, but all decisions made with regard to Friarsgate must be approved by her. As her husband and the manor’s steward he would have a respected position. He would be given a small portion in coin for himself and that was all.
“’Tis too harsh,” Colin Hay said. He turned to Logan and Lord Cambridge. “Have you read this? She is not an easy woman.”
“The women of Friarsgate are very proprietary where their land is concerned,” Logan offered.
“She loves him,” Lord Cambridge said. “Trust me, dear sir, she will relent eventually, and this shall be rewritten.”
“Why is she so angry with him?” Colin Hay wanted to know.
“She is angry at herself more than your son,” Thomas Bolton said. “You see, dear boy, Elizabeth prides herself on being coolheaded and logical. She has never made a decision that she did not carefully consider. But then she fell in love, and she made a fatal mistake often made by those in love, even men: She asked her lover to make a choice between her and something else he loved. In this case, you. It was foolish, of course, and afterwards when he had left her she knew it, but it was done.
“I have been convinced all along, and Logan will tell you it is so, that had my cousin Rosamund approached you regarding a marriage between your eldest son, Baen, and her youngest daughter, Elizabeth, you would have been amenable. It would have been worked out to everyone’s satisfaction. But from the time Rosamund’s eldest child refused to accept her position as the heiress to Friarsgate, and Elizabeth told her mother she wanted it for her own, my niece has listened only to herself. She was twelve then.
“When she was fourteen her mother turned Friarsgate over to her legally, although if the truth be known, she had been caring for it since the day it was promised her. She oversees every facet of the estate, until recently with her steward, Edmund Bolton. But Edmund is an old man now, and his health is poor. Elizabeth asked Baen to take his place until Edmund was well again, although we all knew Edmund would never again accept that responsibility. When your son left her in October she took up the reins herself.”
“You say her mother would have approved a match had we negotiated one,” the master of Grayhaven said. “Why has a husband not been found for her before? What is the matter with the lass?” Colin Hay wanted to know.
“There is nothing the matter with Elizabeth,” Baen spoke up.
“But why was she not wed previously?” his father demanded to know.
“Being as mutton-headed as your son,” Logan Hepburn said, “she didn’t want a husband who would try to wrest her authority from her. Her sisters found husbands at court, and we sent her last year. But none would do for her. She wanted a man who would love Friarsgate, and work by her side, yet not try to take it from her. That man turned out to be Baen MacColl.”
“Are you content to sign this marriage contract?” the master of Grayhaven asked his eldest son. “The terms are not favorable to you.”
“I’ll sign it,” Baen answered. “I love her, and I always will. With God’s blessing Elizabeth will eventually forgive me deserting her to return to Grayhaven, Da.”
“I’ll want a proxy marriage performed before you depart,” the master of Grayhaven said. “That way I’ll know my son is protected to some extent.”
“Agreed!” Logan Hepburn replied. “That way all we’ll need is Father Mata’s blessing at the church rail to finish it.”
“And I shall be the bride,” Lord Cambridge said mischievously. “I have always wanted to be the bride,” he chortled.
Colin Hay looked somewhat askance, but having grown used to Thomas Bolton over the years Logan Hepburn laughed loudly. “Aye, Tom, and a lovely bride you will make, I have no doubt at all. When she ceases being angry Elizabeth will be both flattered and grateful to you.”
“Elizabeth is not to know,” Baen said quietly.
