“Do you think the earl will like me?” Annabella asked shyly.
“Of course he will. Angus is a good man, my lady,” Jean said.
“I realize ’tis that bit of land he really wants,” Annabella remarked.
“Aye, he does,” Jean replied, “but it is also past time he took a wife. He has no legitimate heirs. He did not obtain the earldom to have it expire on his death. My brother wants to found a dynasty, and he needs a wife to do it.”
“He’s being forced to the altar,” Annabella said softly. “I hope he will not hate me for it.”
Jean laughed. “All men areforcedto the altar, my lady. Few go willingly. Marriage is about gold, land, and power. These are the things that make a family strong.”
“He will certainly be disappointed in me, for I have no beauty,” Annabella said bleakly. “I have never before wished for my sisters’ beauty, but I do now.”
“Aye,” Jean said candidly. “Ye’re plain. There’s nae denying it. But ye’re nae ugly. Yer features are neat. Yer skin is clear, and”—she reached out to catch a length of Annabella’s sable hair between her fingers—“yer hair is glorious. My brother has been told of yer deficiencies, and did nae object.”
Annabella didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at this bit of information, but then her father called her to come to the high board. She rose and hurried to his side.
“Look here in the marriage contract,” the laird of Rath said, pointing. “Here is where it is acknowledged that ye possess ten unclipped gold coins, and that they are yers in perpetuity to do with as ye will.”
Annabella’s gray eyes scanned the parchment. “Aye, Da, I see the clause. Thank ye for that.”
“Ye read, my lady?” James Ferguson asked her.
“Aye, sir. I read, I write, and I have been taught to work simple numbers,” Annabella admitted to the priest, hoping the earl would not disapprove of her knowledge.I need no more deficiencies, she thought.
Well, well, well, Matthew Ferguson considered.Perhaps there is hope for the lass after all. She does not appear unintelligent, and with these small skills may be of use to us in more than just her ability to breed. ’Tis all to the good. Angus should be pleased.
“Are the contracts to yer satisfaction, my lord?” James Ferguson asked politely.
“They are,” Robert Baird said. “Everything is as it should be.”
“Since all has met wi’ yer approval,” James responded, “let us sign the contracts now, and when that is done I will perform the ceremony.” He looked to Annabella. “Ye will want to sign for yerself, my lady. There are three copies: one for yer father, one for the earl, and the third will be kept by the church.”
“They must be wed in the Reformed kirk as well,” the laird of Rath said. “I want no one doubting my daughter’s status, nor that of her bairns. While the old Church may recognize only its own rites, it is no longer legal in Scotland.”
James Ferguson sighed. While the queen might proclaim religious tolerance, John Knox and his ilk had made the new kirk the law of the land. “My brother understands this, my lord. Lady Annabella will be wed at Duin in the Reformed kirk. My brother wishes no disputes over his marriage either, which is why he sent a proxy to Rath rather than come himself. This way his own people can proclaim the marriage legitimate under the laws of Scotland, having seen it performed at Duin kirk with their own eyes.”
Robert Baird nodded, satisfied. While he found John Knox’s lack of tolerance for the Catholic Church objectionable, the Reformed Church appealed more to him and his kin.
The lady Anne now reentered the hall in the company of her three younger daughters. The lasses curtsied prettily as they were introduced to the three Fergusons.
Myrna flirted with the two men, unaware at first that James was a priest. Sorcha giggled nervously, as was her habit when faced with young men.
But it was fourteen-year-old Agnes who caught Matthew Ferguson’s eye. He thought her utterly adorable and lively. She was almost ready for marriage, but not quite. Yet in another year or two, he might very well come courting the lass. She had to notice his interest, but if she did she gave no indication of it at all. Matthew didn’t know whether he should be amused or offended. The lass obviously had spirit.
The women waited patiently as the contracts were signed. A fresh quill with its sharpened point was inked and handed to Annabella. She signed each copy in a neat, legible hand. Her father also signed, as did Matthew Ferguson, both as witnesses. Then James Ferguson carefully sanded each signature so that it would not smudge, but dry easily. Annabella noted that the Earl of Duin had already signed the contracts before sending them off to her father. His signature was a strong if impatient one. He was obviously doing what he had to do, she thought. Taking a wife was a duty for him.
Annabella felt another flutter of worry, but she was not allowed any time for her fears to build up. With her family and her servants about her, and Matthew Ferguson standing by her side as proxy for his older brother, Annabella Baird was married to Angus Ferguson by the local pastor of the Reformed kirk without any further delay. James, however, pronounced the blessing himself. Her mother had been correct, the bride realized sadly. Marriage was not about romantic love. Did romantic love even exist?
Marriage was all about alliances and trade. Daughters had no other use than that. Whether a union was between a man and a woman, or a woman and the old Church, daughters were born for this sole purpose. The Fergusons had accepted her as the earl’s bride in exchange for a piece of land. She would be expected to produce bairns for her new family. Sons, preferably. There was nothing more to it. And she could hardly consider herself abused for having just been wed to a wealthy nobleman. She found she was suddenly eager to meet this mysterious man and learn the truth of him herself.
As Annabella, Countess of Duin, she now presided over the high board with a smile, seated in the place of honor at her wedding feast. While her father’s table was usually simple, with one or two dishes and bread and cheese, today was different. There was broiled trout and poached salmon set upon beds of green cress. A large roast of beef had been packed in rock salt, roasted, and set upon the board, along with sliced venison, goose stuffed with apples, and a large pie filled with game birds and topped with a flaky crust. There was a potage of vegetables, a rabbit stew, fresh bread, butter, and a small wheel of hard yellow cheese. Cider, ale, and wine were for drinking. And finally, a large dish of poached pears in marsala wine completed the meal.
The Baird’s piper, along with the two Ferguson pipers, entertained them after the meal had been cleared away and the trestles below the board set to one side of the hall. Jean and Matthew Ferguson sang several songs, delighting the Bairds, for their voices were particularly sweet. In exchange, the four sisters danced together most gracefully for the small gathering.
Outside the tower house, the last sunset of September blazed across the border skies, and night came. The Ferguson men-at-arms had encamped outside of the house. It was not cold yet, but two fires burned to take the chill away. Matthew and James joined them, understanding that such a small dwelling as Rath could not hold much company. Jean Ferguson was settled comfortably into one of the two bed spaces in the hall near the great hearth. The laird and his wife went to their bed. And in their small bedchamber, the four sisters huddled together in their large bed, chattering softly.
“Well,” Myrna said, “I suppose Mama has told ye everything you need know.”
