No wonder men loved her husband, Annabella thought. His sense of fair play, his generosity, was that of a great ancient lord. Few men if any behaved like that now. She asked for the courier, who was now planning to depart Duin to carry a message to Rath, and then she wrote to her mother, saying that if it were possible she would come to her brother’s wedding in the summer. She begged her mother to plead with Agnes to return to Duin, where she would be safe, and not endanger her family at Rath. The Countess of Duin was very surprised to receive a letter back from her mother that was carried by one of Rath’s servants.
Dearest daughter, the lady Anne wrote,
Ye need have no further concern about your sister Agnes. She has departed for France with her husband. The Hamiltons have been hounded vigorously since Moray’s murder. They could not successfully hide this time while waiting to strike again. Their forces have been scattered, at least temporarily, for now. I am certain Agnes will write to you when she has been safely settled. We have heard that a rescue attempt was made to free Mary Stuart from her imprisonment early this spring. It failed, and the young men involved were all killed. Your brother and his bride have chosen the week after Lammastide in which to wed. It is dearly hoped that ye and Angus will be able to come. I remain as always your loving mother, Anne.
Annabella placed the parchment in her lap and looked to her husband, to whom she had just read the letter aloud. “If,” she said, “Mary Stuart is nae free, then I suspect we may nae have to contend wi’ any other vessel anchoring in our harbor.”
“They may come yet,” he said, “for it is possible they hae nae heard that the escape attempt failed.”
With the opening of the roads again now that winter was over, news began to trickle into Duin. There was no regent agreed upon yet for the king. His paternal grandfather, the Earl of Lennox; Lord Erskine; and the Earl of Morton were all locked in a fight to gain control of the little lad’s power.
“What a trio,” the earl said, shaking his head. “Mary Stuart hated Darnley’s father, and Morton is said to have been involved in the murders of both Darnley and Riccio. Erkskine’s a good man, but surely not powerful or strong enough to handle the regency.”
“He holds the king at Stirling,” Annabella said quietly.
“Aye, ye’re right, sweetheart,” Angus answered her. Her astuteness continued to surprise him even after several years of marriage.
“Let us concern ourselves wi’ matters closer to home,” Annabella said. “What will ye do if Agnes and Matthew want the return of their child? We must consider this.”
“Robbie remains at Duin,” Angus told her firmly. “He is a Ferguson. If my brother chooses to continue in his foolish ways, I’ll nae hae this bairn dragged into a nomadic life. Robbie belongs here wi’ us, his family. But the household is yers, madam, so the final say will be yers as well.”
“I agree wi’ ye, my lord,” Annabella said.
At that moment a man-at-arms hurried up to the earl. “My lord,” he said, “a ship hae just entered yer harbor, and ’tis nae Captain Diego returned.”
“I’ll come,” Angus Ferguson said. He turned back to Annabella. “May this be the last battle for Duin, sweetheart.”
“I’m coming wi’ ye,” she told him.
The Earl of Duin did not argue with his countess. He knew better than that now.
They climbed the stairs to the top of the castle, and then scrambled up the ladder through a trapdoor to the heights. Angus immediately began the business of seeing that the two small cannons were loaded properly in preparation for firing. It had been some time since these guns had been fired, and even though they were well maintained, there was always the danger of one or both of them exploding.
Annabella, however, was once again astounded by the beauty surrounding them as she gazed from the battlements of the castle. The low green hills, the winding streams crisscrossing the landscape, the vast blue sea beyond. She could see both the village and Matthew Ferguson’s house in the distance. Tears touched her thick, dark lashes. Agnes should be here in her own home, not wandering a foreign countryside, friendless and separated from her family. Silently Annabella cursed the enchantment that surrounded Mary Stuart, causing men to follow her blindly.
When the guns were loaded and prepared, Angus ordered that both of them be fired at once: one cannon shot to fall just beyond the ship’s bow, the other its stern. That would be the vessel’s only warning. The cannons were to be reloaded immediately, for if they were forced to fire a second time, their aim would be deadlier.
The earl gave the order, and both of the small guns fired simultaneously. They heard the booms echo across the water, watching as the shots dropped exactly as they should. Now they waited to see what this ship flying Mary Stuart’s flag would do. Suddenly a small white flag was raised, and at the same time a small boat was lowered into the waves and rowed toward the narrow strip of beach at the foot of Duin’s dark cliffs. The Earl of Duin and his wife hurried from the battlements back down into the castle. In the hall the earl ordered his wife to remain while he traversed the steep, narrow interior passage leading to the beach.
He stepped from the hidden door in the cliffs as the small boat reached the shore.
A gentleman stepped out of the craft and came forward. “Monsieur, I was told we would be welcomed at Duin,” the man said. “Is this your vaunted border hospitality?” The man spoke French.
“You are not welcome here, sir. We are loyal Scots at Duin,” the earl replied in that same language. “I am sorry to tell you that you are mistaken. I am informed that Mary Stuart’s escape has failed. I advise you to return from wherever you have come, for the English will surely be even more vigilant than ever now.”
“I thank you for not damaging my ship,” the man replied.
“I wished only to warn you,” the earl responded with a small smile. “Now, pray allow me to escort you to your cockle.” He walked the man to the little boat, where an oarsman waited patiently. The man stepped into his transport and sat down. “Farewell,” the Earl of Duin said formally. He then stood watching as the little vessel made its way back to the larger ship. He remained watching as his visitor reached his destination and climbed up to the deck. The sea anchor was raised, along with a large sail. The ship began to turn itself about and exit the little harbor. It was only then that the Earl of Duin reentered the passage in the cliffs that led back up to the castle.
In the weeks that followed they heard nothing of any import, and so they decided to travel to Rath to young Robert Baird’s wedding. Their trip took them a little longer than if they had just gone alone, but they decided to bring the children to see their grandparents, who had not laid eyes on them since shortly after their birth.
The laird of Rath and his wife were overjoyed to see them. To Annabella’s delight, both Sorcha, who lived nearby, and Myrna, who had traveled down from the Highlands, were at Rath. The tower house was overflowing with family. The sisters and their children would sleep in their old chamber high in the tower. Sorcha had two little ones, both boys; and Myrna had brought her daughter, a little freckle-faced lass with auburn curls.
“She looks like her da, worse luck,” Myrna said pithily. “She’s a wild Highlander.”
“Are ye so unhappy then?” Annabella inquired of her sister.
“Unhappy?” Myrna sniffed. “Why would I be unhappy? I’ve a good man, a good home, a daughter, and the hope of another bairn in the coming year. Nay! I am not unhappy, sister.”
