Orva had watched the interaction between her mistress and the laird of Glengorm with interest. Ian Douglas wasn’t lying when hesaid he loved her mistress. The poor man did, heaven help him. And Cicely, Orva realized even if her mistress didn’t, was falling in love with the big border lord. Her interaction with the Gordon laird of Fairlea was polite and pleasant. There was no fire between Cicely and Andrew Gordon. She hurried over to her bemused mistress’s side, putting an arm about her. “Come along, dearie, and take me to this Mab who has been so kind to you.” She met the laird’s look. “If you would see that my lady’s trunk is brought to her chamber, my lord,” she said.
He nodded his acquiescence, giving Orva just a small smile before she turned and took his ladyfaire from the hall.
“She’s a high-strung mare,” Sir William noted. Then he turned to greet the priest. “What think you, Ambrose Douglas, of a match between this lady and your nephew?”
“It would be a good match for them both,” the priest replied. “He does love her, my lord, and despite what just took place she has been softening towards him. The Glengorm folk like her too. She has brought order to this house again. I can’t recall it ever being this clean, even in my father’s time. Ian and Fergus’s mam was a frail lass. It was all she could do to birth her two sons.”
“Was Fergus involved in this abduction?” Sir William wanted to know. “I do not believe Ian could have carried this out alone, and the shopkeeper did say she was attacked by two men. Of course, she did confess her part in it all. The king has punished her, but gently. He is angrier at Ian for spoiling his plans to see Lady Cicely wed into the Gordon family. He is not certain he trusts them. ’Tis amazing how knowledgeable he is in spite of his many years in English captivity.”
“I imagine all courts have a certain amount of intrigue,” Father Ambrose remarked dryly. “Aye, Fergus went with Ian. And then the two of them rode like the very devil to get her back safely to Glengorm.”
Sir William nodded. “And now I have the task of telling the kinghe won’t give her back.” He shook his head. “Is there a chance she will agree to wed him? If you think there is, Ambrose, I will try to prevent the king from sending a troop of men-at-arms to collect the lady and return her to the queen’s household, so he may have his chance with her. From what I saw this afternoon they are well matched. He won’t get entirely around her, as he’s always done with the lasses.”
“Is it not true, cousin,” the priest said, “that that which you fight for and win is more precious than that which is simply given to you?”
Sir William chuckled. “You are on his side, aren’t you, Ambrose?”
“He’s been such a rascal, emulating his grandfather his entire life. But now his heart is engaged, not just his cock,” the priest said. “And she’s a fine young lass, cousin. Why should the Gordons have her and her dower? Are not we Douglases just as good?”
“Some of us, aye,” Sir William replied. “But some of our clansmen are not in the king’s good favor, as you know. Still, Glengorm’s people have always been loyal.”
“We are too small a branch of the family to be bothered with,” the priest remarked. “We haven’t got a great amount of wealth or influence. We’re plain border folk, and we want to be naught else.”
“The weather is not good,” Sir William said. “The rain is icy, and the cold is deepening. I expect an early snow, and certainly that would prevent the lady from traveling in safety and comfort. But I will assure her I will return to the king with the laird’s answer to his request so she does not feel entirely deserted. This matter is aggravating the king, for he has greater problems in the north with the MacDonald of the isles. He doesn’t want to offend the Gordons, but neither does he want the distraction of this problem when he has more important matters that need attending. Of course, he can always find a suitable bride for the laird of Fairlea from among the queen’s ladies. Her distant cousin Elizabeth Williams has just arrived at court at the queen’s request. Her dower, of course, is nothing like Lady Cicely’s, if the gossip is to be believed, but she is blood kin to Queen Joan, pretty, andmost suitable. I believe the Gordons could be placated with such a bride for the laird of Fairlea. I will mention it to the king.”
A hot meal of rabbit stew filled with carrots and leeks was served in round bread trenchers. The was also trout broiled in butter with dill and pepper. Fresh bread and cheese was upon the table, and finally Mab herself brought in a bowl of apple and pear halves stewed with sugar and clove. While Cicely preferred wine, the male guests enjoyed their October ale.
Cicely noticed that Lady Grey ate very little, and only sipped at her wine. “Are you all right?” she inquired solicitously.
Maggie stood up. “Can someone help me to my bed?” she asked, suddenly pale again. She swayed slightly, and her voice was tremulous.
Mab and Orva were immediately at Maggie’s side, helping her from the high board. Cicely excused herself and followed, turning briefly to tell Lord Grey she would come back shortly to tell him what was happening. Then she hurried after the others.
Ascending the stairs was difficult for Maggie. Her belly was great, and she was having difficulty putting one foot before the other. Halfway up the stairs she stopped, gave a gasp, and a stream of water was suddenly flooding the stone steps.
“What has happened?” Cicely cried to Orva and Mab.
“Her waters have broken, my lady,” Mab replied. “The bairn wants to be born.”
“I told you,” Maggie gasped weakly, then struggled with the two women at her side to reach the hallway above.
Finally they attained the landing and, half dragging the woman between them, arrived at the guest chamber prepared for them. Cicely had pushed ahead of them on the steps and, dashing down the passage, flung open the door to the room, relieved to see a fire blazing merrily in the hearth. Mab and Orva quickly and efficiently stripped Maggie of all her clothing but for her chemise. They helped her to lie down upon the bed, which she did with a groan. Orva propped pillows behind her so she was half seated.
“I can do this meself,” Mab said, “but I should far rather have the assistance of the midwife in the village, my lady.” She looked anxiously to Cicely.
“I’ll send for her at once,” Cicely said. “What else is needed now?”
“Hot water, clean clothes, some oil for the baby’s skin, swaddling, and there is a cradle in the attics that should come down,” Mab said. “If Orva will remain with Lady Grey I can organize those things more quickly, and Lord Grey should be informed that his bairn will be born soon.”
“I can do that too,” Cicely said. She walked over to Maggie’s side. “I’ll be back quickly,” she promised. “Are you in pain?”
“Just in my back,” Maggie replied. She grasped Cicely’s hand. “Thank you,” she said softly. “Now go and reassure my Andrew that I’m fine.” She smiled a weak smile, but behind it was great strength, for Maggie was Highland born, and Highland women were strong. Her own mother had birthed eight sons and four daughters in safety. She could certainly birth this one child, Maggie thought, but she still prayed a silent prayer to Saint Anne for herself and her child in this travail.
Cicely ran downstairs to the hall, Mab lumbering behind her. She went immediately to Lord Grey. “Your wife is in labor, my lord. Your child has decided to be born here at Glengorm, and we are honored.”
The laird of Ben Duff was an older man without children who had been previously widowed. On a trip to the north he had met Maggie MacLeod, and they had fallen in love. Defying her family, Maggie had gone south with Lord Grey, and they had been married. There was no doubt that Andrew Grey adored his young wife. “Is she all right?” he asked anxiously.
“Her labor has just begun, but her waters have broken. Mab is competent to deliver the child, but she has sent for the midwife from the village,” Cicely explained.
