“Aye, she is,” Mary Douglas answered, coming into the bedchamber with Johanna. “Here!” She handed the infant off to Orva. “See for yourself.”
Orva took the swaddled bundle and looked down at the baby. “She has my lady’s eyes, but other than that she is pure Douglas,” Orva proclaimed. Then she carried the child over to Cicely, who was now in her bed. “Would you like to hold her, my lady?”
“For a moment,” Cicely agreed, taking Johanna from Orva. She looked down at the little infant and was surprised to find her daughter looking back at her. Cicely laughed softly. “Ian’s daughter is going to be bold like her father, I fear,” she said. Then she looked over at Mary Douglas. “Will you be Johanna’s godmother?” she asked the clanswoman. “I should be honored if you would.”
“ ’Tis I who am honored, my lady,” Mary replied. “Aye, I will be Johanna’s godmother. She’ll need another Douglas who understands to teach her how to channel that boldness,” the older woman said mischievously.
And when Johanna Douglas was a week old her great-uncle, Father Ambrose Douglas, baptized her in the village church, with Mary Douglas standing as her godmother, and Kier Douglas standing as her godfather. The day was sunny, and that—along with the infant’s obviously good health—was taken as a good omen.
In late April, Sir William Douglas came to Glengorm. Cicely already suspected the reason for his visit. Since Johanna’s birth the servants and the clanfolk had been much more deferential to Kier. It didn’t take a great intellect to understand that the Douglases had no intention of allowing any of their lands to fall to another family through marriage. And when Sir William had come and was settled in the house’s hall, he said just that. He was relieved when Cicely did not cry out, protesting his decision.
“Of course, my lord,” she said quietly. “But what of my daughter? Johanna is Ian Douglas’s legitimate heiress. If you are giving Glengorm to another, what is to become of her? Will you make a fair settlement on her in exchange for Glengorm?”
“I will,” Sir William promised. “I shall provide a generous dower for her in both coin and goods. And in token of my good faith, there shall be brought to you in the next few weeks a fine dower chest with my first contribution towards her future value as a bride. I shall also place with a goldsmith of your choosing five full-weight gold pieces and twenty of silver for Johanna’s future. She is my kinswoman by both birth and blood.”
“Ten gold pieces,” Cicely said in an even voice. “She is a laird’s daughter, and Glengorm is worth far more than five pieces of gold and twenty of silver. I want ten pieces of gold and one hundred of silver.”
“Madam! You will beggar me. Eight pieces of gold, and fifty of silver.”
“Ten gold,” Cicely said in a suddenly hard voice. “And seventy-five of silver. I will accept no less, my lord. If you will not dower my daughter as she should be dowered I will go to the king. Remember, he did send me his affections, and Queen Joan—with two daughters of her own—will uphold my child’s rights with the king.”
Sir William Douglas laughed. “I have heard it said that your father can be a hard man of business when need be, madam. Obviously you have learned from him. Ten pieces of gold, and seventy-five of silver. Agreed!”
Cicely smiled. “I thank you for your generosity, my lord,” she replied sweetly. “Now I have one other query to make of you. Are Johanna and I to come to Drumlanrig to live? The new laird and whatever family he has will certainly not want the widow and child of the previous lord of Glengorm living here. And, of course, the house is small.” Cicely fully expected Sir William to name his son Kier the new laird, but she thought it was better if she appeared uninformed and surprised by his decision. That was something her foster mother, Joan of Navarre, had taught both her and Jo when they were girls growing up in her household.
Never allow a man to believe you are cleverer than he is, or that you can anticipate what he will do. If you do he will not like you for it, and will be careful of his speech when you are near. Women learn much by feigning ignorance, and men are inclined to ignore them when in serious conversation with another man.
“Why, my dear,” Sir William said, smiling broadly, as if he were about to give her a wonderful treat, “my son Kier is to be the new lord here. You and your child will remain in your home.”
“Glengorm needs an heir,” Cicely said, suddenly nervous.
“Indeed it does!” Sir William replied jovially. “The king has given his permission for you to marry my son, madam. Where you failed with Ian you will succeed with Kier.” He smiled broadly at her. “It is really the perfect solution to the problem. Kier must wed, and you have no other choices open to you.”
Jesu! Mary!Kier Douglas thought. The same man who had warned him to proceed slowly with the widow of Glengorm was now about to set her into a towering fury, and frankly, Kier decided, he could not blame Cicely for being angry.
She was ominously silent. Her mind raced, attempting to sort out the possibilities. At first Cicely could find none. She was a widow with no wealth of her own in a foreign country with a child. “Have I no choice in the matter, my lord?” she asked him in icy tones. “I could go back to my mistress at court.”Aye!That was her solution. Johannawould be raised in the royal nursery with the princesses Margaret and Isabella. And Cicely would serve Jo once again. She didn’t need a husband at all.
“The king will not permit it, madam. He wants you remarried, as a respectable woman of your birth should be,” Sir William said. Then he added, “And King James has agreed to restore to your new husband the remaining portion of your dower.”
Kier Douglas caught his breath, waiting. It came quickly.
“What?The king will return the portion of my dower that he hasn’t already stolen, will he? How dare he? How dare he!” Cicely raged. “He would not give what was rightfully mine to Ian, but he will give it toyour son? Ohh! I cannot believe this. It is too much to be borne. You would take Glengorm from Johanna and give it to your son. The king would take my dower to bribe the Gordons. Is there no honor in Scotland at all?” Turning, she dashed from the hall, and they heard her footsteps as she ran up the stairs.
“Why in the name of all that is holy did you tell her all of that?” Kier demanded of his father. “She was willing to accept my becoming laird. Why did you feel it incumbent upon yourself to say more, Da? Could you not let me court her gently and win her over?”
“You’re laird of Glengorm now, Kier,” his father answered him. “And you’re past thirty. It’s time you were wed. And the sooner you wed, the sooner you can get your wife with child. Glengorm needs heirs. Win her over after the wedding.”
“Father Ambrose will not marry us if she is not willing,” Kier said. “And do you think Cicely will be of a mind to be willing now?”
“Get her to the altar by whatever means you must, Kier. Glengorm needs sons, and James Stewart is planning a northern expedition sooner than later. The Douglases will be expected to play their part in bringing down the lord of the isles,” Sir William told his son. “And woe unto those clans who did not march with the king.”
“Christ’s balls!” Kier Douglas swore softly.
“Aye,” his father agreed. “All most of us want to do is live peaceably,but kings are ambitious, and the men closest to them are ambitious as well. ’Tis all we can do to remain loyal and keep our own lands safe. But we owe James Stewart this service, Kier. You are laird of Glengorm by his sufferance, when he might have given it to another.”
Sir William returned to his own home the following day. He did not see Cicely again, for she would not come forth from her chamber. But he cradled little Johanna in his arms before he departed, smiling down at the baby, pleased by her prettiness and obvious good health. “She’s bonny,” he said to his son. “Take good care of Ian’s lass, though ’tis you she’ll call her da.” Then, returning the baby to Orva, he departed.
Kier Douglas watched his father go. Then he returned to the hall, where, to his surprise, Cicely was now sitting at her loom, weaving on a tapestry she had recently begun. “He’s gone,” Kier said to her.
