“Connor,” the earl said, “do you know who I am?”
“Aye, m’lord,” the boy answered.
“This is my stepson, Henry Lindley, the marquis of Westleigh; and his sisters, Lady India and Lady Fortune. You will apologize to your new cousins for your bad manners.” He released his hold on the boy.
Connor Gordon brushed his clothing off and bowed quite nicely. “I hope ye will accept my apologies, Lady India and Lady Fortune. I hae ne’er seen a lass wi yellow eyes before.”
“My eyes are golden like my father’s,” India said grandly.
“And my hair is red-gold, not carrot-colored,” Fortune piped up.
Jemmie Leslie loosed his hold on Henry. “Now, gentlemen, shake hands,” he commanded the boys. “We are a family, and I will have no squabbling amongst us. Do you both understand?”
The two nodded, Connor holding out a somewhat grimy paw to Henry Lindley, who took it and shook it.
“I hae a pony,” Connor said. “Do ye?”
“Aye,” Henry answered, suspiciously. “Why?”
“We could ride together,” Connor replied. How old are ye?”
“Six and a half,” was the reply.
“God’s nightshirt!” Connor Gordon said. “I’m eight, and yer every bit as big as me, ye are! And ye weren’t afraid! Yer nae a sissy at all, but a braw laddie despite yer English!”
Henry Lindley looked up at his stepfather. “What’sbraw?” hesaid, suspiciously.
“He’s complimenting you, Henry. Braw means brave,” the earl said.
“Gie us one like that, lassie,” the old earl of Sithean said, thumping his cane on the floor. “English or nae, he’s a fine laddie.”
“Run along and play, you two,” Jemmie instructed the two boys. Then, taking India and Fortune by the hand, he led them over to meet his aunts and his sisters, all of whom made a great fuss over the little girls, admiring their beauty, and their intelligence.
“Mama’s going to have another baby,” Fortune confided to Fiona.
“I know,” Fiona replied, smiling at the child. Fiona was childless among all the Leslie women, except for a bastard son born many years earlier when she was wed to her first husband. The baby had been put out to fosterage immediately after his birth. He had lived to age three, then died of a fever one winter. It had been a hard birth, and Fiona could not bear children ever again. Knowing it, Adam Leslie had still married her, for he loved her. “Ye hae hair the color of my great-grandmam,” she told Fortune. “She was a verra great lady.” She playfully tweaked one of Fortune’s curls.
“Mama says I’m a hoyden,” Fortune replied.
“So am I,” Fiona told the little girl with a wink, and made an immediate friend.
The meal was a simple one, for Jasmine had not yet had time to hire servants, and Will Todd, along with Adali, had done the cooking.
“Dinna fear,” Adam Leslie said. “The word is already out that the earl is back, and ye’ll hae servants aplenty by week’s end. Those that were here before, and are nae too old to work will come, and those who are too old will send their kinfolk to obtain the positions.”
His words were prophetic, and within a few days the castle was fully staffed once more. Will Todd remained to aid Adali for the present, helping him to choose the proper people.
“I’ll stay the winter,” Will Todd said. “The castle is a snug place in the winter, but come the spring I’ll be off to my wee cottage wi its pretty stream, and the salmon just asking to be caught.” He grinned at Adali. “They already respect ye, which is guid considering yer a foreigner. Ye’ll hae nae trouble wi them.”
Within days the castle was clean again; the floors swept; the rugs and the tapestries brought from storage to be laid upon the floor and hung upon the walls. The chimneys were cleaned and drew flawlessly. The windows were washed, and sparkled in the beautiful autumn weather. The furniture lost its lackluster look and glowed with polishing. Silver appeared upon the sideboards; scented potpourri filled beautiful porcelain bowls that Adali had found in a storage area in the west tower of the castle. Firewood was stacked by the fireplaces. Crystal decanters of wine sat upon the sideboards in all the rooms. Flowers, a mixture of domesticated and wild, were everywhere throughout the living areas of the castle. Even a schedule had been set for meals, which were now served on time each day.
One of the last remaining monks from Glenkirk Abbey came to tutor the children. Once a well-known house of learning, the abbey had fallen upon hard times. The old faith was practiced secretly or discreetly throughout Scotland. The Presbyterians and the Anglicans now held sway. Religious houses were barely tolerated if at all. At Glenkirk, however, the Leslies, while members of the new religions, practiced tolerancewhere the abbey and its inhabitants were concerned. The last abbot had been one of their cousins. Now but a scant dozen monks remained, the majority elderly, and three in their middle years. Once there had been a school at the abbey. It no longer existed for lack of students. The monks were pleased to send one of their own to teach the earl’s stepchildren.
Jasmine, who had been educated by a priest, told Adali, “See that the abbey is sent a deer to hang in their larder; and since Will Todd enjoys his fishing, have him do some for the monks. And send bread when we bake at least once a week, and a wheel of cheese, and a basket each of apples and pears.”
He nodded. “Brother Duncan will be pleased.”
The autumn deepened, and the trees began to turn on the bens, which Jasmine learned was the Scots for mountains. The red oaks mingled with the golden aspen and birch and the deep green of the pines. Red whortleberry, hazel, bog myrtle, and holly with their rose, yellow, shiny green leaves and bright red berries brightened the woodlands. There was heather in bloom on the hillsides. The nights had become cool and crisp, and never had Jasmine seen such stars in the sky as she saw from the battlements of Glenkirk Castle. Her husband had not lied when he said that autumn was the most beautiful time of year in Scotland.
