It would take two days to reach Edinburgh from Friarsgate. Annie, of course, would not be able to come with her mistress. Her younger sister, Lucy, had been being trained all winter to temporarily take her place and in future act as Annie’s helper. Annie was disappointed, but every time she looked at her infant son she realized she was more content to have her wee Harry than to go with her mistress.
They had all been sewing thoughout the winter so that Philippa might have two new gowns to take with her when she accompanied her mother. The young girl had her mother’s coloring. One of Philippa’s gowns was a medium blue velvet, and the other was a rich brown. Philippa was so excited she could hardly remain still at the fittings. She was also to have new chemises and caps. The Friarsgate cobbler made the young girl a pair of square-toed shoes with round enamel buckles decorated with colorful paste jewels.
“I have never had shoes like this!” she exclaimed excitedly when she was presented with them.
“They are for Edinburgh,” Rosamund said. “You’ll be wearing your boots until we get there. These shoes must last you a good long while, unless, of course, your feet grow too quickly. Try not to let your feet grow, Philippa,” her mother cautioned.
Spring now took hold at Friarsgate with the ice gone from the lake and the white sheep dotting the green hillsides. Midmorning of the twenty-eighth, Rosamund and her little party departed for Edinburgh. She had resigned herself to spending the night at Claven’s Carn. There was simply no way they could bypass it and reach decent shelter. She sent a messenger ahead with her request for shelter, and in late afternoon they reached their destination.
“Do try and behave, dear girl,” Tom teased her wickedly.
Rosamund shot her cousin a fierce look. “I will, if he will,” she replied, and Tom cackled with laughter.
They passed through into Claven’s Carn’s courtyard to be met by a Hepburn clansman who helped them from their horses and escorted them into the Great Hall.
Jeannie came forward, smiling, to greet them. “Rosamund Bolton, it is good to see you once again. Lord Cambridge. And who is this lovely lassie? Your daughter, from the look of her.” She took Rosamund’s two hands in hers and kissed her on both cheeks. Then she gave her hand to Tom who kissed it gallantly.
“My dear lady,” he said, “you positively bloom, I am pleased to see.”
“Come sit by the fire and warm yourself,” Jeannie invited them. “The spring is trying to gain hold here in the borders, but it was still, I will wager, a cold ride.”
She signaled to a servant, and he brought a tray of mulled wine forth for her guests.
“This is my daughter Philippa Meredith,” Rosamund introduced her child to the lady of Claven’s Carn.
Philippa curtsied beautifully. “Madame,” she said.
“Your eldest?” was the polite query.
“Aye,” Rosamund answered her. “And your bairn?”
Jeannie nodded to a cradle by her side. “He sleeps,” she said. “He is such a fine laddie! He shall have a brother come the autumn.” And her hand went to her belly proudly.
“Or a sister,” Logan said, coming into his hall. “Lord Cambridge. Madame.” He came to stand behind his wife.
“Nay, Logan, ’tis another wee laddie I carry,” Jeannie insisted.
“This is my daughter Philippa,” Rosamund introduced her eldest.
“You have grown somewhat since the last time I saw you, Mistress Philippa,” Logan said quietly.
“There was nowhere else where we could break our journey, my lord,” Rosamund quickly said.
“You are welcome,” he replied. “To where do you travel?”
“Edinburgh,” Rosamund said briefly.
“Mama is being married to the Earl of Glenkirk, and I am to be her witness!” Philippa said excitedly. “I have two new gowns and a pair of shoes with buckles!”
“How marvelous!” Jeannie said. “What color are your gowns, Mistress Philippa? And shoes with buckles, too!”
“One gown is blue, and the other is a fine golden brown, madame,” Philippa replied.
“What a lucky girl you are!” the lady of Claven’s Carn responded, smiling. Then she turned to Rosamund. “The earl is the gentleman who traveled with you last summer?”
“Aye,” Rosamund answered her.
“He’s a fine-looking man. You’ll be a countess, won’t you?” Jeannie smiled again, but her husband’s look was dark.
