“Before we talk. Port? Whisky?” Philip lifted the dusty bottle that he’d set on the table when he came into the room.
“Yer port is hideous, and yer whisky is watery,” Fergus announced. “Give me a glass of my own stuff that I brought down. This is myaqua vitae.Water for life.”
Philip poured him a glass of the whisky from the bottle he’d brought. He poured a second glass and handed it to Arabella who looked at it with wide eyes. Ladies didn’t drink whisky. It was improper. They were supposed to drink lemonade and tea and ratafia. Maybe a sip of red wine but whisky? The thought was outrageous. She stared at the copper liquid in the glass. What would it taste like?
“Take it,” the old man’s rusty voice commanded. “It’s good for yer constitution.”
Philip cocked an eyebrow at her as he held the glass out.
Her hand reached out on its own and took the glass. She swirled the caramel-coloured liquid.
“Take small sips,” Philip advised.
It tasted hideous. She pulled a face. It left a warm trail down her throat and pooled in the stomach. She took a second sip. Surprisingly, that tasted better.
“Sit down, Pip. Right. Now tell Miss Weston exactly what’s been going on.” Turning to Arabella, Fergus said, “One of my main rules in the family is: never have a secret. Always talk things out before ye go to bed. This is such a time.”
Philip dropped with a sigh into a chair.
“A few months ago —”
“Earlier,” Fergus crossed his arms.
Philip grumbled. “Two years ago —”
“All the way back.” Fergus shook his head. “Git oan wae it.”
Philip scowled.
“I see yer not going to do this properly. Let me begin. We’re starting with Philip’s father. The Duke of Morley’s son.”
Arabella averted her eyes. It wasn’t a good moment to tell them she already knew the story as she’d talked to the other grandfather. She was curious about their version, however.
“So, Philip’s father, Edward, was to become the next Duke of Morley after his brother died. Married my Marian, who came down from the North to visit my sister Joan, who lived here.” Fergus shook his head. “Strange how life goes sometimes. My sister’s husband died at sea, so Marian went to stay with her for a while. My sister Joan passed on long since. So did Marian. She was a bonnie lass.” He stared morosely at the fireplace. “Barely eighteen.”
Arabella nodded. Philip’s mother had been a blacksmith’s daughter who’d come to the village to stay with her grieving aunt. She could see how things must’ve developed from there. The duke had said she was a laundry maid, a “rat in the gutter”. It would’ve been easy to meet the duke’s son, who was restless and had a penchant for roaming the countryside.
Philip jumped up and leaned against the mantle of the fireplace, his face averted in the shadow so she couldn’t see it. The soft light of the candle that stood next to him on the mantelpiece flickered a copper sheen over thick locks of auburn hair that curled in his neck.
“Then she met Edward,” Arabella said softly. She could very well imagine how a girl like Marian McAllister would’ve been swept off her feet by a dashing earl who courted her. Especially if he resembled Philip.
Fergus sighed. “Love at first sight and all that. Can’t say I was happy about the union. Ran away to Gretna Green. Settled down right here in this hut.”
“This was your parents’ cottage?”
Philip nodded. “My father owned it. That’s why I love this place so much.” He patted the grey stone wall with a hand. “I was born here.”
“Aye, then came a wee bairn, this strapping lad here, before any of us could blink. The duke, however, was furious.”
“I can imagine,” Arabella murmured.
“Tried to prove the marriage wasn’t valid. But it was. Edward was wild but intelligent. Made sure the paperwork was in order. There was nothing the duke could’ve done. Didn’t disinherit Edward but made life miserable for them. Showed up every day in the carriage, treated my Marian like she was dirt beneath his boots. So, one night, the young family packed up and left for London. In secret. He wasn’t to know of their whereabouts. Aye, for a while that went well. But the duke, he has his people, and he has power. And from here on, Pip, it’s yer turn to tell the story.” Fergus leaned back.
Arabella saw Philip chew on the insides of his cheeks. Then he downed the remains of his whisky and spoke in a low voice.
“Father did well in the city. He was working in various accounting firms in London. Mother made lace at home. She was very good at that. I had a happy childhood, Miss Weston. My parents were wonderful people. They loved each other dearly, and they provided a home for me full of love, laughter, and security. The only thing I ever wanted was an older brother who’d take me fishing.” A corner of his mouth quirked up. “My parents tried to fulfil my every wish, but that was a bit beyond their ability.”
“The name Merivale, where does that come from?”
