Page 46 of The Widow Wore Plaid

“And Kitty said nothing to me at all.” Lady Prudence clucked her tongue. “She would only stare out the window and rock back and forth. Perhaps she was a little more distressed than usual.”

Fanny bit her lip. “It could be nothing, but Georgie, Elizabeth, would you mind going to her room to see if she is well?”

“Of course, Fanny.” Lady St. Just rose immediately, an eagerness on her face.

“Of course, my dear.” Elizabeth tried to extract herself from Maria’s clutches, but her charge would have none of it.

“No.” Maria raised her blotchy face to Fanny. “I need Elizabeth, Fanny.”

“Here, I’ll go.” Bella stood, glad for the chance to leave the room. Maria’s distress was truly difficult to watch. And Bella feared every minute that Lady Prudence would pounce on her, asking uncomfortable questions about her and Lord Harold.

“As temporary hostess, I am responsible for Jane’s guests. If Mrs. Seton is upset, try to find out what is the matter and let me know immediately.”

An unnerving quiet fell over the group, and they all looked from one face to another, as though they were waiting for something, which they were. All Bella could do was pray that when the search party returned they had good news.

Fanny nodded to them and they hurried from the room.

Chapter Twenty

“What are you talking about?” Jane struggled to sit up again. Had his fever gotten worse? “I’ve already agreed to marry you.”

Out of all reason, he grinned. “I know. I just like to hear you say yes. And this is a different sort of wedding, so a different proposal.”

“A handfasting?” She could scarcely wrap her head around the idea. They were in the middle of the woods, miles from anyone, injured, fending off a man with a gun, and he wanted to perform an ancient ceremony? “I know Scotland’s laws on marriage are much less strict than England’s, but it can’t be legal, can it? We don’t have anyone to perform it, nor do we have any witnesses.”

The desperation in his eyes, however, gave her pause. Kinellan’s wound was making him weaker and weaker, their chances of survival dropping with each passing minute. Much as she hated to admit it, he might be right to assume she would survive and he would not.

As though she’d received a blow to her heart, Jane bit back a sob. She couldn’t lose him, she couldn’t. Neither could she let him see her fear. There was no way to know if she was increasing or not, but if Kinellan wished to believe she was, and if this handfasting ceremony would ease his fears, she would not, in good conscience, deny him it.

“We don’t need either clergy or witnesses.” He hitched himself up until he lay panting, his back against the wall. “Do you know anything about it?”

“No, not really.” In the gathering darkness she could scarcely make out his face, which worried her. At least his voice sounded strong. That was something.

“It was a medieval form of marriage that fell out of practice about a hundred years ago. The Roman Catholic Church and later the Scottish Protestant Church allowed that if a couple agreed in the present tense, saying ‘I take you to be my wedded wife’ or future tense, saying ‘I will take you to be my wedded wife,’ and followed that declaration with intimate relations, then they were married. No clergy and no witnesses were needed, although witnesses were at least recommended.”

“I would hope so.” Shocking that it would take so little to marry. “They really didn’t need a clergyman to marry them?” Lord, then anyone could marry whomever they pleased whenever they pleased. “No wonder England rushed to pass Lord Hardwicke’s Act.”

Kinellan chuckled. “I suspect so. And that is why the Scottish church eventually refused to recognize a valid marriage that had only future consents followed by consummation. Today handfasting is occasionally used in rural Scotland as a formal betrothal ceremony, where the man and woman pledge to marry, with family and friends looking on, and then they sign the marriage settlements.”

“But then a handfasting won’t help us at all.” Suddenly crestfallen, Jane gripped his hand, not wanting to let him go. How strange that two days ago she’d doubted she wanted to marry Gareth at all and now she would give anything to be able to do so.

“Ah, but it will, sweetheart.” He squeezed her hand and she could almost hear him smile. “While the church changed its laws, the civil law never did. It still upholds handfasting as a form of marriage.”

Peering at him through the gloom, she cocked her head. “If handfasting is such an old, odd custom, how do you know so much about the legalities of it?”

“Well, it’s interesting, what landowners have to sometimes do for their tenants.” He stirred restlessly beside her but settled at last closer to the floor. “Several years ago I had to arbitrate a dispute between two tenants. One’s daughter claimed that she and the other tenant’s son had made a handfast pledge then had enjoyed conjugal relations. The girl was, in fact, with child. Quite obviously so. But the boy denied they’d pledged anything. That’s the worst thing about not having any witnesses.” Gareth snorted. “Mind you, he didn’t deny the consummation, but of course there was no way to tell at that moment if the babe was his or not.”

“Did you make them marry?” Jane could imagine Kinellan towering over the pair, putting the fear of God into them. Much as he had done with Maria and Hugh last winter.

“I soothed the girl’s father and waited until she delivered the child. Meanwhile, I had my solicitor research everything he could about handfasting. Which is why I know so much.”

Jane smiled and clasped Gareth’s good shoulder. “So what happened?”

“As luck would have it, when the baby was born he turned out to be the image of the lad. Like he’d spit him out of his mouth. That’s when I confronted the lad and his father with the civil law. And as the boy could scarcely deny the baby, they married in the church in Fodderty and christened the baby immediately afterward.” He sighed. “Conall Christie Kinellan Callister. I look in on him once in a while. He’s a braw lad. One a father could be proud of.”

The wistful tone of his voice smote Jane’s heart. “As you will be proud of your son, Gareth.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Just give us a little time and mark my words, you’ll have sons enough to satisfy even you. Daughters too, like as not.”

“I would have a dozen with you, my love, if God would grant it.” He struggled upward again. “But in case there is only the one, we must make certain he is legitimate and therefore we must wed as best we can.” His breathing grew labored as he tried to sit up. “We should be standing, I suppose, when we say our vows.”