Chapter 16

Running up to see for himself, Rob saw at once that the angle was wrong for the smoke to be rising in Dumfries. It rose from hills farther away, to the southeast.

Either Parland Dow had met Dunwythie before he reached Dumfries, or someone else had lit a signal fire.

The thick smoke persuaded Rob that Dow was responsible. Having already warned his oarsmen and Jake to be ready, he went downstairs and shouted for Gib.

"Go and tell Jake Elliot that I'll want to take the morning tide just as I did before," Rob said with emphasis. "Mind now, Gib, not a word to anyone else."

"I be a-going, too, then," Gib said. "Like before."

Refusal was on Rob's lips when he realized that the boy might be safer with him. He could trust Lady Kelso to protect him inside the wall, and mayhap Gib would stay inside. But the lad had much initiative and more curiosity, which could be a dangerous combination in one so young.

Rob did not trust Alex. He was sure that if Alex thought Gib knew something and decided to get it out of him, he would find a way.

In any event, Gib might be useful on the trip in other ways, too, Rob thought. Mairi would enjoy the lad's company, for one.

"Very well," he said. "You may go. But you will come back here after you give my message to Jake, and you will keep near me today."

Finding the four women together in the great chamber, he sent Annie and Eliza away so he could speak privately with his grandmother and Mairi.

"Dow met with Dunwythie, and his lordship has agreed to return to Annan," he told them. "So I hope to leave well before dawn tomorrow."

"Are you sure all is well?" Lady Kelso demanded. "How can you know?"

"I'm as sure as I can be without waiting for Dow to return," he said. "If I'm wrong, and he is on his way, then I can still get Mairi safely away to Annan House."

Seeing her nod, he added, "Your task, Gran, will be to see that Alex does not suspect anyone has left the tower other than folks going about their usual duties or going to their cottages. I want him to suspect that the signal fire means Dunwythie is on his way to Dumfries. Alex will then stay right here as he has planned to do."

"I won't stand for a clan war on this doorstep," Lady Kelso said tartly. "So see that you manage your end of the business well, my lad."

"Aye, madam," he said. "If all goes as it should, we will leave before the early incoming tide stems up and I'll be back with the evening ebb."

"But how will you get Mairi out of the tower?" she asked. "Surely not…"

"She knows all about the cavern," he said, with a quick smile for Mairi. "'Tis how I brought her in. More important is the fact that Alex does not know about it, for I have never told him, and I'm sure that Grandfather did not, either."

"What do you want me to do?" Mairi asked.

"Prepare to leave, lass," he said. "Take what you like of the things you have worn here, or nowt if you prefer to forget them all. I will scratch at your door when it is time to go. But tell Annie no more than you must. She should behave as if you were still here, so tell her she must come at her usual time, collect the usual trays, and go home at her usual time. If Alex demands entrance to the tower, Gran," he added, "do as you think best, but do not let him upstairs on any excuse."

"Aye, I can manage him," she said. "I vow, though, I will miss you, Mairi."

Rob did not want to think about missing Mairi. Giving her one more, hasty smile, he took leave of them and went to have another word with Gib.

The rest of the day and evening crawled by. But, at last, it was time to go.

Mairi was ready, wearing her cloak, and listening for Rob. She barely heard the first scratch before she pulled the door open. He carried a lantern, so when he reached for the small bundle she had prepared, she refused to let him take it.

"I can carry it easily," she said. "'Tis only one gown, two shifts, and one tunic, so it is not at all heavy or cumbersome."

Gibby waited at the turn of the stairs. When she expressed her surprise to see him there, he hefted two small baskets.

"Food," he said sleepily. "Herself did order some for ye."

They hurried down to the storage chamber, where Rob opened the cavern door, pushed the latch chain through its hole to the outer side, and closed it when they were on the stairs. Only then did Mairi realize that Gib was going with them.

The galley was waiting at the wharf, so they were off and, before long, riding the flood tide up the Firth. Along the way, Gib opened one basket of food and provided Mairi and Rob with bread and cheese to break their fast. They arrived at Annan House soon after dawn, so they had no need of his second basket.

"Faith, I cannot believe it," Mairi said quietly as they made their way the short distance up the river Annan to where the galley had beached before. "It all looks just the same."

"Sakes," Gib said. "'Tis the same place. Did ye expect it to look different?"

"I suppose I did," she said.

"Come now," Rob said to her as men jumped to drag the boat higher on the shore. "We'll walk up together. You lot wait here for me," he told his crew. "If I'm not back within the hour, go into Annan harbor and wait there."

"I'll just come along wi' ye now," Gib said.

"Aye, Gib, you should," Mairi said hastily when Rob hesitated. "If aught goes amiss, you can run back and warn Jake Elliot."

"Nay, he should not," Rob said. "You wait until I know it is safe to come up, Gib. Until then, though, you stay here and look after that basket of food. I'll take your bundle now, lass," he added, reaching for it. "No need for you to carry it up the hill."

She handed it to him, and they took the path she had taken the day he abducted her. To her astonishment, as they crested the hill, she saw that the gates stood open.

Inside the yard, many horses neighed and stamped the cobbles.

"Mercy, are they just now returning?" Mairi asked. "I'd have expected them to get home yestereve."

"Aye, they would have," Rob said. "That looks as if they are leaving again."

As they entered the courtyard, she saw Jopson rushing toward her.

"My lady, 'tis a gey great blessing to see ye home again! But there has been grave mischief a-brewing here, and the laird be in a rare kippage."

"This is our steward," she said to Rob. "Good sakes, Jopson! What is amiss?"

"'Tis the lady Fiona, m'lady. She ran off wi' that Jardine. And the laird…I'm telling ye, I dinna like the look o' him, withal. The man be ripe for murder!"

The ground seemed to shift beneath her. Horses blurred, voices buzzed.

Rob put a hand swiftly under Mairi's elbow when he saw her sway, wishing fervently that he dared put his arm right around her and hold her close.

She straightened, blinking and biting her lip, visibly taking herself in hand. "Where is my father?" she asked. "Does he know yet that I am home?"

"Nay, m'lady," the steward said. "Seeing just one man and a woman walking up the hill, the men on the wall wouldna ha' thought it were trouble a-coming. Not wi' the gate open and all o' us men here well armed. Forbye, what fools would ye be to walk into an army did ye mean mischief? This army will soon grow, too," he added grimly. "His lordship does expect to gather dunamany more as he rides up the dale to fetch her ladyship home."

"I should go with him," Rob murmured for Mairi's ears alone.

"Sakes, no, sir," she said sharply, apparently not caring who heard her. "You should leave is what you should do. If he is enraged over this latest start of Fiona's—Faith, though, I could slap her senseless. And what I'd like to do to your good friend Will Jardine… Well, it would get me hanged, I expect."

"Will Jardine is no friend of mine, for all that he may once have looked so," Rob said. "Jardines have often ridden with Maxwells, so we count them amongst our allies. But rarely does anyone count them as friends. It was but a—"

Dunwythie was striding across the yard toward them, his face choleric.

"Och, and so ye did bring the lass home again, did ye, Maxwell?" he snapped. "Had I but time to deal wi' ye now, and could do the right thing, I'd hang ye sure. But I'm no a man to go back on my word, whatever others may do. And I did tell Parland Dow I'd leave ye go in peace. So I will. But he said I ought to thank ye for putting my Mairi's safety afore aught else. And that I will not do. To my mind, there be nae difference betwixt ye and yon thieving Will Jardine!"

His lordship's face was nearly purple. His entire torso shook with his rage.

"My lord, pray calm yourself," Rob urged. "I swear to you, I condemn what Will Jardine has done and would help set it right. By my troth, sir, if you will allow me, I would ride with you and lend my strong sword arm to your cause."

"Nay, then! But ye will get yourself hence from here as fast as ye can go! I have nae need of such help as yours. Nor would I be fool enough to trust that ye'd aid me against a Jardine."

"Father, prithee," Mairi said.

"Nae more talk," he said. "I must go. But before I do, lass, ye should ken this much. I turned that Flory girl off for aiding your sister, so dinna be taking her back again! And, to protect ye, lest I fail to end Will Jardine's mischief—aye, and Will Jardine, too—I altered my will to leave this house and its estates nae longer to Fiona but to ye as my heiress unless the babe my lady wife carries proves to be male."

"But, sir—"

"Nay, Mairi," he added fiercely. "By the Rood ye must promise me, lass, that if aught should happen to me, ye will not sign over this house or any of its lands to Fiona as long as she is with any man o' that villainous tribe!"

"I do promise, my lord," Mairi said solemnly. "But you should not ride as you are, sir! In troth, you do not look well. Art so sure our Fiona left willingly?"

"Aye, because the daft lass met with that scoundrel dunamany times these past weeks—sakes, even afore ye left us," he retorted as if, Rob thought, his lordship blamed Mairi for her sister's mischief.

He nearly spoke up to defend her, realized he would only make things worse, and kept silent. It made no difference, because Dunwythie rounded next on him.

"You!"he exclaimed, pointing a shaking finger. "This be all on your head, yours and your thieving brother's heads both! Trying to turn all here upside down to your own benefit, and from nowt but greed. Greed for power, greed for gelt! 'Tis all that matters to Maxwells and their sort! May God curse them all from now through eternity. And Jardines! May they be twice cursed beyond Maxwells as—"

He was screaming the curses. But as the stream of words broke, he looked at Mairi with his mouth still open.

She reached toward him, clearly meaning to soothe him.

Rob moved to stop her, fearing he knew not what from his lordship in response, yet something.

But the man only gaped at her glassy-eyed for a too-long moment before he crumpled to the ground.

Rob heard Mairi cry out as he dropped to one knee beside Dunwythie.

His lordship's eyes were fixed, still staring. His breathing had stopped. When shaking him drew no response, Rob felt for his lordship's neck where a man's pulse usually beat strongly. Finding no movement there, he looked to the steward and said, "He is gone. If you will look after him, I will take the lady Mairi—"

"Nay!" she cried, falling to her knees beside her father and bending over him. Urgently, she shook him as Rob had, but with tears streaming down her cheeks.

"With respect, sir," the steward said quietly to Rob, "I would send a man for the lady Phaeline. We must tell her in any event, and I ha' nae doots she will attend to the lady Mairi, too. So, mayhap it would be wiser did ye go now, whilst ye still can. There be some here as would ha' your eyes, sithee—wi' respect, sir."

"Send for the lady Phaeline by all means," Rob said. "But I will stay here unless the lady Mairi herself bids me go."

The steward looked long at him.

Only when Rob saw the man's expression shift from stern determination to acceptance did he turn back to Mairi. "Come, my lady," he said gently. "You can do nowt for him now. He is at peace."

She stayed where she was as if she had not heard him. Then, abruptly crossing herself, she drew a breath, let it out, and stood to face him. With astonishing calm, she said, "I thank you for bringing me home in time to see him before he died, sir. But I do agree that you must return to your men now."

A high-pitched scream from the entryway drew everyone's attention to a plump woman in the fashionable garb of a noblewoman, whom Rob had no difficulty recognizing as Phaeline, Lady Dunwythie. Catching up her skirts, she flew down the steps and across the yard as men and horses scrambled to make way for her.

"What have you done to him?" she shrieked to no one in particular. Then, fixing her gaze on Mairi, she shrieked again and flew at her, claws outstretched.

The steward jumped out of her path, whereupon Rob stepped swiftly into it. Catching her by her arms, he said sternly, "Hold now, my lady."

When he grabbed her, she stiffened and her shrieks ceased. His command to her therefore dropped into the sudden silence like stones into a pool, spreading ripples of visible unease through the men watching them.

"How dare you lay your hands on me!" she demanded shrilly.

"Madam, prithee recall your condition," Mairi said as Rob released her ladyship. "You do not want to endanger the bairn you carry."

The older woman looked briefly bewildered, then irritated. "Thank you for your advice, Mairi," she said with caustic hauteur. "Doubtless, our Fiona learned her pretty behavior from you. I do not doubt that you schemed to distress your father and now have killed him by returning as you have. I hope you are happy."

Rob saw the lass stiffen, but she did not reply in kind.

Instead, coolly, she said, "We are both distressed, madam, but distress will not bring him back. We must send at once to inform Fiona of what has happened, although I fear for her state of mind when she hears of this. She will likely blame herself as quickly as you blame me."

Turning to the steward, Mairi said, "I shall depend on you, Jopson, to send a reliable lad who will not just blurt the news to her ladyship. But first, tell Gerrard he must command our men to stand down. We'll send no army to Applegarth today."

"But, my lady—"

"If my father was sure that the lady Fiona chose to elope with Will Jardine, then until we learn otherwise, I say she shall have her way."

Lady Dunwythie said fiercely, "And who are you, pray, to be giving orders here?" she demanded. "Orders about my daughter!"

Still outwardly calm, Mairi said, "Until your bairn arrives and proves himself male, madam, I remain heiress apparent to my father's estates. His will, unless he altered that part as well as the part about Fiona's inheriting Annan House, does proclaim that I am to take charge in just such an event as this. Jopson, did his lordship say aught to you about changing that portion?"

"Nay, my lady," the steward replied. "And he would ha' told me. So his will do be as ye say. I'll give your orders straightaway." He turned away to do so.

Mairi turned next to Rob.

Hastily, before she could speak, he said, "This event does alter things, my lady. I would be of service to you if I may, in any manner that you deem useful."

"I thank you, sir, for your kindness," she said, meeting his gaze with deep sorrow in her own that he knew was for her father and not for him.

He also knew what she would say, so again he spoke first, saying, "I will carry the message for your lady sister to Jardine Mains and bring her back to you, my lady. I can also deal swiftly with Will Jardine, and as your lord father desired."

"Nay," she said, her voice warm enough in that single word to melt his heart, although the word she spoke was the wrong one. "Will Jardine did not act by himself or… or kill anyone. Nor did aught that you did, or I," she added. "My father was a man of peace. He loathed conflict and would nearly always seek peace at any price. He is gone now, and we cannot change that. But we will have peace in Annandale if I can manage it. To that end, sir, you can help me if only you will."

He knew she meant that he should dissuade Alex from his sworn course of taking Annandale under his power. The knowledge entered his mind with a thud.

Nevertheless, he said, "I will do all I can, my lady, but—"

"No buts, sir," she interjected with a wan smile. "I want your promise. And promises, like apologies, should never marry with a ‘but.'"

He was sure his expression matched hers as he nodded in agreement, but he could not speak, because his throat was full. He wanted so much to take her in his arms that he could not trust himself to touch her.

Nodding again more abruptly, he made his bow and left the yard.

He was not yet halfway down the hill when he saw the defiant Gibby coming up with a basket in hand.

Remembering what it contained, Rob smiled.

Mairi watched Rob walk away until he had passed through the gateway and disappeared below the grassy crest of the hill, wishing he would turn and look back but feeling relieved when he did not.

She watched men gently lift her father onto a thick blanket and carry him into the house, where maidservants and women from the cottages would prepare him for burial. Beside her, Phaeline burst into gusty, sobbing wails.

Mairi felt then as if the past weeks had been only a dream.

Drawing a breath and letting it out slowly, she turned to cope with Phaeline.

Phaeline's woman, Sadie, came running toward them, her skirts caught up high, and seeing her, Mairi felt a rush of gratitude.

Warmly, she said, "I'm gey glad to see you, Sadie!"

With a wry smile and a glance at the still sobbing Phaeline, Sadie said, "I'll warrant ye are, me lady. 'Tis relieved we be to ha' ye back again, and gey sorrowful for his lordship's death. What would ye ha' me do first?"

"See to her ladyship," Mairi said.

"Aye, sure. And will I tell the housekeeper to send for the women then?"

Agreeing, Mairi saw how deftly she dealt with Phaeline, and was calling down more blessings on Sadie when a youthful voice behind her said, "Beg pardon, me lady, but the laird did say I should come to ye, that ye might ha' need o' me."

Turning, she beheld Gibby, his wide, gap-toothed smile on full display.

"Gib! Surely the boat has not gone without you!"

"Nay, the laird did say I should bring ye a wee gift. But ye're no to open the basket even a crack till ye've gone inside. So if ye be too busy yet here, I'll wait."

"But will the boat wait?"

"Aye, sure, till I go and wave it off. Unless the tide do run afore then."

Mairi hesitated. "But surely, you do not want to stay here, Gib. You like it gey fine at Trailinghail with the laird and Fin Walters."

"Aye, sure, and I'll go back soon enough. The laird did say that mayhap ye could take me into Nithsdale when ye go to Thornhill for Easter. Sithee, Herself will be back in Dumfries by then, and the laird did say that, one way or t'other, she'd help me find how to get back to Trailinghail. Meantime, he said I could learn much here. Sithee, I be a grand chap for learning."

"So you are," Mairi agreed, but her thoughts had shifted to Thornhill and Easter. Giving herself a shake and returning her gaze to the hopeful child, she said, "Go then, if you are sure, and wave the boat off so they do not miss the tide, whilst I finish sorting things out here. Then we will go inside and see what you have in that basket. Unless you want to spare yourself the burden and leave it with me now."

"Nay, I dinna mind carrying it. And ye might peek."

As he strode back to the gateway, Mairi realized she was smiling.

Before he returned, she concluded that although Jopson's quiet acceptance of her authority had assuaged any doubt she might have had about assuming control, he could easily do all that needed doing outside without her. And the housekeeper and her women would see to Dunwythie's laying out.

That left Mairi with little to do but go in to face Phaeline—and a household bursting with curiosity about her long absence, and all it might have entailed.

It was enough, she thought, to make anyone want to turn tail and run.

How she wished Fiona were there, if only to have someone with whom she could talk without minding each word. Realizing she would have their bedchamber to herself stirred new sadness, and tears that she had not expected to shed.

Dashing them away, she hurried to the great hall, where she found the housekeeper in a bustle to arrange his lordship's laying out.

Agreeing with all that the woman suggested and assuring her that she perfectly understood her desire to supervise it all, Mairi dismissed her with relief and turned toward the stairway.

"Lady Mairi, d'ye want to see what be in me basket now?"

Turning to find Gibby right behind her, holding up the basket, Mairi lifted the lid to see Tiggie curled up inside.

"Good sakes," she said, "I never suspected this! Indeed, I thought you were the present, with the basket just containing your clothes and more food."

"Aye, sure, I am part o' the gift," Gib said. "Nae doots, ye need me to look after that wee scruff. As to clothes, I'll do well enough wi' these."

"You would look after Tiggie for me? I thought you ‘dinna ha' nowt to do wi' the wee terror,'" she said, teasing him with his own words.

Gibby shrugged. "We get on good now. Any road, the laird did say I couldna come in the boat without I agreed to look after the lad and keep him quiet."

Mairi lifted the kitten out. By the look of it, it was still more than half asleep. When she set it on the floor, it took a tentative step, swayed, and shook itself.

"Why, what's amiss with him?" she asked.

Gib shrugged. "Whisky, I expect."

"Whisky!"

"Aye, sure, the laird himself did say not long since that whisky gives a man good sleep. So I gave a thimbleful to the lad there, and as ye see, it worked a charm."

Mairi bit her lip, reminding herself that her father lay dead in the house and that kittens almost certainly ought not to drink whisky, but it was no use. Try as she might to stifle the laughter bubbling in her throat, it pealed out and filled the hall.

"Sakes, but he liked it fine," Gib muttered.

Rob's journey back to Trailinghail passed without incident and without wind. Thus it also passed in a fog of boredom with naught to divert him from thoughts that remained at Annan House with Mairi. He was sure she would miss her sister, Fiona, as much as, or even more than, she would miss his lordship.

But he remembered his gentle mother's death, as well as his stern father's, and he knew that losing any parent was dreadfully hard.

He also knew, however, that his continued presence would have done more harm than good. It would certainly have caused tension with her stepmother and also much gossip and many accusations.

Moreover, he did not doubt for a minute that when she considered the matter at length, she would blame him at least a little for Fiona's elopement.

Not only had he taken Will to Dunwythie Mains the day they had all met but he had abducted Mairi while Will was working his devilry with Fiona. If only to spare Mairi more pain, Rob knew he was doing the right thing by going home.

The decision did not make the long, dull trip easier to bear.

They did reach the mouth of the bay shortly before dusk. But, having used up the entire ebb tide to get there, they arrived at low water.

Holding off, far enough out to avoid being seen, they waited for the incoming tide to rise so Rob could use the sea entrance to get back inside the tower.

By the time he did, the sun had been down for several hours and darkness was fully upon them. If Alex's men were watching the sea, Rob decided, they had probably watched the sun go down and gone about their business.

Bidding his men goodnight, he reminded them to return to the tower by ones and twos in the morning so as not to draw undue attention. Then, taking the stairs, he let himself in with the latch chain, pulled it back inside, replaced the bars, took a jug of whisky from the shelf, and went to the kitchen to get supper.

Feeling more his usual self after he'd eaten, and knowing his grandmother would be in the great chamber, he went up to tell her he was back.

"Mercy me," she said when Eliza let him in. "You did explain about the tides, but I did not think you could truly make so long a journey in so short a time."

"It did not seem short to me, coming back," he said.

"Aye, well, you got her home safely," she said.

He told her what had happened. Then, after she exclaimed her dismay at Dunwythie's death and he had answered all the questions he could, he asked if Alex was still outside the gate.

"Aye, sure, and stubborn enough to stay until Christmas, I'm thinking."

"Nay, then, he will not," Rob said. "I mean to have him inside tomorrow to tell him he must parley with Lord Johnstone or one of the other Annandale lairds if he persists with this foolish scheme of his."

"So it is foolish now, is it?"

"Aye, and always was," he told her. "When one hears only one side of an argument, that side seems right. But in this case, the other side's reasons make more sense. To my mind, Gran, when a thing is working, one ought not to meddle with it. The system in Annandale has worked well for a century and more, so there can be no need for us Maxwells to assert power there, or any good to come from it."

"I don't disagree with that, Rob, but what about Archie Douglas?"

"Douglas is another matter," he said. "If he asserts power, it is because he needs many men to assure the safety of the Borders, and all ken that fine. So they think it no great thing if he should ask for more gelt or goods to supply his army. The Douglases have long proven their ability to protect us from the English. We Maxwells lack that repute, thanks mostly to other, long dead Maxwells."

"So you mean to challenge Alex on the matter, do you?"

"If necessary, I will, for I promised Mairi I would. At present, I mean to let him know only that she is no longer here, so he can go home and take his men with him before they lay waste all the land around Trailinghail."