Page 57 of My Highland Rogue
As they always did, the sound of the pipes made her heart swell. Something opened up in the cavern of her chest, a spot large enough to encompass the whole of Scotland. How could anyone hear the sound and not be thankful that they were Scottish, that a heritage so proud and fierce was theirs?
When her mother was alive, the two of them would sit together and watch the piper. Sometimes, they’d have a wee dram of whiskey to mark the occasion. She’d always felt such pride in being an Adaire and in living at Adaire Hall.
“I cannot imagine a more fitting send-off, my dear girl. Did you arrange for the piper just for me?”
She turned to see Ellen, dressed for travel, standing at the entrance to the dining room. She smiled at her godmother’s quip. Ellen knew the traditions of Adaire Hall as well as Jennifer.
“Are you leaving so soon?”
“I must, my dear. I have things that require my attention in Edinburgh. Now that Lauren has had her baby, can I not convince you to come and stay with me for a while? We could plan your wedding together. Or do scandalous things.”
She didn’t want a large wedding. In fact, she’d like to be married in the next day or so, but didn’t say that to Ellen. Her godmother would insist on an affair that took months of planning.
As for scandalous things, she doubted if Ellen had ever been scandalous a day in her life. Instead, she’d been rigorously proper, the only child of a very religious couple who followed the teachings of the Church of Scotland. The only truly shocking thing she’d ever done was to marry Colin Thornton long past the time that most women married.
“I may come for a visit,” Jennifer said. “But not right now.”
Ellen kissed her on the cheek and embraced her once again. “Well, if that’s the best I can expect, then I shall expect it. No writing me and telling me that plans have changed.”
“Thank you for bringing Harrison home. I’m not sure how you did it, but I am grateful all the same.”
“I told you, it was your Gordon’s Maggie.”
Jennifer shook her head. “No, I think it was all you.”
They hugged again before Jennifer walked Ellen downstairs and to the front door, where her carriage had already been brought around.
“Before you say a thing,” Ellen said, “your housekeeper has already provided me with a basket of food for the journey. Plus, I was promised a delightful bottle of wine.”
She wasn’t the least bit surprised at her housekeeper’s actions. Mrs. Thompson had always admired Ellen, saying on more than one occasion that the world would be a better place with more women like her.
Jennifer watched as Ellen’s carriage pulled away from the main entrance and down the oak-shaded drive. The last of the leaves fell on the carriage roof, almost like a benediction of farewell.
She wished she’d been able to convince Ellen to remain for a few days. They didn’t see each other often enough. When she was little, she always spent a few weeks at Ellen’s home every few months. Now it seemed as if she went for half the year without seeing her godmother.
Ellen had been such a comfort when her mother had died. She had been there toward the last of her mother’s illness, spending time with Mary, the two women talking in low tones. More than once she’d interrupted them and seen the signs that each had been weeping.
Every day brought a memory to mind. Her mother might have been restricted to her chair on wheels, and nearly blind, but she had an impact on everyone around her. Mary had made it a point to know as much as she could about every member of the staff. She had Cook make special treats for those having a birthday or some other special day of note. She inquired about their families, their health, or things they liked. She had a phenomenal memory and made it a point to ask something important when talking to each person.
To Mary, someone wasn’t just a scullery maid, or a stable boy, or one of the footmen in training. Each was a person, separate and apart from his role in life.
Harrison wasn’t as egalitarian as their mother. There were numerous occasions when her mother would stop and single out a member of staff either because his wife had given birth or they’d done something worthy enough to note or their smile was especially attractive. There would be a look in Harrison’s eyes that made her think he wished to be anywhere but there. Yet he always forced a smile to his face for their mother’s sake and added his words to hers.
Their mother’s death had freed Harrison.
Yet Harrison never seemed truly happy, as if something important was missing in his life. She didn’t know what it would be, since he seemed to have everything a man could possibly want. He’d been born into a title, a fortune, a magnificent home with a history that mirrored Scotland’s. Hehad a beautiful wife and now a daughter. What more could he possibly want?
What more could anyone want?
If someone looked at her life, what would they say? Before Gordon returned, they would have seen a woman content with her daily occupations, perhaps, but not entirely happy with her life. She had purpose, but no partner. No one to love, to care for. No one with whom to share her life, her hidden thoughts, or her observations of what went on around her. Not one person ever stopped her during the day, put his hand on her arm, and said, “Tell me what you’re thinking, Jennifer.”
No one seemed especially curious to know her thoughts. No one but Gordon. Dear, wonderful Gordon.
Everything had changed since he’d come home.
Now she was no longer going to be a spinster aunt, forever puttering around Adaire Hall. She’d be a wife, and perhaps a mother in time. Her life would be shared with the one man she’d always loved.
They’d live in London, unless Gordon wanted to open some entertainments in Scotland. Perhaps they’d become a well-traveled couple, with homes in both countries.
