Page 92 of My Highland Rogue
“She was kind. She was understanding. Even if she didn’t condone a certain behavior, she tried to see beyond it to the human being who’d performed it. She was gracious. She was the perfect countess. When she married Alex, I thought it was a wonderful union. It was evident, to everyone, how much they loved each other. I never knew anyone like her. She even charmed my parents, who’d become very strict Church of Scotland. They liked her. Even better, they respected her. I think they secretly admired her as well. You didn’t know her the way I did, Jennifer, but she was a beautiful woman. She had this glorious auburn hair and these beautiful blue eyes.”
Ellen stared down at the brandy, remembering how jealous she’d been when first meeting Mary and how quickly that feeling had dissipated in view of the woman’s charm and grace.
“My parents allowed me a season. They hadn’t found religion yet, you see. I was an only child, expected to be the apple of my parents’ eye. I was to be perfect, but I fell far short of that.”
She was going too far afield. Jennifer was too polite to ask why she was suddenly talking about people she had never met.
“You know about the fire, of course.”
Jennifer nodded again. She leaned forward, clasping her hands, intent on Ellen’s words. Did she have some kind of precognitive ability? Did she realize that what Ellen was going to say next would change her entire life?
“What you don’t know is that the fire altered their marriage. Not the fire, exactly, but what happened when Mary fell from the second floor.They couldn’t be together any longer. It was too painful for her.”
She knew how much that had mattered to both of them. Yet she doubted if Alex would have ever been unfaithful to his wife. He loved her too much. In addition, the man was a paragon of virtue himself. He was a good man, and it was evident that Gordon took after him.
“As I said, Mary was very understanding. Perhaps the word isn’tunderstanding. Perhaps it’scompassionate.Generous. Kind.”
She took another sip of the brandy and realized that it wasn’t going to help. She was simply going to have to tell this story, as difficult as it was.
“All around me, my friends were getting married, but I did not have any affection whatsoever for any of the young men who seemed interested in me. It was all too evident that I was going to remain a spinster, caring for my parents until their elderly days. Maybe that’s why I did what I did.” She shook her head, determined to be honest. “No, that’s not why. I was entranced and flattered and pleased. A handsome young man began to pay me attention, and it went to my head, I think. That was before I learned my own value. I didn’t respect myself enough. So I fell for his blandishments, ardent as they were, and found myself in a precarious position. Especially since he decided to marry an heiress and leave me without a backward glance.”
She could still remember the humiliation of learning of Ronald McCormick’s betrothal. First had come the hurt, then the panic.
“I confided in Mary. I was, in fact, about toshame my parents by causing a massive scandal. I was about to have a child out of wedlock. Perhaps such things would be acceptable in some families, but not Church of Scotland members.” She smiled without any trace of humor. “My parents would have thrown me out on the streets.”
She’d been worried about her child. Even then, her baby had acquired a supreme importance. She would have done anything to protect him.
She could remember every moment of that visit to Adaire Hall. Mary had just acquired her wheeled chair and she was no longer imprisoned in her room. They had been sitting on the terrace, and Ellen had tearfully confessed her sin to her friend.
“Mary had an idea. She could no longer have children, and here I was, about to have a baby.”
She forced herself to look at Jennifer. There was a dawning awareness in the younger woman’s eyes. Her cheeks were becoming pink, and Jennifer’s hands were clasped together in what looked like a death grip.
“Mary asked my parents if I could accompany her to England. That’s the story we gave out. Because of her fragile condition, I was going to be a nurse/companion. Alex accompanied us, of course.”
Even if she stopped right now, Jennifer would know the truth, but that would be sheer cowardice on her part. Instead, she continued.
“We stayed at a small house that belonged to a friend of Alex’s. Only one other person called on us—the midwife. When my child was born,Mary and Alex claimed her as their own. We named her Jennifer.”
Where had the tears come from? She hadn’t thought to weep, but suddenly she was.
Jennifer didn’t say anything for a long moment. Neither did she look away. The color rose on her cheeks, but when she still didn’t speak a moment later, Ellen almost begged her to say something, anything. She had tried to anticipate Jennifer’s reaction to the news, but she hadn’t thought that the younger woman would break the silence with a question.
“Did everyone accept that I was their child?”
Ellen nodded. “We were gone long enough. I had been able to hide my condition. No one knew us in the English town where we stayed. Alex even sent word back to the Hall that the reason they were staying away so long was Mary’s pregnancy and how difficult the journey home might prove to be.”
“Did he go along with the story?”
Ellen smiled. “You have to understand how much Alex loved Mary. Whatever she wanted, he was willing to do. Plus, I think he wanted another child as well. He never saw you as different. He always loved you as the child of his heart.”
She had to make Jennifer understand. “Mary did this for me, not for herself. She knew what would happen if anyone found out. It would be a scandal that I wouldn’t be able to live down.” She cleared her throat. “Everyone loved Mary. Even before the fire she was beloved by not only the staff of the Hall, but by Alex’s friends and theiracquaintances in Edinburgh. I’ve never heard a bad word spoken of her. So, if there were any suspicions, no one voiced them.”
She blinked back her tears and cleared her throat again.
“The three of us vowed that it would remain a secret, that no one would ever know that you weren’t Mary’s child. She wanted me to have a place in your life, so I became your godmother. In a sense, we shared you. You spent time with me and lived at Adaire Hall.”
Jennifer nodded. “I never knew. I never suspected.”
