Page 17 of Kilgannon #1

F OUR WEEKS PASSED AND MOUNTGARDEN LULLED ME INTO its sleepy life.

Will and Betty were in their own world, spending most of the day together and often disappearing in the evenings.

While envious, I was also glad that Will was enjoying his marriage.

I spent days sorting out the accounts, glad of the diversion and enjoying the work.

Will and I shared the secret that I kept the accounts and he took the credit.

We were both content with our agreement.

Louisa and Randolph came to visit often and I was pleased to see them, even when Louisa explained that if the story of my unseemly behavior were to seep out, no man would marry me and I would be shunned as a fallen woman forever.

I pointed out to her that bundling me off to the country would only cause more talk.

Louisa explained that it was still summer.

Few people were in London and no one noted that I was gone.

She said I had been extremely foolish and would stay in the country until I fully understood what I had done.

Rebecca and her family, with Lawrence in tow, came to visit as well.

At first Lawrence watched me as though I would lead Becca astray under his nose, but he eventually thawed when I told him I knew I’d been imprudent but that I had been worried about Alex.

He willingly believed that I was foolish and naive but would not feel comfortable with the idea that I had been aware of the rules of society as I was breaking them.

So I didn’t tell him. Becca was wonderful and I realized again how very much I would miss her.

Her marriage was fast-approaching, and Louisa had at last told me that I could return to London for the wedding.

To my amusement, it had been Randolph who had been my champion.

After lecturing me thoroughly on the evils of men and the dangers likely to befall young women who were foolish enough to be alone with them, Randolph told me that I was a lively girl.

He called Alex “that Scotsman.” When I explained that Robert was Scottish as well, Randolph amazed me by saying that he thought Robert too cautious.

I threw my arms around him and surprised a grin out of him.

Things were much better between us after that evening, and I began to know my uncle.

Robert arrived and was charming, but formal again.

I never knew whether he had been told of my visit to Alex’s ship, and I did not tell him now, but I found myself wondering disloyally if he would ever do something impulsive.

I thought not. I missed Alex so much. How could a stranger find his way into my mind so often?

I haunted the gardens and grounds, hearing his laughter echo in my head, feeling the empty space beside me.

I revisited our every moment together over and over.

I slept with the half plaid thrown over my bed and dreamed of a blond man leaning to kiss me.

As the sixth week began I reluctantly faced the fact that I would never see Alex again.

No doubt my brash behavior had repulsed him.

I told myself that I was the greatest fool ever born.

I threw myself into working on the accounts and my mother’s roses and kept busy with neighbors and the village.

The weather, which had been fine for weeks, now turned cooler each day, the last of the summer dying and with it part of me.

I spent much time alone in the garden, and that’s where I was when Alex’s letter came.

It was addressed to Louisa’s London house, and who knew how long it had taken to reach me.

Louisa and Randolph were in Berkshire with Randolph’s sister, so someone else in the London house had forwarded it to me.

Surely not that odious Bronson. It must have been Ellen.

I held the letter with trembling hands before opening it.

Alex would no doubt be telling me that it had been lovely to meet me, but had he mentioned that he was marrying next week?

I unfolded the letter. It was dated two weeks after I had seen him, and I took a deep breath.

My dear Mary, he had written. Of course, I told myself, a proper salutation.

I must not read more into it. He was not actually saying that I was dear to him.

I am writing from Kilgannon. I have recovered from my illness, except for a very strange dream I keep having in which a beautiful woman is leaning over my berth, telling me to eat and summoning doctors.

Mary, what were you thinking to come to the brig?

I fear for your reputation and I fear I am indeed the barbarian, for I am grateful you came.

Thank you for your concern and thank your Dr. Sutter for his help.

How have you been? Have you had any consequences of your visit?

I wish I could have accompanied you and explained to your aunt and uncle.

I’m sorry I was not with you and you had to face them alone.

We left London the day after your visit for Ireland and then home.

It is good to see Kilgannon again and my sons, who seem to have grown considerably in my absence.

All is well here and the last of the summer is very beautiful, but I miss you very much.

Do you ever think of me? If so, please write to me and tell me of your life.

If you do not, please forgive me for once again overstepping myself. I remain yours, Alexander MacGannon.

I hugged the letter to my breast and did a whirl. I wrote to him that night, trying to duplicate his tone, keeping my comments about the inquisition light, and explaining that I was now at Mountgarden. I sang as I sealed the letter.

We wrote to each other for three months.

It seemed that he wrote to me immediately each time, for the time between letters grew shorter and shorter.

As did the days. By November I was back in London with Louisa and Randolph, and I was in everyone’s good graces again.

Rebecca’s wedding had been wonderful. As Becca and Lawrence drove away to begin their wedding journey, I stood with her mother in the cold air, both of us in tears, and wondered how I could live in London without Becca and her laughter.

I would miss her terribly, but even were she to stay, I knew we’d reached a milestone at which our relationship would never be the same.

She was Lawrence’s wife now, and while I was happy for her, I felt the loss of my dear friend grievously.

Alex’s letters helped fill the gap. He sent sketches of his sons, who seemed miniature versions of their father, and he sent drawings of Kilgannon.

It looked lovely, the castle surrounded by blue water and indigo mountains, but it was difficult to imagine what it would look like in person.

, His letters were full of his life there, and I learned much about the people.

Alex lived with his two sons, Ian and Jamie, and with Angus and Matthew and Angus’s mother Deirdre, Malcolm, and assorted cousins of indeterminate degree.

As for the rest of the clan, some of them were staff in the household, some tenant farmers, some herders, some fishermen, some sailors.

Add to that the necessary mix of smiths, masons, and the other trades, and it was a varied mix of people.

For my part I wrote of my childhood with my parents and Will at Mountgarden, of my parents’deaths, of traveling with Louisa, my life in London before he’d met me, and about my friends and politics. I never mentioned Robert.

Alex told me in every letter how much he missed me and that he thought of me constantly, but he never mentioned love.

He wrote that he had no plans to return to London in the near future, although he was doing much traveling.

I took a deep breath when I read that. He alluded to some business problems, and I translated them as a shortage of coin.

I was a faithful correspondent, but the weeks and then months dragged on, and I asked myself why we were writing if I was never to see him again.

He wrote also to Louisa and Randolph, and although I was not privy to the contents, whatever he had written softened their attitudes toward him considerably.

At the same time Robert was becoming much more insistent.

He seemed to be confident that Alex was no longer a rival, and although I did tell him that Alex and I were writing, he seemed unperturbed.

He astonished me by arranging evenings that were filled with laughter and surprises, and more than once I found myself truly relaxed in his presence.

Perhaps Louisa was right that all Robert had needed was the hint of a rival.

All of this would have been fine if I had not become so fascinated by Alex.

I was afraid that I was unintentionally deceiving Robert and tried to have serious discussions with him about Alex, but he always changed the subject and eventually I got the hint.

And then, without warning, one rainy evening in late November, a case of claret was delivered to Louisa’s door, and I knew immediately who it was from.

A very proper note accompanied it, which said Alex had returned to London and asked permission to see me.

Louisa and Randolph exchanged significant looks and withdrew to discuss it, but whatever their decision, I was determined to see him.