Mathew's Tale by Quintin Jardine Page A

that.’
    ‘We bear these things, Mathew. I had practice at it, when I was told I’d lost you, after the great battle. All we can do is love them that are left all the more.’
    ‘I did love Margaret, you know,’ he murmured, rocking his son gently in his arms.
    ‘I know.’ She nodded. ‘And I love David too.’
    ‘You should. He’s a better man than me.’
    ‘He’s a different man from you, the gentlest you could ever meet, but dinna do yourself down. There’s not a soul in the Upper Ward of Lanarkshire that’s more respected. You put food on people’s table with your factory. You might only have one eye now, but you see more with it than ten ordinary men.’
    For all his misery, he smiled. ‘You are biased.’
    ‘That may be, but it’s still the truth. Where is Mother Fleming?’ she asked him, suddenly.
    ‘She is gone to see Mr Barclay, to tell him the news, and to ask him to prepare for a . . .’ He broke off and gazed at the ceiling. ‘Last spring, Margaret told me we would have a wedding and a christening in the same year. But she could not have known we’d be having a funeral as well. I would give up everything I own to have her back.’
    ‘Then you’d be wishing that baby unborn,’ Lizzie retorted, ‘that child you cradle in your arms. She would not have wanted that, I promise you, not even as the fever took hold of her. You cannot have her back, and so you will not give up everything. Far from it, you will work all the harder, for your son. David told me of your plans for your factory, with the new products, and of your new venture.’
    ‘There is some risk in both. If one were to fail, I would survive, but if both go badly . . .’
    ‘Mathew, neither will fail, and you know it. Now,’ she said briskly, as she laid the infant Jean in a cradle at the side of the hearth, ‘let me see that bairn of yours. He must be fed.’
    ‘This is a great thing you’re doing, Lizzie.’
    ‘Nonsense, it’s what any woman would do. God knows, if Mother Fleming could, you would never get him off her.’ She frowned as she took the baby from him. ‘Look after her, mind. She was in a fearful fuss when she arrived here. She’d driven hard all the way from Cam’nethan. David had gone to his work by then, but young Matt was still here and he was alarmed when he saw the state she was in.’
    ‘I know,’ he admitted. ‘And I will take care of her, I promise. But you, are you really able to do this, feed two babies?’
    She laughed. ‘Man, have you never heard of twins? Sir Gregor Cleland and his brother thrived well enough . . . though more’s the pity, some would say.’
    ‘Yes, but twins tend to be smaller babies, do they not? This lad here’s a bruiser.’
    ‘I will have enough,’ she insisted.
    ‘Then I will send you extra milk, vegetables, meat, chicken, all the extra you need. And a cot and bedding and clothing and soft napkins for the child, for both the children, and coal for the fire, and oil for the lamps . . . and I’ll find a wet nurse as quickly as I can, I promise.’
    ‘No!’
    Her sharpness took him by surprise.
    ‘I will foster this child for as long as is necessary, until he is ready to be weaned. It will be hard for you, Mathew, but he must stay here with us until then. I won’t have another woman suckling your Margaret’s bairn. I am fit and I am healthy; you know that. How could you guarantee that in someone else? I promise you, if I find that I canna cope, I will tell you, but I know that I can.’
    ‘Has David agreed to this?’
    ‘Of course. I sent young Matt to fetch him home when Mother Fleming arrived. He is of the same mind as me, be sure of it.’
    ‘Lizzie,’ he exclaimed, ‘that is a great commitment. If you wish, you and David and your children could move into Waterloo House, with Mother and me.’
    ‘And then move out again when the time comes? You are a generous man, Mathew, but this is our home and here we must stay. As you can see, it is