The Last Heiress by Bertrice Small Page A

the breach between you as quickly as possible,” he advised.
    The laird nodded. “I will,” he said.
    The men sat talking for a while longer, and then with Thomas Bolton going first they began to depart the hall for their beds.
    In the morning the laird and his sons rode out for their home, while Rosamund remained behind that she might see her daughter off on her own journey. She involved Elizabeth in the packing of her trunks so that her time with Baen MacColl was reduced to almost nothing. She recruited Maybel, and together the two instructed young Nancy in the many aspects of her duties. Nancy had a way with hair, and showed Rosamund the different styles she could do, using Elizabeth as her paradigm.
    Only in the evening was Baen MacColl in evidence, and Rosamund was pleased to see he kept his distance while remaining most polite. Obviously the lad did know his place, and she was relieved. Elizabeth could not be allowed to fall in love with an unsuitable man. And the young Scot should not fall in love with her, lest he be driven to foolish actions. Bride stealing was not a thing of the past in the borders between England and Scotland.
    And finally the morning of April first dawned. And the day was bright with sun. Elizabeth had hardly been able to sleep the previous night. It was not that she was excited about her impending journey. Indeed, if anything she was fearful, and fear was not an emotion that came readily to her. It made her irritable that her stomach was in an uproar, and that her bowels had emptied three times after she had risen. Her mother was chattering. Maybel and young Nancy were chattering. They sounded like nothing more than the sparrows in the ivy that covered the outside of the house. Elizabeth wanted to scream with her aggravation.
    “You are certain the little trunk has everything your mistress will need on the journey?” Rosamund asked Nancy for the tenth time.
    “Yes, my lady,” Nancy responded patiently.
    “The boar’s-bristle brush for her teeth?”
    “Yes, my lady.”
    “The woolen stockings?”
    “Yes, my lady.”
    “An extra flannel petticoat?”
    “Yes, my lady.”
    “Mama, Nancy has proved most capable. Do not worry,” Elizabeth said. “We have both checked everything several times now. I think we can do no more.”
    “Your jewel case?” Rosamund demanded. “Where is your jewel case?”
    “In the trunk with my bodices and sleeves,” Elizabeth said. “Mama, you will make me sick if you do not stop. I make this journey to please you and for no other reason. Surely you understand that?”
    “You must come back with the hope of a good match, Elizabeth,”  her mother said.
    “Yes, Mama,” was the response.
    “You are just nervous,” Rosamund soothed her daughter.
    “I must go out and walk in the meadow,” Elizabeth said suddenly.
    “The sun is not even up yet!” Rosamund cried.
    “It will be, and I would see it rise today. It will be weeks before I see the sunrise from my own fields again,” Elizabeth answered her, and, turning on her heel, she ran from the chamber. Outside, the air was cool and fresh. The sky above her was clear and light, the hint of the sunrise showing just over the hills. In the meadows surrounding the house the sheep were browsing. Looking at it, Elizabeth began to weep softly. She didn’t want to leave. She wouldn’t leave! She didn’t care if it upset her mother or not. She would not go. Friarsgate was her strength. She needed to be here.
    “Get your greeting over and done with, lass,” Baen MacColl’s voice advised her quietly. “Then gather your strength and go forth as you must. You are no coward, Elizabeth Meredith.”
    Turning about, Elizabeth threw herself at him, and his arms closed about her. He held her tightly while she sobbed and sobbed. Then, as his big hand smoothed down her blond head in a gesture of comfort, her weeping slowly abated. He said nothing, allowing her the time to regain her dignity and her courage. When