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Roselyn flattened her mouth, her smile wan and disappointed. “I cannot. We are to move soon, to Etal. My brother insists upon it.”
“Yer brother?”
“Yes, the Earl of Ingram. My half-brother, in fact. He and my mother, his stepmother, have never been friends, and since he inherited the title he has ignored us and allowed us to live with my mother’s kin here in the borders, at Beauchamp Manor. However, he has written to insist that I must present myself at his keep near Berwick to be brought up within his household. My mother has no desire to go, she says she always hated it there, but will not allow me to go alone. We leave within a few weeks.”
“Oh, I see. But ye will be back, surely?”
“I hope so. I do not know.”
“Berwick? That is in England, across the border. ‘Twill not be so easy to remain in touch…”
“I know that, but I am English, so—”
“That doesnae count,” insisted Joan. “We shall still be friends.”
“Yes,” agreed Roselyn. “We shall. Of course we shall.” She dusted off her thick woollen skirt. “Come, we should go back up to the hall. Lady Margaret does not like us to play down here, she says ‘tis not safe.”
Roselyn scrambled to her feet and shoved the last of her apple into her mouth.
Joan also made to rise, but the pair stiffened at the sound of masculine voices approaching. They dived back into the cranny they had been huddling in, between two huge sacks of grain.
“‘Tis Sir Archibald,” hissed Roselyn, recognising the low tone of the laird who ruled Mortain.
“Aye, an’ he has my Edmund wi’ him,” added Joan.
Her Edmund?Perhaps there was some merit to this marriage plan after all. Roselyn shimmied back and concentrated on making herself as small as possible in order to escape notice. She did not fear the laird, she had no cause to, or his son for that matter. Mortain was a benign, easy-going household but their disappointed censure at her disobedience to Lady Margaret’s rules would pain Roselyn and embarrass her mother. She had no wish to be the cause of further distress in this unhappy keep. Not today.
The pair watched in silence as the men strolled the length of the storage chamber, passing within two feet of the girls’ hiding place. The laird and his son conversed in low tones, their voices subdued, but their words carried in the confined space and were easy enough to hear.
“It will not be long now. The physicians have said…” The older man bowed his head, his strong voice almost breaking in his grief.
“Physicians have been known to be wrong. She may yet rally.” Edmund patted his father’s arm, though his words of comfort lacked conviction to Roselyn’s young ears.
To the laird’s also, it would seem. “Nay, she will not. Not this time. She will not last the night.” He paused and heaved in a ragged breath. “I shall miss her so. She has been my companion these last twenty and five years, my closest friend, my confidante. How shall I cope? How shall any of us manage when she is not here?”
“I do not know, but we shall. We have to.”
“Aye, ye’re right. We must do it, for her. An’ this is why we must sign the contract this evening. It is her wish.”
“My betrothal contract?”
“Aye, lad. It is your mother’s desire to see it done, to have the contracts signed which will bind you to her sister’s daughter. It will bring her peace, at the end…”
“Aye, I know this. Lady Eleanor has the authority to sign on behalf of her laird, Joan’s father. Very well, we should get on with the matter. I… I do not believe we should delay unduly.”
The laird offered no further comment. His son’s meaning was clear enough, to the laird as well as to Roselyn and Joan who listened unseen. If Lady Margaret was to witness Edmund formally and irretrievably betrothed to Lady Joan, it had better be soon.
“So, why are we down here, then?” Edmund eyed his surroundings with displeasure. “Should we not be in the solar putting our seal to the contract?”
“A betrothal gift is customary. Margaret will expect it, as will the McGregors. I have several pieces of fine gold plate I have been keeping for this very occasion.”
“Ah, I see. Very well, let us press on.” Edmund strode on, toward the stairs below the buttery. He paused beside the stone staircase. “Would you like me to open the strong room?”
“Aye, lad, if you would.” The older man followed him, and as the distance increased Roselyn found their voices difficult to hear. Curiosity got the better of her and she poked her head out from between the sacks to further observe their actions. As she watched, Edmund ran his hand, palm flat, up and down the stonework at the side of the staircase.
His father leaned over and pointed to a precise spot. Edmund nodded at his sire and pressed hard on the stone indicated. Before Roselyn’s astonished eyes the entire side of the staircase swung outward to reveal a cavity concealed beneath the steps. Both men bent their backs to enter, disappearing into the space beneath.
“A secret room,” breathed Roselyn. “There is a hidden chamber. Did you know?”
