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“Well, ye ken he hasnae been getting’ out o’ bed much these last few days…”
Robbie nodded. It was a week since he and Charles had returned to Roxburghe, and the earl had remained in his bed the entire time. Robbie had visited him several times a day but had been relieved that his father showed no inclination to rise. At least while he was tucked up beneath his blankets, he was unlikely to come to further harm.
Or so Robbie had thought.
“I were givin’ ’im ‘is supper, my lord. A nice bit o’ broth. ’E were enjoying’ it an’ chatting’ tae me about Lady Margaret, as if she were still ’ere. Ye ken, like ’e does…”
Robbie nodded. He had instructed Aggie to let his father ramble as he liked and not to try to contradict him. The girl seemed to have a talent for keeping the old man calm and encouraged him to talk about his late wife as though she was still here.
“Go on,” he urged her.
“He suddenly clutched at ’is chest an’ started tae groan. ’E fell back against the pillows, and ’is eyes were rollin’ in ’is head. It were like ’e couldnae breathe… I went tae get ’im a drink o’ water, but when I came back tae the bedside, ’e were gone. I tried tae get ’im tae come round, but it were no use. It were all very quick.” She dashed the tears from her eyes. “Look, ’is broth is still warm…”
Robbie laid his hand on his father’s lifeless face and stroked his eyelids to close them. The earl’s death might seem sudden, but it was not a surprise, not really. His health had been precarious to say the least, and from Aggie’s account it sounded as though the earl’s heart had finally failed. He had been ill for years, and his passing could probably be viewed as a merciful release. Even so, Robbie was saddened by it.
He should have been here, at his father’s side in the final moments, though he took some sort of pleasure in the knowledge that the old man died thinking of his wife, unaware that she had already left this earth. Perhaps, in that moment, he was happy. Or at least content and calm. Robbie hoped so.
“Please, my lord… I did try tae care for ’im. I liked ’im.”
Robbie mustered up a smile for the tearful servant. “I know. Ye did well, Aggie. This is not your fault.”
“Are ye sure, my lord? Maybe, if I ’ad just— “
“There was nothing you could have done. He was old, and he was ill. He is not suffering now.” Robbie had been perched on the edge of the bed, but he got to his feet, already deciding on what needed to happen next. “Could you run down to the kirk and ask Father Clement to come, please?”
Prayers must be said. His father must be commended to the Lord and the rest of the heavenly host in order to secure his place in paradise, and Father Clement doubtless held more sway in such matters than a humble, grieving son. Even so, Robbie muttered a few words of his own after the girl hurried off to fetch the priest.
He wished Flora was here. She would know what to do, what to say. How to grieve for a father who had been gone for years.
“Laird, riders are approaching.”
Robbie did not respond at first. It was but a day since he had inherited the title, and he was not yet accustomed to it. The guard had to repeat his message before Robbie realised he was talking to him.
“Oh, yes. Thank you. Who is it?”
“Sir Charles, I think.”
“Charles? Charles is back?” Robbie set aside his quill. The letter to King James informing the monarch of the death of the previous Earl of Roxburghe could wait. “Is Lady Flora with him?”
The man shook his head. “I did nae see her, my lord.”
“What? But…?” Robbie hurried to the window to peer out, but his chamber was on the wrong side of the castle and could not see the road leading from St Mary’s. He had yet to take up residence in the east-facing master chamber, having preferred to leave his father in there until the funeral.
He strode from the room. He would greet Charles in the courtyard and hear the news from St Mary’s. Perhaps his sister was too far advanced in her pregnancy to travel…
Charles had already dismounted by the time Robbie reached the bailey. He was accompanied only by the two men who had left Roxburghe with him as his escort.
“Where is Flora?” Robbie demanded. “And Mattie?”
Charles handed his reins to one of the several stable lads who had been summoned back to their duties at the castle. He turned slowly, his features lined with grief. Had news of the old earl’s demise somehow reached him on the road?
“Charles?” Robbie’s brows knitted. “What is it? How is my sister? Has she had her baby yet?”
Charles shook his head. “I… I did not see her.”
“Why?” A cold sensation bloomed in the pit of Robbie’s stomach. “Why did you not see her? And Mattie? Where is she?”
“I dinnae ken, not for sure. About Mattie, that is.” Charles paused, swallowed hard, then raised his gaze to meet Robbie’s. “Lady Flora is dead.”
