The Winter Sea (Slains, #1)(115)
For surely spring, Sophia thought, would reach them soonest here. They were far south of Slains, the countess having thought it best to send them where the baby could be born in safety, shielded from unwelcome eyes. She’d called upon the Malcolms, an obliging couple who had often served the Earls of Erroll and were loyal to the family. They lived modestly, close by the Firth of Edinburgh, that broad and busy tidal river leading from the open sea, and every day upon the road that passed the house Sophia heard the wheels of coaches passing by, and travelers on horseback heading to and from the royal town.
Her own slow journey south had been a hard one, coming down by coach with Kirsty in the days just after Christmas. Several times the wheels had foundered in the deeply rutted mud and stuck so fast that it had taken both the coachman and the footman hours to free them, and in one place they had tried to go around the mud and nearly overturned. Sophia, worried for the safety of the baby, had been glad to feel the strong kicks in her belly that had seemed to come in protest of the roughness of such treatment. She’d been gladder still to reach the Malcolms’ house, and find both Mrs Malcolm and her husband kind and warm and welcoming.
They had asked no questions. To their neighbors, they’d explained she was a cousin from the north whose husband, called away by sudden business, had desired that she come there so she might be with family for the birthing of the child. Sophia did not know if this was how the countess had explained the situation to them, or if they had made the story up themselves. It did not matter. She was safe, and so was Anna, and when Moray came he’d find them here and waiting for him.
At her side the baby yawned and stirred and, sleeping still, pressed close in search of comfort, one hand flinging out and upward till the tiny fingers met the silver ring upon its chain around Sophia’s neck, and clasped it with a fierce possessive grip. She liked to sleep like that, with one hand round the ring and one hand tightly clasped around Sophia’s hair, as though she would hold both her parents close.
Sophia softly stroked her daughter’s curls and watched her while she slept. She had not ceased to marvel at the fact that, while her love for Moray filled her heart as it had done before, her heart had somehow grown and changed its shape to hold this new love, too—this love that she had never felt, for someone who was more completely hers than anybody else had ever been.
She did not know how long she lay like that, in stillness, hearing nothing but the rapid and contented sound of Anna’s breathing. But of a sudden she became aware a horse had stopped outside. She heard the restless dance of hooves, and then a knock against the outside door, and voices— Mr Malcolm’s speaking with excitement, and another that she recognized.
Sophia gently lifted little Anna to her cradle, dressed in haste and crossed the room to waken Kirsty. ‘Rory’s come.’
The look in Kirsty’s waking eyes was wonderful to see.
Sophia knew, when she came out and first saw Rory’s face, that he had brought them happy news. Mr Malcolm was already fastening his cloak, his hat in hand, and making ready to be gone, no doubt to carry out whatever orders he had just been handed from the countess and the earl. And Mrs Malcolm, beaming, clasped her hands and turned towards Sophia. ‘Oh, that I should live to see this day!’
Sophia looked at Rory. ‘Has it then begun?’
‘Aye. Mr Fleming has just come ashore to Slains, as Colonel Graeme said he would, with news the king does sail from Dunkirk, and will shortly be in Scotland.’
‘He may be even now upon the seas,’ said Mr Malcolm, as he pushed his hat down firmly on his wigged head. ‘I must go and find him pilots who can meet his ships and guide them up the Firth.’
The Firth. Sophia’s heart leaped with excitement at the thought the ships would pass so close by them.
It made good sense, of course, for young King James to find his way as quickly as was possible to Edinburgh and claim his throne, for few would there oppose him. From the talk she had been listening to these past months, Sophia knew the few troops that remained within the town were ill-equipped and likely to come over to the king by their own choice. And in the town’s great castle lay an added prize: the ‘Equivalent’ money—the price of the nation, some called it—sent up by the English last summer as part of the terms of the Union. It would be such sweet irony if James could drive the English out of Scotland by using their own money to supply his Scottish forces.
More supplies, Sophia knew, would come from Angus, where a fleet of Dutch ships lately wrecked upon the coast sat full of cannon, powder, arms and more great sums of money. And the English army, most of which was still engaged in fighting on the continent, would be too weak, too unprepared, to offer opposition. By the time they’d reinforced themselves and started marching north, it would be over— James the VIII would be upon his throne in Edinburgh, and Scotland would once more be free.
Mr Malcolm took his hurried leave of them, and said to Rory, ‘If ye carry any other letters for the people of these parts, my wife kens all our neighbors well, and can direct ye.’
Rory thanked him. ‘But I have no other letters to deliver, only yours. And one for Mrs Milton, here.’ He nodded at Sophia as he used the false name meant to guard her honor and identity while she was with the Malcolms.
Mr Malcolm, having no great interest at the moment in his guest’s affairs, departed, and Sophia, holding back her hope, asked Rory, ‘May I see the letter?’