Chapter Thirty-Four
Jeffrey came to visit a week later. By that time Tessa was almost sick with wondering what was to come. She had tortured herself with thinking he might have reconsidered his relationship with her now that he was established as Lord Brixton. Would he be embarrassed to take as his lady a Scottish girl with no prospects, one whose family was despised in England? When he arrived at Mary’s door, Tessa had steeled herself to accept his rejection calmly if it came. After all, she wanted him to be happy, and if he chose to look elsewhere—
Ushered into the room by a blushing servant, Jeffrey looked wonderful, though he flinched when Francis, forgetting himself, slapped him on the shoulder playfully. He wore a brown tunic of fine brocade over tan leggings and a white undershirt, all cut to fit perfectly. Over it all hung a short cape lined with fur and dyed a deep green. Tessa had enough notice of his visit that she had dressed carefully in another of Mary’s gowns, a dark blue velvet with a square bodice and a silken drape of paler hue that set it off nicely.
They sat in the great room with Mary and Francis, Jeffrey updating them with news of what had been learned. “There was a report of a French woman taking passage across the channel to Calais from a London dock, traveling alone except for two servants.”
“Did one of the ‘servants’ have a huge torso and disproportionately small legs?” Tessa asked.
“You are very perceptive,” Jeffrey said, smiling at her suspicion.
“From there they could return to Scotland or stay in France,” Francis commented. “I’m afraid they’ve quite escaped. There’s little enough pursuit of justice in England or France these days, and even less in Scotland with conditions as they are there.”
“Malcolm is probably glad to be rid of Hawick and the problems he created as an ally to the king,” Tessa surmised.
Jeffrey made no comment except to thank Francis for his help once more. He chatted about the changes he was making at the manor for a few moments, but it was obvious he had something on his mind. After refreshments, he offered Tessa his arm. “Shall we walk among Mary’s flowers?” His eyes shone with humor, for of course there were no flowers in the garden. It was almost advent. Tessa, understanding his desire to speak with her alone, hurried to fetch a warm cloak.
They passed along pathways between empty flowerbeds and leafless bushes. A light snow had fallen, and a slight wind gusted over it, making swirls around their feet. Tessa held Jeffrey’s arm and felt no chill at all.
“I have been a fool,” Jeffrey said finally. “Not once, but several times.”
“Oh?” Tessa answered innocently. “I had not noticed it.”
Jeffrey looked at her seriously. “It’s true. I knew, I think, from the first time I met you, that beside your obvious beauty, you were that most wonderful creature on earth, a person of character. I remember your spirit when you refused to dance with the English fop at your uncle’s banquet, and that first morning when you struggled to escape my grasp—” He smiled. “Everything was against me, but I loved you even then. But you hated me, and I couldn’t blame you for it. When Eleanor groomed you for a brilliant marriage, I was angry. I wanted you for myself, but I had nothing to offer.”
“I would have taken you for yourself.”
“No man wants the woman he loves to suffer deprivation on his account,” Jeffrey countered. “I thought if I could win a grant of land or an official post, I would have some future to offer you.”
So his pride had stood in the way of his speaking that day in William’s London home. “So you sailed off into the North Sea,” she murmured.
“Yes, and lost my memory.”
“You forgot my name.”
Jeffrey looked confused. “What?”
“Oh, it was something some old women told me once. One said I would travel to England, and you came along and brought me here.”
“Against your wishes,” he admitted.
“I have forgiven you that,” Tessa told him. “The second woman said I would find happiness only among the dead. When I believed you dead it broke my heart.”
“But you searched for me anyway,” Jeffrey said gently.
“The third woman said the man I loved would forget my name, and you did—twice.”
“Twice?” he echoed questioningly.
“The one, of course, I must forgive, for you had a blow to the head and forgot everything. But before, when first you brought me to Eleanor, you had to ask me my name. That is harder to forgive.”
“I was so blinded by your beauty I failed to hear it properly.” Jeffrey grinned. “Will that do for an excuse?”
“I see you are in truth no longer a rough soldier, but speak beautiful lies as well as any lord I ever met,” Tessa answered with matching humor. “I’m sure the prediction referred to the other forgetting, when you lost your past there in the borderlands.”
“But you, Tessa of the Highlands, came to find me. When I saw you by the old oak at Hawick’s, things that had floated through my mind made sense at last. I knew somehow I loved you, yet you denied we were lovers. I heard, in my head, your voice promising revenge and knew I had done you a great wrong. It took days before my poor brain put all the fragments together, and by then you were gone again. I came back to London to find you, hoping we could start anew.” He stopped, uncertain of how to continue.
Tessa gazed up at him, understanding. “You learned I was married to Cedric. It must have been difficult to think me other than a fortune hunter.”
Jeffrey smiled. “William’s papers reveal his investigation into Eleanor’s claim you were her sister. With her death, you were forced to make hard choices. In her letter, Eleanor told me she hoped I would come home and marry you myself. I think she knew I loved you before I did.”
“I was foolish to think your affection for Eleanor was love,” Tessa admitted.
“I did love Eleanor, as my sister, as a friend. But not as I love you.” Tessa’s heart did strange things inside her. “Aidan told me you and he were lovers. He described the inn and hinted he’d been there many times.”
Tessa said sadly. “I’m sorry to say it, Jeffrey, but your brother was a very able liar. All along I thought him kind and helpful, always at my side when I needed him. Only once or twice did I see the mask slip, and I was stupid enough to brush those glimpses of the real Aidan away, thinking them only moments of frustration.”
“It appears Aidan had long been a cheat,” Jeffrey shook his head in disgust. “Now that I know what to look for in William’s records, I have found he was being fooled repeatedly by Aidan. Money was siphoned off, information sold to the highest bidder, and many other betrayals lined Aidan’s pockets.”
“How upset he must have been when you came back from the dead.”
“And how much more upset when he learned it was you who was responsible,” Jeffrey said with a chuckle. “At the last, though, he proved his love for you.”
“Yes, we must remember that final good,” was all Tessa replied. She had not told anyone of Aidan’s threat to give her to the outlaws for sport. Jeffrey had enough to deal with regarding his brother’s perfidy as it was. Would he really have done it, or had it been merely a threat to make her choose him? She didn’t know.
“Well, he’s gone,” Jeffrey finished. “It’s time to speak of us.”
Tessa mind ran ahead. Jeffrey had confessed he loved her, but now he was a lord and she a pauper. Did it make a difference? Evidently it didn’t, because suddenly Jeffrey was on bended knee before her.
“Mistress Tessa macFindlaech, of the bloodline of kings and the pride of Scotland, will you be my wife, give up your homeland, and live in England for the rest of your days?”
Tears sprang to her eyes. Suddenly she understood that what they had gone through together had united them. Changes in status meant nothing. She had been a king’s kinswoman when Jeffrey was nothing but a man. Now he was a lord and she nothing but a woman. What they were to each other was enough.
“My lord, she a
nswered him, “I would be honored to be your wife.”
Epilogue
Along the moor’s edge, three odd figures strode, calmly facing the winter’s wrath. The one in the lead turned suddenly, facing the other two, and stopped them by holding up a crooked finger.
“It is done,” she pronounced.
The second nodded. “One wed, one dead.”
The third finished it: “Fair is foul, and foul is fair.” Solemnly, the three continued their progress to nowhere.
Afterword
The facts are sketchy, but here are some that help to separate the man from the myth.
Macbeth (1005-1057A.D.) was king of Scots for seventeen years, from 1040 until his death. His correct name is Mac Bethad mac Findlaich (son of Findlaich). His father, a local king, was killed in 1020, possibly by his brother, Gille Coemgain. When his uncle died, Macbeth married his widow, Gruoch, and took in her son, Lulach.
The character we know as Duncan was probably Donnchad, who took the throne in 1034. The king was not old, but he is characterized in the Prophecy of Berchan as “the man of many sorrows.” In 1040, Donnchad was killed by Macbeth in a battle near Elgin. Macbeth became king, though strife over the kingship continued, not unusual in eleventh-century Scotland. Some reports indicate that Donnchad’s wife fled the country with her sons Mael Coluim and Domnall, both future kings of Scotland.
Once Macbeth had cemented his position, he made a pilgrimage to Rome in 1050, where he was noted for his generosity to the poor. In 1052, an English conflict overflowed into Macbeth’s territory with the result that Siward, Earl of Northumbria, invaded Scotland. A bloody battle resulted in which 3000 Scots and 1500 Englishmen died, including one of Siward’s sons. Macbeth survived the English invasion but was defeated and mortally wounded in a battle with Mael Coluim mac Donnchad, the son of former king, in 1057. He was succeeded by his stepson.
No reports from the time indicate Macbeth was a tyrant. He is called “Mac Bethad the renowned” and described as “the generous king of Fortrin” by contemporaries. A poetic history of the time describes Macbeth as “The red, tall, golden-haired one. Scotland will be brimful west and east during the reign of the furious red one.”
Shakespeare was a master of the docu-drama, the practice of turning history into compelling fiction. In a time when a Scottish king ruled England (James V was descended from Mael Coluim III), it could be expected that a writer who depended upon the king for his livelihood would glorify that king’s ancestry. Macbeth therefore became a tyrant in the play, a man so depraved that it was a boon to his people to remove him from office. It is interesting to note, however, the playwright found far more interest in the character of the tyrant, in his fall from brave warrior to depraved maniac, than in the righteous Malcolm. Shakespeare’s Macbeth is a disservice to the historical king, who was no better or worse than other kings of his day. The character created for “the Scottish play” is compelling in his all-too-human desire for power, which leads to the release of his unfortunate alter-ego, “the secret’st man of blood.”
Other Books by Peg Herring
Another Macbeth’s Niece Story
If you liked Tessa’s adventures, you’ll enjoy Double Toil & Trouble, a second story of Macbeth’s nieces.
Ten years after Macbeth’s death, twins Jenna and Jessie are living in the Highlands when a band of Vikings takes over their clan-hold, seeking to kill any remaining males of the former king’s line. Jessie is taken as a hostage, and Jenna must try to rescue her and also warn Tessa that the Vikings intend to find her and murder her sons.
Each girl struggles to escape their enemies. Each finds a protector. But neither can admit, even to herself, the love that begins to grow as time goes by.
The Simon &
Elizabeth Mysteries
This Tudor-era series follows the adventures of apothecary Simon Maldon, who meets Elizabeth Tudor when she’s only a girl. They form an odd sort of friendship as they begin solving murders together. As her status changes from princess to prisoner to queen, their friendship remains the same, for Simon is a man even the Queen of England can trust to tell her the truth.
Her Highness’ First Murder
Poison, Your Grace
The Lady Flirts with Death
Her Majesty’s Mischief
Contemporary Mysteries
The Loser Series
Loser sleeps in alleys and washes up in gas station rest rooms, but when the father of a child she knows is accused of murder, she must get it together and help—even if it’s been a while since she could even help herself.
Killing Silence
Killing Memories
Killing Despair
The Dead Detective Mysteries
What if when you were murdered, the Powers on the Other Side allowed you to find out why? Sleuth Seamus is a cross-back detective who returns to Life to investigate crimes so the victims can trust “rest in peace.”
The Dead Detective Agency
Dead for the Money
Dead for the Show
Dead to Get Ready—and Go (2016)
Standalone Mysteries
If you’re not ready to commit to a series, try one of these standalones.
Somebody Doesn’t Like Sarah Leigh
A Lethal Time and Place
Shakespeare’s Blood
Go Home and Die
And if you want to try something different, how about Maggie Pill’s cozies?
The Sleuth Sisters Mysteries
The Sleuth Sisters
3 Sleuths, 2 Dogs, 1 Murder
Murder in the Boonies
Sleuthing at the Springs
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