Free Fair Is the Rose by Liz Curtis Higgs Page A

advantage. “In any case, Auchengray cannot afford to lose Leana, Eliza, and Rose all at once. The lasses are vital to the running of this household, and you ken it well.”
    “Rose?” Jamie looked at him askance. “But she won’t be going with us.”
    “Och! Of course she won’t.” Lachlan wagged his head. “Rose is bound for school in Dumfries in January. Or have you forgotten?”
    “Nae,” he groaned. “I remember.” Jamie sought the nearest chair and dropped into it, a dull pain thudding behind his temples. LachlanMcBride had an answer for every argument and little concern for a son-in-law’s wishes. To his shame, Jamie had bowed to the man’s persuasive ways before, with disastrous results. He did not intend to do so now. Despite his headache, a plan took shape in his mind.
    “Suppose Eliza remains here at Auchengray.” Jamie kept his voice steady, without a hint of pleading. “Once Leana and I leave with Ian, you’ll have three fewer mouths to feed and Eliza’s undivided attention to her tasks.”
    Lachlan regarded him with one eyebrow arched, an expression quite like the one Jamie often saw on his mother’s face when she thought him clever. His uncle said nothing to Jamie’s suggestion at first, then slowly nodded. “Aye, you have more than enough maidservants at Glentrool. Eliza could remain with us.”
    “You see? We’ll hardly be missed.” Jamie masked his relief. They could leave the day after Martinmas and arrive by the Sabbath. However gray the mid-November skies might be, they’d not yet be thick with snow. Feeling generous at the prospect, Jamie added, “Mother will no doubt be writing you within a fortnight after we arrive, begging you to take us off her hands.”
    “That reminds me …” Lachlan patted his waistcoat, as if in search of something. “Rowena sent you a letter.” He withdrew a folded paper and shook it open with some effort. “As you can see, one of the servants carelessly broke the wax seal, but all the pages seem to be in order.”
    Jamie claimed the letter, his blithe mood fading. “How would you ken if they’re in order, Uncle, unless you’ve read them yourself?” Biting back his anger, Jamie scanned his mother’s words that covered each page with swirls of black ink.
To James Lachlan McKie
Wednesday, 7 October 1789
My dearest son Jamie,
We delight at the blithe news of Ian’s birth. I trust Leana continues in good health and the babe as well.
    Jamie’s grip on the letter tightened. “How is it she’s already heard the news? Did you write my mother before I did?”
    Lachlan gave an indifferent shrug. “She is, after all, my sister. ’Tis my right to pen a letter at her grandson’s birth.”
    “Aye,” Jamie grumbled, “and see that it’s delivered by courier rather than by post so you might hear back from her at once.” Whatever the contents of his uncle’s letter, it had not paved the way home.
Alas, here at Glentrool your father has developed a worrisome cough. Sheltering your new son under the same roof would not be wise, I’m afraid.
Since Evan is looking toward Wigtownshire for land, spring might be best for your return to Glentrool. Once your father is well again and your brother and Judith are settled far to the south, you and your family will find a warm welcome here …
    Jamie glanced up at Lachlan, whose features remained impassive. Clearly Lachlan had read the contents and already knew how their meeting tonight would end: with the McKies forced to remain at Auchengray through the lambing season.
    Please God, ’twill be a short winter . Jamie stood, determined to strike a blow at Lachlan’s most vulnerable spot: his thrifite . Though the money box was not in sight, it was seldom far from Lachlan’s mind. “If we tarry here through the spring lambing, Uncle—and I warn you, we’ll not stay a moment longer—then ’Tis only right that you raise my wages.”
    Lachlan straightened in his chair, his features alert despite the