Heart in the Highlands by Heidi Kimball
Chapter Twenty-Three
The next morning Kate found another page of Callum’s journal slipped beneath her door like the sketch she’d left him the night before. Her midsection tightened, a mix of anticipation and nerves. Why did it feel so intimate to read his journal this way? For her to hold a page of it in her hands, knowing that he’d given it to her, that he’d wanted her to read it?
She moved over to the desk, wanting to savor it, to go over every line carefully. Getting a glimpse into a man’s mind and heart was an endeavor that couldn’t be rushed.
December 29, 1812
At last I am here. Three arduous months and finally I am in Barbados—the heart of the Caribbean. Each of my five senses attests to the truth that I am in a different world entirely. The sun is a scorching master, blistering unprotected skin in a few hours. My clothes are never dry. The island itself seems to steam at midday. The ocean is a vibrant blue, the sand a blinding white. And the smells! Fried fish and ripe fruit and the never-ending smell of burning sugarcane. And yet, even with all that, it is . . . not Scotland.
I’ve distracted myself by learning the business of trade in the Caribbean. Yesterday I was introduced to Captain William Reynolds, a retired naval officer I believe will come to be a promising connection. He is a man of great means and unending ambition. I left him with no doubt as to my own intentions—to work hard enough to forget what I’ve left behind.
But on the way home, I looked out at the ocean and could not help but think I prefer the color of Katie’s eyes.
Kate lowered the page, staring out the window at the drizzle that had begun yesterday and seemed to have no intention of leaving. How had he remembered the color of her eyes? He’d known her but a day and a half.
On a sudden whim she went over to the bed and got down on her knees, searching. There wasn’t a trace of dust under the sturdy bedframe. It likely was long gone, cleared away after she’d left and put who knew where. But she wanted to be certain.
It was difficult to navigate under the bed when it was so dark and the dreary weather offered watery light at best. She extended her arm as far as she could, blindly feeling around near the posts at the head of the bed. At first she felt only the bare wood floor, but then her finger caught on something—a handle.
The quaich.
It was dusty and tarnished, tucked away as it had been, out of view of the maids. Kate remembered the night she’d thrown it, three days after her wedding, free of tears because she’d run dry. And her gaze had landed on the silver cup, shining in the firelight, a beacon of all she’d lost.
She’d dented the wall over near the wardrobe, the small nick a testament to her pain. Now she used the hand towel near her water basin to wipe the cup free of dust. The quaich had been a good moment, a sweet moment, between them, with Callum baring a little of his soul, letting down barriers and speaking openly. She wasn’t sure if it had been intentional, but either way, that time together had swept away the worst of her fears, and she’d gone into his arms willingly, anxious to share something of herself with the man she’d married.
The two-handled cup had once symbolized the beginning of their marriage. It had lain discarded and uncared for all this time . . . but now? Kate wasn’t sure. Callum’s heartfelt confession of two nights before had filled her with a bewildering hope, yet there were still plenty of uncertainties Kate had yet to lay to rest. No words, no matter how heartfelt, could smooth away the years of abandonment, nor the fears their time apart had wrought.
She opened the wardrobe and pulled the chair over from the desk. She set the quaich on a high shelf and pushed it back where it wouldn’t be visible. Still, she’d know it was there. Perhaps the tarnished cup might represent a new start.
She needed to speak with Callum, needed to somehow put into words all that had been weighing on her. But the very thought sent a tremor of nerves through her. Once spoken aloud it would be real.
The door pushed open and hit the wall behind it with a thud. “Mama! Mama!” Charlotte yelled, running in at full speed.
“Slow down, Charlotte!” The duchess scrambled in after her, out of breath but smiling. “Forgive her excitement, but we were hoping ye’d come into town with us. I thought we could purchase a few new dresses for Charlotte, guid for outside play in the cold spring winds. And I noticed the sleeves of her coat are a wee bit short.”
Kate moved the chair back to the desk. “I know. And I’ve already let them out as far as I can. She grows so fast it is nearly impossible to keep up. I would love to join you. Are you leaving now?” She returned to the wardrobe and pushed a few of her dresses aside, looking for her redingote.
“Yes, right now!” Charlotte said, tugging on Kate’s sleeve. “And Grand-mama sayed if I am good, we will go to the bakery for sweetmeats and tea!” She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, her hands fisted in excitement.
“Then, let us be off at once,” Kate said, catching hold of her daughter’s enthusiasm.
Within a few minutes the carriage was brought round, and all three of them were tucked in with lap blankets and warming bricks. The air was damp, and the ice-cold winds from the storm hadn’t yet abated. The duchess mentioned that Callum estimated the mountains had a foot or more of fresh snow. Kate shivered a little, her fingers and toes tingling at the thought of her close call.
She remembered little of the village, save for standing outside the inn in the pouring rain, so it was nice to have an opportunity to form new memories. The duchess knew everyone. She was given notable deference, yet she put on no airs and managed to maintain a camaraderie with each of the shopkeepers. It was no wonder Callum hadn’t forgotten his roots.
While Charlotte was being measured, the duchess kindly suggested Kate might want a few new gowns of her own. “I doubt ye’ve had a freish dress these many years.”
Kate colored a little, wondering if the duchess thought poorly of her for her threadbare gowns.
But the kindness in her mother-in-law’s eyes put her at ease at once. “Callum should have suggested it. Ye are his marchioness, and it is his duty tae see you fitted out in style. But he is too busy noticing other things aboot ye tae pay any mind tae what ye wear.”
At that, Kate blushed for a completely different reason. Before she knew it, she was being measured and choosing fabrics, and the shop was making up a receipt of special-order items that would have to be sent from Edinburgh. After the tight budget she’d been on for so long, it all felt frivolous.
“It’s a bit much, isn’t it?” she asked, taking a seat on the sofa as their purchases were boxed up. “I don’t need an entire new wardrobe.”
The duchess took the seat beside her and waved her hand, swatting away Kate’s concerns. “Nothing will make Callum happier, I assure ye. No doubt he’d buy anything at all that ye asked for, but he doesn’t want tae suggest such a thing, for he’ll worry ye’ll think he is trying tae buy your love.”
The thought gave Kate pause. It was true. The only thing Callum had offered to buy her was a horse of her own. And that after he’d taken note of her proficiency in riding.
“But,” the duchess went on, “now that Harriet is taking over as nursemaid, ye should have an abigail. With so many buttons and laces and ties, ’tis nearly impossible for a leddy tae dress herself.”
Ever since Kate’s arrival at Rosemont Cottage, Harriet had helped her with the little she hadn’t learned to do for herself. But the duchess was right. Harriet had a different role now and shouldn’t be expected to take on extra chores. And with all these new dresses, Kate certainly wouldn’t be able to manage on her own. “I’d like that,” she said, surprised to find she meant it.
“Flora attended ye before. Were ye pleased with her efforts?” the duchess asked.
“Very pleased,” Kate replied.
The woman placed her hands over Kate’s. “Then, consider it done. Flora will be that pleased tae take up the position once mair.”
Kate was surprised at how much she enjoyed having Callum’s mother doting on her. Harriet had always seen to Kate’s needs, but her manner was gruff, and she rarely allowed for any show of affection. “Thank you,” she said. “And thank you for inviting me today. It was exactly what I needed.”
Before long they were all seated in a cozy little bakery, Charlotte between Kate and the duchess. Tea was served, along with a variety of sweetmeats. The shortbread fairly melted in Kate’s mouth, and she had to rein in the urge to groan aloud. Charlotte was partial to the clootie dumpling and cried out with delight each time she took a bite with a currant.
The duchess watched them with pleasure. “Are ye beginning tae feel settled?” she asked Kate. “I know ’tis a great deal of change all at once.”
Kate held a piece of shortbread in her mouth, delaying her answer. She swallowed and glanced over at Charlotte, who was happily plucking off pieces of her dumpling and placing them in her mouth. “It is a great deal of change,” she agreed. “But Charlotte is happy, and that is all I need.”
The duchess made a tsking sound. “Nae. It is admirable tae love so much that another’s happiness brings you joy, but ye also need a contentment that is all your own. One that isnae dependent on someone else.”
Kate wished she had been more open with the duchess when she’d been broken and hurting after Callum left. The woman held a well of compassion and wisdom that made Kate’s heart twinge, in a good way. “You are right, I think.” Her mind flashed to the night before, Callum’s warmth beside her as they’d put Charlotte to bed. “I suppose, for now, I can say I am beginning to feel settled. And that happiness here does not seem as out of reach as it once did.”