Part 19 (2/2)
She nodded, putting her head on his chest. He stroked her back.
”Come, give me a kiss, love.”
She raised her head and offered him her lips.
”Don't you ever dare even looking at another woman again!”
”Looking, yes. But no more.”
”You promise?”
”Yes, my love. I promise,” he murmured with a smile. ”I didn't know you were jealous.”
”I am ...with you. I wouldn't have cared a hoot if Robert had been unfaithful, but I want you all to myself.”
”Oh Helen. I'm glad that you're jealous.” He nuzzled her. ”I only want you. I've no desire for other women. I never wanted another woman... You believe me?”
”Yes, but you did go with other women.”
”You forgive me?”
”Yes, but-”
He turned her briskly on her back, and his kiss smothered whatever she wanted to add. ”Let's do it again, love,” he murmured with a wistful smile, as his right index drew ever tighter circles around the nipple of her right breast with a featherlike touch.
Sat.u.r.day morning they dressed in their best, Helen in her dark blue gown, Andrew in the clothing that the maid had cleaned and ironed overnight. The intention was to find a minister of the church who would be willing to marry them. Rather than go to the cathedral, they searched for one of the smaller churches on High Street closer to the center of town. After ascertaining that they were both above the age of consent and accepting their reasons for getting wed without the presence of any family members, the minister agreed to perform the ceremony. He instructed them to be in the church in half an hour's time with two witnesses.
After leaving the minister's sanctuary, Andrew whispered: ”Helen, I'll go to find two witnesses. Will you wait inside the church? Maybe two of the men we saw working outside will agree to do it.”
”Don't be long, Andrew.”
”I won't, love,” and he hurried away.
But rather than simply search for the workmen, he quickly ran down High Street to Trongate where he asked a flower girl to prepare a small bouquet, as he had seen brides carry at weddings while traveling in France. He waited impatiently, watching her select the flowers and tie them with a small white lace ribbon. Then he rushed back, offered two workmen sixpence each to serve as witnesses, and joined Helen in the church. All this took longer than he had intended, and he found her sitting anxiously near the entrance. With the light behind him, she saw only his silhouette in dark outlines as he entered. She rushed up to him and whispered reproachfully: ”Where have you been so long? I got all worried!”
Then she saw the bouquet of delicate lilies of the valley that he held out to her, and she broke into tears. ”Oh Andrew, I'm sorry... How sweet, ... how thoughtful of you.”
”You like them?”
She took them and nodded, smelling their sweet fragrance, smiling through tears. He dried her cheeks with his handkerchief. She took it and blew her nose, laughing softly, embarra.s.sed, relieved that he was back. They sat, holding hands, while they waited for the minister to call them to the altar.
This time the ceremony went off quietly and without a hitch, and afterward the two newlyweds walked arm-in-arm out of the church, Helen with a mixture of elation and vague doubts about what they had just done. This was final. No going back. She had cut all ties with her own family.
Rather than return directly to The Good Shepherd, Andrew suggested that they celebrate by eating in a tavern. They wandered down High Street, strolled around Trongate and down Saltmarket Street, admiring the impressive stately houses of the merchants. A vague memory surfaced about the first time she had met Andrew at the Killin market. How she had then fleetingly toyed with the thought that marrying a man like him would offer her all the worldly comforts of living in a big house. These mansions here were even bigger and more beautiful than the ones of her dreams. And she had fallen in love with Andrew without ever thinking of such comforts. Will I ever live in such a house? she wondered, but she didn't really care.
At the top of Bridgegate Street they saw a tavern with a big sign outside. The delicious smells wafting from its door invited them to dine inside. They toasted each other over a bottle of champagne, followed by a scrumptious dinner of smoked salmon and grouse. After the meal, Andrew retrieved several coins from his little purse, slipped them into a pocket of his coat, and pa.s.sed the purse to Helen: ”You keep this.”
She looked at him questioningly. ”Why?”
”In case we ever get separated temporarily... I'll try to get more cash tomorrow from Jarvis and Sons, the local correspondents of my bankers in London. By the way, there's a piece of paper in the purse with their name and London address, should you ever need it and I can't help you.”
With an uncertain expression on her face, she hid the purse in the pocket of her skirt. ”You frighten me with such talk. I wouldn't know how to contact them in the first place.”
”Look, Helen, it's just a precaution. We never know, and now that we're married, anything I own is also yours. Any reputable merchant house will be able to help you, but I'm sure you'll manage if you ever need to. I've close to one thousand English pounds with these bankers. If anything happens to me, you should not want.”
”Andrew, don't talk like this, not on our wedding day. I don't want your money, I want you.”
”It's better to plan and be prepared, hoping the worst will never happen... Come, let's drink to a happy, long life together!”
It was early afternoon before they found their way back to The Good Shepherd. As they entered the small reception hall, the innkeeper came rus.h.i.+ng to Andrew, grabbed him by the coat, and lamented: ”What have you done? A constable has come to my reputable establishment looking for you. This has never happened. You have cast shame on me and my house.”
Andrew pulled the man's hands from the lapels of his coat and exclaimed with his impeccable English accent: ”I have done nothing, my good man. Show me to the constable. I am sure this must be a misunderstanding that we can clear up quickly.”
Although his voice sounded calm, underneath this veneer his mind was racing wildly. What could be the cause? Dougal MacGregor and his little band could hardly have caught up with them already, and even if they had, it was too late-Helen and he were married, nor would Dougal summon the law to apprehend him. He was convinced that Mary MacGregor hadn't told anybody else that she believed he was her son. It would have stripped her of all her dignity and pride. His days as a brandy smuggler were well in the past and no law enforcement officer had ever seen him anyway. So what could it be? He looked at Helen. Her rosy cheeks had turned ashen white. She held on to his arm, and he felt her hand tremble.
He had to repeat his request before the innkeeper finally recovered his wits and showed him into the parlor. Helen stayed at the door. The constable rose immediately when he saw them enter.
”Good afternoon, sir. I am Constable Fraser. Are you the owner of the black stallion in the stable?”
”Good afternoon, constable. Yes, I am. May I ask about the purpose of your inquiry?”
”This animal has been reported lifted in a daring daylight robbery from the property of Sir Hugh Stafford some weeks past.”
”Oh? ... I purchased this stallion for twenty guineas from James Drummond of Balquhidder three days ago.”
”Do you have any papers to certify that, sir?”
For a moment Andrew looked at him dumbfounded and then answered: ”No, I have not. We shook hands to seal the deal.” It had never occurred to him to ask for a receipt. He recalled Helen's warning that the horse might have been stolen, either by the Drummonds or another MacGregor. Why had he been so dumb and not suspected anything when he bought it. It should have been so obvious to him that a Highlander would hardly care to own such a striking and expensive horse when cheaper alternatives could equally well transport him where he needed to go. Why hadn't he smelled a rat when James had been willing to let that exceptional animal go for such a paltry price?
Like through a thick fog, he heard the constable repeat: ”Sir, I have to ask you to accompany me to the magistrate in the tolbooth.” He noticed that the constable used the word 'magistrate', rather the local term 'bailie', expecting him to be English from the accent he had carefully maintained.
”Yes, certainly. I would though just like to have a few words with my wife, constable.”
The constable followed him closely. Only when Andrew turned and looked at him sternly did he keep some distance, so Andrew could talk to her in privacy.
”You heard what he said?” he asked in a low voice. ”What a fool I was! You were so right. I should not have bought that horse.”
”Oh Andrew, will they now put you in prison?” There was panic in her voice.
”I hope not, ... but if I don't come back by tonight, find a solicitor tomorrow to look after my interests.”
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