“Yes, he was. I’m glad he was never in your life, at least as a parent. He wouldn’t have given you much of anything, Mary Rose.”
“I know. It was better just seeing him from a distance, hearing the bizarre stories about him. At least he was interesting—as an eccentric.”
Tysen handed her the smaller sealed envelope. It was thick, very thick indeed. Slowly, Mary Rose opened it. It was so old, it shredded in her hands and out spilled pound notes, scattering like snowflakes. They gathered up the notes and counted them.
Then they both burst into laughter.
Tyronne, Lord Barthwick, had left exactly one hundred pounds for his daughter’s dowry, all in one-pound notes.
“It was amazing,” Mary Rose said later to Sinjun, Colin, and Meggie, who was standing beside her father. “Once we stopped laughing, we realized what a very fine jest it was. What if I had married Erickson MacPhail? He believed I was rich, and here he went to all that trouble to try to snare me, and as it turns out, Old Tyronne left me only one hundred pounds.”
“Will you tell your mother about this?” Colin asked.
“No,” Tysen said. “Mary Rose doesn’t want anyone to know what the old curmudgeon did.” He gave her a big grin. “She decided to let Erickson always wonder how wealthy he would have been had he coerced her into marrying him. Now he will marry Donnatella and be miserable with her five thousand pounds. I wonder what his dear mother will have to say about it?”
“I doubt she will say very much,” Mary Rose said. “Donnatella is a force to be reckoned with. Erickson’s mother wouldn’t have a chance against Donnatella. As for Uncle Lyon, I suppose he will simply have to economize. None of them will like that very much.”
“Sir Lyon will probably immediately marry Donnatella off to Erickson,” Tysen said. “Ah, Mary Rose, you have made your mark,” he continued to his bride. “You leave a mother who is quite content now with Miles MacNeily, a good man who will take good care of her, and a suitor who is gnawing on his knuckles and will always think of you as the pigeon who escaped him.” He touched his palm to her cheek. “And now it’s time for you to make your mark in that foreign land where you will come to live.”
Mary Rose sighed and lightly rubbed her cheek against his palm. “Meggie told me that a wife must cleave to her husband, that she must follow her husband, even into a snake pit.”
Meggie said, “I assured her, Papa, that there were only a few snakes near where we live.”
Eden Hill House
Glenclose-on-Rowan
Southern England
“Who are you?”
Mary Rose had just wandered around the side of the vicarage. She looked about and saw a lanky young boy standing on his head just behind a hedge close to the front door of the vicarage.
“Isn’t that awfully hard to do?” she asked, coming down to her knees beside him. This, she realized, must be Leo, the athletic boy who loved horses, couldn’t spit out a single word of Latin, had the sunny disposition of his uncle Ryder, and drove his sister quite mad with his pranks. Tysen and Meggie had told her that both boys were staying with their aunt and uncle at Northcliffe Hall.
“No,” he said, “it simply requires a very sturdy head. Papa says I have a head made for being stood upon.”
“I’m Mary Rose.”
“I’m Leo. Are you here to see Papa? He’s the vicar, you know. He’s in Scotland being a new lord, and I don’t know when he will return.”
“Well, to be perfectly blunt about this—”
“Leo, come up to your feet, if you please.”
“Papa!” Leo gracefully flipped over frontward, ended up on his feet, whipped about, and flung himself into his father’s arms. “We didn’t know—Max tried to wager that you would be here by next Sunday, but I only have three shillings left and I can’t afford to lose them too. I know he cheats, Papa, I just can’t prove it.”
“I’m home, and I’m glad you didn’t lose your three shillings,” Tysen said, and Mary Rose saw him hug the boy tightly to him, briefly closing his eyes as he held him. He held him at arm’s length then, studying his face, and said slowly, turning a bit toward her, “It’s very good to see you, Leo. What are you doing here? You’re tanned and look repellently healthy. Ah, I see you have met Mary Rose?”
Leo turned to look at her. “She told me her name, but that’s all. I hope she isn’t a governess, Papa. Max would make her want to clout him, since he brags he already knows everything. But she doesn’t sound all proper and educated like a governess should. She talks funny. Perhaps she is a new maid? Oh, yes, Uncle Douglas lets us visit home while Max is having his lessons with Mr. Harbottle.”
Tysen said mildly, still holding his boy, loath to let him go, “I’ll write immediately to your uncle and tell him I’m home and have decided to let you stay here with me. Now, Mary Rose knows more Latin than Max does. What do you think of that?”
Leo really looked at her now, up and down, several times. She was wearing one of her old gowns, a pale gray muslin with no particular style, and now she wished she’d worn one of her two new gowns that Sinjun had had made for her in Edinburgh. “I didn’t know that girls could speak anything but English. Mr. Harbottle says that’s why he doesn’t tutor girls, they just can’t learn. Max told him about Meggie, how she can out-argue even him, but Mr. Harbottle wouldn’t believe him.” He frowned at her now. “You really do talk funny.”
Mary Rose said, thickening her accent a bit for his benefit, “It’s Scottish, and Mr. Harbottle sounds quite antiquated.”
“Meggie says he’s an old dimwit and doesn’t know a bean from a strawberry. You’re really from Scotland? Papa brought you back from Kildrummy Castle?”