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PROTECTED BY THE COMPANION: A
REGENCY ROMANCE
LADIES ON THEIR OWN: GOVERNESSES AND
COMPANIONS (BOOK 5)

ROSE PEARSON
 CONTENTS

Protected by the Companion

Protected by the Companion

Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16

My Dear Reader

A Sneak Peek of More than a Companion

Prologue
Chapter 1

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 PROTECTED BY THE COMPANION

Ladies on their Own: Governesses and Companions

(Book 5

By

Rose Pearson
© Copyright 2022 by Rose Pearson - All rights reserved.

In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document by either
electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and
any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the
publisher. All rights reserved.

Respective author owns all copyrights not held by the publisher.

PROTECTED BY THE COMPANION
 PROLOGUE

“M y Lord, you have an urgent letter.”

Grimacing, Giles, Earl of Bargrave, rubbed at his eyes with the
back of his hand. “It is far too early to be interrupted with such
things.”
His valet opened his mouth, began to stammer, and then closed
it again. “My Lord… I…
“What time is it anyway?” As the drapes to his bedchamber
were thrown back, Giles suddenly realized that it was not as early as
he had first believed. The sun, it seemed, was very high in the sky,
for it shone brightly through the window and made him wince. Little
wonder the valet was stammering, given that he did not wish to
disagree with Giles, whilst at the same time being fully aware that it
was not as early as Giles had stated. Clearing his throat, Giles
reluctantly pushed himself up into a sitting position. Holding one
hand out to the valet, he snapped his fingers impatiently. “An urgent
letter, you say?”
Scurrying over towards him at once, the valet held out a small
piece of paper sealed with red wax.
“Yes, my Lord. The messenger arrived only fifteen minutes ago
and is insisting that he must return to his mistress at once, with your
reply. The butler asked that I bring this to you immediately.”
Giles arched an eyebrow as he turned his attention to the letter.
A lady? Why has a lady written to me so urgently?
It was soon to be the Season and Giles had every intention of
making his way to London. Whilst he had enjoyed a few dalliances
the previous year, he was not a gentleman inclined to breaking the
heart of any society lady. Neither would he ever touch a newly out
young woman, or in any way risk the reputation of an unmarried
young lady. The ladies he considered to be fine company were those
widowed or those who sought company in the place of their
philandering husbands. In such cases, Giles was only too happy to
provide the comfort and security they needed. However, that would
only ever be for a short time, and certainly would not continue
beyond the Season. Was a particular lady eager to know if he would
be returning to London soon, he wondered? So eager that she would
write to him in advance of the Season even beginning?
“Have someone bring me coffee. Once I have dealt with this, I
will call for you to assist me with my attire.” Waving one hand at the
valet, he dismissed him quickly. “And whatever the messenger may
consider urgent, inform him that he is to have something to eat and
a short respite before he will be permitted to return. I shall answer
the letter, of course, but it will take a little time and I shall not act
with any overwhelming urgency, unless it is completely merited.”
Which I am not convinced it will be.
Being entirely disinclined to read such a letter in the company of
his valet, Giles waited until the door to his bedchamber was closed
before he permitted himself to even unfold it. If it was what he
expected it to be, then the only urgency would be for him to have
his response sent to the lady before the return of her husband,
wherever he may be – and that would not take him long.
“Mayhap it is from Lady Brownlee.”
Smiling to himself, he recalled the lady he had been particularly
delighted with. I should be glad indeed to have a letter from her.
The moment his eyes fell upon the letter however, Giles found
himself deeply frustrated. It was not from a particular lady as he had
hoped. Instead, it was from none other than his sister. A sister
whom he had not heard from in some time. A sister who had
married a most distinguished gentleman, but who now lived very far
away indeed on the west coast of Scotland. Giles did not begrudge
her that choice, for the gentleman was to be admired amongst
society. He was only disappointed that he had seen so very little of
his only sibling, over the many years since her marriage, and during
these last five years they had only ever spoken through letters.
‘MY DEAR BROTHER,’ the letter began, ‘It is with great distress that I write
to you. My dear husband has become unwell. The physician has
been many times and whilst we are now convinced that he is over
the worst, it will be many months before he can recover enough to
make the journey from Scotland. As you are aware from my previous
letter, our one and only daughter was to come to London this
summer. She is greatly distressed at the thought of being unable to
be there for the London Season, given that she has had new gowns
purchased and the usual preparations made. She is, of course,
greatly distressed over her father’s illness, but now that he is
recovering, there is a hope that she may still be able to attend.’
Giles let out a huff of breath. Somehow, he seemed to sense
what was coming… and already he knew his answer.
‘You are our only hope, brother. I assume that you are to make
your way to London for the Season as you do every year. Might you
be willing to have your niece reside with you? Might you be willing to
sponsor her into society? She will, of course, have a companion to
chaperone her, so that you are not entirely pulled away from your
own invitations and the like. You have no requirement to consent,
but I beg of you – as her uncle and as my brother – to, at the very
least, consider it. At least write to me that you are thinking of what
you will do, rather than immediately refusing. I am all too aware of
how much the London Season means to you but pray, consider
putting yourself into a little more difficulty for your niece’s sake.’
“And now I am to be made to feel guilty!”
After setting down the letter, Giles ran one hand through his fair
hair, sending it in all directions. Guilt began to nudge at his soul but
with an effort, Giles ignored it. He had a great deal to look forward
to in the upcoming London Season! If he were to take on his niece,
then such pleasures would be diminished.
“It is as my sister says - I have no requirement to agree.” Taking
a deep breath, he set his shoulders and gazed out across the room
towards the window. “No. I need not agree. I will not take on my
niece, companion or otherwise.”
Setting back the covers, Giles threw out his legs and rose from
his bed, ringing for the valet. Once the man arrived, Giles was
dressed quickly and then settled at the small escritoire near the
window to write to his sister. The note would be short and to the
point, making it clear that he could not take his niece on.
Although I must make certain to include words of concern for
my dear sister’s husband. A slight frown pulled at Giles' brow. I am a
little anxious to hear that he has been so unwell. I should not want
my sister to become a widow, nor my niece and nephew to become
fatherless.
He scowled to himself as he drew out a sheet of paper. All he
wished for at present was to write his letter and then send the
messenger back to his sister. Any delay might mean a change of
mind, and Giles was determined not to give in. And yet, with every
moment that passed, he found himself struggling to stand boldly
behind his decision.
Thoughts of his broken-hearted niece entered his mind. A vision
of his sister – upset and crying when she had already endured so
much - soon followed. Rubbing one hand down his face, Giles shook
his head to himself.
“It would mean the most dull Season for me.” A slight shudder
shook his frame. “I should have to give up so much – much of which
I have been waiting for some time.”
He would not be able to entertain as much as he might have
liked. There would be responsibilities set upon his shoulders.
Responsibilities which he did not want, for the London Season was
an opportunity to forget all such obligations.
And yet, by the time Giles lifted the pen to write, his heart was
so burdened with guilt that he could not stand by his original
decision. His sister’s plea had done as it intended.
Giles would be his niece’s sponsor into society.
 CHAPTER ONE

“A nd what is your uncle like?”

Miss Emma Lawder watched her charge carefully, seeing the
way that Lady Juliet clutched both her hands together and looked
out of the window.
“In truth, I do not know. I am not well acquainted with him.”
“That is because you live in Scotland and he lives in England, I
assume?"
“Yes, that is so. He has not often come to Scotland, and mother
and father are less than inclined to travel such a long distance. We
live so very far away and are very contented with the company that
we do have.”
Emma smiled softly, reached across, and pressed her hand to
Lady Juliet's.
“My dear girl, you need not worry about London. I am aware
that you are very happy with the circumstances at home, but you
must find a situation of your own. How can you do so if you remain
so far from society?” Lady Juliet shrugged one delicate shoulder and
turned her head away. Sighing inwardly, Emma sat back, resting her
head against the squabs. It did not seem to matter what she did or
said, Lady Juliet remained upset at being forced to come from
Scotland to London. “You have not made a promise to anyone at
home, I hope?”
One lifted eyebrow was sent in Lady Juliet's direction, but the
girl quickly shook her head, although a rosy glow came into her
cheeks almost at once. Closing her eyes, Emma bit back a sharp
response. It would do no good to berate her charge. She had not
known the girl long, and such things were secret unless Lady Juliet
wished to divulge them. No doubt an affectionate farmer's son or
stable hand had made his attentions known and the girl had simply
lapped them up.
“You must be careful in London. We cannot have every
gentleman falling in love with you and you declaring yourself to
them also. That would cause a great scandal.”
“I have no intention of making every gentleman in London fall in
love with me. In fact, I will remain quite silent, very dull, and so
staid that they will stay far from me.”
Lady Juliet kept her head turned towards the window, but
Emma did not miss the slight lift of her chin as she spoke. Clearly
the girl was rebelling against her forced departure to London, but
Emma was quite certain that, within a sennight, Lady Juliet would be
desperate to remain. All thought of home would be forgotten, and
she would lose herself in the delights of London society.
Life as a chaperone was very different from life as Emma had
experienced it thus far. Even now, she could still feel a lingering
sense of shock over her father's sudden determination that she
ought to leave his house to take up employment. At the very least,
she had been able to choose her situation and had chosen Lady
Juliet’s house in Scotland, simply so that she might put as much
distance between herself and her father as possible. Baron Wakefield
had always been a disinterested father. Once her elder brother was
wed and settled, her father had set his mind to finding a way to
remove her from his house, seeing her as nothing more than a
burden which must be removed from his shoulders as soon as
possible.
Emma, who had never felt any sort of love or affection from her
father, had not been surprised at such eagerness, although she had
been deeply dismayed to learn that he wished her to become
nothing more than a paid chaperone. She had believed that there
might be an arrangement in her future; that her husband might be
chosen for her, but never once had she thought that her father
would push her into such a low situation. The last two months of
residing at Lord and Lady Hyndford’s estate had given her the
opportunity to become used to such a position, although the strains
of doing so still lingered over her heart. At times it was difficult to
conceal her pain, knowing that she would never have a husband or a
family to call her own; that she would never have the opportunity to
be mistress of her own house - but concentrating all her efforts on
Lady Juliet had helped that somewhat – and Emma was determined
to continue to be devoted to the lady, as they entered the London
Season.
“We must make sure that you behave well for your uncle. It is
as your mother has said: he has given up a great deal to be your
sponsor into society. I am not sure whether he even wished to come
to London this Season!” Having never met the Earl of Bargrave,
Emma had very little idea as to the sort of gentleman he might be.
Lady Hyndford had spoken very highly of her brother, but Emma was
always inclined to make her own judgments on a person’s character.
However, I must think well of him for taking on his niece, at the very
least! A flutter of butterflies began to wave their wings in the pit of
her stomach. As the carriage finally pulled to a stop. “I assume that
we have arrived.” Leaning forward to look out of the carriage
window, Emma cleared her throat, put on the best smile that she
could, and looked toward her charge. “You recall what your mother
said to you, my dear?” Lady Juliet nodded, and Emma noticed how
the rosy flush had begun to fade from her charge’s cheeks. “You will
greet your uncle properly,” she reminded her, gently. “You will give
him greetings from your mother and your father, and inform him of
the letter that you have with you, from your mother. Make sure that
we are nothing but thankfulness. Lord Bargrave deserves nothing
less.”
Her charge licked her lips, nodded, and then turned to face the
carriage door. It had been a long drive and Emma herself was a little
stiff, although she would not be able to truly stretch her limbs until
she was in the comfort of her room. As Lady Juliet's companion, she
could not expect the very best of rooms, but she was hopeful that it
would be a lovely and restful place for her to reside. Lady Hyndford
had been more than kind in that regard and, silently, Emma prayed
that Lord Bargrave was of a similar ilk.
“I confess myself a little anxious.” Whispering still, Lady Juliet
turned a pale face towards Emma as, immediately, Emma put a
comforting hand on her charge’s shoulder. “I hope he will not be a
hard-hearted sort.”
“I am sure you need not worry.”
Emma went to say more, but drew back her hand when the
carriage door opened. She heard, rather than saw, Lady Juliet take a
deep breath before she accepted the hand of the waiting footman
and climbed down from the carriage. There came no exclamation of
excitement nor delight, however, nor were there words of greeting
from either Lady Juliet or her uncle. As Emma climbed down from
the carriage, her hand grasping the footman's tightly, her eyes
widened in astonishment.
The street was quite empty. There was no Lord Bargrave to
speak of.
“This way, if you please.”
A footman stretched his hand towards the stone steps,
encouraging Lady Juliet and Emma to make their way towards them.
One glance toward Juliet's face told Emma that she was in distress,
for the girl had gone sheet white and her pale lips were trembling.
Evidently, she had been more concerned about meeting her
uncle than she had wanted to admit.
Why does he not come out to greet her?
“Might I ask if Lord Bargrave is at home?”
As she stepped into the townhouse, where an imposing-looking
butler awaited them, Emma tried to speak easily and even with a
small smile on her lips, but the man’s expression remained stoic.
Then after a moment, the butler shook his head.
“No, my Lady. I am afraid that Lord Bargrave has gone out for
the afternoon and will not return until much later this evening.”
Emma blinked in surprise as a thin slice of anger began to build
in her stomach.
“I see.”
She did not reach out for Lady Juliet but was afraid of what her
charge’s reaction would be to such news.
“Everything has been prepared for your arrival, however. The
maid will show you to your rooms. If you wish to take tea there, you
may do so, otherwise, I shall have it ready in the drawing-room.”
 Keeping her smile fixed in place, Emma turned to Lady Juliet.
“What would be your preference, my dear? Should you wish to
rest for a while in your room?”
Lady Juliet said nothing, turning slightly so that she might face
the butler a little more.
“You say that my uncle is gone from the house?”
“Yes, my Lady.”
“And when is he expected to return?”
The butler hesitated.
“I... I could not say, my Lady. I believe that he has an evening
function to attend also.”
“I see.” It was with great astonishment that Emma saw the
sparkle in Lady Juliet's eyes. She had worried that her charge would
be deeply upset over her uncle’s absence, but it seemed that the girl
was more than delighted. “We shall take tea in the drawing-room.
And thereafter, might we explore the house and gardens a little?
With my uncle absent I can see no reason for us not to do so.”
Emma blinked, but then nodded.
“Yes, I can see no reason to refuse such a request. This is to be
your home for the next few months, after all.” She glanced at the
butler, seeing a line form between his brows. “We shall, of course,
make certain to stay away from any private areas and will not enter
your uncle’s study nor his bedchamber.”
“Yes, of course we shall not.” Her smile growing steadily, Lady
Juliet gestured to the staircase. “And is this the way to our
bedchambers?”
“The maid is waiting to show you, my Lady, and the footmen
will bring up your trunks shortly.”
At that very moment, a small figure hurried towards them, as
though she had been waiting for the right moment to reveal herself.
Following Lady Juliet, Emma made her way up the staircase, led by
the maid. Looking all around her, she took in the townhouse – both
its furnishings and its décor. To her mind, it was quite grand indeed
– although that assessment might very well come from the fact that
her father was only a Baron and she, therefore, had not lived in
quite as much comfort as this. A wry smile tugged her mouth and
Emma shook her head to herself.
“And this is your room, my Lady.”
The maid stepped to one side and pushed open the door as
Lady Juliet walked in. The audible gasp echoed back towards Emma,
who smiled softly to herself. At least in this, Lady Juliet is happy.
“Oh, it is quite lovely. I shall be very happy here, I am sure.”
Lady Juliet's voice floated back towards her in the air. “Miss Lawder?
Where are you?”
“I am here.” Walking into the bedchamber, Emma smiled at her
charge. “It is good to see you looking a little more cheerful.”
“That is because I am in a beautiful house in a beautiful room.
My uncle certainly does live in comfort!”
Emma laughed.
“I should expect so, given that he is an Earl.”
“Might I show you to your room?”
The maid darted a glance towards Emma, then dropped her
head.
“But of course. You have duties you must get to. I quite
understand.”
“I shall come with you. I would very much like to see your
room… if you do not mind, that is?”
Shaking her head, Emma held out one hand towards Lady
Juliet.
“I do not mind in the least.”
For whatever reason, the maid hesitated. Her eyes went first to
Lady Juliet, then to Emma, then down to the floor.
“My room?”
The maid coughed, nodded, and then turned from the room.
Emma followed her without hesitation, once more, taking in the
decoration and the furnishings. The house appeared to be warm and
comfortable, and Emma was certain that Lady Juliet would be happy
residing here.
“Wherever are we going? It seems as though we are at the very
back of the house!”
 Lady Juliet's exclamation made Emma realize that they had
been walking through the townhouse in all manner of directions.
Outwardly, it had not appeared to be overly large, but now that she
was inside, there seemed to be so many little rooms that she was
quite lost.
“I shall never be able to find you again!” Emma laughed,
ignoring the slight curl of worry in her stomach. “Wherever has Lord
Bargrave put me?”
The maid glanced over her shoulder, her lip caught between her
teeth. Eventually, she came to a stop. This particular hallway was
dim and dark, and the room which Emma stepped into was much
the same. There was only one small window and the light it tried to
let in was blocked by a large tree branch covered in leaves. It was
rather cold, given that very little sunshine could come in, and so very
small that it seemed as though the tiny bed could barely fit inside it.
“This is ridiculous! You cannot stay here.” Lady Juliet grabbed
the maid’s arm, pulling the girl back a little. “This cannot be right.
Are you attempting to show my companion that she is not welcome
here? Bring her to the right bedchamber at once.”
The maid’s eyes widened and then she dropped her head, so
that her chin practically rested on her chest.
“Desist, my dear.” It was clear to Emma that the maid was only
following orders. “This must be where Lord Bargrave has decided to
place me. You need not blame the servants, who are no doubt
simply doing as they have been told to.”
The maid said nothing, and her head remained low.
“This is ridiculous! You are my companion and a lady in your
own right. Why should my uncle put you in such a bedchamber as
this? It is small, dank, and dark! There must be many other rooms in
this townhouse. I cannot understand his reasons for doing so.”
“Nor can I, but we must abide by them.” Emma lifted her chin
even as her heart began to sink lower. “I am sure I shall be perfectly
content.”
This room is oppressive, but I must not allow Lady Juliet to see
how it affects me. I do not wish to make a poor impression on Lord
Bargrave.
 “I shall absolutely not permit it!” Lady Juliet tossed her head
sharply. “I am not a young lady inclined towards silence when there
has been clear inconsideration. I will speak to my uncle at once. Do
not unpack any of your things.”
Emma laid a calming hand on Lady Juliet’s arm.
“You forget that your uncle is absent this evening. I do not think
that we will meet him until the morrow.”
Lady Juliet’s blue eyes narrowed.
“Then I shall have another room prepared at once.”
A jolt of fear tugged at Emma’s heart.
“No, Lady Juliet, you cannot.”
“I certainly can, and I shall. I am his niece and I expect both
myself and my companion to be treated fairly. To have you reside in
here is tantamount to giving you the place of a servant! I am aware
that you are my companion, and you are also meant to give me both
advice and guidance, but you are a lady born, and in this, I am quite
determined, and I will not be swayed.” Before Emma could protest or
say anything further, Lady Juliet had gestured to the maid, snapping
out instructions one after the other. “Send the housekeeper to my
rooms. Tell the footman to remove my companion’s luggage from
this room. And have tea sent to my rooms also. At once, girl, at
once!”
Emma held herself back, resisting the urge to counteract
everything that Lady Juliet had said. If she were honest, she did not
wish to reside here. Everything Lady Juliet had said about the room
was true, and it certainly did not fit her standing as a companion.
She would not need the best room, and nor would she expect such a
room, but to be given something that perhaps a governess, or less,
might be offered was more than a little upsetting. After all, she
would be amongst society, would dine with Lord Bargrave and Lady
Juliet and would attend every society function that Lady Juliet
wished. Why then was she being treated with such disregard?
“Come, Miss Lawder.” Lady Juliet’s voice rang out along the
corridor and Emma rubbed one hand over her eyes, uncertain as to
what she ought to do. “Do hurry, Miss Lawder. We shall have you
settled in your new room within the hour.”
 Biting her lip, Emma took in a deep breath and then followed
her charge. Perhaps this was for the best. The thought of spending
months residing in such a dark and dank bedchamber was a
distressing one, and as Emma closed the door, she felt a tug of relief
nudge at her heart. She could not understand Lord Bargrave’s
reasons for setting her in such a room, but perhaps Lady Juliet was
right to be so insistent. The gentleman clearly needed to be
reminded of Emma’s standing and this would be one way to do such
a thing.
I have been so determined to make the very best of impressions
upon Lord Bargrave, but now I fear that we will make a very poor
one indeed… although my first thought of his character is a very
negative one indeed! Her lips twisted as she continued to follow
Lady Juliet back through the house, towards the lady’s bedchamber.
I have no joy in the thought of meeting him. I can only pray that he
will treat Lady Juliet with more consideration than he has me.
 CHAPTER TWO

G iles scowled, threaded his fingers into his hair, and dropped his
elbows onto the large, polished desk in front of him. Having forced
himself to rise about an hour earlier, he had not yet broken his fast
but had chosen instead to come to the study to look through his
correspondence. In the depths of his heart, he knew that this was
something which he was doing simply to avoid meeting his niece and
her companion, but as yet, it appeared to be working. There was a
great deal of correspondence, and should he decide to respond to
everybody who had written to him, then he could be in his study for
a good part of the day.
And then all that is required is to sit to dinner before we take
our leave for the evening.
Having behaved entirely selfishly the previous evening, Giles
now found himself with a painful headache and a severe weight of
guilt resting upon his heart. Yes, he knew that he ought to have
remained at home to greet his niece and her companion, but he had
been quite unwilling to give up the dinner invitation which Lady
Waterston had offered him. It had been an intimate dinner and he
had enjoyed her company, although he would have much preferred
if the other two gentlemen and ladies had been absent.
Lord Waterston was not yet back from the continent, and Lady
Waterston had declared on more than one occasion just how much
she was missing fine company. The spark in her eye and the
knowing smile had left him with no question about what it was that
she wanted from him, but as yet, he was not willing to give it. From
what he knew of the lady, Giles was concerned that any affection
shared between them would not be kept solely between themselves
- and he had also heard that the lady was somewhat clinging. It had
been an enjoyable evening, but certainly not one that he wanted to
continue any further.
A tap at the door alerted him to the butler’s presence and with a
heavy sigh, he lifted his attention from his correspondence.
“Yes?”
Much to his astonishment, it was not the butler who stepped
into the room. Rather, there appeared a young lady, with blonde hair
pulled back into a delicate chignon and piercing blue eyes which
fixed themselves straight to his.
“Uncle.” Following a quick curtsey, she walked directly into the
room, leaving the door to close behind her. “I thought it best to
come and greet you directly, as I am aware that you are very busy
this morning. Your butler told me that we could not expect to see
you before dinner, but I was not willing to wait that long.”
She did not smile, and for whatever reason, Giles found himself
a little concerned about her presence. For the first time, he realized
that his niece would be corresponding with her mother and father,
and would report his behavior to them directly. If he failed in his
duties, having already offered to take his niece on, then there might
well be hard words from his sister - and surely she had suffered
injury enough already, with the ill health of her husband.
“Good morning, Juliet.” Rising from his chair, Giles went around
the desk to greet his niece. “I am sorry that I was unable to be
present yesterday. I had a pressing engagement which could not be
missed.”
Juliet's blue eyes flickered.
“There must have been a great importance to this dinner and
the ball thereafter, Uncle, since it took precedence over my arrival.”
A slightly cool smile pulled at her lips. “You can imagine my
disappointment.” Giles harrumphed quietly, having never expected to
hear such a thing from his niece. Even though he had never met his
niece, Giles had always believed her to be a quiet sort of girl and
had not thought that he would hear such determined words from
her. “We had a comfortable evening and night, however.” Juliet lifted
her chin, never once shifting her gaze from his face. “I should inform
you that I have moved my companion from the bedchamber you had
designated for her to one that is much more suitable.”
Giles blinked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I have removed her from the bedchamber which was set aside
for her and placed her in a room closer to my own. You are aware,
Uncle, that she is a companion and not a governess? Not a lady’s
maid?” Astonishment tied a knot in his tongue. “The bedchamber
was most unsuitable. She is the daughter of a Baron and should be
treated as such, do you not think?”
“I do not believe that I have been considering her in any other
way.”
A cold hand tightened around his neck at the cool smile which
spread across his niece’s face.
“Then why, might I ask, did you place her in such a dingy
bedchamber, when there are plenty of perfectly suitable
bedchambers available in your house?” Lady Juliet’s hands went to
her hips, and one eyebrow arched questioningly. Rather than have
an answer ready for her, Giles found himself quite astonished. He
was not angry nor upset, but rather utterly amazed that this slip of a
girl thought she could speak to him in such a manner. Worse, that
she could step into his house and undermine his authority in such a
way! “I believe that Mama has made it perfectly clear to you just
how much Miss Lawder means to us.” Before he could even begin to
form an answer, Lady Juliet was speaking again, perhaps seeing a
flicker of anger in his eyes. “Her father thinks very little of her. She is
considered nothing more than a burden to him, even though, by
rights, she ought to be a lady in amongst society as I am. She
arrived with us very soon after father became ill. Mother thought
that I might gain relief and companionship during what was a
terribly difficult time, but Miss Lawder has brought both Mother, and
myself, a great deal of comfort.” Lady Juliet shook her head and
sighed, finally dropping her gaze from his. “Did you know that her
father, Baron Wakefield, has made certain that any money she
makes is sent directly to him? I do not think that Miss Lawder has a
penny of her own and, of course, she can do nothing about it, for it
is her father’s prerogative to do as he sees fit. For someone who has
been treated so cruelly by her own flesh and blood, I think that we
must do that we can, to show her as much generosity as possible.
As I have just stated, she has become very dear to both myself and
my mother in such a short while.”
Giles drew in a deep breath, his emotions all of a confusion.
“You are certainly rather forthright, Lady Juliet.”
And most able to make me feel very guilty indeed over my
choice of bedchamber for the lady which, in itself, is a very small
thing indeed.
A hint of a smile danced around Lady Juliet’s lips.
“I believe that I am much like my mother, Uncle.”
Despite his frustration, a laugh escaped from the corner of his
mouth.
“In that I believe you are quite right, Lady Juliet. My sister was
always stubborn and determined, and it appears that you may also
have that trait. I do not know how your father survives with both of
you in his house!”
Lady Juliet’s smile lingered.
“I believe that my father would prefer me to be forthright and
blunt, rather than shy and retiring.”
I cannot imagine why.
“You have made your point quite clearly. I confess that I did not
think of Miss Lawder’s social standing when I gave her that
bedchamber.”
Seeing his niece’s eyebrows lift, he spread his hands and
shrugged, thinking that would be enough of an explanation.
“You sought to keep her from society rather than encourage her
to join with it. And that even before you were introduced to her.”
Guilt reared its ugly head in Giles’ heart, but he ignored it with
an effort. Shrugging, he turned away from his niece and picked up
his brandy glass, which was unfortunately empty.
“You forget, Lady Juliet, that I have no knowledge of
companions. I have no experience with such creatures either. I was
only doing as I thought best.”
 A small yet triumphant smile caught the edge of Lady Juliet’s
mouth.
“I quite understand, Uncle. I am glad that you are willing to
accept the change in circumstances.”
It is not as though I have any opportunity to refuse it.
“Indeed.” Forcing a smile, Giles gestured to the door. “As you
yourself have said, I am very busy this morning. I fear I shall not
see you again until we dine this evening.”
Much to his frustration, however, Lady Juliet did not move.
“And is there any entertainment for us this evening? Or are you
again to go into society without us?”
This is going to be more difficult than I had anticipated.
“I have nothing planned for this evening as I was certain you
would both require some time to rest and recover after your long
journey to London.”
“How very considerate.” Lady Juliet’s smile was a little fierce.
“Then tomorrow, I assume? I am very much looking forward to
entering society. You do recall that I am to be presented tomorrow
afternoon?”
His mind spinning frantically, Giles gave her a swift nod.
“Yes, tomorrow afternoon, of course. Thereafter, there are many
things I have planned for you and for your companion.”
This was of course a complete mistruth, for Giles had no
invitations secured, nor had he made any plans of his own.
“I am delighted to hear it.” With a smile, Lady Juliet finally
turned towards the door, leaving Giles to breathe out a sigh of relief.
“I shall inform Miss Lawder at once. You have not met her as yet,
have you?”
Giles shook his head.
“No, that pleasure is still to come, and shall happen this
evening.”
Lady Juliet smiled and left him without another word. Giles
dropped his head forward, letting out a sigh of frustration as he did
so.
Now I must find some sort of entertainment for my niece and
her companion for tomorrow night.
 For whatever reason, it had not occurred to him that his niece
would require company and entertainment upon her arrival to
London, although he had, at the very least, remembered that she
was to be presented. He had spoken of her presence in London to
no-one, perhaps out of a mistaken hope that the situation might
never take place. In the back of his mind had been the prayer that
Lady Juliet’s father would recover in time for them all come to
London.
“It appears that I have been a little foolish.”
Straightening, Giles turned back to his desk, continuing to
mutter to himself. Picking up his quill, he found that no inspiration
came to him as he prepared to continue with his correspondence.
His thoughts were centered solely on his niece. The last thing he had
expected was to see her so fiery and filled with determination. And
yet, that stubborn trait was a part of his family, and now that he
thought of it, had he not seen it in his own sister many years ago?
Her companion will have much to do to improve her. Lady Juliet
must be shown how to behave and speak appropriately in society.
Dropping his quill, Giles went in search of his empty brandy glass.
The Season stretched out in front of him, no longer filled with joys
and delights, but rather with struggle and strain. He was not to have
the enjoyment he had relished for so many years. Instead, there
was responsibility and burden and Giles wished with every fiber of
his being that he had never agreed to sponsor his niece into society
in the first place.

“GOOD EVENING,
UNCLE.”
Choosing to remain unsmiling, Giles rose from his chair.
“Good evening. It is good of you to finally join me for dinner.”
With a lifted eyebrow, he gestured to the empty chair at the other
end of the table. “It has been at least five minutes since the dinner
gong sounded.”
 “Thank you for your patience.” Juliet’s smile was sweet but
there was no brightness in her eyes. “I confess that I was a little
tardy due to a slight tear in my gown. Miss Lawder was quick to fix
it, however, so we are only a few minutes late.” Giles nodded, his
smile tight, as tension began to flood the space between them. They
had only been in each other’s company for a very short while, and
yet it seemed that this unsettling feeling only grew with every
meeting. Perhaps I have upset her by being so inconsiderate – in her
eyes – towards her companion! “You have not yet been introduced
to Miss Lawder.”
“No, indeed I have not.”
Finally pulling his attention away from Lady Juliet, Giles looked
to the young lady standing behind his niece.
“Uncle, this is Miss Emma Lawder. Miss Lawder, this is my uncle,
the Earl of Bargrave.” Lady Juliet smiled. “I should also have
informed you that Miss Lawder is the daughter of Baron Wakefield.”
A slightly knowing smile crept into her eyes as she studied him,
sending another stab of guilt into Giles’ heat.
“Good evening, Miss Lawder.” As the lady stepped into the
candlelight a little more, Giles blinked in surprise. This was not the
picture he had formed in his mind of his niece’s companion. He had
thought that she would have been a good deal older, and perhaps
even a slightly wrinkled creature with much of life behind her. He
had assumed that her father had sent her to be a companion due to
her age – but this willowy young lady could only be, at most, a few
years older than Lady Juliet! Clearing his throat, Giles dropped into a
bow. “I am very glad to meet you.”
“Good evening, Lord Bargrave.” The brown-haired young lady
smiled softly and dropped into an elegant curtsey. “I know that Lady
Juliet is glad indeed to be in London at long last. I will, of course, do
all that I can to support her as she traverses society with your
guidance and patronage. I thank you also for your generosity in
permitting me to reside here for the Season, in what is such a lovely
house.”
Giles did not miss the way Juliet’s eyes lit up at this remark.
 Was that particular comment meant to be a comment on the
bedchamber I first gave her?
Shrugging inwardly, he returned to his chair, thinking that it
would be best to leave the conversation where it was at present.
“Come now, the food will be getting cold if we do not sit to eat
together.”
Waiting for the ladies to take their seats, he snapped his fingers
before sitting down himself and, within seconds, the foot was
served.
“It is very exciting that Lady Juliet will be presented tomorrow.”
Giles cleared his throat.
“Yes, indeed, most exciting.”
Another glance towards the companion told him that she and
Lady Juliet were sharing a secret smile. Had they already planned
what they were to converse about? Was there to be an attempt to
pile guilt upon his shoulders?
“What is it that you have planned for Lady Juliet tomorrow
evening, might I ask?”
Miss Lawder sent a warm smile in Giles’ direction, but it only
caused his brows to lower all the more.
This is my niece’s doing. She does not believe that I have made
any plans for her whatsoever.
“You need not concern yourself with my intentions for Lady
Juliet, Miss Lawder. I am more than capable.” The smile on Miss
Lawder’s face quickly dropped, and Giles looked away, clearing his
throat for what was the second time. “I shall inform you tomorrow,
Lady Juliet, about what we are to attend and when we are leaving. I
will make sure to give you enough time to prepare.”
Lady Juliet’s eyes narrowed slightly as she looked straight at
him, her fork clasped in one hand.
“Miss Lawder was only asking, Uncle. And as my companion, it
is her role to be present at most events which I attend, to chaperone
me when you are not immediately available. Is there any need for
such secrecy?”
“I am not being secretive in the slightest. I simply do not need
to be questioned as to whether or not I am able to care for my
niece.”
Miss Lawder blinked rapidly and for a moment, and Giles
thought that she would drop her head and press a napkin to her
eyes. It was not his intention to upset her, of course, but rather that
he wanted to make it quite plain that he was able to take care of his
niece and her requirements without any additional support from a
companion. Then Miss Lawder lifted her head.
“You mistake my intentions, Lord Bargrave. I am not
questioning you, nor am I in anyway suggesting that you are
inadequate. Quite frankly, my Lord, I am a little surprised at such a
reaction.”
Her eyes were clear as they met his for a long moment, leaving
Giles without an answer.
I have reacted badly to the lady, simply because of my niece.
His conscience pricked him, and he opened his mouth to apologize,
only for Lady Juliet to begin a conversation with her companion
which excluded him entirely. Grimacing, Giles picked up his fork and
began to eat. His relationship with his niece was going to be more
difficult to navigate than he had expected, and now he had the
companion to deal with also.
I have two feisty, forthright young ladies residing under my roof.
His scowl grew as he jabbed his fork into the meat on his plate.
This, I fear, will be one of the least enjoyable Seasons that I have
ever known… and it is all my own fault.
 CHAPTER THREE

“Y ou did very well, my dear.”

“Thank you.”
Lady Juliet seemed to glow with an effervescent spirit as she
joined Emma at the bottom of the stairs.
“I am sure that your uncle was very pleased with you.”
Lady Juliet snorted and rolled her eyes in a most unladylike
fashion.
“Unfortunately, my uncle was busy talking to another lady rather
than paying attention to me as I was presented to the Queen.”
“Oh.” Emma’s consideration of Lord Bargrave dropped still
further as she looked towards the top of the stairs, seeing him in
deep conversation with a lady she did not know. “I am sure that he
has something wonderful planned for you this evening. He does not
understand the significance of this moment, that is all.”
Lady Juliet laughed and shook her head.
“You are to think the best of him, I see. I, however, will not be
so easily taken in. I think that my uncle is quite a selfish fellow,
unused to having to give anything of himself to anyone.”
“That may be so, but I am sure he will do the very best for
you.”
Looping her arm through Emma's, Lady Juliet let out a long
sigh.
“You say such things even though he spoke to you most unfairly
last evening. That is very gracious of you.” Emma licked her lips but
did not respond. Lord Bargrave’s reaction to what had been a simple
question had been entirely unexpected and had unsettled her a
great deal. She had seen in his response a slight fear that he would
fail his niece and, while she had been surprised and upset by his
reaction, Emma had chosen not to hold it against him. “I do not
know my uncle particularly well as yet, but I am certain that this
season will reveal the true depths of his character.”
“I am quite certain that he cares about you. Whatever this
evening is to bring, it will be most enjoyable, I am sure.”
Smiling warmly, Emma cast a glance back over her shoulder, her
eyes swiftly catching Lord Bargrave’s. He was descending the stairs,
coming after them with long strides as a slight frown pulled at his
brow.
If he would only smile, then I am quite sure that he would be
much more handsome.
The thought charged around her mind, making Emma smile to
herself as she turned her attention back to her charge.
It was not that she considered Lord Bargrave to be
unhandsome, but rather that his seemingly permanent dark frown
did nothing to lift his expression. She had not even seen him smile
as yet!
“Miss Lawder, Lady Juliet.” Lord Bargrave’s deep voice caught
their attention and Emma turned her head to look in his direction.
“Wait a moment if you will.”
“But of course, Uncle.” Lady Juliet stepped to one side, turning
slightly so that she could wait for her uncle to join them. “I do hope
that we did not pull you away from your conversation with…?”
Lord Bargrave’s frown etched itself all the more deeply across
his forehead.
“Lady Peterson – and no, you did not. I was merely confirming
the details with her for this evening’s gathering.”
Emma looked up in surprise, although it was Lady Juliet who
spoke first.
“This evening’s gathering?”
“Lord and Lady Peterson are giving a Ball this evening, in light
of their daughter’s presentation to the Queen. We are all cordially
invited.”
Casting a glance towards Lady Juliet, Emma silently begged her
to express gratitude towards her uncle for such a thing.
 “I see.” Lady Juliet’s tone was a little cool. “We are to attend the
ball thrown in another young lady’s honor? We go as her guests?”
“Yes.” Lord Bargrave did not seem to find any difficulty in such a
situation, for the line in his forehead lessoned somewhat. “Miss
Matterson will be the main focus of the evening, of course, but that
does not mean that other young ladies such as yourself cannot make
their come out also. Lady Peterson was most eager for you to attend
- I believe that she hopes that you and her daughter may become
good friends.”
Seeing the way that Lady Juliet’s frown deepened, and how she
opened her mouth to send a sharp retort to her uncle, Emma shook
her head swiftly, managing to catch her charge’s eye. Lady Juliet’s
lips bunched to one side, and she looked away, but much to Emma's
relief, remained silent.
“That sounds like an excellent endeavor, my Lord.” Sending a
quick smile in Lord Bargrave’s direction, Emma stepped forward and
slipped her hand through Lady Juliet's arm. “Come Lady Juliet, we
should return to the carriage. There is much to prepare for this
evening.” Her charge stepped forward at once, although her head
was low and her eyes a little dull. Emma knew precisely why Lady
Juliet was so very upset, but chose not to say anything about it. It
was not the wisest consideration to take a young woman to another
young lady’s ball, but Lord Bargrave was clearly doing what he
thought was best. “Have you decided what gown you will wear?”
Keeping her voice light, Emma walked Lady Juliet back towards the
entrance. “You have many beautiful gowns, but I am certain that
you told me of one in particular which was to be used for your first
venture into society.” A small sniff came from Lady Juliet in lieu of an
answer. “You will have an excellent evening, I am sure,” Emma
continued dropping her voice just a little so that Lord Bargrave
would not overhear. “Pray do not concern yourself so, Lady Juliet. It
will all go marvelously well, I am certain.”
Arriving at the carriage, Emma waited for Lady Juliet to climb
inside before following suit. Before she could do so, however, a
heavy hand settled on her shoulder, forcing her attention towards
Lord Bargrave.
 “I have upset my niece, I think.” Lord Bargrave was not looking
at her, and Emma too dropped her gaze, uncertain as to how to
answer him. “Is what I have organized not sufficient?”
The barking manner in which he spoke to her did not encourage
Emma to tell him the truth.
“It is sufficient, my Lord.” Speaking somewhat stiffly, Emma
looked towards the carriage. “We will need to return to the house at
once, Lord Bargrave. Lady Juliet requires time to prepare for this
evening.”
Lord Bargrave coughed and shook his head.
“Why do I have the impression that you are not being entirely
honest with me?”
“If you will excuse me.”
Choosing not to answer him, Emma stepped away and walked
directly to the carriage, climbing the steps so that she might sit next
to Lady Juliet. Lord Bargrave was the most confusing gentleman. He
had not made clear preparations for his niece and then seemed a
little upset when she did not react with as much gladness as he’d
expected.
Perhaps I was wrong not to answer him, but I cannot tell him
anything other than the truth and that, I fear, may cause trouble we
don’t need!
“My uncle is not going to join us, it seems.”
Lady Juliet’s expression was a little pinched.
“No?” Glancing out of the carriage window she saw Lord
Bargrave wave the carriage into motion, then turned and strode
directly away from them. “Perhaps that is for the best.” Settling back
in her seat, Emma tried to smile as warmly as she could towards her
charge. “A ball this evening. How wonderful!”
Lady Juliet shook her head, her eyes suddenly glistening with
unshed tears.
“We are to attend a ball which is being given for another young
lady, who is also just making her come out. It is as we both
believed: my uncle has given very little consideration to my situation
here. It is not as though such a ball is unwelcome, but rather that all
of the attention will be on Miss Matterson. Every gentleman will be
looking at her, seeking her attention. There will be very little left for
the rest of us.”
Reaching across, Emma grasped Lady Juliet's hand.
“You will gain much attention, I am sure. You may be quite
correct in your consideration of your uncle, but we must make the
best of it. Allow yourself to be a little excited about the prospect of
your first ball, my dear. It will be a very grand event indeed, and not
one easily forgotten!”
A tiny smile lifted the edge of Lady Juliet’s mouth, and the
sheen of tears in her eyes began to fade.
“Thank you, Miss Lawder. You are most encouraging.”
“I am glad you find me so. I am aware that you have a great
many hopes and expectations for your first Season and, whilst not
all of them will be fulfilled, I will do all that I can to encourage you
and support you throughout everything that happens during these
next few weeks.” She smiled, tilting her head as she released Lady
Juliet’s hand. “So, we must now turn our thoughts to your gown and
what you are to have adorning your hair. We have some time before
we must depart for the ball - and I have every intention of making
certain that you are the most beautiful young lady in all of London
this evening.”
This brought a warm smile to Lady Juliet’s face.
“Thank you, Miss Lawder… or may I now call you Emma? We
have been so very formal these last few months, but now I feel as
though we are becoming great friends and such formality seems
quite out of place.”
“Of course.” Her heart lifting, Emma looked out of the carriage
window, seeing London pass by. “I am quite sure that this evening
will be everything you hoped for, Juliet. Everything and maybe even
more.”

“IS MY NIECE DOWNSTAIRS YET?”

 Emma turned just as Lord Bargrave walked into the drawing-
room. Dropping into an awkward curtsey, she took a moment to
answer, gathering herself.
“She will be down momentarily, my Lord.”
The gentleman harrumphed, and Emma did not know where to
look, finding the tension between them suddenly growing into a
great and ominous presence.
I do not know him particularly well as yet. I cannot make any
judgments about his character. That would not be fair.
“I believe that you think me a little unfeeling.”
Emma's eyes shot to his.
“Unfeeling, my Lord?”
“You think that I have done poorly as regards my niece.”
Rather than choosing to answer in the affirmative or the
negative, Emma simply spread her hands.
“Why does it matter, my Lord, what my opinion is? I am only a
companion - you are her uncle. You will do as you see fit and as you
believe is best.”
This answer did not seem to find favor with him, for Lord
Bargrave’s frown grew and the familiar line drew itself between his
eyebrows once more. Emma did not shrink from him, however. She
allowed her gaze to rest on his features, taking in his heavy
eyebrows, the way his fair hair flopped over his forehead and the
intensity of his eyes as he studied her. In the candlelight, she could
not quite make out the color of them, but if there was a family trait,
then she expected them to be blue, just as Lady Juliet’s were. All in
all, Emma would certainly consider Lord Bargrave to be a handsome
gentleman, albeit with that continual heavy frown lingering across
his forehead.
“You are scrutinizing me heavily, Miss Lawder.”
The heat of embarrassment rose in her chest. She had not
realized that her study of him had been so obvious, nor that he had
been watching her.
“I do not mean to do so, my Lord. Forgive me.” She did not
lower her gaze entirely, however, wanting to give a reason for her
consideration of him so that he would not think her a strange
creature. “It is only that I sought out family similarities between your
features and those of Lady Juliet.”
“And did you find any?”
Much to Emma's astonishment, the corner of Lord Bargrave’s
lips quirked upwards and the heat of embarrassment in her belly
suddenly changed to a strange fluttering. This was the first time that
she had ever seen even a hint of joviality on his face. It changed his
features entirely, for his eyes suddenly sparkled and his brows
suddenly lifted from their usual heavy position.
“I... I believe that I have, yes, although I find myself wondering
whether or not your eyes are of a similar color to Lady Juliet's.”
Why am I saying such things? I need not give any further
explanation.
“My eyes are blue, in fact.” Lord Bargrave smiled suddenly, and
Emma’s breath caught in her chest. “They have a hint of green here
and there – a gift from my father, I believe, but on the whole, they
remain mostly blue.” His smile began to fade, and his eyebrows
lowered to their usual position. “You say that my niece also has blue
eyes? I confess that I have not noticed.”
Emma nodded.
“Yes, she does.”
Again, her eyes were drawn towards Lord Bargrave, and she
found herself unable to pull her gaze away. She had not seen this
side of him before. She had not even seen him smile before, but that
tiny crook of his mouth changed his expression so drastically that
she could barely keep her astonishment hidden.
“I do not know my niece.” Lord Bargrave put both hands behind
his back but did not allow his gaze to linger on her. “I will admit to
you, Miss Lawder, that I am a little surprised at her… fierceness. I
ought not to be, of course, for, as a child, my sister displayed the
very same strength.”
“Might I ask what your expectation was of your niece?”
Lord Bargrave shrugged.
“I expected a quiet, genteel young lady who would do as she
was asked and would not, for example, move her companion from
one bedchamber to another without so much as a by-your-leave!”
 A slight flush caught Emma's cheeks and she once more
dropped her gaze. There was nothing for her to say in response to
such a remark for, as yet, she could not be sure of whether or not
Lord Bargrave saw any mistake in his decision to place her where he
had – and it was certainly not her place to state such a thing
directly!
“You will have to make sure that she traverses society with
great care, Miss Lawder.”
Her head lifted.
“Yes, my Lord, of course.”
“She cannot be allowed to speak with such forthrightness in
company. Her sole purpose is to find a suitable match, is it not? And
no gentleman of the ton will wish for her company if they find her to
be as outspoken as I do.”
Turning away from her, he marched towards the window as
though such a statement ought to be accepted without question, as
though he thought she would simply agree with him.
Emma's heart twisted and every good consideration of Lord
Bargrave which had filled her mind these last few moments
shattered completely.
“You would have your niece pretend to be someone she is not?”
Lord Bargrave’s head spun back towards her.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You are asking me to encourage your niece to pretend that she
is not as she truly is. You think it best that she hide her true
character, that she play herself false, so that the gentlemen of the
ton might think well of her.”
“I see no difficulty in that.”
Emma shook her head, her hands going to her hips.
“Then pray tell me Lord Bargrave, what would happen should
Lady Juliet marry? Her husband will not know the true Lady Juliet,
he will be making his vows to a woman he does not truly know. And
Lady Juliet will not be able to hide such traits forever - although I do
confess that I do not think she would be willing to hide them at all!
Such a marriage would be a great burden for both husband and
wife. It would lead to only difficulty, strife, and pain.”
 Lord Bargrave’s lip curled, and his eyes narrowed slightly.
“And you speak from experience, do you?”
Emma lifted her chin, refusing to allow the slight to injure her.
“I speak from the very same position as you, Lord Bargrave. I
will not encourage Lady Juliet to behave in such a way. It is my
belief that she must remain true to herself and not shrink back
simply so that the gentlemen of the ton might think well of her.”
Lord Bargrave’s eyes narrowed still further.
“Then I fear you doom her to a life of spinsterhood.”
“And I am quite of the opposite opinion.” Aware that her voice
was rising, Emma dropped her hands and took a steadying breath.
“It is my belief that there will be many gentlemen in society who will
see Lady Juliet’s character and think it beautiful.”
The gentleman let out a huff of breath, closed his eyes, and
shook his head.
“It is just as well that I am her sponsor into society, and you are
only her companion. This is the path I shall be leading my niece. It
would make things a great deal easier if you would simply align your
approach with mine.”
“I shall not.” Emma lifted her chin, unafraid. “I am her
companion and her friend. I shall always do what I believe is best
for her.”
“And you shall find, Uncle, that I am not so easily biddable.”
Turning, Emma saw Lady Juliet walking into the drawing-room. From
the sparks flashing in her eyes, it appeared that she had been
listening to the conversation for the last few minutes. “My mother
has always encouraged me to stay true to myself. My father has
wished me to be a strong young woman who is not afraid to express
opinions. I should do them both a dishonor if I behaved in any other
way.”
Lord Bargrave scowled.
“Things are very different here in London, Lady Juliet.”
“That may be so, but you will find me less than willing to do as
you have suggested.” Coming to stand next to Emma, Lady Juliet
looped one arm through hers. “Now, are we to go to the ball? The
last thing I want is for us to be tardy to what is my very first social
occasion!”
Lord Bargrave’s expression was so dark that, for a moment,
Emma believed he was about to turn around and cancel their
engagement completely. He turned away, his shoulders hunched and
his back stiff and straight. Swallowing hard, Emma glanced towards
Lady Juliet, who appeared quite calm, looking towards her uncle and
waiting in expectant silence.
“Make your way to the carriage.” Lord Bargrave’s voice was
gruff, and he flung out a hand towards them without turning around.
“I shall join you in a few minutes.”
Emma did not need to be given another opportunity. Releasing
Lady Juliet’s arm she hurried to the door, with Lady Juliet walking
swiftly behind her.
“I thank you for your courage.” Lady Juliet whispered into
Emma's ear as they made their way to the front of the house. “I am
very grateful to you for your responses to my uncle. You are right. I
am entirely unwilling to pretend. If any gentleman is to consider me,
then they must know my true character. I could not be deceitful.”
“And I should never encourage you to be.”
Stepping back so that Lady Juliet could climb into the carriage,
Emma cast a quick glance up towards the drawing room window.
Was it just her imagination, or was Lord Bargrave still standing by
the window?
I do not know what he thinks of me now, but I must be honest
with both myself and with him.
Her heart dropped to the ground as she considered the next few
months living under his roof, fearing that it would not be a pleasant
atmosphere. But then she recalled the way that his lips had quirked,
and his expression had changed so dramatically. Was there any
chance that she might see that side of him again? Or would he
remain as he always had been thus far – frowning upon every single
thing that either she or Lady Juliet did, and making it quite clear that
he considered their presence in his house a burden.
As much as she might hope for the former, Emma was
convinced it would be the latter… and that would make her stay in
London very trying indeed.
Another random document with
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gulf of crime. Having resolved on the means to be employed in the
murder, she sent for a quondam servant of her father, Robert Weir,
who lived in the neighbouring city. He came to the place of
Waristoun, to see her; but it appeares her resolution failed, and he
was not admitted. She again sent for him, and he again went. Again
he was not admitted. At length, on his being called a third time, he
was introduced to her presence. Before this time she had found an
accomplice in the nurse of her child. It was then arranged that Weir
should be concealed in a cellar till the dead of night, when he should
come forth, and proceed to destroy the laird as he lay in his chamber.
The bloody tragedy was acted precisely in accordance with this plan.
Weir was brought up at midnight from the cellar to the hall by the
lady herself, and afterwards went forward alone to the laird’s
bedroom. As he proceeded to his bloody work, she retired to her bed,
to wait the intelligence of her husband’s murder. When Weir entered
the chamber, Waristoun awoke with the noise, and leant inquiringly
over the bed. The murderer then leapt upon him. The unhappy man
uttered a great cry. Weir gave him some severe blows on vital parts,
particularly one on the flank vein. But as the laird was still able to cry
out, he at length saw fit to take more effective measures. He seized
him by the throat with both hands, and, compressing that part with
all his force, succeeded, after a few minutes, in depriving him of life.
When the lady heard her husband’s first death-shout, she leapt out
of bed, in an agony of mingled horror and repentance, and
descended to the hall; but she made no effort to countermand her
mission of destruction. She waited patiently till Weir came down to
inform her that all was over. Weir made an immediate escape from
justice, but Lady Waristoun and the nurse were apprehended before
the deed was half-a-day old. Being caught, as the Scottish law terms
it, “red-hand,”—that is, while still bearing unequivocal marks of guilt,
—they were immediately tried by the magistrates of Edinburgh, and
sentenced to be strangled and burnt at the stake.
The lady’s father, the Laird of Dunipace, who was a favourite of
King James VI., made all the interest he could with his Majesty to
procure a pardon; but all that could be obtained from the king was
an order that the unhappy lady should be executed by decapitation,
and that at such an early hour in the morning as to make the affair as
little of a spectacle as possible. The space intervening between her
sentence and her execution was only thirty-seven hours, yet in that
little time Lady Waristoun contrived to become converted from a
blood-stained and unrelenting murderess into a perfect saint on
earth. One of the then ministers of Edinburgh has left an account of
her conversion, which was lately published, and would be extremely
amusing, were it not for the loathing which seizes the mind on
beholding such an instance of perverted religion. She went to the
scaffold with a demeanour which would have graced a martyr. Her
lips were incessant in the utterance of pious exclamations. She
professed herself confident of everlasting happiness. She even
grudged every moment which she spent in this world as so much
taken from that sum of eternal felicity which she was to enjoy in the
next. The people who came to witness the last scene, instead of
having their minds inspired with a salutary horror for her crime,
were engrossed in admiration of her saintly behaviour, and greedily
gathered up every devout word which fell from her tongue. It would
almost appear, from the narrative of the clergyman, that her fate was
rather a matter of envy than of any other feeling. Her execution took
place at four in the morning of the 5th of July, at the Watergate, near
Holyrood-house; and at the same hour her nurse was burned on the
Castlehill. It is some gratification to know that the actual murderer,
Weir, was eventually seized and executed, though not till four years
afterwards.—Chambers’s Edinburgh Journal, 1832.
 A TALE OF PENTLAND.

By James Hogg, the “Ettrick Shepherd.”

Mr John Haliday having been in hiding on the hills, after the battle
of Pentland, became impatient to hear news concerning the
sufferings of his brethren who had been in arms; and in particular, if
there were any troops scouring the district in which he had found
shelter. Accordingly, he left his hiding-place in the evening, and
travelled towards the valley until about midnight, when, coming to
the house of Gabriel Johnstone, and perceiving a light, he
determined on entering, as he knew him to be a devout man, and one
much concerned about the sufferings of the Church of Scotland.
Mr Haliday, however, approached the house with great caution, for
he rather wondered why there should be a light there at midnight,
while at the same time he neither heard psalms singing nor the
accents of prayer. So, casting off his heavy shoes, for fear of making a
noise, he stole softly up to the little window from whence the light
beamed, and peeped in, where he saw, not Johnstone, but another
man, whom he did not know, in the very act of cutting a soldier’s
throat, while Johnstone’s daughter, a comely girl, about twenty years
of age, was standing deliberately by, and holding the candle to him.
Haliday was seized with an inexpressible terror; for the floor was
all blood, and the man was struggling in the agonies of death, and
from his dress he appeared to have been a cavalier of some
distinction. So completely was the Covenanter overcome with horror,
that he turned and fled from the house with all his might. So much
had Haliday been confounded that he even forgot to lift his shoes,
but fled without them; and he had not run above half a bowshot
before he came upon two men hastening to the house of Gabriel
Johnstone. As soon as they perceived him running towards them
they fled, and he pursued them; for when he saw them so ready to
take alarm, he was sure they were some of the persecuted race, and
tried eagerly to overtake them, exerting his utmost speed, and calling
on them to stop. All this only made them run faster; and when they
came to a feal-dyke they separated, and ran different ways, and he
soon thereafter lost sight of them both.
This house, where Johnstone lived, is said to have been in a lonely
concealed dell, not far from West Linton, in what direction I do not
know, but it was towards that village that Haliday fled, not knowing
whether he went, till he came to the houses. Having no
acquaintances here whom he durst venture to call up, and the
morning having set in frosty, he began to conceive that it was
absolutely necessary for him to return to the house of Gabriel
Johnstone, and try to regain his shoes, as he little knew when or
where it might be in his power to get another pair. Accordingly, he
hasted back by a nearer path, and coming to the place before it was
day, found his shoes. At the same time he heard a fierce contention
within the house, but as there seemed to be a watch he durst not
approach it, but again made his escape.
Having brought some victuals along with him, he did not return to
his hiding-place that day, which was in a wild height, south of Biggar,
but remained in the moss of Craigengaur; and as soon as it drew
dark, descended again into the valley. Again he perceived a light in
the distance, where he thought no light should have been. But he
went towards it, and as he approached he heard the melody of
psalm-singing issuing from the place, and floating far on the still
breeze of the night. He hurried to the spot, and found the reverend
and devout Mr Livingston, in the act of divine worship, in an old void
barn on the lands of Slipperfield, with a great number of serious and
pious people, who were all much affected both by his prayers and
discourse.
After the worship was ended, Haliday made up to the minister,
among many others, to congratulate him on the splendour of his
discourse, and implore “a further supply of the same milk of
redeeming grace, with which they found their souls nourished,
cherished, and exalted.” The good man complied with the request,
and appointed another meeting at the same place on a future night.
 Haliday having been formerly well acquainted with the preacher,
convoyed him on his way home, where they condoled with one
another on the hardness of their lots; and Haliday told him of the
scene he had witnessed at the house of Gabriel Johnstone. The heart
of the good minister was wrung with grief, and he deplored the
madness and malice of the people who had committed an act that
would bring down tenfold vengeance on the heads of the whole
persecuted race. At length it was resolved between them that, as soon
as it was day, they would go and reconnoitre, and if they found the
case of the aggravated nature they suspected, they would themselves
be the first to expose it, and give the perpetrators up to justice.
Accordingly, next morning they took another man into the secret,
a William Rankin, one of Mr Livingston’s elders, and the three went
away to Johnstone’s house, to investigate the case of the cavalier’s
murder; but there was a guard of three armed men opposed them,
and neither promises nor threatenings, nor all the minister’s
eloquence, could induce them to give way one inch. The men advised
the intruders to take themselves off, lest a worse thing should befall
them; and as they continued to motion them away, with the most
impatient gestures, the kind divine and his associates thought meet
to retire, and leave the matter as it was; and thus was this mysterious
affair hushed up in silence and darkness for that time, no tongue
having been heard to mention it further than as above recited. The
three armed men were all unknown to the others, but Haliday
observed that one of them was the very youth whom he saw cutting
off the soldier’s head with a knife.
The rage and cruelty of the Popish party seemed to gather new
virulence every day, influencing all the counsels of the king; and the
persecution of the Nonconformists was proportionably severe. One
new act of council was issued after another, all tending to root the
Covenanters out of Scotland, but it had only the effect of making
their tenets still dearer to them. The longed-for night of the meeting
in the old hay-barn at length arrived, and it was attended by a still
greater number than on the night preceding. A more motley group
can hardly be conceived than appeared in the barn that night, and
the lamps being weak and dim rendered the appearance of the
assembly still more striking. It was, however, observed that about the
middle of the service a number of fellows came in with broad slouch
bonnets, and watch-coats or cloaks about them, who placed
themselves in equal divisions at the two doors, and remained without
uncovering their heads, two of them being busily engaged taking
notes. Before Mr Livingston began the last prayer, however, he
desired the men to uncover, which they did, and the service went on
to the end; but no sooner had the minister pronounced the word
Amen, than the group of late comers threw off their cloaks, and
drawing out swords and pistols, their commander, one General
Drummond, charged the whole congregation in the king’s name to
surrender.
A scene of the utmost confusion ensued. The lights being
extinguished, many of the young men burst through the roof of the
old barn in every direction, and though many shots were fired at
them in the dark, great numbers escaped; but Mr Livingston and
other eleven were retained prisoners, and conveyed to Edinburgh,
where they were examined before the council and cast into prison.
Among the prisoners were Mr Haliday and the identical young man
whom he had seen in the act of murdering the cavalier, and who
turned out to be a Mr John Lindsay, from Edinburgh, who had been
at the battle of Pentland, and in hiding afterwards.
Great was the lamentation for the loss of Mr Livingston, who was
so highly esteemed by his hearers. The short extracts from his
sermons in the barn, that were produced against him on his trial,
prove him to have been a man endowed with talents somewhat above
the greater part of his contemporaries. His text that night it appears
had been taken from Genesis:—“And God saw the wickedness of man
that it was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the
thoughts of his heart was only evil continually.” One of the quoted
passages concludes thus:—
“Let us join together in breaking the bands of the oppressors, and
casting their cords from us. As for myself, as a member of this poor
persecuted Church of Scotland, and an unworthy minister of it, I
hereby call upon you all, in the name of God, to set your faces, your
hearts, and your hands against all such acts, which are or shall be
passed against the covenanted work of reformation in this kingdom;
that we here declare ourselves free of the guilt of them, and pray that
God may put this in record in heaven.”
 These words having been sworn to, and Mr Livingston not denying
them, a sharp debate arose in the council what punishment to award.
The king’s advocate urged the utility of sending him forthwith to the
gallows; but some friends in the council got his sentence commuted
to banishment; and he was accordingly banished the kingdom. Six
more, against whom nothing could be proven farther than their
having been present at a conventicle, were sentenced to
imprisonment for two months; among this number, Haliday was one.
The other five were condemned to be executed at the cross of
Edinburgh, on the 14th of December following; and among this last
unhappy number was Mr John Lindsay.
Haliday now tried all the means he could devise to gain an
interview with Lindsay, to have some explanation of the
extraordinary scene he had witnessed in the cottage at midnight, for
it had made a fearful impression upon his mind, and he never could
get rid of it for a moment; having still in his mind’s eye a beautiful
country maiden standing with a pleased face, holding a candle, and
Lindsay in the meantime at his horrid task. His endeavours,
however, were all in vain, for they were in different prisons, and the
jailer paid no attention to his requests. But there was a gentleman in
the privy council that year, whose name, I think, was Gilmour, to
whose candour Haliday conceived that both he and some of his
associates owed their lives. To this gentleman, therefore, he applied
by letter, requesting a private interview with him, as he had a
singular instance of barbarity to communicate, which it would be
well to inquire into while the possibility of doing so remained, for the
access to it would soon be sealed for ever. The gentleman attended
immediately, and Haliday revealed to him the circumstances
previously mentioned, stating that the murderer now lay in the
Tolbooth jail, under sentence of death.
Gilmour appeared much interested, as well as astonished at the
narrative, and taking out a note-book, he looked over some dates,
and then observed—“This date of yours tallies exactly with one of my
own, relating to an incident of the same sort; but the circumstances
narrated are so different, that I must conceive either that you are
mistaken, or that you are trumping up this story to screen some
other guilty person or persons.”
 Haliday disclaimed all such motives, and persevered in his
attestations. Gilmour then took him along with him to the Tolbooth
prison, where the two were admitted to a private interview with the
prisoner, and there charged him with the crime of murder in such a
place and on such a night; but he denied the whole with disdain.
Haliday told him that it was in vain for him to deny it, for he beheld
him in the very act of perpetrating the murder with his own eyes,
while Gabriel Johnstone’s daughter stood deliberately and held the
candle to him.
“Hold your tongue, fellow!” said Lindsay, disdainfully, “for you
know not what you are saying. What a cowardly dog you must be by
your own account! If you saw me murdering a gentleman cavalier,
why did you not rush in to his assistance?”
“I could not have saved the gentleman then,” said Haliday, “and I
thought it not meet to intermeddle in such a scene of blood.”
“It was as well for you that you did not,” said Lindsay.
“Then you acknowledge being in the cottage of the dell that night?”
said Gilmour.
“And if I was, what is that to you? Or what is it now to me or any
person? I was there on the night specified; but I am ashamed of the
part I there acted, and am now well requited for it. Yes, requited as I
ought to be, so let it rest; for not one syllable of the transaction shall
any one hear from me.”
Thus they were obliged to leave the prisoner, and forthwith
Gilmour led Haliday up a stair to a lodging in the Parliament Square,
where they found a gentleman lying sick in bed, to whom Mr
Gilmour said, after inquiring after his health, “Brother Robert, I
conceive that we two have found out the young man who saved your
life at the cottage among the mountains.”
“I would give the half that I possess that this were true,” said the
sick gentleman. “Who or where is he?”
“If I am right in my conjecture,” said the privy councillor, “he is
lying in the Tolbooth jail, under sentence of death, and has but a few
days to live. But tell me, brother, could you know him, or have you
any recollection of his appearance?”
“Alas! I have none,” said the other, mournfully, “for I was
insensible, through the loss of blood, the whole time I was under his
protection; and if I ever heard his name I have lost it, the whole of
that period being a total blank in my memory. But he must be a hero
in the first rank; and therefore, oh, my dear brother, save him
whatever his crime may be.”
“His life is justly forfeited to the laws of his country, brother,” said
Gilmour, “and he must die with the rest.”
“He shall not die with the rest if I should die for him,” cried the
sick man, vehemently. “I will move heaven and earth before my
brave deliverer shall die like a felon.”
“Calm yourself, brother, and trust that part to me,” said Gilmour.
“I think my influence saved the life of this gentleman, as well as the
lives of some others, and it was all on account of the feeling of
respect I had for the party, one of whom, or, rather, two of whom,
acted such a noble and distinguished part toward you. But pray,
undeceive this gentleman by narrating the facts to him, in which he
cannot fail to be interested.” The sick man, whose name, if I
remember aright, was Captain Robert Gilmour, of the volunteers,
then proceeded as follows:—
“There having been high rewards offered for the apprehension of
some south-country gentlemen, whose correspondence with Mr
Welch, and some other of the fanatics, had been intercepted, I took
advantage of information I obtained regarding the place of their
retreat, and set out, certain of apprehending two of them at least.
“Accordingly, I went off one morning about the beginning of
November, with only five followers, well armed and mounted. We
left Gilmerton long before it was light, and having a trusty guide,
rode straight to their hiding-place, where we did not arrive till
towards the evening, when we started them. They were seven in
number, and were armed with swords and bludgeons; but, being
apprized of our approach, they fled from us, and took shelter in a
morass, into which it was impossible to follow them on horseback.
But perceiving three more men on another hill, I thought there was
no time to lose, so giving one of my men our horses to hold, the rest
of us advanced into the morass with drawn swords and loaded horse-
pistols. I called to them to surrender, but they stood upon their
guard, determined on resistance; and just when we were involved to
the knees in the mire of the morass, they broke in upon us, pell-mell,
and for about two minutes the engagement was very sharp. There
was an old man struck me a terrible blow with a bludgeon, and was
just about to repeat it, when I brought him down with a shot from my
pistol. A young fellow then ran at me with his sword, and as I still
stuck in the moss, I could not ward the blow, so that he got a fair
stroke at my neck, meaning, without doubt, to cut off my head; and
he would have done it had his sword been sharp. As it was, he cut it
to the bone, and opened one of the jugular veins. I fell; but my men
firing a volley in their faces, at that moment they fled. It seems we
did the same, without loss of time; for I must now take my narrative
from the report of others, as I remember no more that passed. My
men bore me on their arms to our horses, and then mounted and
fled, trying all that they could to stanch the bleeding of my wound.
But perceiving a party coming down a hill, as with the intent of
cutting off their retreat, and losing all hopes of saving my life, they
carried me into a cottage in a wild lonely retreat, commended me to
the care of the inmates; and after telling them my name, and in what
manner I had received my death wound, they thought proper to
provide for their own safety, and so escaped.
“The only inmates of that lonely house, at least at that present
time, were a lover and his mistress, but intercommuned Whigs; and
when my men left me on the floor, the blood, which they had
hitherto restrained in part, burst out afresh and deluged the floor.
The young man said it was best to put me out of my pain, but the girl
wept and prayed him rather to render me some assistance. ‘Oh,
Johnny, man, how can you speak that gate?’ cried she. ‘Suppose he
be our mortal enemy, he is aye ane o’ God’s creatures, an’ has a soul
to be saved as well as either you or me; and a soldier is obliged to do
as he is bidden. Now Johnny, ye ken ye were learned to be a doctor o’
physic; wad ye no rather try to stop the bleeding, and save the young
officer’s life, as either kill him, or let him bleed to death on our floor,
when the blame o’ the murder might fa’ on us!’
“‘Now, the blessing of heaven light on your head, my dear Sally!’
said the lover, ‘for you have spoken the very sentiments of my heart;
and, since it is your desire, though we should both rue it, I here vow
to you that I will not only endeavour to save his life, but I will defend
it against our own party to the last drop of my blood.’
“He then began, and, in spite of my feeble struggles, who knew not
either what I was doing or suffering, sewed up the hideous gash in
my throat and neck, tying every stitch by itself; and the house not
being able to produce a pair of scissors, it seems that he cut off all the
odds and ends of the stitching with a large sharp gully knife, and it
was likely to have been during the operation that this gentleman
chanced to look in at the window. He then bathed the wound for an
hour with cloths dipped in cold water, dressed it with plaster of
wood-betony, and put me to bed, expressing to his sweetheart the
most vivid hopes of my recovery.
“These operations were scarcely finished when the maid’s two
brothers came home from their hiding-place; and it seems they
would have been there much sooner had not this gentleman given
them chase in the contrary direction. They, seeing the floor all
covered with blood, inquired the cause with wild trepidation of
manner. Their sister was the first to inform them of what had
happened, on which both the young men gripped to their weapons,
and the eldest, Samuel, cried out with the vehemence of a maniac,
‘Blessed be the righteous avenger of blood! Hoo! Is it then true that
the Lord hath delivered our greatest enemy into our hands!’ ‘Hold,
hold, dearest brother!’ cried the maid, spreading out her arms before
him. ‘Would you kill a helpless young man, lying in a state of
insensibility! What! although the Almighty hath put his life in your
hand, will He not require the blood of you, shed in such a base and
cowardly way?’
“‘Hold your peace, foolish girl,’ cried he, in the same furious strain.
‘I tell you, if he had a thousand lives I would sacrifice them all this
moment! Wo be to this old rusty and fizenless sword that did not
sever his head from his body when I had a fair chance in the open
field! Nevertheless he shall die; for you do not yet know that he hath,
within these few hours, murdered our father, whose blood is yet
warm around him on the bleak height.’
“‘Oh! merciful heaven! killed our father!’ screamed the girl, and
flinging herself down on the resting-chair, she fainted away. The two
brothers regarded not, but with their bared weapons made towards
the closet, intent on my blood, and both vowing I should die if I had a
thousand lives. The stranger interfered, and thrust himself into the
closet door before them, swearing that, before they committed so
cowardly a murder they should first make their way through his
body.
 “Samuel retreated one step to have full sway for his weapon, and
the fury depicted on his countenance proved his determination. But
in a moment his gallant opponent closed with him, and holding up
his wrist with his left hand, he with the right bestowed on him a blow
with such energy that he fell flat on the floor among the soldier’s
blood. The youngest then ran on their antagonist with his sword and
wounded him, but the next moment he was lying beside his brother.
As soon as her brothers came fairly to their senses, the young woman
and her lover began and expostulated with them, at great length, on
the impropriety and unmanliness of the attempt, until they became
all of one mind, and the two brothers agreed to join in the defence of
the wounded gentleman, from all of their own party, until he was
rescued by his friends, which they did. But it was the maid’s simple
eloquence that finally prevailed with the fierce Covenanters.
“When my brothers came at last, with a number of my men, and
took me away, the only thing I remember seeing in the house was the
corpse of the old man whom I had shot, and the beautiful girl
standing weeping over the body; and certainly my heart smote me in
such a manner that I would not experience the same feeling again for
the highest of this world’s benefits. That comely young maiden, and
her brave intrepid lover, it would be the utmost ingratitude in me, or
in any of my family, ever to forget; for it is scarcely possible that a
man can ever be again in the same circumstances as I was, having
been preserved from death in the house of the man whom my hand
had just deprived of life.”
Just as he ended, the sick nurse peeped in, which she had done
several times before, and said, “Will your honour soon be
disengaged, d’ye think? for ye see because there’s a lass wanting till
speak till ye.”
“A lass, nurse? what lass can have any business with me? what is
she like?”
“Oo, ’deed, sir, the lass is weel enough for that part o’t, but she may
be nae better than she should be for a’ that; ye ken, I’se no answer for
that, for ye see because “like is an ill mark”; but she has been aften
up, speiring after ye, an’ gude troth she’s fairly in nettle-earnest now,
for she winna gang awa till she see your honour.”
The nurse being desired to show her in, a comely girl entered, with
a timid step, and seemed ready to faint with trepidation. She had a
mantle on, and a hood that covered much of her face. The privy
councillor spoke to her, desiring her to come forward and say her
errand, on which she said that “she only wanted a preevat word wi’
the captain, if he was that weel as to speak to ane,” He looked over
the bed, and desired her to say on, for that gentleman was his
brother, from whom he kept no secrets. After a hard struggle with
her diffidence, but, on the other hand, prompted by the urgency of
the case, she at last got out, “I’m unco glad to see you sae weel comed
round again, though I daresay ye’ll maybe no ken wha I am. But it
was me that nursed ye, an’ took care o’ ye in our house, when your
head was amaist cuttit off.”
There was not another word required to draw forth the most
ardent expressions of kindness from the two brothers, on which the
poor girl took courage, and, after several showers of tears, she said,
with many bitter sobs, “There’s a poor lad wha, in my humble
opinion, saved your life; an’ wha is just gaun to be hanged the day
after the morn. I wad unco fain beg your honour’s interest to get his
life spared.”
“Say not another word, my dear good girl,” said the councillor; “for
though I hardly know how I can intercede for a rebel who has taken
up arms against the government, yet, for your sake and his, my best
interest shall be exerted.”
“Oh, ye maun just say, sir, that the poor Whigs were driven to
desperation, and that this young man was misled by others in the
fervour and enthusiasm of youth. What else can ye say? But ye’re
good—oh, ye’re very good! and on my knees I beg that ye winna lose
ony time, for indeed there is nae time to lose!”
The councillor lifted her kindly by both hands, and desired her to
stay with his brother’s nurse till his return, on which he went away to
the president, and in half-an-hour returned with a respite for the
convict, John Lindsay, for three days, which he gave to the girl, along
with an order for her admittance to the prisoner. She thanked him
with the tears in her eyes, but added, “Oh, sir, will he and I then be
obliged to part for ever at the end of three days?”
“Keep up your heart, and encourage your lover,” said he, “and
meet me here again, on Thursday, at this same hour, for, till the
council meet, nothing further than this can be obtained.”
 It may well be conceived how much the poor forlorn prisoner was
astonished when his own beloved Sally entered to him with a
reprieve in her hand, and how much his whole soul dilated when, on
the Thursday following, she presented him with a free pardon. They
were afterwards married, when the Gilmours took them under their
protection. Lindsay became a highly qualified surgeon, and the
descendants of this intrepid youth occupy respectable situations in
Edinburgh to the present day.
 GRAYSTEEL:
A TRADITIONARY STORY OF CAITHNESS.

In a beautiful valley in the highlands of Caithness, lies embosomed

a small mountain tarn, called the Loch of Ranag. The hill of
Bencheildt, which ascends abruptly from the water’s edge, protects it
on the north. On the south it is overlooked by a chain of lofty
mountains, individually named Scarabine, Morven, and the Pap,
which form a natural barrier betwixt Sutherland and Caithness.
Morven, the highest in the range, is nearly two thousand feet above
the level of the sea, and turns up conspicuously over the
neighbouring summits, like a huge pyramid. The extensive wild lying
between this magnificent chain of hills and Ranag, is clothed in the
autumnal season with rich purple heather; and here the plover and
the grouse, the denizens of the solitary waste, live unmolested,
except by the murderous gun of the sportsman. Near the north edge
of the loch to which we have just alluded, there is a small island, on
which may be still seen the ruins of an old keep or castle. The last
proprietor of this fortalice is said to have been a noted freebooter of
the name of Graysteel, who kept the whole county in alarm by his
predatory incursions from the Ord to Duncansbay Head, and, like
Rob Roy and others of the same stamp, rigorously exacted “black
mail,” or protection money. Tradition also reports, that, besides
being possessed of great bodily strength, he was an expert
swordsman, and a person of such a jealous and tyrannical
disposition, that none durst venture to hunt or shoot on his grounds,
without being challenged to single combat; and it may be added, that
none whom he encountered trespassing in this way ever escaped
alive out of his hands. It happened that one of the family of Rollo,
while pursuing his sport in the direction, one day unfortunately
encroached on the sacred property of the robber. Being informed by
some of his retainers that a stranger was hunting on the west side of
the lake, Graysteel immediately sallied forth, and, running up
towards the sportsman with menacing looks and gestures, gave him
the accustomed challenge. Rollo saw he had no alternative but to give
him combat, and being a high-spirited young man, he instantly drew
his sword; and, although he defended himself for some time with
great skill and courage, it is needless to say that he sank at last,
mortally wounded, under the more powerful arm of his antagonist.
The ruffian afterwards stripped the dead body of every thing that was
of any value, and then threw it into the loch.
The account of this melancholy occurrence, as soon as it reached
the family and relatives of the unfortunate youth, plunged them into
the deepest distress; but none did it inspire with more poignant
regret than the young laird of Durie, who was his bosom friend, and
had just been affianced to his sister, a very beautiful and interesting
girl of sixteen. The moment he heard of Rollo’s tragical death, he
determined to avenge it, although he knew he had little chance of
surviving a personal encounter with such a desperado as Graysteel.
Accordingly, having furnished himself with a good Highland
broadsword, and without communicating his intention to any one, he
set off for the residence of the freebooter. Nor was the route he had
to take, any more than the occasion of the journey, agreeable. A
trackless moor, of some miles in extent, lay between him and Ranag,
so very bleak and barren, that, in the words of the poet,
The solitary bee
Flew there on restless wing,
Seeking in vain one blossom where to fix.

He had not gone far, however, when he was overtaken by a severe

storm, which rendered it impossible for him to continue his journey.
The wind, which blew at times with irresistible fury, dashed the rain
in his face, mingled with hail, and howled like a maniac on the naked
moor. Clouds of turbid vapour, issuing, as it were, from a vast
furnace, hurried across the sky; and now and then the rolling of
thunder, while it prognosticated a continuance of the storm, added
not a little to its terrors. Driven by the wind, and battered by the rain,
our traveller began anxiously to look around him for some place of
shelter. At length, to his great joy, he espied, a few hundred yards
distant, a small solitary cottage, situated on the edge of the moor.
Thither he immediately directed his steps, and, on entering, found its
sole occupant to be a poor aged widow, who lived upon the
gratuitous bounty of the public. There was something, however, in
her appearance, though bent down with years and infirmities, that
spoke of better days. On a small stool beside her lay the Bible, which
she seemed to have been just reading. She welcomed in the stranger
with a look of much cheerfulness, and kindly offered him such
accommodation for the night as her scanty means could afford. As
the storm continued to rage with unabated violence, Durie gladly
accepted the proffered hospitality; and, in the meantime, the
venerable hostess did all in her power to make him comfortable, by
putting an additional peat or two on the hearth, and furnishing him
with something to eat. On examining the scanty furniture of the
apartment, which was now more distinctly seen by the light of a
blazing turf-fire, he observed, in one corner, a very uncommon-
looking sword, with the appearance of which he was not a little
struck. The hilt and blade were covered over with a variety of strange
characters and fantastic devices, plainly indicating that it was of
foreign manufacture, and belonged to a remote period. His curiosity
was powerfully excited; and on asking the old woman how she came
by such a magnificent weapon, she gave him the following particulars
regarding it. The sword, which had originally belonged to a noble
Saracen, was that of her deceased husband, who had been a
volunteer in the regiment of Highlanders that had gone over to
Holland under the command of Lord Reay. He had received it as a
present from a Polish Jew, whose life he had saved in a moment of
extreme danger. She, moreover, informed him that her husband,
while on his deathbed, had strictly enjoined her not to sell or dispose
of it in any way, but to preserve it as an heirloom of the family. On
getting this account of the sword, Durie told the woman who he was,
and the errand on which he was going, and begged of her to give him
the use of it for a single day. After much entreaty, she at last agreed
to give it, on the condition that it should be strictly returned.
The storm, which was short-lived in proportion to its violence,
gradually died away towards morning; and at the first peep of dawn
our hero, who burned with impatience to measure weapons with the
murderer of his friend, was up, and, with his enchanted sword firmly
girt on his side, pursuing his solitary route across the moors. His
spirits were now buoyant with hope; and he beheld with a feeling of
sympathy the universal gladness which, after the late convulsion of
its elements, was diffused over the face of nature. Already the “bird
of the wilderness” sang blithely overhead, whilst the beams of a
brilliant morning sun were beginning to dissipate the mists which lay
thick and heavy upon the hills. Our traveller was not long in reaching
the brow of Benchieldt; and scarcely had he descended half way
down the side fronting the castle, when he was met by Graysteel,
who, as usual, challenged him for intruding on his grounds, and
desired him to draw and defend himself. “Villain!” cried Durie,
unsheathing his weapon, which flashed in his hand like the
Scandinavian monarch’s celebrated elfin sword—“villain! you
wantonly slew my friend, and you shall this day atone for it with your
heart’s blood!”
The robber chief laughed scornfully at what he considered an
empty bravado, and immediately made a thrust at his opponent,
which the latter parried off with admirable dexterity. A desperate
struggle now ensued. Graysteel fought with the fury of an enraged
mastiff; but young Durie pressed upon him so hard with his never-
failing blade, that he was obliged to give way, and at last received a
mortal wound. After this, the hero of our tale went immediately
home, and, having raised a body of stout followers, proceeded back
to Ranag, took the castle, and nearly levelled it with the ground.
The denouement of our little story may be anticipated. After a
decent period for mourning had elapsed, Durie led his beautiful
bride to the hymeneal altar. Nor, in the midst of his happiness, did
he forget his good friend, the old woman of the moor. The sword,
which had proved so invaluable an auxiliary to him in the hour of
need, he not only returned to her, but he took her under his
protection, and kept her comfortable for the rest of her days—
Joy seized her withered veins, and one bright gleam
Of setting life shone on her evening hours.

—John O’Groat Journal, 1836.

 THE BILLETED SOLDIER.

In the autumn of 1803, the Forfar and Kincardine militia,—then an

infantry regiment of about 1000 strong,—en route from the south of
Scotland to Aberdeen, along the coast road, happened to perform the
march between the towns of Montrose and Bervie on a Saturday. The
want of the required accommodation in Bervie for so many men
rendered it necessary that a considerable portion should be billeted
in the adjoining villages of Johnshaven and Gourdon, and on farmers
and others on the line of march. In carrying out this arrangement, it
so happened that one private soldier was billeted on a farmer or
crofter of the name of Lyall, on the estate of East Mathers, situated
about a mile north-west of the village of Johnshaven. David Lyall,
gudeman of Gateside, was a douce, respectable individual, a worthy
member, if not an elder, of the secession church, Johnshaven. His
wife, Mrs Lyall, possessed many of the good qualities of her worthy
husband, whom she highly venerated, and pithily described as being
“as gude a man as ever lay at a woman’s side.” Mrs Lyall was a rigid
seceder, a strict Sabbatarian, stern and rigorous in everything
relating to the kirk and kirk affairs, deeply learned in polemical
disquisitions, had a wondrous “gift of gab,” and by no means allowed
the talent to lie idle in a napkin.
The soldier produced his billet, was kindly received, treated to the
best as regarded bed and board, was communicative, and entered
into all the news of the day with the worthy couple. Everything ran
smoothly on the evening of Saturday, and an agreeable intimacy
seemed to be established in the family; but the horror of Mrs Lyall
may be conceived, when, on looking out in the morning rather early,
she saw the soldier stripped to the shirt, switching, brushing, and
scrubbing his clothes on an eminence in front of the house.
 “Get up, David Lyall,” she said, “get up; it ill sets you to be lying
there snoring, an’ that graceless pagan brackin’ the Lord’s day wi’ a’
his might, at oor door.”
David looked up, and quietly composing himself again, said, “The
articles of war, gudewife, the articles of war; puir chiel, he canna help
himsel—he maun do duty Sunday as well as Saturday.”
The soldier, after cleaning his clothes and taking a stroll in the
romantic dell of Denfenella adjoining, returned in time to breakfast,
which was a silent meal. With Mrs Lyall there was only “mony a sad
and sour look,” and on the table being cleared, she placed on it, or
rather thrust, the “big ha’ Bible” immediately in front of the soldier.
“Weel, mistress,” said the soldier, “what book is this?”
“That’s a beuk, lad,” said the gudewife, “that I muckle doubt that
you and the like o’ ye ken unco little about.”
“Perhaps,” was the reply; “we shall see.”
On opening the book the soldier said, “I have seen such a book
before.”
“Gin ye’ve seen sic a book before,” said Mrs Lyall, “let’s hear gin ye
can read ony.”
“I don’t mind though I do,” said the soldier, and taking the Bible
he read a chapter that had been marked by Mrs Lyall as one
condemnatory of his seeming disregard of the Sabbath. The reading
of the soldier was perfect.
“There, lad,” said David Lyall, “ye read like a minister.”
“An’ far better than mony ane o’ them,” said the mistress; “but gifts
are no graces,” she continued; “it’s nae the readin’ nor the hearin’
that maks a gude man—na, na, it’s the right and proper application—
the practice, that’s the real thing.”
David saw that “the mistress was aboot to mount her favourite
hobbyhorse,” and cut her lecture short by remarking that “it was
time to make ready for the kirk.”
“Aye, ye’ll gae to the kirk,” said Mrs Lyall, “an’ tak the sodger wi’
ye; and see that ye fesh the sermon hame atween ye, as I am no gaun
mysel the day.”
The soldier acquiesced, and on their way to church Mr Lyall
remarked, among other things, that “the gudewife was, if anything,