Jane could vividly recall every moment of the night Mary had come to say goodbye. She had implored Jane not to say anything until morning, to give her time to put a great distance behind her home. Jane had reluctantly agreed, never telling her father that she had prior knowledge of Mary’s departure.
She had never seen her father more upset. He was angry, true, but Jane’s heart had tugged at her when her father had looked up and asked, “What are we going to tell the McDougalls?”
He had nothing but loyalty to the people he had pledged his life to, and now he felt that he had failed them. He refused to listen to reason that there was nothing he could have done.
Then Mary had written, imploring Jane to come to London, telling her that she was far sicker than she naturally should be and that she needed her immediately. Jane, at least, had left a note for her father.
She knew he would never understand, but she had done all she could to appease everyone.
Jane looked over at her sister now, assessing her symptoms. Her face was pale, but at least she was taking a few bites of food. An appetite was good.
She was no physician — that was her father’s calling — but between his experience as well as the tutelage of a woman in the village, she had become known for her abilities to help when needed — most appropriately, when her father was out and attention was required sooner rather than later.
Which brought her here. She had some skills as a midwife, although she had always been more of an assistant than a midwife herself. But at least she could be here if her sister needed her. Thus far, despite a few scares, Mary seemed to be progressing as she should be, but one never knew when something could arise.
“We’re not much for celebrating Christmas in Scotland,” Duncan said now, while Jane wished he would stop antagonizing Billy.
“No?” Billy said, raising an eyebrow. “Not one to celebrate the birth of Christ?”
Duncan shrugged. “We go to church, yes. Is that not what it’s all about? I can’t say I understand the rest of the frivolities. What’s the point of it all?”
“To celebrate,” Billy said, looking at him as though he had lost his mind.
“By placing tree droppings throughout the house?” Duncan said, raising his eyebrows. “By silly games and candy?”
“Ah, so you have heard of how we celebrate Christmas, then,” Billy said with a smug grin, and Duncan sighed.
“Some of it, most unfortunately.”
“Well, then, we shall be pleased to introduce you to it for the first time,” Billy said. “Tomorrow some of my family will come to visit, and we will all join in the hunt for the most beautiful Christmas tree there ever was. My Mary deserves it this year, with all that she is going through.”
He leaned over and placed his hand on his wife’s.
Duncan screwed his brow in confusion, and Jane had to admit that she also questioned Billy’s words.
“I’ve heard of this,” Duncan said with a snort. “Where do you find one in the middle of London?”
Billy’s smile widened. “We purchase an evergreen and bring it in to decorate.”
Duncan just stared at him for a moment before rubbing his brow. “You are saying you buy a tree. A cut tree. That will die in weeks.”
“Well, yes,” Billy said, his tone defensive. “We all do so. Queen Victoria herself was the first in England.”
“What is the purpose of such a tree?” Duncan asked, and Jane found herself interested in the answer as well.
“We decorate it,” Billy continued. “Put candles on it, and celebrate around it. It was a German custom, brought here by her husband, Prince Albert. It’s quite the event, and rather fun as well.”
“I see,” Duncan said, although now he was really and truly perplexed. “If you’ll excuse me now, I had best go retrieve the remainder of my things and bid farewell to my companions.”
And with that, pushed away from the table and made for the exit. Jane followed him with her eyes until he was out of the door. She should be happy he had left for a time, for it provided her with a reprieve.
Yet she couldn’t help but miss him already — just a little bit.
Chapter 6
“Happy Christmas!”
“It’s not Christmas yet!”
“Soon enough!”
Billy’s family poured through the door, a huge group in a chorus of greetings and laughter and children darting in and out between their parents’ legs.
Jane watched them all enter with wide eyes and a full heart. Her own home had always been rather quiet. It was just her and Mary, and while they had a great many visitors, for the most part, her parents had expected obedience.
She had complied. Mary… not so much.
“You must be Jane!”
She suddenly found herself enveloped in the arms of a women with a rather generous bosom, before being quickly released as the woman moved on to Mary, although she seemed primarily occupied with holding on to Mary’s stomach.
“Apologies. That was our mother.”
Jane looked up to find a man wearing a good-natured smile standing before her. He had similar sandy brown hair coloring as Billy, and despite his lack of moustache, there was no mistaking the resemblance.
“Nick,” he said, bowing over her hand. “Billy’s brother.”
“Of course,” she said with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’m the second youngest of the bunch of us,” he said. “The closest to Billy.”
“Are all seven of you here today?” Jane asked, looking around him, considering that it was quite possible with the number of people who had spilled in through the entrance of the small townhouse.
“It rather looks like it, doesn’t it?” Nick said with a laugh. “But fortunately, no. Only the four of us are in London. But Audrey and Isaac are married with three children apiece so we take up a good deal of room. And Mother creates enough noise for three women.”
“Oh, I’m sure she doesn’t,” Jane said politely, to which Nick laughed even louder. A jolly sort, then, she realized.
Suddenly the noise of the room seemed to lower a fraction, enough that only the children’s voices could be heard as they chased one another around the furniture, past the fireplace and back into the kitchen in search of snacks. Jane began to look about, curious as to what had drawn their attention, until she noted that Nick’s gaze was directed behind her. She turned to find Duncan standing there at her shoulder, and conflicting emotions began to battle within. While she had been enjoying the conversation with Nick, which Duncan’s presence seemed to have stilted, his arrival also sent an unexpected thrill of pleasure through her.
Why, she could not say.
He was ornery and annoying, and all she wanted was for him to return to the Highlands.
Yet she couldn’t help but compare him to Nick, who was standing in front of her. Nick was a good-looking man to be sure, with a pleasant smile and easygoing countenance that drew her to him — but not in the way that Duncan did. Nick was a man who would make sense. Who would be steady, sure, and even.
While Duncan stirred something deep within her that had never been active before.
It was strange seeing him dressed in trousers with a shirt and jacket. She was used to him in his kilt, always wrapped in the McDougall plaid. He strained the seams of his jacket, and she couldn’t help but to allow her eyes to linger a moment on his shoulders and biceps.