Chapter fifty-one
Just above the barred piece of acres marking Kilmarnock, a cliff overlooked, bowed over it and surrendered to give the best view of the duchy as could have.
From the thick canopy of trees, Miriam stalked towards the edge of the land. Although she was not alone, she took one squeezed breath for strength and sat beside the red haired lass.
For a needed moment of silence, they both looked down at the finally acquired region without a word between them.
As the wind went by, splashing their hair around their faces, the silence went on. It was a short while after that Miriam faced her daughter with a frown, "Drinking does not solve anything Monica."
She half expected the younger lady to shatter the decanter of brandy upon her.
But instead, the lass smiled and cringed her eyes due to the air current, "I'd rather not be a pawn to the anger I feel. Trust me, this is the best way to erase it." She gulped in more and more of the golden coloured liquid as the moments flew by.
Just when the question burnt like a hot flame at the base of her throat, she decided to let it out, "Why did father do that?" She met the gaze of her mother and sulked some more, "I dedicated every bit of my wasted life to that man all this while because he was supposed to be the good one."
"I'd presume it was my liking for Forland that sparked it," Miriam answered coldly, clearly affected by the same cloud of regret, "I wish you heeded to my warnings when you could Monica."
That brought back an entire swarm of memories into her mind, as well as emotions to go with them. If there was any face registering in her mind, it was only a blur of the Duke, a part of her she vividly tried to put behind since her arrival. "I worked so hard," Monica tossed the decanter violently upon a rock that it shattered with its content spilling out. Then she sniffed and looked down on Kilmarnock again, "I got this far to get my so-called home back. And now," her next words were hard to form and accept. But deep down, she felt it, "And now, it doesn't even matter."
Miriam smiled shortly at her words and drew the lass gently into her arms in a comforting hold. Her daughter must have found it strange from the way she stiffened. But soon after, Monica relaxed in the embrace and began confiding, "I had never felt the essence of family and support until I met those English lads. They gave me all the love I could ever ask for," she took a slight pause before she concluded, "But then I betrayed them mother."
Fergus's words came back to haunt her.
All this…for Kilmarnock?
It suddenly was not worth it.
While her mother rubbed and curled the red curls of hair around her finger, she said something that finally broke her, "Sometimes we have to fall to lose everything we take so dear. But no matter how bad a fall is, as long as we still can, we wipe ourselves and get back up."
Monica stilled and stopped crying, her features darkening into a frown, "I can't go back mother. From what I've learned of the lads, they'll kill me if they find me."
When she gave Miriam some time to swallow that, she added, "Besides, I promised Elizabeth never to return so she could finally have Philip all to herself."
"Is that what you want," the question came and hung in the air for a while, for long excruciating seconds. It tempted, dragged on and confused Monica.
"No," she finally replied and turned to face her mother's eyes, "I love the Duke mama. But I left him, left them all. And I can't possibly go back."
"You are a Maitland," Miriam pitched in with a fake frown, "we have more confidence than our sixth sense. Besides I can't imagine Elizabeth being happy in that bondage called marriage. Neither will Philip. I won't go any further than that, you know what to do."
This was the most trying point for the lass. As she rested her head upon her mother's lap and felt a hand rub softly down the length of her hair, they both watched the land before them in silence.
She knew what to do…
Steadily, Monica filled her lungs with air and calmed her thoughts. Automatically, the image of the night she'd spent with Philip flooded her mind, plastering a dirty smile on her face.
It surprised Miriam when Monica pulled away and got to her feet with the speed of a fox. "Where are you going?"
Monica did not answer until she reached her chestnut horse, six hands high and built for the worst of conditions.
With its hair falling to its left side, it received the weight of the Scottish upon its back and gave a grunt of readiness.
"England," she replied finally, "Tell Nathan to do better than father did," she looked down on her mother. Just before she kicked her horse and sent it galloping out, she added, "I do not expect it to be easy but…I have a promise to break."
"Goodluck!" Her mother shouted to her in the distance. After a while, even when she knew she might not have heard, she said, "Ride safe!"
A bright glow lit her eyes.
***
Stretched over a reasonable amount of acres, freshly cut lawn blossomed to its peak, the last it would before the approaching winter. The green land besieged a brick castle-like building which reached high and wide in the most prominent of poses, proudly mounted upon an obvious hill.
It was clear that the owner of such a gigantic mansion was a part of the ton, a strikingly fashionable fellow who loved to draw attention to the wealth he obviously had.
Deep in the Vetcom estate, the Earl sat upon his oak desk, looking straight through the window at his fathomable property. Jason Ferma held a solemn frown, lost in his own whirl of sadistic thoughts, a dagger flinging between his fingers.
"Who do you plan to kill," Mildred made her way towards her proud husband with a teasing smirk. His pose made his intentions really clear. "I gather you have been this way since you returned from London," she continued, "Is there anything I should know?"
He felt her lips come upon his in the lightest of brushes, just before she drew back and sent him an inviting grin.
Jason still had his frown on though, his blue eyes cold as ice, "How do you feel?"
Mildred smiled as always and put her hands in the air, just before she took a seat in one of the office chairs, "Oh your child and I are fine thank you. Now answer me."
How this woman managed to hold him at her control, he did not quite understand. But that was surely why he married her, "It's disturbing why I have the sudden urge to place Monica's head on a platter."
And that was no an exaggeration.
The lady's head tilted in what looked like scrutiny. A short while later, she heaved  a sigh of frustration, "What if I told you she was here in England and you had every single chance in the world to satisfy that urge? Would you kill her?"
The Earl glanced at his Countess while seemingly lost in his thoughts for his most genuine answer. Her mood was unflinchingly serious, much to his worry. But then, he found his answer, "Maybe I'll take a second thought before that. But of course she lacks the courage to come back after all she did." Or did she? He reminded himself that lady could flirt with Kings.
"She did not look like the cunning sort when we spoke yesterday," Mildred spoke halfway and was expectedly interrupted.
With an urgency that would have scared anyone else but his wife, Jason shot her a glare and got to his feet. Abruptly, he faced her, "The Scottish is back in England!"
The Countess gave a nonchalant shrug, "She did seem to be in quite a mood when we spoke. Quite a daring lass I must say."
Without a single word, the Earl stumped out towards the doorway with the dagger still in his clutch. Just as his feet passed the threshold, he heard the lady beckon on him with the daintiest of tones. As much as his patience broke, he would listen to her.
When Jason turned back to her, she gave a hidden, hypnotic, order, "Do not hurt her."
His jaws tensed grimly while he glared for a while. And just as he expected, she returned the favor. He still kept to his oath of silence when he walked out. Painfully, he was a mere pawn when she was involved.