Fiona of Glenmorie

by Ruth Hay

  She would take him outside to run about as he loved to do. It was bittersweet in some ways to see his growing independence in the sure knowledge that soon he would run away from her, and not toward his mother. All her children eventually did.

  There was no stopping progress after all. For this time, and this bright day, one little boy took precedence over any list in the world of Fiona Campbell.

  Gordon Campbell set out on Monday morning with the glad heart of a man who had everything in his life that made him happy. He had work on the estate that was always challenging and different. No two days were ever exactly the same. He cherished the sight of a new batch of saplings to be planted or a stretch of the river that needed some drainage to promote faster water flow. His mind automatically filed away everything he noted for further action as he turned the jeep to the familiar paths around his domain. The winter storms had caused trees to be downed, thereby obstructing the roadways. He saw the estate crew sawing up the branches which would end up in his woodshed for Meco. This interaction between estate and home brought an ever-present satisfaction to him. One fed the other.

  He passed the hut where birds hung when the annual shoot began in the Fall. Some of those grouse and partridge would be sold to Oban butchers and some would be prepared for the family’s kitchen. There was even a market for the grand, colourful tail feathers of the larger birds. Nothing went to waste on a well-run estate. It was the practice dinned into him by his father Diarmid on the Borders estate where he was brought up with his five sisters. As the only boy, he was never given an option in the matter of inheritance. His father was a strict taskmaster and he made sure his son understood his immense responsibilities on the family estate from a very young age.

  Fortunately, Gordon had been able to extricate himself from these pressures when he took over Glenmorie from an older cousin and finally withdrew from his father’s constant supervision. And yet, the old man’s training was deep in his mind and practise. His advice rose unbidden when an unusual situation presented itself. The son knew his father would not have understood the necessity to remove his family from the castle to the depths of the forest. Living in a cold stone building built originally for defensive purposes was the stuff of Scottish backbone. Such deprivations toughened a man, in his father’s way of thinking.

  “Modern families are brought up with too many comforts. It will ruin the country in the end.”

  Gordon could hear his father’s stern warnings ringing in his ears.

  Diarmid Campbell would not have approved of the idea of his wife going off to work. Women, in his opinion, were intended to keep the home fires burning, care for the children, the kitchen gardens, and social affairs all far beneath the scope of men, so that the master was free to go about his estate business without a care on the domestic front.

  The realities of modern life, together with the partnership style of twenty-first-century marriages, required two persons to earn money. To keep an estate afloat, Fiona’s income was a necessary contribution. He felt blessed in the fact that she well understood this necessity. She had earned money by various means throughout her childhood and into her adulthood, and Gordon knew his wife had no intention of abandoning professional work outside the home. Of course, she was an amazing mother to their brood but he was not surprised by her recent discussion of beginning work on a part-time basis. Fiona was her own woman and it would take a stronger man than Gordon Campbell to stand in her way when she saw something that she could contribute to the happiness of her family.

  He went about his day secure in the knowledge that his Fiona would somehow devise a plan to keep all the elements of her busy life in balance.

  His parallel task was to make sure in his daily work that there would be an inheritance their children could receive, and to which they would eventually add.

  The vague concern about which of the children would choose to take on the burden of Glenmorie Castle and Estate, lay always in the back of his mind. Who would resist the siren call of Edinburgh, Glasgow or even London? Which child, or children for that matter, would decide to devote himself (or herself?) to the struggle to keep ahead of taxes and government restrictions?

  In the uncertain political climate of the times, Scotland was a dark horse that could gallop in several directions, none of which guaranteed a secure future.

  * * *

  A golden eagle screamed his call of sheer delight in his freedom and strength far above Gordon’s head. He took this sign as a good omen.

  All would be well. Too much thinking never did anyone any good in the end.

  Today was a gift, moment by moment, and he would value and respect that gift.

  Edmund Jansen stepped out the rear door from the surgery for a few seconds’ break between patients.

  It was his private exit and the staff knew better than to disturb him there, other than for an emergency.

  The surgery backed onto the steep hill behind the town and there was a tiny garden there consisting of a small bush or two and a single wooden chair and a rickety table, much the worse for exposure to the weather.

  Edmund had worked at the Oban Doctors Clinic for several months before discovering this handy bolthole. The previous head doctor in the practice, Connor Williams, had managed to keep it secret. He was an occasional smoker despite all the current public and private distaste for the evil habit. Edmund found evidence of that habit in the stubs of cigarettes deposited under the bushes.

  He gathered up the debris and disposed of it. The first patient who rewarded his care with a plant in a pot, would not know it was now reposing happily in the secret garden to the recipient’s delight.

  Gardening was not one of Edmund Jansen’s skills. His mother, Christine, still living alone on the east coast of Scotland, had looked after their windswept garden, and everything else at home, while he was totally immersed in studies for a medical career. That career had brought him to Oban for what he believed would be a temporary position under the old doctor.

  The advent of meeting young Ashley Stanton at Anna Drake’s house while Anna was suffering from an adult onset of chickenpox, had changed the trajectory of his life.

  His fiancée was now far away in Canada and he missed her every day, especially at the end of his day when he returned to the tiny cottage on the seashore, rented from Fiona Campbell, and remembered the moments there when he and Ashley first discovered their love for each other.

  It was a lonely life. The cry of seagulls always made him feel homesick for Ashley’s arms. They spoke on the phone often and she assured him she would return to Oban as soon as family matters, and more importantly, literary matters, were settled to her satisfaction.

  She tried not to din his ears with complaints about publishers and their minions during these calls, but it was clear she had her work cut out to ensure the just rewards due to Anna Drake were faithfully recorded, and also accurately dispensed to her aunt’s bank account.

  He, in return, did not expand over much about the few, time-wasting locals who were suffering only from loneliness but occupied an unrealistic amount of the surgery’s time and resources.

  Both of them were frustrated at their present situations.

  Both were lonely. Both promised to redress their situations as rapidly as possible so they could return to each other’s arms.

  Ashley swore she would return to Oban before summer.

  Edmund swore he would be crossing the Atlantic if she did not return by then.

  Ashley and Edmund swore mutual undying love at the end of each call.

  Despite the sincerity of these promises and threats, Edmund was growing more weary by the day, made worse by the lack of the comfort provided by Anna Drake. That special lady had a way of making everything smooth and easy. She was the epitome of the perfect hostess with the perfect home outside the town and away from the worries that encompassed Edmund. When she was in residence all seemed well with the world but now that she was far away in London, she might as well be back in Canada,
and Edmund missed her positive influence. Anna was the only person who had seen his romance with Ashley blossom from the start. She understood his frustrations and she was reassuring about their future happiness in a way that he desperately needed to hear about from time to time.

  He fully understood Anna’s priority to support her lifelong friend Alina during her attempt to get an operation to save her sight, but he needed a fix from the McCaig Estate house in its spectacular surroundings. The problem was that he did not know the couple who were staying there at present and would not wish to present himself on their doorstep as a stranger begging for entrance.

  Problems on problems drew a huge sigh from his chest.

  He stood and stretched out his back before returning to his morning’s work. The rest of the day was full of patients and their particular problems.

  His own must be put aside for now.

  Jeanette McLennan made an appointment with the doctor for her mother, Jean, for late in the morning to allow the older woman to gather herself for the event as well as to leave enough time for a quick run around the Tesco store to pick up supplies. The plan was to return home for a well-deserved lunch and an afternoon rest for Jean before the children arrived home from school.

  Such complicated plans were no novelty in Jeanette’s life. She managed her home, and a thriving design business incorporating a cleaning service, kept Liam and Annette in order and supervised her husband’s legal practice from his home office. When her mother finally gave in to frequent requests to move from Vancouver to Scotland, it was only one more task she had to blend into an already busy life. Jeanette had the added advantage of knowing how much company and joy her mother would get from the daily contact with her only grandchildren as well as the chance to see much more of her only daughter.

  It was a great day when Valerie brought Jean safely across the Atlantic to Oban. Her mother had been more frail than Jeanette remembered since her last visit to her Canadian birthplace. The years had rushed by since the children arrived and taking that long plane trip to the west coast of Canada had not had the priority of more immediate concerns in Scotland.

  Valerie Westwood was a good friend to Jean. Valerie had family living in Vancouver, which had allowed the two women to keep in touch. Her occasional work as a tour guide brought her to Scotland and to the Campbell castle for special tourist dinner events.

  When Jeanette set up the bedroom for Jean in their new house in Oban, she had decided to furnish it with two single beds so Valerie could stay whenever she wished. Valerie was a good source of gossip and information covering Canada from British Columbia to London and Toronto in Ontario, owing to the varied activities of her grandchildren. Jean always enjoyed her visits and Jeanette felt as if she gained a quick and easy visit to Canada after listening to the conversations of the two older women.

  She hoped, one day, to make the trip to Canada with Liam and Annette but, for now, she was more than content with the situation in which she found herself; surrounded by family and friends and with work she enjoyed.

  * * *

  The doctors’ surgery was busy as usual. They waited for fifteen minutes perusing old magazines and chatting together before they were ushered into Dr. Jansen’s office.

  “Keeping you busy, Edmund? I take it Connor Williams is not about to help you out since he retired?”

  “Not a chance of that, Jeanette. He’s happily fishing in some Highland burn as we speak, I’m sure.”

  “You realize you’ll need someone to take up the slack sooner rather than later? It’s always been a busy practice here.”

  Jean’s eyebrows rose at the familiarity of her daughter’s manner of talking. In her own day, it would be disrespectful to talk to a professional in such a casual way but she knew Jeanette was both plain spoken by nature and also someone who was not hesitant to help out anyone with whom she was connected.

  It was not too difficult to imagine Jeanette McLennan finding a locum for the doctor. She seemed to know everyone in the area and enjoyed making things happen.

  Jean was present at the Christmas celebration in Glenmorie Castle when the engagement of Ashley Stanton and Dr. Jansen was announced to the assembled guests. That grand occasion was shortly after Jean had arrived from Vancouver and the memory was a swirl of colour and tradition that presented a wonderful introduction to her new life in Scotland. She recalled the happy faces of Ashley and her fiancé but she noticed the doctor was not looking as relaxed and delighted as he had done on that occasion. Jeanette was right to draw attention to his situation. It was a lot for a young man to take on without a partner.

  “Now, then, ladies! We are here to talk about your mother, not about me. How have you been feeling, Jean?

  Jean brought her mind back to the present and replied that she had never been so well cared for since the death of her husband.

  “Jeanette is a wonderful daughter, and living with George and the children is all a grandmother could ask for. I am very fortunate, doctor.”

  “That is good to hear. May I call you Jean?”

  “Please do.”

  “Right! I’ll just take your blood pressure and listen to your chest for a minute and you two ladies can get on your way. Please call on me if you have any further concerns. You can pick up a general advice pamphlet on your way out. It’s designed for those like you, Jean, in good health, and just alerts you to matters you should be aware of as the years pass.”

  * * *

  As they left the waiting room, Jeanette remarked to Jean that it was just as full as it had been when they arrived.

  “I wonder how the poor man gets time for a bite to eat? His lovely dark hair could use a trim and his face is even more pale than usual. He needs a woman to look after him. I will ask Anna when Ashley is due to return. We can’t have Oban’s only doctor falling ill from neglect, can we, Mom?”

  Jean just smiled in reply. She could almost hear her daughter’s active brain clicking away. If there was anything that could be done to improve young Dr. Jansen’s present situation, her Jeanette was the most likely one to do it.

  Chapter Seven

  Fiona’s phone conversation with the Duchess of Argyle started better than she could have expected.

  “Look, Fiona, we’re practically family. Please call me Eleanor. You’ve lived around these parts all your life. I’m almost an ‘incomer’ by contrast. What can I do for you and Gordon?”

  “Well, Eleanor, I know you have a very busy life at Inveraray. It’s common knowledge how well you manage that enormous estate together as a couple, and keep it all afloat. Glenmorie is not the same kind of challenge for us but I wonder if you would share a few ideas about bringing in the public?”

  “Fiona, I am happy to do that. I believe your three children are still fairly young? We have had a lot of help and understanding from our three. The entire September Festival project is manned by a huge number of volunteers as well as the people who live and work on the estate.

  What I am suggesting is that you look for volunteers particularly when you are putting together events that draw visitors. You can’t do it on your own.”

  “I see what you mean. What sort of events have you found to be the most financially beneficial?”

  “Oh, that’s easy! We keep a close eye on all our expenses and compare the results of anything we try. If an event does not prove to be profitable, we scrap it and go on to something else. It helps to get feedback of course.”

  “That’s a very practical approach. Your own family’s background in business helps a great deal.”

  “Well, Fiona, I hear you have tremendous skills in the area of wildlife preservation. It’s a matter of playing to your own particular talents.

  Overall, the music events, the Highland Games and the estate produce we sell are the big earners. You will know we have pipe bands to lead the visitors around the estate on special days. We set up big tents with displays of all the fruit and meat we prepare and we have estate labels for all our products sign
ed by the Duke. The tourists love that. They especially love it when the gentleman wearing an apron stating, ‘Duke of Argyll’ turns out to be the actual duke who is serving them. There must be thousands of his photos all over the world by now!”

  “I like that idea, but I think Gordon would be happier with the fishing or stalking groups on the whole.”

  “Of course, Fiona, you have to gear your efforts toward the time and energies you have to spare.

  Your Glenmorie is closer to Oban than we are. You should be able to capitalize on that and do some advertising in the local newspaper and in the tourist shops as well as on a website.

  Oh, one last thing! Remember to flash the tartan. It’s yours by right. Make it work for you. The visitors from Japan are wowed by it.”

  “Thank you so much for your time Eleanor. You have given me so much to think about. I see the planning is the most important part of the project and I will get to it at once.”

  “I know you and Gordon will do well, Fiona. Let me know if I, or Ian, can be of any further help.

  Campbells Forever!

  Bye for now.”

  Fiona put down the phone and sat still, running over the conversation in her mind.

  The Duchess was very gracious with her help and advice. She seemed like a regular person rather than the mistress of such a huge enterprise. Fiona Campbell would need to scale her plans far down from what was accomplished at Inveraray but there were very good hints she must consider before she started anything. It was essential to use the advantages Glenmorie might have over a larger estate. Perhaps the smaller venue lent itself to more intimate encounters with wildlife, for example. No big military bands would work for them.

  She must keep in mind that Gordon was no Torquil Ian Campbell. His Grace, the Duke of Argyll, took a close interest in, and participated in, all the commercial activities of his estate in a way Gordon would never care to share. Although you could not guess it to see him, the Duke was a polo champion for the Scotland team two years running.