by Lara Temple
‘This way, Jo.’
Jamie’s impatient tones penetrated her foolish dreams, recalling her to the present and to her immediate problem. His little steed was surefooted and quite fleet for its size and after a moment Jo spurred hers on as well. Jamie was intent on something, that was clear, and perhaps it was better to indulge his silent insistence.
‘Very well. Lead on, Lord Glenarris.’
He grinned at her, his eyes sparkling, and some of her malaise eased. At least one Lochmore found her entertaining.
They crested another rise and Jamie pulled his pony to a halt, which was lucky because Jo could only stare at the apparition. It was no Scottish cottage or glum castle, but a large, beautiful house built along classical lines in a pale, muted gold stone that could not possibly be indigenous. It stood on a low cliff, but the grounds fell away behind it into an extensive walled garden whose colourful wildness appeared perfectly intentional. It was such a peculiar touch of England in the raw Scottish landscape around the castle that she felt her eyes prick with sudden homesickness, even though there was no home to pine for.
By the time she reached Jamie he had tethered his pony and was knocking on the large door that stood between twin colonnades. Her confusion increased as the door opened and Angus scowled out at them, his frown shifting to surprise as he saw Jo and Jamie.
‘Mrs Langdale!’
‘Angus?’
Before she could even formulate a coherent question, Jamie sneaked past Angus.
‘Wait,’ Angus said, but Jamie was already darting down the hallway. Jo hurried after him. She had no idea what was afoot, but she did not want Jamie to get into trouble. At the end of the corridor Jamie opened the door and rushed in and she followed, ready with apologies.
She stopped two steps into the room, all thoughts of apologies and precocious children evaporating.
It was not properly a room but a conservatory, with all of one wall constructed of tall glass windows overlooking a green expanse compassed by high shrubbery and populated by a host of sculptures of strange beasts. Her gaze roamed with awe over these creations until it settled on a rather different beast which was glaring back at her.
Benneit Lochmore stood by the mantelpiece, dressed far more finely than was his wont at the castle, and so handsome her heart gave a few stuttering beats before recovering. She turned at a movement to her right to see a young woman seated on a sofa dressed in a lovely pink dress embellished with ribbons of darker rose that highlighted her abundant bosom and reddish-brown hair. She smiled, a little questioningly, but before anyone could speak, Jamie reached his father and tugged something from his pocket.
‘Look, Papa, I found this. It’s a gift for Braw Tumshie!’
Jamie’s words forced Benneit to turn to his son. ‘That is lovely, Jamie, but I am busy at the moment, as you can see. Angus!’ It wasn’t quite a bellow, but it brought Jo out of her reverie and Angus to the door.
‘He ran in, Your Grace,’ Angus said, his embarrassment comical on his six-and-a-half-foot frame.
‘I tried to stop him,’ Jo said, her throat tight with embarrassment and something she could not name. It was one thing knowing Benneit was probably visiting his mistress, it was another thing to come face to face with her. It was none of her business, but she felt breathless, even a little ill.
‘That is quite all right,’ the woman said, her voice low and pleasant and with an unmistakable Highland lilt. ‘Hello, Jamie. How are you?’
‘I am well, Lady Tessa.’ Jamie’s reply was wary but as the woman smiled his shoulders lowered a little. Out of her confusion a cog shifted in Jo’s mind like a clock coming to life. Lady Tessa. Not his mistress, but the woman Benneit was to marry. As in the spiral staircase, Jo felt the world recede a little, her ears humming. She heard Benneit introduce her, the woman greet her and her own voice replying, her cheeks stretching into a polite smile. Then the world came back with a sharpness that planted an ache in the centre of her forehead. She wondered if she could sit because suddenly the world felt too large for her.
‘Go with Angus, now, Jamie,’ Benneit was saying to Angus, but just then a stocky man strode into the room, his red hair peppered with grey.
‘Hello, is this young Jamie? Come say your hellos, boy!’
Jamie started at the man’s booming voice and turned to face him, his hand reaching out to grasp Jo’s. She clung to him as much as he clung to her.
‘Papa, this is Mrs Langdale, Jamie’s cousin from England,’ Lady Tessa intervened softly, deflecting her father from Jamie. ‘Mrs Langdale, this is my father, Lord Aberwyld of McCrieff.’
‘Ah! A cousin! Welcome, welcome. How do you like the Highlands, then?’
‘Yes... I mean, very much, my lord...’
‘Good, good. Well, say your goodbyes now, Tessa. The carriage is waiting and we’d best be off if we’re to reach home in time for supper. We will see you again at the ball, Lochmore. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs Langdale.’
Jo mumbled something in return. She could not quite name the emotions struggling inside her, but pleasure was definitely not among them.
‘I will see you on your way,’ Benneit said. ‘Wait here, Jamie. Mrs Langdale.’
Jamie prowled the room restlessly as they waited and Jo wanted to do the same. She kept her body still, but her mind prowled along with Jamie, approaching and then shearing away from the truth. When Benneit returned to the room he did not look at her, but went down on his haunches in front of Jamie.
‘You know you only come here with me, Jamie, don’t you?’
Jamie’s hand reached out towards Benneit, but then fell.
‘You didn’t come to say goodnight or good morning and I wanted to see you. And I wanted to show Jo the dragons. Are you very cross?’
‘No. But next time you wait for me to bring you, understood? I explained to you that I will be busy for a while.’
Jamie shrugged, his mouth flattening into a stubborn line. Jo knew the proper thing would be for her to take Jamie’s hand, apologise and leave. Instead she went to the window to inspect the beasts in the garden. They were larger, also constructed from driftwood and stones. And they were wondrous.
‘Is that a lion?’ she asked, painfully aware of the absurdity of her question.
‘Angus, take Jamie to the summer parlour. I will be along presently.’
Jo’s confusion narrowed into panic—she did not want to be alone with Benneit Lochmore. Not until she found her footing and chased off this strange rawness. It did not help that Benneit’s surface calm shattered the moment the door closed.
‘I do not believe I authorised your taking Jamie out of the castle grounds.’
She had no defence, but his anger and her confusion made her dig in her heels.
‘I do not believe you did, Your Grace.’
‘Don’t play prim governess with me, Mrs Langdale. You are at fault here.’
‘So? Dismiss me. He told me we were going to the village. I had no idea he would come here, or even what here is. I apologise if we have incommoded you, but if all you have to say is that I am at fault you are welcome to do so and then you may go to the devil, because you are just as much at fault. Would it really have cost you so much to come say goodnight to your son once during the last few days rather than leave us to cope with his loneliness?’
‘I have been occupied...’
‘Evidently.’ She sniffed in disdain and he growled—there was no other name for that low rumble of frustration.
‘What the devil is that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing, Your Grace. Now we should return to the castle. Jamie will be hungry.’
‘Angus will feed him. Sit down!’
She was so surprised by the bark she sat.
‘Since I was born, half the people on Lochmore land were forced out in clearances to make way for sheep and
cattle and kelp kilns. My grandfather and father paid them a pittance to go to the Carolinas or to Canada and kept those that stayed quiet by encouraging them to build illegal whisky stills like everyone else in the Highlands. We made a king’s ransom off wool and beef during the war, but then my father came to believe all credit for this success was his alone, so when Napoleon escaped from Elba he decided we were in for another profitable stretch of war and bet Jamie’s future on that eventuality. While everyone was delighted Waterloo put an end to another decade of war, my father realised he had lost half of all he had gained in years. If he hadn’t suffered a stroke, I might not have been able to prevent him from engaging in another clearance.
‘As it was, I spent the last two years trying to ensure Jamie does not inherit an encumbered estate with a justifiably resentful populace. Now I have an opportunity to do something that could not only keep us above water, but create new work and hope. And for that I need the McCrieffs’ support and some peace and quiet while I convince people who have better things to do with their funds that a large distillery in a remote corner of the Highlands is not some mad gamble, but a serious commercial concern that can turn a profit. So I beg your pardon if I am a little distracted with trying to secure my son’s future and do not have time to indulge your snide remarks and Jamie’s tantrums, Mrs Langdale.’
Jo felt about two inches high. No wonder he had looked so worn and worried. She thought of the castle running on a minimum of staff...his hesitation to hire someone to help McCreary. Her contrition cleared away the strange fog that had possessed her.
‘I’m sorry, Your Grace. I did not mean to add to your burdens. I told you I can go back to England, there is no need...’
His stern look faded in a sudden smile.
‘We are not in such dire straits—wool and kelp are still profitable and we’ve contained the worst of the damage my father wrought so we are no longer in debt, which is more than can be said for most of the clans. The McCrieffs aren’t looking to marry into the Lochmores out of affection, believe me. But until I am certain we can go forward with the distillery I do not wish to create expectations I might not be able to satisfy. I want everything in place before I speak—the location, the plans, the funding and, unfortunately, the consent of the McCrieffs.’ He hesitated. ‘That is particularly critical, even more than I thought at first. The engineers I brought to the village confirmed my fear we need more fresh water than our own loch and the burn can provide and that means we depend on Lord Aberwyld’s goodwill.’
‘I see.’ She did see. It was not merely clan politics or personal preference behind the upcoming marriage, but the key to Jamie’s future.
‘I should not be telling you any of this—no one but Angus and a representative of mine in London knows the whole of it, not even McCreary. I know I can trust you not to speak of this, but I need you to understand why I cannot be there for Jamie as I would wish at the moment.’
From two inches high she felt herself begin to expand again at his confidences.
‘I will do my very best, Your Grace. But I can be of help with McCreary at least. Won’t you make use of me there?’
She held out her hand without thinking and he took it and smiled, then completed her pleasant agony by raising and brushing his lips lightly across her knuckles, his breath whispering against the sensitive skin between her fingers.
He remained like that for a moment, suspended.
‘You always smell of roses.’ The words were only a murmur. It could have been an innocuous observation, but her body reacted as if he had somehow magically made her clothes slither to the ground, her breasts tightening, readying themselves to be touched. A burst of Jamie’s laughter came from down the hall and Benneit let go of her hand and went to the door.
‘Come. Angus will likely have set aside some tarts to fortify you and Jamie on the ride back. I must still review some documents when I return to the castle, but I promise to read Jamie a bedtime story today. You may commend my obedience now, Mrs Langdale.’
She preceded him out the door, but kept her head down, still too shaken to jest. She wished she could be worldly. No doubt someone like Bella would have taken such a comment and gesture in her stride, made light of it, perhaps flirted a little and moved on. He probably thought her terribly gauche, just as she was six years ago. She tried to think of something light-hearted, but instead the question popped into her head.
‘Who is Braw Tumshie?’
‘How do you...? Oh, yes, Jamie. Come with me. I will introduce you.’
He clasped her elbow and guided her outside, round the corner of the house to a low wall with a gate with stone steps leading downwards to a stone and wood zoo surrounded by a lush garden.
‘Tumshie means turnip. The lion in the back there was named Tumshie after the shape of his head.’
The lion named turnip stood in a corner, shaded by the trees and the back of a vine-draped bower, his head a little raised as if catching a scent. His body was a combination of a gnarled trunk and slate-like stones, and his mane a fine web of interwoven branches. The eyes looked like obsidian, pitch dark but so deep she could feel their sadness. At its feet was a pile—mostly of stones, but also the broken arm of a toy, a few pieces of metal and other oddments. Clearly Jamie’s offerings.
‘Who made these marvels?’
Benneit surveyed the garden and for a moment she thought he would not answer.
‘My father built this house for my mother. She was English and loved gardens, but her efforts to bring her plants to the castle knot garden in the inner bailey failed. She brought a horticultural friend of hers here and he identified this place as the most auspicious and she decided this would be her garden retreat. After I was born she became ill and that was when my father built this house for her in the image of her childhood home. It was outrageously extravagant, but it became her retreat and now it is mine.’
‘She made these?’
‘Yes. Like Jamie, we would gather driftwood from the beaches and she would make these.’
‘And she painted the maps. She was very talented.’
‘Unfortunately. Come, we should return.’
She touched the tips of the webbed mane.
‘Why unfortunately? You should be proud.’
‘Her horticultural interests were tolerable, barely, but a Duchess of Lochmore playing with sticks and stones was not a source of pride, Mrs Langdale. It was bad enough that she was English.’
‘Is that you or your father speaking?’
The fury was so immediate she stepped back. She had not seen that expression before. She had seen him surly, annoyed, sometimes angry, but never furious. It was an answer in itself. He bent and picked up a stone and for a moment she had an absurd image of a biblical stoning of wayward, outspoken women, but he merely balanced it on the rump of a miniature horse. He did not speak, just stood turning and twisting the balanced stone, and she decided to press her advantage.
‘Jamie was so happy to come here and he clearly adores these sculptures. He sees all this for what it truly is—a wonder. It lit him up from inside when we found the perfect treasure to bring to the turnip lion. Don’t turn that into something shameful for him as he grows.’
‘Do you know I considered sending you back to London in Carlisle, Mrs Langdale?’
‘Only in Carlisle?’
‘Blast you, Jo. Why can you not mind your own business?’
‘I won’t say another word.’
‘I would as soon believe Napoleon is delighted to find himself on St Helena as believe that,’ he muttered, but the anger was gone and he gestured back towards the house.
Jamie jumped down from his seat by a laden table in a lovely room with a view of the sea. She smiled reassuringly at him, but it was his father’s face he sought and Benneit swung him into his arms.
‘Have you eaten it all or left us anything, Jamie?’
/>
Jamie’s face relaxed, his arms curving cautiously around his father’s neck. Benneit sat with him on the window seat and extracted the stone from his pocket.
‘Now show me the dragon’s eye again. Here in the light.’
Jo sat silently as Jamie’s pent-up worry spent itself in a tumble of chatter. Benneit listened, his eyes on his son, half-smiling, but there was a look in his eyes that brought a bruising ache to Jo’s heart. She wondered if the sadness she saw there was for Jamie, himself, Bella, or perhaps all of them.
How much did he miss her glorious, beautiful cousin? She had always presumed he must be heartbroken to lose someone so lovely and accomplished and charming and...perfect, but with each passing day she found it harder and harder to reconcile the Benneit before her with Bella’s husband.
‘Will you pour, Mrs Langdale?’
She started and glanced up at Angus as he placed the tea tray on the table.
He was smiling and there was a complicity in his blue eyes that made her smile back.
‘With pleasure, Angus.’
* * *
In the end Benneit chose to ride back with them to the castle. Jamie rode in the lead, stopping his pony occasionally to search for more treasures. The sun was directly overhead and the flat, flat sea looked so inviting she wished they could just keep riding straight into it.
‘Can one swim here?’ she said into the silence and Benneit laughed.
‘If you don’t mind freezing your... If you don’t mind freezing. This isn’t Brighton.’
She sighed.
‘I went swimming once with Alfred. In Torquay. We went there right after our marriage and it was wonderful. There is nothing like it. I wish I could do that again, even just once.’
He did not answer, just paused where the path was closest to the cliff and looked out over the stretch of sea. She stopped as well, wondering if she had said something wrong. Perhaps she had reminded him of his own marriage and loss. The thought doused her pleasure.
‘Lady Theale said she plans to find you a husband,’ he said to the horizon.
