The Mistresses of Wistmere: A Neo-Gothic Novel

by Rachel Secor

  Emptying a small vile of rose oil into the cooling water, May-Jewel rubbed her breast and thighs until they absorbed the fragrance. He’s certainly nice to look at. Still, he seems too young to have been Robbie’s partner. He can’t be half a dozen years older than I am. I wonder where he got his experience. Then thoughts of Jeremy crept into her relaxed mind. Jeremy is older and much more mature than Alex. Closing her eyes, she began to compare them but soon realized that they were vastly different. Jeremy was suave and composed, like a true gentleman of the old south of which he was a product. Alex, on the other hand, seemed excitable and always on the cusp of anger. Of course, it could be that their untimely arrival put him in that state. I wonder, she mused, if Mister Fleming would allow his ward to cross an ocean unescorted?

  For the first time in weeks, May-Jewel allowed her anger toward Jeremy to subside. She envisioned his slender body and could almost smell his cologne. It wasn’t the first time that she had allowed romantic thoughts of Jeremy to fill her daydreams.

  “This won’t do,” she reprimanded herself as she stepped from the tub and wrapped a towel about her shoulders. “Jeremy, you straight-laced fool,” she whispered with affection. “You should have come with me.” Enveloping herself in her dressing gown, May-Jewel smiled at how he hated to be called ‘straight-laced’ and uttered it three more times just for spite. She knew that Jeremy was never anything other than what he presented himself to be, honest and proper and… one dimensional.

  Forcing her mind back to the present, May-Jewel visualized Mister Fleming… Alexander… Alex. She found him exciting, yet she couldn’t help wondering if he might be misrepresenting himself. Either way, he would be a challenge. Yes, things do look promising, she thought.

  May-Jewel took her time dressing, then rang for Katherine’s bath water before awakening her as she had no desire to go through the ‘you are inconsiderate with the water’ scene again. After styling her raven locks three different ways, she settled for the loose roll of the pompadour with a cluster of ringlets hugging her neck. Still, it was too early to go down to the dining room. Choosing a musty volume of Waverley from a corner bookshelf, she sat by the fireplace to read. But she grew increasingly impatient to start her first evening at Wistmere and put the book back down. Anxious to be about, she awakened her sister and left the room.

  * * *

  Still somewhat sleepy, Katherine moved about in a dreamy state while changing her dress. Enchanted by the last glow of day that reluctantly hung over the landscape, she paused by the window. All she ever saw from her window in Edinburgh were dusty carriages being pulled over the same old streets by weather whipped horses. She saw weary men and women, shuffling their sidewalk-trained feet from point ‘A’ to point ‘B’ and back again. And she saw hungry, neglected children. They all passed by, but none ever raised their eyes to look up at her in her attic window.

  Casting aside thoughts of the past, she refocused on her surroundings. The twilight shadows below her darkened. They crept slowly over the ground like a silent army, skillfully skulking behind the line of trees as if awaiting orders to advance. Her gaze fell on the garden and lingered on the small vine-laden gazebo in its center. As the sun completed its descent, the small span of trees at the garden’s edge released their shadows, leaving the gazebo veiled in a gray gloom. As she was about to abandon the window, Katherine became aware of someone standing within the gazebo. She moved to another window, but it didn’t give her a clearer view of the person below. Whoever it was, remained in the darkening structure, unmoving and, she was certain, watching her. But all too quickly total darkness captured the garden, and it became impossible to see the gazebo at all. Closing the curtains, she dismissed the scene from her mind and finished dressing. Suddenly the flames of the lamps swelled and jumped with such intensity that her shadow darted toward the center of the ceiling and back down again. Katherine immediately became aware of another presence and spun around toward the door. Terror struck her heart as the intruder stepped from the shadows and started toward her.

  Chapter Five

  Once she entered the ring of light, Katherine breathed a sigh of relief seeing how frail and small the woman looked, not much taller than a half-grown child. Her eyes were as black as her tightly wound hair, and when she spoke, her teeth shone as pearls against her dark skin. Her accent was British, but the tone beneath it was alien to the Isles.

  “Pardon, Mistress. I do not mean to unsettle you.” Her eyes searched the room and then settled on Katherine. “I am Selina. I have come to give you aid.”

  Although her words were harmless, the woman’s manner had a menacing air, and an alarm sounded in Katherine’s mind. She wasn’t certain why such a small woman should create the fear that she was suddenly feeling. “I–I don’t need any help,” she said quickly. “Perhaps you could be of service to Mistress Belwood.”

  The servant edged closer. “But no, I am for Mistress Katherine only, not your traveling companion. I have come for you.”

  The interior alarm rang louder within her.

  “No!” Katherine cried, backing away, her senses fully awakened, her skin crawling. “Leave! I have no need of you.”

  The woman’s mouth worked into a tight smile. “As you wish. Perhaps later.” She bowed and backed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

  Calming her breath, Katherine couldn’t explain the fear that had coursed through her. Was that woman actually her maid? But hadn’t Alexander told them that there was only one female servant in the manor, a cook? So who was this woman? The rhythm of her heart slowed as her fear faded. Once the woman was gone, Katherine felt foolish for feeling afraid of her. Taking a deep breath, she timidly opened the door and, glancing at both sides of the hall, she then hastened through the dimly lit corridor and down the stairs. Anxious for company, even May-Jewel’s, she ran across the great hall.

  Upon seeing Katherine, May-Jewel said, “Why Katherine, how stylish you look in that gown!” She smiled at her sister.

  “I sewed it myself,” Katherine replied. After admitting that, she waited for the usual caustic remark. When it didn’t come, she raised her eyebrows in surprise and smiled at May-Jewel in return.

  Her sister’s presence and the soft flickering of the dining room’s fireplace caused Katherine’s fear to fade. She relaxed in the security of the room, taking a moment to survey it. Ancient crests of local clans hung on the walls and were interspersed with images of the Celestial Hierarchy. Atop the crest of the Clan Craig was a Seraphim, the highest ranking angel in heaven’s army. Cherubim mounted another crest while images of the rest of the hierarchy adorned the crests of the other clans from Lanarkshire. The reflecting glow of the fire washed each crest in ripples of light, making it seem as if the angels were alive and watching her as Katherine moved about studying each one.

  Katherine then scanned the rest of the room, impressed by its richness, especially the huge oak table that filled the center of the room which, on other occasions, could have easily seated thirty people, though tonight there would be only three. The crystal drops on the lanterns captured the saffron glow of the fire and cast a soothing aura. Walking around the table, she was surprised by the crystal and silver place settings. What a contradiction this manor is, she thought, some rooms are so stately and cared for while others suffer utter neglect.

  Neither of the women were aware that Alex had entered the room until he spoke.

  “Forgive me for not returning to escort you to dinner, but unexpected business demanded my attention.”

  Both women turned to him, and May-Jewel’s soft gasp was clearly audible.

  Alex stood before them formally attired in his kilt. A lace jabot hung from the high neck of his tight fitting black doublet. Yards of dark pleated plaid snuggly hugged his narrow hips, dropping to the middle of his kneecap. A silver-handled dirk embedded with cairngorm stones was strapped to his right hip and a badger-headed fur sporran discreetly hung over the center of his lower torso. Ghillie brogues compl
eted the traditional attire.

  May-Jewel walked around him, her eyes registering delight, a teasing smile on her lips. “Mistress St. Pierre,” she taunted, “isn’t Alexander a magnificent sight? I’ve never seen such manliness in a skirt. And such a short skirt!” She laughed.

  Frowning, Alex marched across the room and poured himself a drink. He had expected admiration not playful jabs. Being fiercely proud of his heritage and his clan, he fought the impulse to take the teasing seriously. What would a girl from America know of tradition anyhow, he questioned.

  “Mistress Belwood,” he replied, moving to her side, “have they no respect for heritage in that wild land of yours that you should find my attire so entertaining?”

  Katherine stifled her amusement as May-Jewel’s pale complexion became crimson.

  “Oh dear,” May-Jewel sputtered, “I’ve hurt your feelings. Please let me apolo-”

  “Nay, lady,” Alex interrupted. “That isn’t at all necessary but tell me, do you like what you see?”

  “Yes,” she replied quickly. “I’ve never seen anyone look quite so dashing. You look like a noble warrior.”

  Pleased with her answer, he turned to Katherine. “And you, Mistress St. Pierre, what do you think?”

  Eyebrows raised and unsmiling, Katherine responded, “I, sir, am of Scotland, am I not? I have learned to respect our traditional clothing, especially the Feileadh Mòr. This must be a festive moment for you to wear the Great Kilt. I might add, however, if you wish to hear words of flattery,” she paused, her lips barely spreading into a smile, “that you do wear the kilt well.”

  Her words were what he wanted to hear, however, the tone of her voice made him question whether he had been complimented or insulted. “Thank you,” he replied, deciding on the former. “Ladies, may I escort you to the table?”

  From the position at its head, Alex rang a small silver bell and then poured himself a glass of wine. He glanced over at Katherine. Though her words were light, he sensed that she wasn’t used to frivolity. Her rigid movements and chiseled expressions were the results of a bitter life, he decided. Wealth, power and flattery would hold no sway over her, and he couldn’t, as he originally planned, dismiss her as a mere puppet or silent bystander. Obviously Katherine wasn’t driven by the same force that propelled her sister. She was driven by something worse, something harder to penetrate and to deal with. She was driven by rancor. Well, he thought confidently, I can conqueror that, too.

  “Ladies, let’s toast to a long and prosperous union. I, with the loveliest ladies in the whole of Caledonia, and you with faith and trust in the future, and in my years of experience.” He raised his glass.

  Although Katherine hesitated, not having the ‘faith and trust’ that Alex spoke of, she finally followed her sister in sipping from her own glass.

  Puffing up her sleeves, May-Jewel coyly smiled at Alex. Here at last is a man with charm and good manners. A man who wouldn’t think of me as a child. How gallant. With the war raging between the States, it seemed as if no one in America has had time for gallantry, and I, for one, have missed it.

  The door opened, and Charles entered with the first course.

  As Charles spooned the soup from the tureen into the bowls, Alex remarked for May-Jewel’s sake, “This is one of our traditional soups. It’s called Bawd Bree, or hare soup, and it contains-”

  Katherine broke in, “For heaven’s sake, Alex. If you want her to eat it, don’t tell her what’s in it!”

  May-Jewel hesitated, glancing at the contents and then at her sister, who began eating. Still hesitating but growing bolder as she watched the others partake, May-Jewel finally raised the spoon to her lips. “Hmmm, this is good. I thought you were trying to poison me!”

  “Oh, banish that thought,” Alex replied, waving aside the suggestion.

  The courses that followed were served leisurely and were just as adventuresome for May-Jewel as was the soup. There was venison, fish in sauce, and stovies, sliced potatoes cooked with onions and lamb.

  Whether due to the heat of the fire or to the desire to be buoyant, Alex drank freely of the wine before him, and the more he drank, the more openly he spoke about himself.

  “To answer your questions from earlier today, Katherine, I’ll tell you how I became Robert’s business partner. My father and Sir Robert were raised together and had been partners for close to twenty years. Having been taught the rudiments of the business early in life, I qualified, in Robert’s eyes, to fill my father’s position when he died.” Alex paused, studying the rich color in his glass as if his mind was caught in another time. “The Flemings, the Craigs and the Murrays have always been more than friends since ancient times when a branch of the Craigs left Aberdeenshire and came to Lanarkshire. Robert’s first wife, Lady Edythe, was a Murray. The Flemings are a sept of Clan Murray. In prior centuries that meant that we were under their protection. As you two,” he added with a wry smile, “have been placed under my protection.”

  The wine glass held lightly between Katherine’s fingers suddenly tipped. But her quick reaction saved its contents. Boastful peacock! He speaks as if we are helpless caged doves. He should remember that doves can fly but peacocks can only strut. She looked at May-Jewel, knowing exactly what her reaction would be to Alexander’s last statement… and she was right for her sister’s statement gushed with praise.

  “Why Alex, you’re truly gallant to take upon yourself the care of Katherine and myself.” Her eyes sparkled as she rested her delicate chin on her raised interlaced fingers.

  Though he couldn’t hide the hint of pleasure that stole over his countenance, Alex pulled his gaze from May-Jewel and directed his attention to Katherine once again. “Does that answer your earlier question about how and why I became Robert’s partner?”

  “To some degree,” Katherine answered. There was something about Alexander Fleming that marked her mind with wariness. She decided it was that he was too cocksure of himself and too arrogant. She had always been cautious of his type of man: the type that figured that he controlled the Fates; the type that tried to manipulate women with their boyish charms; a man that insincerely regarded those around him. “But Sir Robert’s loyalty and choice in partners may not be ours.”

  “Katherine!” May-Jewel exclaimed, her hands going to her hips in a huff. “We’ve hardly had time to evaluate the business, let alone think about what our choices might be for the future! Surely we should look to Alex, who is more experienced than we. I’m sure Robbie knew what he was doing when he took Alex on as a partner, and I’m also sure that we can rely upon him to do what is right for the business and us.” She smiled by way of an apology at Alex.

  Alex returned her smile and bowed his head at her declaration. But he was taken aback by Katherine’s words. His ready smile vanished when he looked to her. He knew for certain that it wasn’t going to be easy manipulating her. For a moment he sat frowning, sipping his wine. Silence is my best defense, he thought, silence and the lovely May-Jewel. But the longer he sat, the longer he stewed and the more anxious he became to capture May-Jewel’s attention again, to make her his ally. “So tell me,” he asked, “how goes the war in America?”

  A frown darkened her features, and she grew flustered. “Why, I don’t understand it at all. Why should there be a war between our states? I don’t understand it. War and killing are such horrible subjects for women to ponder, don’t you think?”

  Behind his waxen smile, Alex winced. Of course that wasn’t a topic to be discussed with women, but the wine he was consuming was affecting his thoughts. “I do apologize for offending your sensitive nature,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “It’s a man’s world and one tends to forget how delicate women are.”

  “Yes, let’s not talk of war,” May-Jewel offered as she readily accepted his apology.

  To make up for his blunder, Alex decided to try another way to win May-Jewel over. Seeing that Katherine’s attention was on Charles as he approached the table with a tray of Bla
ck Buns, scones and shortbreads, he pressed his wine glass to his lips and commanded her deep purple eyes to his in silent seduction.

  Eyes widening with interest, May-Jewel returned his gaze and tried to quiet the excitement that suddenly awakened in her heart. A slight smile tugged at her mouth as she turned her gaze from him onto the table in feigned coyness.

  But as abruptly as Alex had begun his flirtation, he ended it, turning his attention to a plate of Brandy wafers and refilling his glass yet again.

  Embarrassed at the pleasure she derived from his sensual stare, May-Jewel blushed as she feigned interest in the bun placed on her plate.

  “This is good. What’s it called?” she asked of Charles.

  “It be Black Bun.”

  “Ummm it’s interesting, a fruit cake wrapped in pastry. What will they think of next?” She took another bit and nodded in approval.

  Further talk between the three then became light and superficial and soon stopped altogether as Alex brooded and the sisters grew increasingly tired from the day’s events. The quiet was broken only by Alex emptying and refilling his glass. The meal was soon finished, and the three withdrew to the sitting room.

  Katherine watched as Charles entered with the tea cart. A slight frown came across her features as she studied Charles’ face. Finally the memory of him slammed against her heart with a force as turbulent as waves against a sea wall. She wanted to throw her arms around him as she so often did as a child. Reaching forward, she touched his gnarled hand and looked into his craggy face. “Charles, don’t you remember me?”

  The old man looked at her from the corner of his eye. For a moment, he saw the fragile nymph child that used to dance before him when he entered her cottage with supplies and an occasional treat, a string of crystallized sugar. Though it had been years since those treks to the downside of the manor were necessary, the old man remembered as if it were only that morning. Sir Robert himself had scheduled the deliveries to his mistress and her baby and stood strangely unemotional as he listened to reports of their well-being. Now that child had blossomed into a woman and was to run the manor. But how could he accept her when he had vowed to be loyal to the other woman, the true mistress of Wistmere? Charles nodded his gray head and dryly replied, “Aye, Mistress. I remember ye.”