Her Rebellious Heart: A Scottish Historical Romance

by McBride, Marian

  Chapter 10

  As the doctor had said, youth was definitely on Bridget's side, and in less than a week nothing could keep her in bed. Robert was the only one she seemed to recall. She wanted to be with him constantly.

  As Roberts, Alice, and Bridget sat together in Bridget's bedroom, Robert told his granddaughter, “Look now, lassie, this is your mother who loves you very much and wants to help you just like I do. Don't you remember?”

  Bridget looked at her mother closely, touching her cheek with the backs of her fingers. “I–I seem to know you, but I can't remember very well. When I try, my head hurts.” She turned away and held her head between her hands.

  Alice, sick at heart, said, “Don't try too hard, love. The doctor says your memory will come back when you least expect it.” She decided it was time to return to her own home and the rest of her family, knowing in her heart there was nothing she could do to hurry Bridget's recovery.

  She said to her father, “James will be home soon. Maybe Bridget will remember him?”

  Robert smiled weakly. “I hope so, lass, I hope so, but if not we will do as the doctor says and give her all the love and care we are capable of. We'll pray that in some way her memory will return.”

  As the days passed, the swelling over Bridget's eye went down some but refused to subside completely. One day, she asked her grandfather what had caused it.

  “You had a bad fall down by the rocks, lass,” he answered her, “but don't worry about it. The swelling will go away in time.”

  “My head feels funny, Robert. There is something I ought to know, but I just don't know what it is.”

  Changing the subject, Robert said, “It's a beautiful day, lassie, and we won't have too many more of them before autumn sets in. Let's take a walk down to see the horses. Would you like that?”

  Without much interest she replied, “If you like, Grandfather.” She then said something that gave Robert a ray of hope. “Come on, Sarge, don't you want to go with us?”

  The collie wagged his tail vigorously and came closer to have his head rubbed.“That's a good fellow,” she said.

  Robert thought, She remembers Sarge's name. Could this be a sign that things are starting to come back to her?

  The three of them set off across the grass still wet from morning dew. They walked towards the fenced in area where the horses were let out every day to graze and exercise.

  The big stallion was in the training ring. Bridget's eyes lit up with pleasure as she spied him, and before Robert could stop her, she quickly climbed to the top rail and seated herself, exclaiming, “Oh, Robert, that beautiful horse. Come on over here, boy, so I can see you better.”

  The huge animal whinnied as if in recognition and trotted over to the fence where she sat. She put her arms about his neck and rubbed his long face, talking softly to him all the while. “If only I had some sugar to give him, or an apple.”

  A masculine voice behind her said, “Here, Bridget, I've got sugar. Carry it with me all the time.”

  She turned towards the sound of the voice. Gazing into her dark eyes and holding her hand out for the sugar, she squinted her own eyes as if trying to remember.

  “This is Aidan, lassie,” said Robert.

  “Oh, then this must be your horse. Is it all right for me to pet him?”

  “Anytime, Miss Bridget, he seems to like you, but don't ever go into the ring with him,” he cautioned, “unless I'm here. He might get scared and hurt you unintentionally.”

  He smiled as he spoke. She liked his smile. Smiling back at him, she said softly, “I'll remember, Aidan. Thank you for the sugar.” She turned back toward the stallion and fed him the sugar lumps. When he finished eating them, she hugged and petted him again before turning to leave.

  “Here, Bridget, let me help you down,” Aidan said, extending his arms towards her, “we don't want you falling again.” He started to reach for her and then hesitated. She smiled encouragingly and he put his hands gently around her waist. She liked the feel of his hands as he lifted her to the ground.

  As Aidan set her down, she noticed two other horses with foals in the next enclosure. She was full of questions. “Why aren't the animals all in the same place, Aidan?”

  “Well, lassie, while the babies are so young, we have to keep them and their mothers away from the other mares who don't have babies. Otherwise, they would try to steal the foals away.”

  “Would they really do that?” she questioned, looking from Aidan to Robert.

  “Oh aye, lassie, that they would, and with the fighting that would ensue, the babies could be badly injured or even killed.”

  “Well I never,” said Bridget in disbelief, surprised at how she suddenly felt protective over the young foals. “I always thought horses were such gentle animals. You must tell me more about their habits sometime, Aidan. I find it most interesting. But I must go back to the house now. I feel a bit tired.”

  She smiled shyly at him and took her grandfather's arm as they started to make their way back to the castle.

  “He's very nice, Robert, and seems to know his job well,” she said quietly.

  “Aye, he is a good lad and a very hard worked.” He looked at her sideways and added, “He'll make a good man for some lucky girl one of these days.”

  She didn't answer him. Her thoughts were far away.

  The fishing fleet had returned from the highland lochs and western isles of Scotland. Preparations had already begun for the herring fishing in their home port.

  Nets had to be mended, and then great vats would be taken down to the shore and fires lit under them. The men would pour liquid bark into them and bring it to a boil before soaking the nets in the liquid until saturated. The fishermen did this to strengthen their nets against the salty seawater, preventing rot.

  Once taken from the vats, the nets would be carted to the grasslands on the outskirts of town and spread out to dry. When rid of moisture, they would be folded and tied into neat bundles to be taken back aboard the fishing boats.

  Fishermen's wives were also kept busy, cleaning the community boat cabins and collecting clean chaff mattresses for the bunk beds that lined the cabin walls. With all this going on, the town buzzed with activity.

  James Campbell went immediately to see Dr. Thompson. He had felt sick at heart from the moment he had heard of his daughter's accident. After a long talk with the doctor, he felt reassured that his daughter would regain her memory in time and could return home to be with him and his wife for a time before she went back to the castle.

  “Oh, James,” Alice cried as he arrived home, “it was a mistake for our lassie to go and live with her grandfather. I wish now I had never let her go.”

  “Alice,” he said sharply, “we'll have no more talk like that. Think back and you will remember that Bridget didn't want to go. She did it because we all thought it would be best for her. You urged her strongly and I backed you up when she asked me about it. I believe she did it because of you, me, and your father. Besides, the doctor has given me hope that in time, things will be all right with her again. Until then, we will just hope and pray, and when we see her, as we are going to do shortly, we will act as if nothing has changed.”

  Alice wiped a tear from her eye as she said softly, “All rightm James, there doesn’t seem to be anything else we can do.”

  She smiled wanly at him. He put his arms about her and held her close for a moment, murmuring, “That's better, lassie.”

  And so it was that James Campbell, whom everyone thought would go to pieces when he heard what had happened to his beloved Bridget, become the rock the entire family leaned upon during this tragic time.

  Alice said, “You go on to the castle by yourself this time, James. Maybe it won't be so confusing for her as it might be with the both of us there trying to talk to her.”

  He nodded his head in agreement and went on his way.

  When her father arrived on the castle grounds, Bridget and Robert were by the stables watching Aida
n put some of the animals through their paces. Bridget was perched on the top rail of the white fence in a spot that had become one of her favorite places to be. She was becoming more fond of the horses by the day and never tired of watching them, or Aidan.

  Robert interrupted her thoughts. “Bridget, lass, your father is here. Better get down and greet him.”

  She looked around in alarm and quickly got down to stand close to Robert as a kindly man who seemed a stranger despite Robert's words approached.

  “Ah, Bridget, my girl,” said her father, “and how are you this fine day?”

  “I'm fine sir, but I just don't remember too well,” she said apologetically.

  He came closer to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “I'm your father, Bridget. Don't you remember?”

  She tried to remember him. “Aye, I know you are my father, but there's something in my head that makes me forget things. I don't know why.”

  Wearily, she laid her head against his chest, feeling somewhat safe even though she couldn't bring up a single memory of the man in front of her. His arms enfolded her. She didn't see, but felt, tears running down his cheeks.

  Aidan turned away to hide his own heart break. He knew all too well what James was feeling learning that Bridget didn't remember him. Later he spoke to James about her.

  “I love your daughter, Mr. Campbell, and would like your permission to court her. I cannot take unfair advantage of her at this time since she has always rebuffed my advances, but when she recovers her memory, I would like to marry her.”

  James looked at him with a smile, and said, “I have three fine daughters, Aidan, but have always wanted a son. Now, God willing, you can be the son I never had.”

  Aidan swallowed his emotions. “Thank you, Mr Campbell, and don't worry about Bridget. We'll take good care of her. I've noticed little things seem to be coming back to her even now. I–I feel partly to blame for what happened to her. If I hadn't–”

  James stopped him. “No, no lad. Don't feel that way. This was something that none of us could dream would happen, and you mustn’t blame yourself. Just love her now and take care of her for me, and I'll not worry about her.”

  The two men shook hands. Aidan said, “You can count on that, sir.”

  The hometown fishing season was in full swing. The town was alive with activity. Many outsiders had come for the summer when extra jobs were always available. This was the harvest time for the whole community. Fishermen, merchants, and hired hands prospered during the summer. Men and women from the highlands came to share in the short lived abundance. Laborers from neighboring farms, in need of an extra shilling or two, could always find a part-time job.

  The town prospered. Life was good. People were happy. James tried to be happy too. He threw all his energy into work to ease the heartache he suffered on account of his daughter’s condition. His fishing boat was one of the more prosperous, and after all the expenses were paid off, he had a handsome stipend to hand over to his wife. But in spite of their good fortune, their hearts remained sad.

  All too quickly the days sped by and the season was at an end. In a few short weeks, the fleet would be leaving home again. They would travel to Gt. Yarmouth in the south of England for the last herring fishing of the year.

  Life went on at the castle in the usual way, Bridget helping Besse with the housework when necessary and doing a little gardening with Robert in his rose garden. It was his pet project, but Bridget seemed to enjoy it as well. Despite her consistency in these activities, Bridget wasn't the same at all. Besse, Robert, and Aidan carried a sadness that showed on their faces. Bridget seemed preoccupied and quiet, and spoke but little. Sometimes, she would play the pianoforte for short periods, but there was a restlessness about her, as if she were searching for something that couldn't be found. She was much friendlier towards Aidan and spent hours watching him work with the animals, which gave him a small comfort, but he would have traded her kind words if it meant having the old Bridget back.

  Whenever she was missed around the house, they invariably found her perched on the top rail of the fence caressing the big stallion and talking to him more than she spoke to any of them. Aidan took some comfort knowing that Sarge had become her constant companion.

  One day, she disappeared from the house, and Robert presumed her to be down by the stables. He entered Besse's domain, intending to leave the house by the kitchen door to go look for her. As he did so, he found Besse sitting by the table crying softly.

  Surprised, he asked her, “Now what's the matter with you, lass?”

  She hastily wiped her eyes and looked up at him. “Oh, Mr. MacDonald, I'm so ashamed of myself. When I see poor Bridget like she is, it fair breaks my heart.”

  “What do mean, Besse? Why are you ashamed of yourself?”

  “Oh, sir, it's about those noises she spoke to you of at breakfast some time back. I was the one responsible for them. I wanted to scare her away.”

  Staring out of the window and rubbing the back of his neck, Robert said quietly, “We knew it was you, Besse.”

  Her face reddened and a fresh flood of tears ran down her cheeks. “You knew?” she stammered between sobs, “Then why didn't you–”

  He interrupted her, “Why didn't I give you the sack? Because Bridget wouldn't let me. She said she knew how you must have felt about her coming here and couldn't blame you. She also overheard you talking to Mary and Elizabeth the day of the Burns party.”

  Her face reddened until he thought it would burst. Getting to her feet unsteadily, she stammered, “I'm sure you couldn't want me here now, sir. I'll get ready and leave as soon as I can.”

  “No, Besse, you are not leaving. I need you now more than ever, and Bridget needs you too. She didn't want you to lose your job on account of her, and now that she has become dependent on you for so many things, I would never be able to explain to her why you have gone. If you want to make up for the unpleasantness you caused her before, you can stay now and do whatever you can for her. I forgave you long ago, and Bridget never did hold anything against you.”

  Besse couldn't speak. Tears streamed from her eyes. After a few moments, she sobbed, “Oh thank you, Mr. MacDonald, for wanting me to stay. I'll do anything in my power to help the lassie. Sometimes without thinking we are easily led on by what somebody else says, but never again, sir. You have my word on that.”

  Robert assumed she meant what the women had said the day Bridget moved in. He felt a flash of anger at everything Bridget had relayed to him about that conversation. Calming himself, he said, “All right, Besse, and we'll say no more about it.”

  She vigorously blew her nose and wiped her eyes with her apron. He turned and left the house with a tight-lipped smile on his face.

  Chapter 11

  The summer passed quickly. The days became shorter and soon the autumn darkness would be upon them in the early evenings. The fleet was gone to the south of England and outsiders had returned to their homes, leaving the town practically deserted.

  Bridget's condition remained about the same, although some little things came back to her. There was a lassitude about her that was disconcerting to both Robert and Aidan.

  One day, Aidan decided to take her up on the battlements of the castle to see if the view, which was almost the same as from the lighthouse, would be at all familiar to her. He grasped to any little thing at all that might give them some hope.

  She showed little interest at first, but as she leaned against the stone parapet that ran the length of the battlements, something stirred in her mind as her eyes scanned the surrounding view. She observed the villages to the north and Rattray Head lighthouse to the southwest across the bay. She took in the sight of the stretch of beautiful white sand and remembered playing there often as a child. With her hand pressed to her forehead, she squinted in puzzlement, and asked, “Have I been up here before, Aidan? I know I have seen this view but from where I cannot remember.” She looked at him questioningly.

  “No, Br
idget, you have never been up here,” he answered, “but you saw a similar view from the lighthouse tower, remember?”

  “No, Aidan it couldn't have been from there. My parents would never allow us to go. They've always said it was too dangerous.”

  “You were up there with me, lassie, and I held your arm as we came downstairs.”

  She frowned, wrinkling her forehead.“It does sound familiar but wasn't there someone else there also?”

  “Aye, lassie,” he answered sadly, “there was someone else there.”

  She looked so pathetic at that moment he couldn't resist the temptation to take her in his arms and hold her as if he'd never let her go. She looked at him in wide-eyed surprise, but there was no resistance when he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her. All the love in his heart poured into the kiss.

  She smiled at him.“Why did you do that, Aidan?”

  “Because I love you, lassie, and want you to be my girl. Will you?”

  As if she didn't understand, she just smiled and turned away.

  A few days later, the early evening brought dark skies with ominous clouds that heralded an approaching storm. Bridget appeared restless and unable to settle herself at any one thing.

  Sitting down at the piano, she pounded out Rachmaninoff's “Prelude,” the strident chords matching her glum mood perfectly. Robert, never too far away from her, watched with deep concern. Suddenly jumping up from the piano stool, she pressed both hands against her temples and said, “Oh, grandfather I have such a bad headache. Do you think there might be a storm brewing?”