When Love grows doubt

by Barbara Eckhoff

  Barbara Eckhoff

  When Love grows doubt

  The MacIntyres - Part I

  Novel

  Translated from the Original Version

  WENN LIEBE ZWEIFEL SÄT

  Copyright© 2020 by Barbara Eckhoff

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either

  are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously,

  and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments,

  events, or locals is entirely coincidental.

  Impressum

  Text: © 2021 Copyright by Barbara Eckhoff

  Cover: © 2021 Copyright by Barbara Eckhoff

  www.barbaraeckhoff.com

  books@barbaraeckhoff.com

  Print: IngramSpark

  Books by Barbara Eckhoff

  Um uns herum die Dunkelheit ( German Edition )

  Der Wind in meinen Federn ( German Edition )

  Wenn Liebe Zweifel sät ( German Edition )

  Wind of Fate ( English Edition )

  When Love grows doubt ( English Edition )

  For Joanne

  Thank you for being a good friend and the best shotgun rider

  during our Police volunteer time. Thank you for encouraging me to

  translate my books. Without you, this project probably would not have

  come to fruition. Thank you for the great help and the tireless

  time you spent with it.

  For Renate

  who as a bilingual, was a great help in finding the right words.

  Thank you also for your good eyes that weeded out many

  mistakes and for the time you spent with the

  proof-reading.

  Prologue

  Scotland - November 1853

  The wind swept icily over the freshly covered grave. Despite the noon hour, it was gloomy outside and the sky held ominously dark-looking clouds. The mourners had long since retreated into the warmth, but the small, delicate figure standing over the grave with a flowing cloak was oblivious to all this. Despite the warm winter cape with the fur-lined hood, she stood trembling infront of the mound covered with flowers. Her quiet tears were quickly dried by the wind, leaving red cheeks on her face.

  Now everything was over. She had just buried her last hope. Who could help her now?

  "Moira!"

  She was startled when she felt a hand on her shoulder and heard the priest's voice.

  "Moira, there is nothing more you can do for him! You will catch your death if you don't get warm. Come my child, Martha has a cup of hot tea ready, it will warm you up again."

  With these words he put his arm around her shoulders and gently led her away from the grave towards the rectory. Moira silently let herself be guided. Inside the house, a comforting warmth from the heated fireplace welcomed her. Martha, the priest's housekeeper, handed her a hot cup of tea with a good shot of rum in it.

  "This will warm you right up,my dear. You're half frozen!"

  Gratefully, Moira accepted the cup, only now realizing how cold she was.

  Her hands and feet began to tingle as the warmth flooded her body. She looked out the window and saw that a storm was brewing outside. Perhaps she had better start on her way, so that she was home before the expected rain.

  "I thank you for your hospitality, but I think I should be heading home now."

  "You should have gone back with one of the others earlier, then you wouldn't have to go all the way

  alone. Oh, it's a shame. I remember when you used to drive up with your parents in the carriage. You should have kept it for yourself so you wouldn't have to walk home."

  Moira had to think back to the time the priest was talking about. Yes, things had been different before. It seemed like an eternity when she could go through life without a care. When her father knew her so well, he could read her mind through the eyes of a parent and had promised her a rosy and secure future. But that was long ago. That time would never come back.

  She was in trouble and the only one who could have helped her was now lying in the cold grave. Moira tried to suppress the tears that were welling up inside her again, but nodded and quickly said goodbye to the priest and Martha and headed back out into the horrible weather. A gust of wind caught her. She quickly held her cloak tighter to her body and hurried away with quick steps towards the village.

  Normally she would have walked the path by the cliffs to her home. This was a shortcut, but in this weather it was not advisable. The narrow trail, which on sunny days gave a breathtaking view of the sea below, lined with warped trees and hedges on the landward side of the path, was now soggy and slippery in the rainy and windy weather. Thus, there was an easy danger of losing one's footing due to the strong gusts and falling down the cliffs. This had already happened in the past and for this reason Moira chose the longer, but safer way through the village. She had just heard the rumble of thunder in the distance. How unusual at these temperatures, she thought, and took another step faster. In the village she saw no one on the street and so she hurried on in the direction of her home.

  As the first drops fell from the sky, she came down the long driveway. She paused for a brief moment in front of the burnt ruins of the large two-story brick house that had once been her home. Then hurried past the ruins, over to a much smaller house whose lighted windows and smoke from the chimney seemed to invite her in. Just as the sky opened up and heavy rain dropped down on her, she reached the heavy wooden door and entered the comforting warmth of the house.

  A few months later

  "Moira! You have to come right away."

  "What's so important?"

  She was just checking her expense book when the door to the small room opened and Eileen, her only employee and friend at the same time, entered excitedly.

  "Sir Dumfrey is driving up now. You should go greet him."

  Moira pursed her mouth and heaved a sigh, but she rose from her chair and marched past Eileen, saying, "That's all I need." She opened the front door just as Sir Dumfrey raised his hand to pull the bell rope.

  With a sugary voice and a beaming smile, Moira welcomed her uninvited guest.

  "Sir Dumfrey, this is quite a surprise. You should have announced your visit, then I could have prepared something to eat. Unfortunately I can only offer you a cup of tea with some pastries."

  Sir Dumfrey enclosed Moira's hand with his wet fingers and pressed a slippery kiss on it. Disgusted, she let it wash over her.

  "My dear- Moira, you needn't trouble yourself. You know how you could make me happy."

  Moira shuddered inwardly. Charles Dumfrey had paid his respects to her several times in the past months, and each time his visits had been accompanied by lewd innuendos. Twice he had already proposed to her and twice she had made him understand that she was not willing to marry him. So what more did he want from her?

  Politeness dictated that she invite her guest in anyway, and so she led him into the small sitting room and asked Eileen to bring them a cup of tea.

  Charles Dumfrey took a seat in one of the four small armchairs covered with dark red velvet and watched as Moira turned to Eileen. The young lady was beautiful. Her petite figure was in a light blue muslin dress. Her slender waist was accentuated with a yellow belt, and with it she wore a white blouse and a tight, light blue jacket that stopped below her breast line. She had twisted her long brown hair into a bun. The rose complexion of her skin made her green eyes stand out.

  She was young, just eighteen and actually too young for him, but he liked young, inexperienced women whom he could still mold to his liking and who were capable of satisfying his par
ticular preferences. Moira had already turned down his marriage proposal twice, and perhaps it was time to show her that she had no choice. When she turned back to him and approached him, he began to speak.

  "Moira, it always shocks me what poor conditions you must live in here. This," he made a sweeping motion with his hands, "is not worthy of you. Have you thought about my offer?"

  Moira took a seat in the opposite armchair and let her thoughts run free.

  "If by that you mean your marriage proposal, I'm afraid I'll have to turn you down again. I do not love you and I will not marry you."

  "I am not asking you to love me either. Let's call it an agreement. I offer you a life at my side in my castle with all the luxury you deserve, and in return you give me the rights to your property. At the moment it lies fallow and decaying. Your house is in ruins and you have to live in a house which is not more than a barn."

  "If my land is not worth much, why are you so interested in it? You are a rich man and don't need the house."

  "Well, I was a good acquaintance of your parents, and it's just a shame how the property deteriorated after they died. Not that it's your fault. You are young and inexperienced and forgive me for saying so, but you are a woman and this is more of a man's business after all."

  Moira was about to protest when Sir Dumfrey raised his hand placatingly and continued,

  "I would like to have the fields tilled again and the house rebuilt so that everything is restored to its former glory. Now what do you think of my offer?"

  Silently, she sat there for a while. It was a tempting offer, of course. How happy she would be if her home was rebuilt and the farmers could return.

  If everything would be like it used to be. But the price she would have to pay seemed too high. She looked in Sir Dumfrey‘s watery brown eyes. He was at least in his mid-forties, was not much taller than herself, and had a bulging belly.

  His formerly black hair was streaked with silver and he wore a cologne that weighed too heavily on him and hung in her nose. His beige pantaloons were from an expensive tailor and the brocade vests he always wore were also made of fine fabrics; yet all his luxury could not hide the fact that she did not trust him. His eyes always seemed to be on the lurk and something about him inwardly warned her to be careful. No, she would not sell herself for possessions. There had to be another solution for her to keep her land, and so she turned back to him.

  "Sir Dumfrey, I am flattered that you seem to be considering only me for your wife, but unfortunately I must again decline. Acceptance of this offer does not seem right to me and I ask you not to pursue me further."

  "Well my dear. Your answer is unfortunate because I have thus granted you an opportunity to distance yourself from the debts of your parents. However, since you are still unwilling to consent to a marriage with me, I must inform you that I will demand from you the amount your parents owed me."

  Moira thought she had misheard. What debt was he talking about? Her parents had been wealthy and had had no debts. There had to be some mistake.

  "My parents had no debts, I would have known."

  "I have with me the promissory bill that your father signed shortly before he died. He borrowed the sum of ten thousand pounds."

  "Ten thousand pounds! That's impossible."

  She was horrified. Why had her father needed so much money, and where had all the money gone? It could only be a mistake.

  "May I see this document?"

  "Certainly."

  Sir Dumfrey pulled out a folded piece of paper from his vest pocket and handed it to Moira. She saw the incredible sum written on it and her father's signature. The date was a day, two weeks before the fire. She stared at the letter. "I see you confirm the authenticity of the signature and I’m willing to give you the option of paying me back the amount in installments. Every month from now on you will pay me the sum of one hundred pounds."

  "That...I can‘t do. Where am I going to get that much money. I don't even have enough to keep the

  orphanage open."

  "You had a choice. With marriage, you would have gotten rid of the debt all at once, so now it's your problem how to get the money together. You could, of course, transfer the land to me as compensation."

  "Never!"

  Annoyed, she jumped up. Sir Dumfrey rose slowly, came menacingly close to her, and said, "Then we have nothing more to say to each other, and I expect the payments on the first of each month."

  With these words he bowed and marched out of the room.

  Eileen, who had just come in with the tea, looked at him in surprise.

  "Don't bother, I'll see myself out."

  Feeling very pleased with himself, he boarded his waiting carriage, leaving two distraught women in the house.

  Chapter 1

  Scotland - Summer 1854

  "Land ho!"

  The call of the sailer in the lookout made the passengers step up to the rail.

  Robert, too, looked in the direction in which the sailor was pointing, trying to see something in the

  distance. On the horizon, a dark stripe stood out from the gray of the water and the sky was turning red from the morning sun. Although the early hour, there were already quite a few passengers on deck. They probably longed for the end of the voyage as much as he did.

  At last, he was getting closer to the destination of his journey. It would now be another day or so before he could go ashore in Fort William. Robert lifted his face to the sky and looked up at the sails inflated by the light wind. If the wind continued to blow like this, they would soon pass the offshore islands of Scotland and then shortly after reach the river delta up to Fort William.

  It was about time for Robert. Now that the harbour would soon be visible in front of him, he was eagerly awaiting its arrival. During the last weeks and months of his journey, he had found out that he preferred solid ground under him and not these floating and swaying planks of a ship. In Boston, he had afforded

  himself the luxury of a single cabin, but in the course of the crossing to Scotland, he felt as if the walls had closed in on him and the cabin had become smaller and smaller. He had probably already counted every nail in the wooden boards Robert thought to himself as he stared further out to sea and the gray stripe took more and more shape.

  The passage by ship had taken longer than expected. They had left Boston with beautiful weather, but a few days later a violent storm had shaken them to the core. The subsequent calm had cost them two days. The ship had barely moved from the spot and had not been able to make up the time in the days that followed. But now they seemed to have finally made it.

  Robert once again took a deep breath of the cool, but spicy air of the sea and descended a narrow and steep staircase into the belly of the ship, to his cabin. Once there, he looked around.

  He certainly wouldn't miss this room. Although the cabin was quite large, he felt like a prisoner in his own room. How often had he counted the footsteps from his bed, which was at one side of the cabin and stood under a porthole that was now open to the small desk in the middle of the room. It had been only a few steps.

  He knew that he had booked a cabin with luxury amenities such as a small separate wet cell, in which he could complete his morning toilet.

  All other staterooms were by far much smaller or even multi-bed accomodations. But for him, who had spent most of his life in the wilderness of the prairies, it was an ordeal. Robert went over to the small closet, opened it and took out the leather bag that was his only luggage. In Boston, the ship's boys had been astonished that he had gone on the long passage with only this small piece of luggage; but he had been on horse for a large part of this journey and therefore had to travel light. Now that he had put his few shirts and pants neatly back into the bag, he had to smile inwardly.

  Wherever it took him, he was accustomed to traveling with a large entourage, and he could imagine the big eyes they would make, when he stood in front of them with only this le
ather bag.

  Two days later, the time had finally come.

  The carriage he had hired at the port of Fort Williams the day before, had been driving on his land for a few hours. The Scottish weather was merciful to the newcomer and showed itself from its best side. The afternoon sun was shining and only small white clouds moved along the blue sky. Robert enjoyed the ride to the fullest. He had quickly disembarked in Fort Williams and had inquired with the harbor master, where he could get a carriage for hire.

  He had followed the description of the man through the lively alleys of the small harbor town and had quickly found a carriage rental. The ride took him along surprisingly good roads past fields and pastures with cattle and sheep. They passed a number of small, picturesque villages. Then they drove a little inland around a large bay.

  In a nice, small inn he had spent the night, and was gone very early in the morning. With rested horses, the carriage had gone further south and a few hours ago had passed the border of his property. Now, as he glanced to the right and left out of the window of his carriage, he saw farmers working in their rented fields. Shepherds with their dogs keeping herds together and small settlements. People stopped in the street curiously looking after the carriage that passed them by.

  The closer he got to his final destination, the more the landscape changed. Where at first meadows and fields lined the path, there were now forests and small hills with lush greenery to be seen.

  The air had also changed. The fresh scent of grain and meadow flowers had turned into the light spicy breeze of the sea. His path led him back to the water and the surroundings rose slightly. Just now he passed through the village of Shepherd, which was one of the largest villages that he was to administer from now on. The settlement itself made a very neat impression and had its own church, several small shops, a post office and even an inn for travelers. From the village it was only a stone's throw to the sea. The slightly outlying church, with the adjoining cemetery, gave one a view of the deep down lying sea.