He raised his eyebrows. This was clearly news to him; whatever he might have been expecting, it wasn’t this. ‘What are you saying?’
‘A warrant. And they say you’ll have to find security for some enormous sum of money. I hardly ken what. It’s terrible, Rab. They don’t want you to find out about it till they arrest you, and I can’t bear it. I don’t want the father of my babies to be in jail when they’re born.’
To her amazement, she saw that there was a faint smile playing about his lips. As though he too felt like laughing out loud at the daftness of the situation. Laughing till he cried. ‘No, I can see that,’ he said. ‘And d’you ken, Jeany, I’m no just too happy about it myself.’
‘I don’t want any of this. I had to find a way to tell you, and I didn’t trust anyone else to do it for me.’
He was pale as death in the lamplight but still faintly amused. To her relief, he pushed himself away from the door and came and sat beside her on the bed, shaking his head. ‘Whose idea was this, I wonder?’
‘I think it was my mother’s at the start. I heard them talking about it when they thought I was asleep. Mr Auld, he had told my father to let it be, and I fancy he might have done that. He aye listens to Mr Auld. But my mother said she had heard you would soon make money from your poems. She had heard how successful your book was going to be, and she thought I should have a share of it. Believe me, Rab, I would never have done this to you, never.’
‘The auld bitch!’
‘Don’t cry her that!’
‘But she is, Jeany. She is. And this is what you’ve come to tell me?’
‘I cannae bear it. I cannae bear for them to hurt you.’
She shifted on the bed, couldn’t help groaning.
‘Are you ill?’
‘No. My back hurts, that’s all. It’s the way the weans are sitting. That’s what Agnes Sloan says.’
He ran his hand gently up and down her back, his fingers on the bones of her spine. She shivered.
‘And now that you know you’re carrying twins? How have you been, Jeany?’
‘I’m well enough. But I cannae say I’m no feart because I am.’
‘When are they due?’
‘The end of August. Or September. You’ll likely be gone by then.’
‘Maybe. Maybe not.’
‘What will you do, Rab?’
‘I’m not very sure myself just at this moment. I’m waiting to see what happens with my book. But this is worrying.’
‘That’s why I wanted to see you. I wonder what you can do. ’
‘I’ll think of something. Take advice. Take legal advice. And possibly disappear for a while.’
‘Where will you go?’
‘To the devil?’
She put her hand on his arm, but he shrugged it off. He still seemed torn between anger and tenderness. ‘Why should you care?’
‘I do care about you though.’
‘You’ve a strange way of showing it.’
She turned, found his eyes burning into hers, looked away again.
‘But where will you go?’
‘My aunty Jean lives at Old Rome, near Kilmarnock. Her and her man, James Allan. I’ll likely go to them for a while. She’s my mother’s half-sister and a Maybole lassie, so nobody from Mauchline kens much about her. I doubt it anyway, unless you tell them.’
‘I’ll say nothing.’
‘Close to my printer as well. I can handle my books and my subscriptions from there, and with a bit of luck they won’t know where I’ve been till I’m gone to Jamaica.’
‘You’re still set on going to Jamaica then?’
‘Aye. I’ll go to ground there like an auld fox.’
‘I’m sorry for it.’
‘Are you?’
‘And May Campbell? Will she be with you.’
‘Why do you ask, Jean? Are you jealous of her?’
She nodded, always candid about her feelings. It was one of her many virtues. ‘Aye. I am.’
‘But you…’ He couldn’t continue, seemed exasperated rather than anything else. Sad too. His voice broke slightly. ‘The truth is, Jeany, I have no idea. I plan to go, but I doubt if the Indies would suit May. She’s too frail. I’ve only booked a passage for me. Even though she said she would be willing to go with me or wait for me. Whichever I wanted.’
May Campbell had always been a compliant lass, much more so than Jean. But it was Jean’s spirit that had appealed to him. Still did, if the truth be told.
‘Are the rumours true that she is with child again?’
‘If she is, I ken nothing about it.’
‘Does she love you?’
‘Love? She loves Jamie Montgomerie. After a fashion. But she would be happy enough to be my wife, I think. She has sworn as much, anyway. And I doubt if she will go back on her word.’ The smallest stress on she.
‘Where is she now?’
‘She said she would go to Campbeltown to spend some time with her family, and from there to Greenock. If she won’t come to the Indies, she’ll have to find a situation of some sort. I believe she’s staying with her brother. I’ve sent letters to her but heard nothing back from her.’
Jean found this obscurely comforting. She hesitated. But this might be her last chance to speak to him alone, to say what was in her heart. ‘It was very quick, wasn’t it, Rab?’
‘Quick? What was quick?’
‘May Campbell and you. I mean … I had barely gone to Paisley and…’
‘Aye. You’d gone to Paisley. We were married, Jeany, legally married, but you rejected me for a better offer. For your weaver lad. And took yourself off, carrying my weans with you!’
‘I didnae!’ The injustice of this roused her to anger.
‘You did. And you let your father cut our names out of the marriage lines. Ach, if you only knew how that tore the heart out of me when I heard about it!’
‘I couldnae stop him. They sent me away.’
‘Rab Wilson was courting you, so I heard.’
‘He came to visit, just. There was no courting involved. He was a good friend to me when I was sorely in need of friendship, but that was all. Nothing happened, Rab. Nothing at all. While you…’
‘Hush!’ He leapt up, listened at the door. Their voices had been raised. But all was quiet below.
‘Well, well,’ he said, sitting down beside her again. ‘It’s all over and done with now and too late for repining. But listen, Jeany, whatever I do to stop them from persecuting me, whatever I do legally, I’ll take care of the weans when they’re born. Don’t you worry about that. I’ll leave instructions with Gilbert, and with Mr Hamilton too. You’ll not be left destitute, no matter what happens at home. But you understand that I have to make some kind of deposition in favour of Gilbert and my wee Betsy. I have to take good care of her as well. And I can’t let your father cast my mother and the others out of house and home on my account, can I? Which would be the result, if James succeeded in his plotting against me.’
‘You must do as you think fit with what’s yours. And they’ll not cast me out on the streets, Rab, whatever you may think of them. So you must look after your own family.’
‘I thought you were going to be my family.’
‘So did I.’
There seemed nothing more to be said. She hauled herself to her feet.
’I need to get back home. It’ll be light soon. They’ll be waking up. As long as I’m in the back garden, they won’t be suspicious. I can say I went to the outhouse. But if they find me in the lane…’
‘Aye, aye – I’ll come down with you. I may as well walk home to Mossgiel now. I have work to do, and I may as well make an early start.’
He extinguished the lamp and went ahead of her on the stairs.
‘Mind yourself,’ he whispered at the bend, where t
he stone was crumbling. ‘Don’t want you falling down, Jeany. Put your hand on my shoulder.’
She did so, leaning on him. He reached up and patted her hand, squeezed her fingers.
At the foot of the stairs they were thrown together again for an instant. He glanced left and right to make sure that the alleyway was empty.
‘No lights anywhere,’ he said. ‘Take care, Jeany. I’ll watch till you’re safely in.’
She tried to squeeze past him.
‘You too, Rab. Take care of yourself. I hope your poems go well. I’d like to read them some time.’
‘Would you?’
‘Aye. I would.’
‘I’ll make sure you get a copy. Maybe leave one with Katy Govan for you.’
‘Would you do that?’
‘Of course.’
He slid his arms around her, but the mound of her belly was in the way. The babies in there kicked out suddenly, as though aware of their mother’s distress, their father’s proximity. Could such things happen?
‘Did you feel that?’ she said.
‘Aye. How could I not feel it? Oh, Jeany!’ He leaned over the bump of her belly, took her face in his two hands and kissed her on the lips, then turned her gently towards the gate into the back garden of her house, gave her a little push, and watched while she went inside.
Nobody woke. Her feet in the leather brogues were icy. She climbed the stairs breathlessly, crawled into bed, elbowing her siblings gently aside, and lay staring into the grey light of a summer morning, with the babies turning and tumbling inside her. She had a vision of fish, swimming about the pool of her belly, like the fish you sometimes saw in the river pools, or like the skylarks, tumbling through the skies above Mossgiel.
Chapter Eighteen
Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect
Ye powers that smile on virtuous love,
O, sweetly smile on somebody!
Frae ilka danger keep him free,
And send me safe my somebody.
As the time for her confinement drew nearer, Jean couldn’t help but wish that she was safely married to Rab, that she was living with him and giving birth at Mossgiel with her husband outside, pacing about and worrying and then coming in to comfort and congratulate her and hold the babies. But she despaired of any renewal of his offer to marry her. She believed that he would not risk it. The truth was that the warrant, the petition to seize his property, was still in existence, albeit trumped by Rab’s own legal deposition of most of his possessions in favour of his brother Gilbert, and Betty Paton’s daughter. It had gradually been borne in upon James Armour that Rab Mossgiel had friends in high places, not just Gavin Hamilton, who only counted as minor gentry in James’s eyes, but the Montgomerie family and the Earl of Glencairn and others. The poetry book, with its mass of high-born subscribers, seemed to have made all the difference. Rab had supporters and admirers now, and whatever Mary Armour might say about wresting payment from the father of the weans, it was clearly becoming unwise to pursue the poet with the full might of the law. Besides, Jean had taken her courage in both hands and told her parents that she herself would be taking no further steps against Rab.
‘I’ll not do it,’ she said. ‘I’ll say you forced me to sign. Which is the truth. You did. But I’ll pursue him no more.’
‘You’ll do as you’re tellt, lassie!’ her father said, but Jean was obdurate and James seemed less forceful than he had once been. Perhaps he had an inkling that he had been wrong.
‘I won’t. He has done the right thing. I rejected him. I didn’t want to, but you said I must. Now you seem to have changed your minds. Well, it’s too late. He has told me he’ll take care of our children and I believe him. He’s a good man, and I’ll do nothing without consulting him first.’
She was so resolute in the face of their threats and pleading, that they were forced to concede defeat, especially in view of her condition. Mr Auld came to see her, but it was not in his nature to threaten a lass, and she could see that he was half on her side, so the visit only strengthened her will. Against all her hopes and expectations, Rab came back from Old Rome, near Kilmarnock, and made up his mind to see her. He had not gone to Jamaica. Doubt had been cast on his travelling plans by some casual acquaintance, and he had seized on these misgivings like a drowning man on a piece of wood, thought Jean. But there were other vessels, other possibilities, and he assured anybody who would listen that it was only a postponement of his voyage.
On his first visit, her mother seemed inclined to bar the door to him again, but her father was there and grudgingly allowed him in, perhaps encouraged by Daddie Auld, and by tales of Rab’s imminent success and his admirers among the gentry, who also happened to be his own longstanding customers. Business was business, after all. Country houses needed stonework, rivers needed bridges, and a living had to be made.
This first official visit was not, it has to be said, a great success. The young lovers – if lovers they could still be called, which was very doubtful – held a stilted and sorry conversation, with Rab standing warming his backside at the kitchen fire, although the day was a fine one. He was not invited to sit down, and he spent but a few moments enquiring after her health. Jean was so sore with the weight of the weans by that time that she could hardly raise herself to welcome him, on the verge of tears and with the sobs threatening to choke her. The second visit, at the end of August, went a little better. The sight of him did her heart good, and he seemed more cheerful. It was clear by now that the threat of litigation had been lifted. James was away from home and Mary, prompted by young Nelly, who had taken a great liking to Rab, relented to the extent that she left the couple to themselves for a short while, even though privacy was at such a premium in this house.
‘I thought you’d be away to the Indies by now,’ Jean said, rather forlornly. ‘I thought I would never see you again.’
‘I should have been. I fully expected to set sail aboard the Nancy, but I did not get enough warning. Time and tide. A scant two days’ notice. I could not have wound up my affairs here and gone to Greenock in time, so I decided to postpone my voyage again.’
She refrained from mentioning May Campbell. Whatever had happened, she didn’t want to know.
‘When will you go now?’
‘I’m to be a passenger aboard the Bell that sails at the end of next month.’
‘Just yourself?’
‘Just myself.’
‘So you’ll be here when the twins are born?’
‘Aye. I expect I will.’
‘Have you thought about names, Rab?’
‘Let’s see what happens first, eh? Are you still afraid, Jeany?’
‘I am. A wee bit.’
‘I’m sorry for it. I’ve been anxious about you, to tell you the honest truth.’
‘Och, Rab. How did this … how did we find ourselves in this..?’
She halted, not knowing how to continue, hoping that he would speak for her. He said nothing, but just stood up and headed for the door.
‘I must be away, Jeany. I have work to do, errands in the town. Farm business. I wanted to make sure that you were well, that’s all, and it seems that you are.’
‘Aye. I’m well enough.’
He halted at the door, put his hand inside the breast of his coat. ‘I almost forgot. I brought you a copy of my book. You said you wanted to read it and here it is. I thought I would deliver it myself, rather than trusting it to Katy, especially since you’ll not be able to leave the house for a while.’
He handed it to her. He had cut the pages for her himself. Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect, by Robert Burns. Printed by John Wilson in Kilmarnock.
‘Will you put your name to it, for me?’
‘Another time, perhaps.’
There seemed little more to be said, and it was clear that he was not going to help her any more
than he already had. He was still unwilling to forgive what he saw as her perfidy, and now he was adamant that support for the children, once born, was as much as he would be able to give her. It was the very least he could do, but it was all he would do.
When he had gone, she turned the pages, curious about the work and, if the truth be told, very curious to see if she merited a mention there. She soon found a long poem called The Holy Fair and was amazed by his boldness. It had been quite early in their affair, when they had been meeting clandestinely and walking in the countryside around the town. They had sat together, the two of them, at the Holy Fair in Mauchline, the twice yearly religious festival supposed to prepare the townsfolk for communion to render their souls more pleasing to God. They were there for the good of their souls, to listen to the sermons. It was one of the few times when she and Rab had been out in public together, and she had behaved as though it were purely accidental, coming along a little late, finding no chair save one beside Rab Mossgiel. He had been casually resting his hand on it so as to discourage anyone else from sitting beside him. She had plumped herself down as though irritated by his unwelcome proximity. He had turned, nodded to her, tipped his blue bonnet to her very formally, and then deliberately turned away from her. She behaved as though she had nothing whatsoever to do with him and might sit where she chose. It had been so exciting. She had longed to touch him, to take his hand, but people might see. It felt as though something was pulling her relentlessly in his direction, as though every bit of her was inclining towards him. It was so strong, so undeniable, that she was sure the preacher, had he glanced her way, must have noticed it. She could remember the sensation of it as vividly as anything in her life so far. And it was only intensified when Rab edged closer, when his arm crept slowly around the back of her chair.
Wi’ arm reposed on the chair-back, He sweetly does compose him; which by degrees flips round her neck, an’s loof upon her bosom, unkend that day.
So he had written, describing exactly what had happened, So he had published for all to see. She was momentarily hot with embarrassment. The Holy Fair. Would anyone remember as she remembered? It was in the middle of that spring and summer courtship, but till that moment, he had been careful to behave well in public. There had been so much drink taken, and the hellfire preacher from Kilmarnock was attracting all eyes to him. Slowly but surely, Rab’s hand had slid down under her shawl, inside her gown, worming its way between stays and skin, and onto her breast, finding the nipple. For a few moments she had done nothing about it, but sat very still in astonishment at his boldness, in alarm at the way her whole body responded to him, overriding all caution or propriety. She should have known then what the outcome would be if she persisted in allowing him so much freedom. At last, when she could bear it no longer, and when he seemed to be growing ever more daring in his caresses, she had resolutely moved away, and his hand had dropped to his side again. She heard him chuckle, felt his breath on her cheek.
The Jewel Page 17
