The Laird of Lochandee

by Gwen Kirkwood

  Meg felt guilty knowing that Rachel had refused to go with Ross on her account.

  ‘If I can repay a little of your kindness I shall be happy,’ Rachel assured her. ‘Besides … it will give Ross time to get used to the idea of having a son. I don’t want him to marry me because of Conan, but because he loves him as a father should.’

  ‘Oh, but he will! Conan is a lovely boy …’ Meg sighed. ‘I shall miss him terribly. I wish you did not have to go so far away.’

  Ross had been back at Lochandee nearly three weeks. It had become a ritual to write a little every evening for Rachel, then post her a long letter each week.

  ‘I want her to understand – really understand – how much The Glens of Lochandee and the work and the cattle mean to me,’ he told Alice. ‘I want her to share my dreams of the future …’ He broke off, staring into the burning embers of the fire. ‘We shared everything before …before I left her alone …’ he finished in a hoarse whisper.

  Alice watched his troubled expression then she voiced the suggestion she had been mulling over since Ross’s return.

  ‘I think Beth’s father would be willing to help with the work again if you would like to spend another weekend with your family, Ross.’ There was no mistaking the flare of longing in his eyes when he looked up from the page, his pen poised in mid air.

  ‘Do you think he would?’ he asked eagerly, ‘And you? Would you mind me going away so soon?’

  ‘Not if it would make you happy, laddie. As a matter of fact I think it would be a good idea if Rachel came back with you for a night or two. I should like to meet her and I’m sure she will be keen to know what we are like and where she will live?’

  ‘Bring her here, to stay?’ Ross was surprised.

  ‘Of course. Where else would your wife stay?’ Alice asked. She regarded Ross’s sudden flush and wondered what other secrets had he hidden away.

  Ross was filled with exhilaration at the prospect of seeing Rachel so soon. He wondered whether Peter would be able to help him arrange their wedding. Rachel would feel easier if she was truly his wife – indeed he knew neither of them would be able to deceive Alice Beattie if they were not truly married, and she would certainly expect them to sleep together.

  He wrote without delay and waited in a frenzy of impatience for replies from both Meg and Rachel.

  Rachel looked forward to Ross’s weekly letters but it troubled her that he wrote so enthusiastically about his daily work and Lochandee, yet he barely commented on her own loving descriptions of his young son’s achievements.

  ‘He will soon learn to love Conan once you are all together,’ Meg reassured her. ‘Peter has talked to the minister and the marriage ceremony can be arranged for the evening Ross arrives.’

  Rachel felt she was being swept into marriage on a tide of propriety and convenience.

  ‘It’s only two months before your baby is due, Meg,’ she said desperately. ‘I don’t think I ought to go away at all.’

  ‘I shall be fine,’ Meg promised. ‘Mrs Jenkins will be here to help with the children. Peter has made enquiries about a live-in nursemaid when you go to live at Lochandee.’

  So Rachel and Ross were married at the beginning of April shortly after Rachel’s eighteenth birthday. It was a quiet, simple ceremony which could not have been a greater contrast to the society wedding of the Duke of York and the Lady Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon which had been arranged to take place later in the month. However Polly and the twins had new dresses and their excitement was infectious. Even Sam Dewar donned his best suit and top hat and came to the church to act as witness. Afterwards he kissed Rachel’s cheek shyly.

  ‘Now remember, Rachel, if ever you need a friend, I am here. There will always be a roof for you and your bairn.’

  Ross overheard and frowned. At the first opportunity he asked Meg about Sam Dewar.

  ‘Och, he’s a nice old man. He’s very shy, but he has taken to Rachel.’

  ‘Oh, has he …?’

  ‘We have all become friends,’ Meg amended quickly, ‘since Rachel started milking the cows in his byre. If you had not returned he was going to ask Rachel to move into his house as his housekeeper. Of course she doesn’t know that because you came back before he got around to suggesting it. He talked it over with Peter last autumn.’

  ‘I see …’ Ross frowned and his eyes strayed to the toddler who was pulling himself to his feet on the edge of a chair. Meg followed his glance and her eyes softened.

  ‘He’s a lovely bairn. We shall all be sorry when he and Rachel go away. I suppose there’s no chance of you coming back up here to farm, Ross?’ she pleaded.

  ‘No, definitely not. You would love The Glens of Lochandee, Meg.’

  ‘Well, I hope Rachel loves it as much as you seem to do,’ she retorted more sharply than she had intended.

  Rachel felt shy and embarrassed when Ross accompanied her to the bedroom she shared with Conan. Where else would a husband sleep but with his wife. She had not really considered the implications of being married. Everything had been such a rush.

  She need not have worried. As soon as they were alone together Ross drew her into his arms. All the old magic was rekindled. Her fears melted away, indeed her very bones seemed to melt beneath Ross’s gentle caresses. There was nothing gentle about the fire which flared between them in an all enveloping, ever increasing desire, joining them in an ecstasy of perfect union.

  They were wakened by Conan’s early morning chortling.

  ‘Whatever was that?’ Ross demanded, suddenly wide awake at the unfamiliar sounds.

  ‘It’s only Conan,’ Rachel laughed softly. ‘He’s letting us know he’s ready for a morning cuddle before I go to milk the cows. Come then, my wee love.’ She leaned over and lifted the toddler into bed, setting him between them. This did not please either Ross or his son. Ross had forgotten about the baby’s presence in the same room and he had been anticipating a repeat of the previous night’s delights. Conan, on the other hand, stared unnervingly at the strange man in his mother’s bed, then he opened his mouth and howled with unbelievable volume. Rachel was forced to lift him away from Ross and give him all her attention before he would be quiet.

  Ross and Rachel had their first argument later that same morning. It was over Conan too. It had not occurred to Ross that Rachel would expect to take the child to Lochandee.

  ‘And where else would he go but with his mother?’ she demanded, her eyes flashing more green than blue with indignation.

  ‘I thought … I expected he would stay with Meg …’

  ‘Don’t you think Meg has more than enough to do? Conan is at a very demanding stage and needs a lot of attention. If I go with you to Lochandee, Conan goes too.’

  Her tone was firm. Privately she was concerned about Meg’s health. She had been easily exhausted since the funeral and Rachel had noticed her ankles were swollen by evening. Ross recognised the stubborn set of her mouth. He was forced to accept her ultimatum.

  ‘It’s just that Mistress Beattie did not – she didn’t mention inviting your son.’

  ‘Conan is our son – ours, Ross.’

  ‘Umm, yes, I know … but where will he sleep?’

  ‘He can sleep in the bed with us if there is nowhere else. Your Mistress Beattie will have to get used to the idea that we have a child. If she does not like him we shall not stay any longer than it takes us to catch the next train home. Perhaps it is just as well we are making this visit. Maybe I should have made it before we married.’

  Later that night, in Ross’s warm embrace Rachel knew she loved him with all her heart. Even for Conan she could not truly regret her marriage, but she prayed fervently that the two would learn to love each other as she loved them both.

  Ross was taken aback by the amount of luggage a baby seemed to require for such a short visit but he was amused and delighted by the wide eyed stare of his wife and child as the railway carriage hurtled them through the fields, or covered them with sooty smuts as they chugged
their way through eerie black tunnels.

  Rachel was tense with apprehension by the time they reached The Glens of Lochandee, and Ross felt the atmosphere was positively electric as Alice Beattie came forward to greet them.

  ‘I-I know you were not expecting three of us,’ he rushed nervously into speech to breach the awkward silence. ‘But we had to bring the child because …’

  ‘Of course I was expecting your son,’ Alice assured him swiftly. ‘Beth and I have been busy rescuing my own old crib from the attic. We have washed and polished it. It looks as good as new and it’s in your bedroom.’

  Rachel could have hugged her for that gesture of welcome to her small son and her smile shone forth in all its warmth. Alice smiled back warily and looked down at Conan. He had slept on the journey from the station and wakened refreshed. He beamed widely up at Alice, captivating her instantly.

  ‘I will show you where everything is before it’s time to start the milking,’ Alice suggested. ‘I am afraid the cows have to be attended whether we have visitors or not.’

  ‘I am used to that,’ Rachel nodded, bending to lift Conan on one hip and clutching his bag of baby clothes in her free hand. ‘Usually I strap Conan into his perambulator while I am milking. If Ross can find a barrel of hay or some other safe place in the byre to restrain him, I will gladly help you.’

  Alice Beattie blinked. The girl was not lazy or unwilling then. She was certainly pretty and her neat russet jacket and skirt accentuated her slender waist and suited the colour of her hair. Alice could not have guessed it was Rachel’s one good outfit, bought especially for her wedding. So far so good, Alice decided, unaware that Rachel was assessing herself with equal caution.

  It had been a great relief to find that Mistress Beattie was a pleasant faced elderly widow and not the handsome young woman Rachel had envisaged. She did not seem to be short-tempered or vicious either. Indeed she reminded Rachel of a younger edition of Minnie Ferguson – the mentor of her childhood. At the thought of Minnie her own expression softened and her lips curved into a smile. Alice Beattie raised her brows in a silent question.

  ‘You remind me of someone I used to know,’ Rachel explained. She looked at Ross. ‘You remember Minnie Ferguson – a younger version of course.’

  ‘I remember her,’ Ross nodded, then to Alice. ‘She was one of Rachel’s favourite people.’

  ‘Then I am flattered,’ Alice acknowledged, but she remained cautious. She did not know why it was so important to her that she should approve of Ross’s wife. She just knew that it was vital to the future of her beloved Glens of Lochandee that they should approve of each other, and get along together. Her experiences with Watt Kerr and his crooked ways had shaken her confidence in human nature.

  Rachel was delighted with the large carved oak cot which Alice had prepared for Conan. Ross was amazed at her preparations, even improvising sheets and blankets.

  The two days which Rachel spent at Lochandee were filled with new sights and experiences. Conan had taken an instant liking to Beth and crawled after her like a small devoted puppy, much to the girl’s delight.

  ‘I was used to playing with my half-brother and sister,’ she told Rachel. ‘I miss them sometimes, but I like living here with Mistress Beattie. I hate my step mother,’ she said with childlike candour. ‘I know it’s wicked to say so, but I do.’ She looked pleadingly at Rachel. ‘Will Mistress Beattie send me back when you come to live at Lochandee?’

  ‘Oh, surely not!’ Rachel was dismayed. She liked thirteen-year-old Beth and she understood her feelings after her own experience with Gertrude Maxwell. ‘Would you like me to ask Mrs Beattie what plans she has?’

  ‘Would you Mrs Maxwell? I’d be ever so grateful.’

  Rachel was startled for a moment, scarcely recognising herself as Mrs Maxwell.

  It was her last evening and Rachel took the opportunity to tell Mrs Beattie of Beth Pearson’s anxiety.

  ‘I had not considered so far ahead,’ Alice said truthfully, ‘I am glad you told me, Rachel. I would like to keep Beth. She’s scarcely more than a child but she’s very willing.’

  ‘I wouldn’t like to be the cause of her dismissal,’ Rachel said with concern, ‘but I hope I shall be able to help Ross earn his part of the agreement he made with you. She looked at Ross. ‘We have not discussed how we are to live, or what I am to do when we move to the cottage. Will there be work for me in the dairy? I did not see any butter making?’

  ‘Rachel is especially good at churning,’ Ross told Alice Beattie. ‘I have been thinking about some changes, especially now there are three of us to keep.’

  ‘What had you in mind, Ross?’ Alice Beattie asked curiously, quite unprepared for the suggestions which Ross must have been mulling over, even before he brought Rachel and his son to Lochandee. Perhaps their arrival had precipitated his ideas into plans.

  ‘I have a little money of my own. It was left to me by my grandfather. I would like to use it to buy more cows. I would like to see the byres of Lochandee full again. Rachel is a good milker and perhaps we could sell her butter locally, and set more eggs for hatching so we have more eggs to sell and …’

  ‘Are you proposing to be a farmer or a shopkeeper, Ross?’ Alice asked.

  ‘A farmer of course, but now that I have a wife I must try to bring more money to our partnership. That’s only fair. You know how much I want a farm of my own.’

  ‘I do, but you have taken me by surprise. I need time to think – and so do you.’

  ‘I have thought …’

  ‘Not about every aspect,’ Alice cautioned. ‘For one thing you have not said how the extra money will be divided. You are not a tenant, there’ll be additional costs – and some losses no doubt. You may buy in disease with unknown cattle – tuberculosis, foot-and-mouth, abortion for example …’

  ‘Don’t mention such things!’ Ross shuddered.

  ‘But I must. Don’t be too hasty. You might lose everything. Now,’ Alice Beattie took a deep breath and sat up straighter. ‘I have some news for Rachel. Mr Shaw, the Factor for the estate, is coming tomorrow morning with his motor car. He will take you back to the railway station.’

  Ross sighed with disappointment, believing she had deliberately changed the subject. In fact Alice was thinking of the Factor. When he had heard Ross was married he was as surprised as she had been and he had asked to meet Rachel at the earliest opportunity. He was a shrewd man. He knew a good wife could do a lot to help a moderate tenant, but a bad wife could ruin the best of men. He knew she wanted Ross to be made a joint tenant with herself because she wanted to make sure he would stay at The Glens of Lochandee, but neither of them had known he had a wife. Mr Shaw had made it plain he would not recommend Ross as a possible tenant if he had made a hasty marriage with an unsuitable wife.

  Naturally Alice could not tell Ross this, and neither would she make any decisions. She knew the Laird would only act upon Mr Shaw’s advice concerning the tenancy. On every large estate the Factor’s authority and influence were far-reaching. She had a feeling there were changes afoot regarding the estate now that the Laird’s health was failing and his son still showed no interest in anything except pleasure. Mr Shaw had told her Lady Lindsay, the young Laird’s wife, showed more interest. He felt it was unfortunate that her husband had forbidden her to spend time in the estate office, if only for the sake of her two young sons and their future inheritance.

  Chapter Seventeen

  RACHEL COULD NOT HIDE her low spirits when she had to say goodbye to Ross the following morning. She climbed into the car beside Mr Shaw, hugging an excited Conan on her knee while trying to brush aside her tears and wave goodbye, all at the same time.

  Mr Shaw gave her a few minutes to compose herself

  ‘All right now?’

  ‘Y-yes. Th-thank-you,’ Rachel stammered nervously. She had noticed Mistress Beattie afforded this man considerable respect and she realised he had influence on matters to do with the estate and its tenants. She gu
lped and took out a clean white handkerchief to blow her nose and banish the last of her tears. ‘You must think me very silly. I did not want to come to Lochandee, and now I do not want to leave.’

  ‘A beautiful place, friendly people with a warm welcome …they can have that effect, I’m sure,’ Mr Shaw said, surprising himself. ‘The Glens of Lochandee is one of the most pleasant places to live.’ He gave a wry smile, ‘But I’m sure it is not leaving Lochandee which distresses you, so much as leaving your husband?’

  Rachel was silent. Lochandee was a lovely place – both the village and the farm above it, but it was true, the thought of another parting with Ross was unbearable. He had loved her so tenderly. He had tried to take an interest in Conan too, but she wondered if there would ever be a bond between them as there was between herself and Conan.

  ‘It-it is very kind of you to take us to the station. We have never been in a motor car before.’ She stroked Conan’s head with a gentle finger and he cuddled against her breast, though his eyes were wide with curiosity.

  ‘He’s a fine boy,’ Mr Shaw complimented. ‘Ross must be very proud of him.’

  Rachel tensed. Had he read her thoughts? He glanced at her delicate profile, noting the slight droop of her mouth.

  ‘How long have you been married?’ The question was an innocent one, intended to put Rachel at ease, instead she shot him a startled look. She reminded him of a frightened fawn. He raised his bushy brows in silent question. Rachel bit her lip. Then she sat up straighter, took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

  ‘Mr Shaw, I am not very good at deceiving people. I know Ross wants to keep our affairs private, but if you asked him a direct question I know he would answer truthfully. We were married last week, when Ross came to stay.’

  ‘Last week!’ The Factor was shaken out of his usual equanimity and the car swerved alarmingly. Rachel’s heart sank. Mr Shaw set the car back on course. His gaze fell to Conan. ‘I see …’