by Alan Gold
“I can’t embrace you, Flora, for it would draw too much suspicion from prying eyes, but in my heart be certain that I am holding you and kissing your lips and your neck and your beautiful breasts. I grieve at leaving you, Flora, but you know as well as me how the world is. So remember me for evermore, dearest Flora and know that you will always hold a special place in my heart.”
He bowed, kissed her hand, turned, and walked away.
She stood for many long minutes in her flower garden, looking at the space where he had once stood. Faint, she suddenly felt sick to her stomach, and the emotion of the moment made her want to retch onto the ground.
She felt quite ill, and needed to sit down. She hadn’t experienced a feeling of sickness and nausea like this before. It must be because the prince had left her, she thought. After all, what else could it be?
Chapter Eleven
ARMADALE, THE ISLAND OF SKYE
SEPTEMBER 12, 1746
She knew that it would be the most difficult moment of her life—far harder than the dangers of ensuring the prince’s safety. She could no longer lie or prevaricate. She could no longer pretend to those who loved her and sought only her welfare.
Her mother knew, because mothers always know. And she’d given a wry smile and a nod and said that it was all right, because Flora intended to marry the man, and everybody hoped for a bairn to be born out of a wedding, although Anne had added wryly that it was the usual custom for the babe to be born after, not before the marriage.
Hugh, of course, being a man, didn’t realize and thought that his stepdaughter’s ailments were a result of the danger she’d lived through, or the terrible sea crossing, or the food she’d eaten.
Alan thought of Flora’s constant vomiting in much the same way as did Hugh. And it was Alan whom she now had to meet and confess her sins. Alan Macdonald! How he would react would determine the rest of her life. She’d known Alan since she was nothing but a slip of a girl, and they’d been playmates and friends until they were in their teens. And then one day they’d gone for a picnic beside a cove on the sea’s shore and even though they were both very young, their conversation had turned to the functions of the body, and as the afternoon had worn on, they had kissed and fondled each other and experimented. It was all innocent play, of course, but it had wakened Flora’s body to its own special magic, as though Alan had somehow found a key that opened up the secret door to the joys of adulthood. How little did she realize in those early days of her life that the key not only opened the door of being an adult, but also the door of adultery and ruin. For although she wasn’t yet wed, surely having another man’s babe whilst engaged was the same as committing the carnal sin of adultery. And didn’t the Old Testament say that the punishment for adultery was death by stoning!
But the day had arrived when she could no longer put off telling Alan the truth. Her belly was just beginning to swell and the constant nausea was showing no signs of abating. And before anybody dug Alan in the ribs and called him an old rogue or a dirty dog, it was her duty to inform him. If he walked away from her, as he almost certainly should and would, then the very last thing he’d hear from her lips would be a profound and heartfelt apology. But she would not ask for forgiveness, because in her mind, what she and Charlie had done, under the most adverse circumstances imaginable, was not a sin.
No! When Alan walked away from her as any man undoubtedly deserved to do, Flora would pack her bags, and go to live with Aunt Margaret Macdonald in Glasgow until the bairn was born; she would then determine how the rest of her life would be spent.
She was startled by a knock on the door. Alan walked in and beamed a smile at her.
“Your Ma said that you wanted to see me, darling.”
“Come in, Alan. Sit down, for there’s something fearful I have to tell you, and you’re going to be shocked and saddened, but I can’t any longer avoid this moment though God knows I’d prefer to avoid it for the rest of my days.”
He looked at her in concern, frowning and suddenly worried. She was sitting on a chair beside the fire, clutching and unclutching a kerchief. He’d never seen his Flora like this.
“Darling,” she said softly, fearing that her voice would give out at any moment, “darling, there’s something I have to confess to you about myself. I have abused your good nature and kindness.”
Alan smiled and laughed. “What? Flora, you’re the . . .”
“Let me speak, dearest Alan, for I must tell you without interruption. You’re a good man, Alan Macdonald, and I love you very dearly. Since we were children running around naked on the shore, I’ve always considered you to be my best friend. We grew apart as adults until my mother and father arranged our wedding, and I then realized that I do, indeed, love you. But during the time that we’ve been engaged to be wed, I have known the body of another man, and I am pregnant with his child. Oh, I’m so very sorry, my love.”
She couldn’t continue, her lips quivering, her mind racing, her body on the verge of being wracked by tears of shame and sorrow at the hurt she’d done to such a sweet man as Alan.
He shook his head in disbelief. “With bairn? Pregnant? Who’s . . . what’s . . .”
“It doesn’t matter whose babe it is. We both know that it’s not yours.”
Too shocked to be angry, he said, “I must know whose it is. Flora, tell me . . .”
“It would benefit nobody if I told you.”
“It would benefit me,” he said angrily. “I can’t believe it. You don’t look . . . how pregnant are you?”
“Just eight weeks or so.”
Alan frowned. “Eight weeks? Two months? July? But that’s when . . . dear God. Surely you don’t mean that you and . . .”
The look on her face told him who the father was. He breathed deeply and stood from the chair, going over to the window and looking out. She remained silent, desperate to know what thoughts were flooding his mind. She wanted to say something to comfort him, to reassure him, but nothing she could say would make a lot of difference, because she knew with the inevitability of a death sentence that the next thing he said would determine the rest of her life. Her heart was beating so fast she thought she could hear it. When he turned to face her, she couldn’t determine from his visage what he was thinking.
“So it’s the babe of Prince Stuart?”
She nodded.
“Does anybody else know? That it’s his? Your mother or father?”
“My mother knows I’m pregnant. She’s assumed that it’s yours and is secretly delighted, although never once have I confirmed it, or admitted that it’s anybody else’s. She came to the conclusion, and I haven’t dissuaded her, but I will if you demand it. Hugh, of course, is a typical man and has no idea.”
“Did he rape you? Did Bonnie Prince Charlie force you to . . .”
“No!” she said angrily. “Of course he didn’t. He was sweet and kind and gentle. We were alone together in a crofter’s hut on the north of the island, and Neil had gone overnight to find out what was happening on Skye. We were both frightened and after the terrible storm at sea, we clung to each other for a feeling of security.”
“Did you say no? At first, did you resist?”
“Yes. I swear to God I said no. Many times.”
“So he did force you.”
“No. Not like that. He was persuasive, but if I’d said no more firmly, he’d have desisted. I did say no and he did desist, but in the late afternoon, we were on a cliff, and . . . oh, God, I just don’t know . . . I said yes because I wanted to. If you’d been there, darling, I’d have said yes to you.
“And to any other man, by the sound of it,” said Alan.
“Is that what you think of me?” she asked. “You think that I would be anybody’s? Charlie was the first man I’ve ever been with.”
Again, he remained silent, thinking about the enormity of the news she’d just presented to him.
“Flora, I apologize for saying that. I know what a decent and moral woman you are. B
ut I just can’t get my mind off what the two of you have done. Did he use his manly ways to seduce you? On the cliff top where you and he . . . did he use honeyed words and seduction to cloud your mind to what’s right?”
“No, darling. It would be so easy for me to say he forced me, or that I was swept up by his talk, but that would be to lie to you, and I’ve already harmed you sufficiently. You deserve to know the whole truth. No, he didn’t seduce me. I was alone and frightened and I clung to him for safety, and as we were clinging to each other, my bodily passions overcame my mind, and suddenly it all went too far and without my realizing properly what was happening, I found that we were making love.”
He remained quiet for some time, and Flora realized that she was barely breathing.
“Did you . . . when he was . . . when you were making love to him, did you see my face or his? Did you close your eyes, and dream of me, or did you only see him?”
She knew that she couldn’t lie to him anymore. “No, darling. I didn’t think of either you or him, and I didn’t think of myself and I didn’t think of God Almighty. I was overwhelmed by my body, and I thought of nothing and nobody. I don’t even remember the thoughts I had, darling man. I only remember the feeling of being carried upwards in a swirl of passion. It was like suffering from the most intense thirst and I knew I had to drink of the fountain of zeal if ever I was to be satisfied.”
“And were you?” he asked softly.
She left the question unanswered. Instead, she said in a whisper, “Oh Alan, I can’t tell you how sorry and horrible I feel for you. Not for me, but for you, my sweet. If you walk away from me, everybody will understand. And so will I, for I’ve sinned in the eyes of God, and in your eyes.”
“And do you want me to walk away, Flora? Do you want our engagement to be at an end?”
She wanted to say “no,” but she knew that in fairness to a wronged man, she must leave that decision to him.
“Darling Alan, whether we continue our engagement is something which only you can decide. Whatever you say, I shall abide by your decision and support it when it becomes known. When anybody asks why we’re not to be married, I shall say it’s because I have sinned and have released you from your vows. I shall wear all the guilt. No shame will attach to your name or your reputation.”
He turned back to look out of the window and remained silent. For too long! Again, her heart was beating wildly, but somehow she felt better now that she’d confessed.
“You realize that if it becomes known that you’re carrying the bairn of the Prince of the Stuarts, your life will be in danger. The Butcher of Cumberland will come looking for you, and God help you then.”
It was something she hadn’t even considered, but a cold shudder went through her body when she thought about his words and realized that he was correct. He turned, and walked back to the seat next to hers. He held her hand. She was surprised. The look in his eyes was one of compassion, instead of the hatred she’d expected. It was so much more than she deserved.
“Listen to me carefully, Flora. What you and the prince have done is a sin; against God and your parents and me. But it is also something which will endanger your life and those around you. For carrying a Stuart child is a death sentence. So you will tell nobody about your night with the prince. This will be my bairn. We’ll tell folks that you and I enjoyed passion when we were in your brother’s house on Uist. I made you pregnant just before you rowed off with the prince and Neil MacEachan. I will take responsibility for the child and will treat it as my own, just as Hugh treated you as his very own daughter when he married your mother.”
She opened her mouth but no words came out. Instead, Flora looked at Alan Macdonald and saw an altogether different man from the one to whom she was engaged. She was holding the hand of a man better and wiser and more wonderful than any she deserved. Tears welled up and ran down her cheeks.
He wiped them with his finger and told her as gently as he could, “The world must know this bairn as Alan Macdonald’s. For if the world even suspects that it’s a Stuart, you, and it, and very probably I will be hanged.”
Flora nodded. “How can I ever . . .”
“By marrying me. And staying faithful for the rest of your life. We come to the altar, all of us, in a state of sin, Flora. But when we walk away as man and wife having made our vows before God, then let the rest of our lives be free of any further transgressions. If you swear that to me, then we shall be wed and live as man and wife with a growing family.”
He stood, and kissed her on the forehead. “Now I have to go out and face the wrath of your father for having made his beloved daughter pregnant. And knowing Hugh, I might very well be in for a horse-whipping.”
Her morning sickness had now virtually disappeared, and she was looking forward with great eagerness to her wedding just a week hence. Her mother could quite clearly see the bulge in her belly, but by wearing loose clothes and forgoing her bodice, Flora was certain that she could enter the church in her sky blue wedding dress emblazoned with the green, black, and blue stripes of the Island Clan Macdonald tartan. Alan would naturally wear his formal clan dress, buckles, and hat.
They had sent word to family and friends that the wedding was to be brought hastily forward, but without explanation, though everybody receiving it would have immediately understood Flora’s delicate condition. For the past week, neighbors and friends had greeted Flora and her mother with knowing grins and nods and wishing them well and inquiring after Flora’s health.
But all that came to an end on a Monday morning, at half past nine, just a week before the wedding, when Flora and her mother were about to leave their house to walk the half mile to the Kirk and discuss the flowers for the Altar, when they heard the menacing sound of many feet marching toward their house. Soldiers were common in the area and no longer caused comment, but normally they came in two’s and three’s.
Concerned, Flora went to the window and saw a troop of twenty English soldiers standing outside in the roadway. She gasped as two officers broke away and walked down the path to her house.
“Dear God, mother . . .”
There was a loud and imperious rapping on the front door. “Open up in the name of the king,” said an English voice.
“Don’t worry, child,” said Anne, and went out of the front parlor to the entrance door.
As she opened it, a tall officer demanded, “Flora Macdonald?”
Flora left the parlor and stood facing the two English officers. “I’m Flora Macdonald.”
“Come with me, ma’am. You’re wanted for questioning.”
“For what reason do you want my daughter?” asked Anne.
“Come with me, Mistress Macdonald,” he repeated.
“Why do you want me?” Flora demanded, suddenly angry at the way they ignored her mother.
“I’m not here to answer your questions. I have a warrant signed by General Campbell for your arrest. Now come with me, or I’ll have you bound and gagged and carried.”
“Arrest? On what charge am I arrested,” asked Flora, her confidence suddenly disappearing.
“The girl’s pregnant. Can’t you see that? You can’t arrest a pregnant woman. She’s to be wed in a few days’ time. Don’t you understand?” pleaded Anne.
“That’s none of my concern, ma’am. Now please. Don’t make this any more difficult for yourself. Come with me, without fuss, or I’ll give orders to drag you out. I’ve got twenty men with me.”
Flora turned to her mother and said urgently in Gaelic, “Get Hugh and Alan immediately. Tell them to follow wherever they take me. Do it now, mother, before I’m lost.”
She turned to the captain of the troopers and asked, “May I pack some things for the journey?”
“No. You’ll come with me immediately. No parcels or bags or anything. Now, miss, out of the door and quick smart.”
She was hustled outside by the two officers, who shoved her along the path into the midst of the soldiers.
“On w
hat grounds am I being arrested,” she called out to the leading officer as she fell into step with the troopers who surrounded her. “Why are you arresting me? What crime am I supposed to have committed? I demand that you tell me, or I’ll lay a complaint against you with your Commanding Officer.”
But the officer burst out laughing and said not a single word. Flora marched with the troopers through the village and felt shamed as many of the men and women who were due to attend her wedding came out of their houses and looked as she was escorted away by the English. Some of the men shook their heads in disgust; some of the women held their fists to their mouths to prevent themselves from crying out. And some just looked at the English in utter hatred.
The sign on the side of the ship told her that it was called the HMS Furnace. Did that refer to heat from a brazier, or was that the name of the man after whom it had been commissioned? She sat on the dockside waiting for the officer in charge of the troopers to present his compliments and his papers to the captain. There were salutes all around, and when the captain took the papers, he read them, looked at the dock and examined Flora, then looked back down at the papers, said a few words to the officer, and nodded.
The officer barked an order for Flora to be brought to the gangplank and escorted up onto the deck. She had only been seated for a few minutes and was glad for the rest, for they’d been walking for the better part of four hours almost without a break and now that she was pregnant, her legs were swollen, throbbing, and exhausted. They’d only allowed her a few minutes respite on the way, a drink of water, and a hard tack biscuit to refresh her, and then they continued the march to the port.
They pulled and pushed her up the gangplank, and she tripped on a rope near to the top of the rungs. Righting herself, she stepped onto the deck and stood before the captain. He studiously ignored her as he finished his paper transactions with the Officer, who then wished him luck on the voyage with the prisoner and departed.
