The Scots Never Forget

by Barbara Cartland

  She told herself that it was what she might have expected since she was very bad at handling money, having always left everything to do with it first to her father and then to her brother-in-law.

  Now when her journey was almost at an end she began to think that it had been a mistake to arrive without having first notified the Duke.

  She had not done so because she had been afraid that it would have given him the chance of refusing to accept his grandchildren, which she had known would be much more difficult for him to do once they had actually arrived in Scotland.

  At the same time she was aware that she was more frightened than she had ever been before in her whole life.

  She thought frantically that if only she herself had some money, she could take the children somewhere where she could look after them and care for them and Lord Alistair’s unkind relatives need not be involved.

  Then her intelligence told her that this would be impossible since Rory would have to go to school and, if he was to be educated in the same way that his father had been, it would not only cost money but would require the influence of somebody distinguished to ensure that he was accepted as a suitable pupil.

  Once again she felt herself crying out at the injustice that Lord Alistair had been exiled because he had fallen in love and that both he and her sister had suffered because as far as the Duke was concerned they did not exist.

  But the children, tired, petulant and hungry, were very real.

  She tidied Jeanie’s hair and thought that with her little poke-bonnet she looked very sweet and attractive.

  Rory had also become rather ruffled and she did her best to smarten him up, even though, like all boys, he resented her fussing over him.

  As she finished, she was aware that the horses were turning through some impressive wrought-iron gates with lodges on each side which looked like small Castles and moving down a long avenue with fir trees on either side of it.

  At the end she could see The Castle and, because it was so large and so very impressive, it made her gasp.

  It was, she thought, exactly the sort of Castle that she had imagined would belong to the Duke of Strathnairn.

  She could see his standard flying from the highest Tower and knew that on the other side of it there was the North Sea stretching out blue but turbulent towards what had once been the land of the Vikings.

  The coachman brought the horses to a standstill under a large portico beneath which was a huge oak door studded with brass nails.

  As the horses stopped, the door opened and Pepita saw standing on the steps a kilted figure looking at them with an expression of surprise.

  “The Castle is very big,” Rory remarked in a slightly awestruck voice.

  It was what Pepita was feeling herself and, as the carriage door was opened and she stepped out, she hoped that she did not appear as terrified as she felt.

  The kilted figure, who she guessed must be the butler, bowed.

  “Good evening, ma’am?” he said and it was more of a question than a greeting.

  “I wish to see the Duke of Strathnairn.”

  She thought that there was a slight tremor in her voice, but she held her chin high and hoped that she had an air of authority about her.

  “I dinna think His Grace is expectin’ you, ma’am.”

  The butler had a broad Scottish accent and Pepita was aware that the children were staring at him with obvious curiosity.

  “Will you please inform His Grace that I have brought his grandchildren to him?”

  If Pepita had meant to startle the butler, she certainly succeeded.

  For a moment he stared at her as if he thought that he had not understood what she was saying.

  Then he asked,

  “Are you sayin’, ma’am, that these are Lord Alistair’s bairns?”

  “Yes, that is right.”

  As she spoke, Pepita saw the butler’s expression change.

  He looked first at Rory and then at Jeanie in a manner that told her he was delighted by them.

  Because she knew that she had found an ally, Pepita said, putting a hand on the small boy’s shoulder,

  “This is Rory and this is Jeanie.”

  As if this broke the spell that had kept Jeanie silent, she said,

  “I’m tired and I’m thirsty!”

  “We’ll do somethin’ aboot that in a moment,” the butler said, “and if you’re tired, I’d best carry you up the stairs.”

  He picked Jeanie up in his arms as he spoke and she did not protest but said,

  “I’m too tired to walk.”

  “Of course you are,” the butler said, “and it’s a lang way to England.”

  He went ahead of them and Pepita saw that there was a staircase of white stone leading up to the first floor.

  She remembered as they climbed it that her brother- in-law had told her that in all grand Scottish houses the important rooms were always on the first floor.

  There was a large landing with a fireplace in which a huge log was burning and the butler put Jeanie down on her feet outside two lofty double doors.

  Then he smiled at Pepita as if to reassure her before he opened one of them and walked inside.

  In a voice that seemed almost unnaturally loud he announced,

  “The Earl of Nairn and Lady Jean, Your Grace.”

  It surprised Pepita that he should use the children’s titles, which she had not thought of before, because Lord Alistair had never assumed his brother’s place after he was killed.

  Vaguely she remembered hearing that on the death of a Duke’s eldest son, the Marquisate went into abeyance, but his children held courtesy titles.

  For the moment, however, because she was so afraid, the room seemed to swim round her and she was aware of nothing but the evening sun coming through the three tall windows.

  Then she saw that there were three people at the far end of the room in front of a marble fireplace.

  As she took Jeanie by the hand and drew her forward, she was aware that there was one man whom it was impossible not to notice and not to realise who he was.

  There was some resemblance to her brother-in-law in his height, the squareness of his shoulders and the carriage of his head.

  But otherwise the Duke with his grey hair, lined face and tight thin lips had, she thought, the tyrannical look that she had expected of him.

  There was absolute silence as she and the two children walked slowly to the end of the room, which seemed a very long way.

  Then, as they came within a few feet of the Duke, he asked sharply,

  “What are you doing here and why have you brought these children to me?”

  His voice, Pepita thought, was as frightening as his appearance, but with a tremendous effort she managed to reply quietly but clearly,

  “I brought them to Your Grace because there is nowhere else for them to go.”

  “What do you mean by that?” the Duke enquired.

  “Their father and mother are both – dead.”

  She knew as she spoke that it was a shock to him, for even though his expression did not change she knew that he stiffened.

  For a moment there was complete silence.

  Then, as if he frightened Jeanie, she said,

  “I’m tired! I want to go home.”

  “Then that is where you had better take her,” the Duke said to Pepita. “As far as I am concerned, I have no grandchildren.”

  Pepita drew in her breath.

  “That is not true, Your Grace! They are here! They exist! And, although your treatment of their father made him very unhappy, I cannot believe that you would want these small children to suffer.”

  As if what she said infuriated the Duke, his eyes darkened and he scowled at her as he ordered,

  “Take them away! You brought them here without my permission and you can go back where you came from.”

  The way he spoke was so ferocious that for a moment Pepita felt that her voice had died in her throat.

  The
n, as if his hostility communicated itself to the children, Rory slipped his hand into Pepita’s and said,

  “Let’s go home. They don’t want us here.”

  Pepita’s fingers closed over his and Jeanie suddenly sat down on the floor.

  “I’m tired and I’m thirsty,” she wailed, “and I want my Papa!”

  She then burst into tears and Pepita released Rory’s hand and knelt down beside her.

  “Don’t cry, my darling,” she coaxed. “I am sure that your grandfather before he turns us out onto the moors will at least give you a drink of water!”

  As she spoke, she picked Jeanie up in her arms and looked up at the Duke, who seemed an enormous height above her, to say,

  “I should be grateful, Your Grace, if the children could have something to eat and drink before we are thrown out of The Castle! We have been travelling for nearly a week, having come from Cornwall.”

  There was something about her request that made the Duke undecided as to how to answer her.

  Then, as if bored with the conflict between them, Rory commented,

  “Papa had a sporran just like yours!”

  His fear of the Duke seemed to be forgotten and he walked nearer to him and said,

  “Papa said that sporrans were made of otter, but yours is different.”

  Somehow, despite his animosity, the Duke had to make some explanation as he said coldly,

  “Mine is a Chieftain’s sporran.”

  “Papa said a Chieftain is the father of his Clan and that all the McNairns have to obey their Chieftain.”

  “That is right,” the Duke replied.

  Pepita stood still with Jeanie in her arms.

  The child was very tired and now her head was nodding and her eyes closing.

  Pepita did not speak, she merely looked at the Duke, and after a moment he said, as if every word was wrenched from between his lips,

  “I suppose you will have to stay here the night. Torquil, take them to Mrs. Sutherland.”

  Because she had been so bemused by the Duke, Pepita had not looked at the other people who were with him and who had sat silent and immobile while the battle between them had been taking place.

  Now a young man rose from one of the armchairs and she saw that he was tall, handsome and was also wearing a kilt of the McNairn tartan.

  He smiled at her and then reached out his arms to take Jeanie from her.

  “I am sure the child is too heavy for you,” he said. “I will carry her.”

  Jeanie, who was almost asleep, did not protest.

  Then, as Pepita looked for Rory, she heard him say to the Duke,

  “I want to see a claymore! Papa said you had lots and lots of claymores in The Castle, but we did not have one at home.”

  There was a pause before the Duke replied,

  “You can see one tomorrow.”

  He had spoken as if the words were dragged from him. At the same time Pepita thought that the scowl had gone from his face.

  She took Rory by the hand and, when she had done so, she looked up at the Duke.

  “I thank Your Grace,” she said and curtseyed.

  She thought that the expression in his eyes when he looked at her was hard.

  But she was so relieved to have won at least a respite that her only thought was not to antagonise him any further at the moment, but to find food for the children and rest for them all.

  The butler was on the landing outside the door and she knew that he was waiting to hear whether they were to stay or to go.

  She took from her handbag the envelope that held the money she had promised to pay for the journey from Edinburgh and gave it to him, saying,

  “Will you please thank the coachman and this is what I owe him.”

  She thought by his smile that he understood what had happened and was delighted.

  “I’ll have your luggage brought to your rooms, ma’am,” he said.

  Torquil McNairn, who was carrying Jeanie, was already halfway down the passage and Pepita hurried after them.

  As if the news of their arrival had alerted the servants in The Castle that something unusual was happening, before they had gone very far an elderly woman came hurrying towards them.

  The first sight of her black satin apron and the chatelaine hanging from her waist told Pepita that she was the housekeeper.

  “I have a guest for you, Mrs. Sutherland,” Torquil McNairn said, “who is very tired and also very thirsty.”

  “I heard that Lord Alistair’s bairns had arrived,” Mrs. Sutherland replied, “but I couldna believe it to be true.”

  “It is true,” he answered. “Now, Mrs. Sutherland, where are you going to put them?”

  Mrs. Sutherland looked at Pepita, who held out her hand.

  “My name is Pepita Linford,” she said, “and I am Rory and Jeanie’s aunt.”

  Mrs. Sutherland dropped her a small curtsey.

  “Good evening, ma’am, and welcome to Strathnairn Castle! It’s a great surprise, a great surprise indeed, as we’ve no heard from his Lordship for many a year.”

  “Lord Alistair is dead,” Pepita said, “and so is my sister, the children’s mother.”

  Mrs. Sutherland gave a cry of horror.

  “I canna believe it!” she said. “We were never told.”

  Then, as if she felt that what had to be said could be said later, she turned and walked down a passage ahead of them and stopping at one door opened it to say,

  “I think it’s right that his young Lordship should have his father’s room.”

  It was a large and impressive room with a carved four-poster bed, the windows looking out over the bay.

  “That settles you, young man,” Torquil McNairn said. “Now, Mrs. Sutherland, what about Miss Linford and this little dormouse I am carrying?”

  “I suggest they all stay next door to each other,” Mrs. Sutherland replied in a practical tone.

  She opened the next door and said to Pepita,

  “You’ll be comfortable right enough here, ma’am, and you’ve a door into her Ladyship’s room.”

  “That will be very nice,” Pepita said. “She is used to sleeping alone, but she might be frightened in a strange place.”

  Torquil McNairn then carried Jeanie through the communicating door that Mrs. Sutherland opened for him, and laid the child, who was by this time fast asleep, very gently down on the bed.

  As he did so, Mrs. Sutherland said,

  “I’ll see to the luggage and get the housemaids to come and unpack what you need immediately.”

  She bustled away and Pepita found herself facing Torquil McNairn and thinking that he was a very handsome and attractive man.

  She guessed his age to be about twenty-seven or twenty-eight because, although he seemed young in comparison to the Duke, there was something authoritative and in a way dominating about him that would have been unlikely if he had been very young.

  He smiled at her and said,

  “You have certainly caused a sensation!”

  As she supposed that he must know how her brother-in- law had been exiled, she replied,

  “I thought, and obviously correctly, that if I asked if I could bring the children here, the answer would be a decisive ‘no!’”

  “So you just arrived, as if from another planet.”

  “Is that how it seems to you? I certainly feel as if we crossed half the world to reach here.”

  “I am not surprised that you are feeling tired if you have come all the way from Cornwall,” he said.

  Then in a different tone he added,

  “I am desperately sorry to hear of Alistair’s death. What happened?”

  “Both he – and my sister were – drowned.”

  There was an unmistakable tremor in Pepita’s voice, because it was still hard to speak about it without feeling that she wanted to cry.

  “Is there nobody else to look after the children but you?”

  “Nobody,” she answered. “And we could not continue to sta
y in their home as I would have liked to do, because there was no money.”

  He stared at her as if he could not believe what she had just said.

  Then, as she thought that perhaps she had been wrong in confiding in a stranger, Pepita asked,

  “Would it be rude to enquire what relation you are to Alistair?”

  “I am his cousin, but I am here only as a guest. My home is about ten miles away to the North.”

  As he finished speaking, Rory interrupted them by running in through the door that led out into the corridor.

  “You must come to look,” he said to Pepita. “I can see a ship from my bedroom window!”

  “Be careful not to lean out,” Pepita warned him quickly. “You are not used to a house that is so high off the ground.”

  “Do you think it is a fishing boat?” Rory asked. “Papa said there were lots of them here in the sea and they come back to Port filled with hundreds and hundreds of fish.”

  Pepita looked at Torquil McNairn as if she expected him to supply the answer to Rory’s question.

  As if he understood, he said,

  “I suggest before you worry about ships you come with me and we will find somebody to give you a drink and something to eat. You may have to wait a little time for your supper, but I am sure you are hungry.”

  “I am very hungry,” Rory said firmly. “I would like a bannock with lots of butter and heather honey!”

  This was something that they had sampled only since they had arrived in Scotland and Pepita gave a little laugh before she said,

  “Please, we don’t want to be any bother.”

  “It is no bother,” Torquil McNairn replied. “Come along, young man. We will find you some food and make sure you no longer have that empty feeling inside you.”

  They went off together and, as Torquil McNairn gave her a smile before he disappeared, Pepita felt she had found at least one friend in The Castle.

  It was a joy that she had not expected to have no less than three young housemaids unpacking her clothes and the children’s.

  When Mrs. Sutherland said that they should leave most things for tomorrow, she felt that they had moved in and it might be difficult for the Duke to dislodge them.