There was another pause before Pepita said, as if it was up to her to be encouraging,
“I-I am listening.”
“I realise from what you have said,” the Duchess went on, “that you have no money and the children were left penniless, which does not surprise me. I have been thinking what can be done about it.”
Pepita was just about to say that it did not matter so much now that their grandfather was looking after them when the Duchess went on,
“I am therefore offering you a thousand pounds, Miss Linford, if you will take the children away so that they disappear, as their father did, out of sight and reach of my husband and myself.”
Pepita was so surprised that she could only stare at the Duchess as if she could not believe what she had just heard.
“One thousand pounds is a lot of money,” the Duchess went on, “and you will find, I am certain, that it is very advantageous from your own point of view. I will also contrive that five hundred pounds is paid every year into any Bank you nominate so long as you keep this arrangement completely secret from my husband and all other members of the McNairn family.”
She spoke slowly and decisively as if she had thought out every word before she said it.
Only when she had finished and Pepita realised that she was waiting for her answer did she manage to say,
“I find it – incredible that Your Grace should think such an – extraordinary plan possible – even if I agreed to – accept the money you are offering me.”
“It is perfectly possible!” the Duchess replied sharply. “I will arrange for a ship to take you away at night and I have been thinking that you could either go back to England, where you came from, or if you prefer to the Shetland Islands, where it is very unlikely that anybody would find you.”
“And you think that would be a proper place where the future Duke of Strathnairn should be brought up?” Pepita asked.
Now she could feel her anger rising and her first sense of shock at what the Duchess had suggested was giving way to indignation that anything so outrageous as far as the children were concerned had even entered her mind.
“The Duke exiled his son, Alistair, for his disloyalty and almost treacherous behaviour in marrying an Englishwoman and without his permission,” the Duchess retorted.
She paused and then, as Pepita did not speak, she went on,
“When he died, he was no longer a member of the Clan, but an outcast, an exile. His children must pay for his sins and accept the same position that he had in his lifetime.”
“You may think that, Your Grace,” Pepita replied, “but now that the Duke has seen how much Rory resembles his father and himself, and that he is a true McNairn, I do not believe even for a moment that the boy could disappear without the Duke making a thorough search for him.”
“My husband will do what I want,” the Duchess said harshly, “and I am determined that if I have a son he shall be the next Duke of Strathnairn!”
Her voice rang out with an unmistakable note of defiance in it and Pepita knew that this was the whole crux of the problem.
“I can well understand Your Grace’s feelings,” she said quietly. “Equally I could never in any circumstances agree to deprive my nephew of his birthright.”
She drew a deep breath before she went on,
“What is more, as my sister would have done if she were still alive, I will fight for his right to take the place that he is entitled to by birth.”
Now her voice was almost as defiant as the Duchess’s.
For a moment the two women stared at each other and Pepita had the strange feeling that if they had been men they might now be fighting physically.
But she knew that she was indeed fighting with every instinct and every nerve in her body and her intuition told her that the Duchess was a formidable enemy who would try by every means in her power to get what she wanted.
There seemed no point in any further words and they strove in silence each to impose her will on the other until the Duchess said and her voice seemed almost to rasp in the silence of the room,
“Very well, Miss Linford, but I think you are very stupid and very obstinate and whatever happens in the future will be entirely your fault!”
“I can only hope, Your Grace,” Pepita replied, “that for Rory’s sake you will remember that he is only a child and children are very vulnerable to what older people feel about them.”
“That is quite enough, Miss Linford!” the Duchess snapped. “As you have refused my offer, I can only hope that you have enough money of your own to support yourself when you leave here.”
Her voice was slow and spiteful as she went on,
“His Grace has already decided that Rory should have a Tutor and I am at the moment looking for a Scottish Governess to take care of them both so that your services will no longer be required.”
As she spoke, the Duchess rose from her chair and, walking slowly but with a certain amount of dignity, left the room.
For a moment Pepita was unable to move and was finding it hard to think.
It seemed incredible that the Duchess should really have tried to bribe her to take the children away.
She knew that she had been right in thinking that every day her dislike of them had increased to the point where she was prepared to do anything to get them out of her sight.
Pepita could imagine only too clearly what their life
would be in the Shetland Islands, which were bleak and practically uninhabited.
Even in England things would be little better, she had no home to go to and would be faced with the responsibility of planning the children’s whole future herself.
‘She is mad to think that such an idea would ever work,’ Pepita cried to herself. ‘Even if we did disappear, I am sure that the Duke would search for Rory at any rate.’
And yet she could not be sure of anything.
After all it still seemed completely and utterly incredible that the Duke could have wiped his son Alistair out of his life as if he had never existed.
He had never, as far as she knew, made the slightest effort to find out if Alistair was alive or dead from the moment he had married her sister.
‘How can they all be so insensitive and so cruel?’ she asked herself.
At the same time she was really very frightened. For although she told herself that she was being ridiculous, she could not help being apprehensive of what the Duchess might do.
She could hardly bear to allow herself to imagine that the Duchess might try to hurt Rory in some way and yet her anxiety told her that it was a possibility and something she should not ignore.
‘What shall I do?’ she asked herself, as she had done last night.
She knew that the problem was too big for her to solve alone and she must talk to Torquil.
She had told herself that after what had happened on the Watch Tower, she must not risk revealing her love for him to other people and therefore she must avoid him.
Yet now she recognised that she needed his help, his understanding and, above everything else, his closeness to give her strength.
‘I must find a way of talking to him,’ she decided as she walked slowly back down the corridor towards the housekeeper’s room.
Jeanie, as she had expected, was so excited by the new-born kittens that she was only reluctantly dragged away from them to go out into the garden.
There she ran after butterflies, looked for fairies amongst the flowers and spent a long time watching the goldfish swimming amongst the water lilies in the fountain.
The fact that Jeanie was fully occupied with such interests left Pepita free to think, but she felt that everything was jumbled chaotically in her mind.
She knew too that she could make no decision without first speaking to Torquil.
Even to think of him made her love seem to sweep through her body like a tidal wave.
She wanted him so urgently that she felt as if she sent her thoughts to him on wings and he must be aw
are of them.
‘They always say that the Scots are fey,’ she thought, ‘so if he loves me he should be aware that I need him and that only he can help me.’
The afternoon seemed to pass very slowly and only when the Duchess, Pepita, and Jeanie were already seated at the teatable did the guns return from their day’s sport.
Rory came rushing into the room not in the least tired after what the older men said had been quite a strenuous walk on the moors.
Full of excitement he flung his arms round Pepita.
“Tomorrow I am going shooting with Hector and the keeper, Aunt Pepita,” he cried. “Grandpapa said that he has a gun for me, and he will have the first bird I shoot stuffed so that I can keep it for ever and ever!”
He was so thrilled that his words seemed to fall over one another and Pepita, holding him close, felt that the Duke would not part with him easily.
At the same time, as she looked at him at the end of
the table, stern, determined and, she thought, ruthless, she could not be sure.
Torquil arrived after all the other guests were already seated and, as he entered the room Pepita felt her heart miss a beat.
Despite her resolution not to look at him with other people present, she could not prevent her eyes from seeking his.
As he entered, he was looking at her as if he too could not help himself. Then, when he saw the expression on her face, he walked towards her and sat down in the empty chair that was next to Jeanie’s.
“What have you been doing this afternoon?” he asked in a pleasant conversational tone.
“We have been in the garden,” Pepita replied.
Her eyes told him a different story and she knew, almost as if he had spoken the words aloud, that he was aware she was worried and upset and wanted to tell him about it.
Then, as if he remembered that he must be careful, he said to Jeanie,
“Did you catch a butterfly?”
“I tried and tried,” Jeanie replied, “but it was easier to catch the little goldfish in the fountain. I held one in my hand before it slipped away.”
“You must show me how you do it,” he suggested.
“It is difficult, but I will show you,” Jeanie promised.
“We will do that after tea,” Torquil replied.
Pepita gave a sigh.
No one else, she thought, could have been quick enough to understand and so clever in finding a way that they could talk to each other.
“You must finish your tea first,” she said to Jeanie, “and I expect everyone is hungry after walking such a long way high up on the moors.”
“We walked for miles,” Rory said, “and Grandpapa said I was very good and kept in line.”
“That is true,” one of the other guests agreed, “He is a real McNairn. They can always out-walk and out-shoot ordinary mortals like myself! I admit to being very foot-weary.”
There followed an animated discussion about how far they had walked, but Pepita was waiting eagerly for tea to end, knowing that Jeanie would not forget Torquil’s promise to watch her catch a goldfish.
It seemed a long time before the Duke, who had eaten very little, rose from his place at the table and when he went from the room the Duchess followed him.
Jeanie got down from her chair and went to Torquil’s side.
“Are you coming with me, Uncle Torquil?” she asked.
It was Torquil who had suggested that she should call him ‘Uncle Torquil’.
“There are far too many cousins about the place,” he had said to Pepita, “and the child will get muddled with them. Moreover, if I had a niece I would want her to be exactly like Jeanie.”
“I think you are too young to be her uncle,” Pepita had remarked.
“I want him to be my uncle!” Jeanie had said positively, “because, although you are my aunt, I have never had an uncle before.”
“Then that is decided,” Torquil had said, picking the small girl up in his arms. “I am your Uncle Torquil and you are my adorable niece. When you are old enough, I shall give a ball for you in my Castle, and you will dance the reels with the most handsome gentlemen in Scotland, all wearing their kilts.”
Jeanie had been entranced by this idea and had talked about it until she went to bed.
“How long will I have to wait until I have my ball, Aunt Pepita?” she had enquired as Pepita tucked her up.
“Quite a number of years, I am afraid,” Pepita had answered, “and first you will have to learn how to dance the reels. We must find out if there is somebody in The Castle who can teach you.”
“I would like that,” Jeanie had said sleepily, “and Rory must learn them too.”
Pepita had not forgotten, but there had been no opportunity to ask the Duke who could teach the children the Scottish reels and she knew it was not a suggestion that would find favour with the Duchess.
Now as she followed Jeanie, who was holding Torquil’s hand, down the stairs to the hall, she wondered where they all would be by the time Jeanie was grown up.
She had the frightening feeling that it would certainly not be here in The Castle, since, however impossible it might seem, the Duchess would somehow contrive to be rid of them.
The sun was sinking and the shadows were lengthening in the garden.
The wind, which had been high in the morning, had dropped. Now everything seemed quiet and serene and there was an atmosphere of peace and security about the great Castle rising above them and the unruffled surface of the sea.
But for Pepita there was a feeling of being menaced, a fear of danger that she could not escape from.
Jeanie was chattering away about the fish and, as she put her small hands into the water amongst the green leaves, Torquil was watching her.
Then suddenly she jumped up to run to the other side of the fountain.
“There are more fish here, Uncle Torquil!” she cried.
He moved closer to Pepita.
“What has upset you?” he asked quietly.
“You knew I was upset?”
“I knew it when I was coming back from the moor,” he said. “I felt you needed me.”
“I need you – desperately!”
“I was sure of it.”
She looked into his eyes and felt as if she surrendered herself into his arms and there would be no more problems and no more difficulties.
He was there, he loved her and nothing else could ever matter.
Then she told herself that she had to think not only of herself but of the children.
“It is the – Duchess,” she said in a low voice.
“I guessed that,” Torquil replied. “What has she done now?”
“I cannot tell you here,” Pepita said quickly, “but I must talk to you somehow.”
As she spoke, she realised that they were within sight of the Castle windows and, if the Duchess saw them together, she might be more unpleasant than she had been when she had accused them of flirting with each other.
As if he understood without words, Torquil walked round to the opposite side of the fountain and took Jeanie by the hand.
“I have something to show you in the woods,” he said. “We will catch a fish another day. I expect they are frightened now because you have caught one already.”
“What are you going to show me in the woods?” Jeanie asked, instantly diverted.
“A little house in the trees that I had made for me many years ago when I was about the same age as Rory,” Torquil answered. “It may have become unsafe and dilapidated by now, but if you like it, I will have it repaired so that you can play in it.”
Jeanie was obviously thrilled at this idea and Torquil led them out of the formal garden and into the woods that surrounded one side of The Castle and protected it from the winds, which in the winter were often tempestuous.
As soon as they were out of sight of The Castle, Torquil said to Jeanie,
“Run along this path to see if you can find my house in the trees before I show you where
it is. You will have to look carefully because it is well hidden.”
Obediently Jeanie did as he said and, as soon as she was out of earshot, Torquil said,
“My darling, you look so worried and I so want you to be happy.”
“How can I be happy when such – strange things are – happening?” Pepita asked.
“Tell me about them,” Torquil said.
Because it was so wonderful to have him there and to know that he would listen to her, Pepita could not prevent herself from slipping her hand into his.
His fingers closed over hers and she felt a thrill run through her in the same way as it had done the night when he had kissed her in the moonlight.
While she was thinking of his kisses, as if he read her thoughts, his eyes were on her lips as he said,
“It is an agony not to be able to kiss you and to tell you how beautiful you look and how much I want you.”
He was speaking with a deep note in his voice that made it hard for her to breathe and with an effort Pepita said,
“Please I have to – tell you what has – happened.”
“Tell me and don’t be afraid. I am here and nothing shall harm you.”
Yet, when she told him what the Duchess had said to her, he was aware that she was in fact very frightened.
“There is nothing that woman can do,” he said when she had finished. “I am quite certain, whatever she may say, that if the children should disappear the Duke would make every effort to find them and bring them back to The Castle.”
“You really think that?” Pepita asked.
“I was watching him with Rory when we were on the moors,” Torquil answered, “and there is no doubt that he is delighted with the boy and already proud of him.”
“That is just what I want to hear.”
“But I do admit that he is unpredictable and the way he treated Alistair is incredible. But he had two sons in those days.”
“He may have another son now,” Pepita answered in a low voice, “and then Rory may no longer – interest him.”
“I think he has mellowed with age,” Torquil said, “and I am quite certain, although he would die rather than admit it, that after Euan was killed he wanted Alistair back with him, but was too stiff-necked and proud to try to find him.”
The Scots Never Forget Page 9
