The Scots Never Forget

by Barbara Cartland

  She was saying ‘goodbye’ to someone who meant so much to her that she could hardly bear to think that she would never see Jeanie again, at least until she was very much older.

  She tried to put the thought from her as she went from Jeanie’s room to Rory’s, finding him sitting up in bed reading a book.

  “This is very interesting, Aunt Pepita,” he said as she came into the room. “It’s all about the battles we have fought and it mentions that my Clan was there and they fought very valiantly.”

  Pepita wanted to smile at the possessive note in his voice as he spoke of ‘my Clan’ and she knew that already he was identifying himself with the McNairns.

  The Duke had made it quite clear that in the years to come he would take over the Chieftainship.

  As was usual in Scotland, only the men attended the funeral of the Duchess, but Pepita had watched from the window as the cortege wended its way from The Castle towards the Ducal burial ground that was in the middle of one of the woods.

  Rory was walking beside his grandfather immediately behind the coffin and there was something in the sight of the two of them together that made the tears come into her eyes.

  It was very obvious, however, that no one in The Castle was really mourning the Duchess, despite the lowered blinds, crêpe veils and black armbands.

  Pepita, because she was English, felt she was an intruder and kept away from the hordes of relations of both Clans who came from all over Scotland, a great number of them having to stay in The Castle.

  Now it was all over, the last guest having left after luncheon and she knew that at dinner she and Torquil would be alone with the Duke.

  ‘My last night,’ she thought to herself and felt an anguish that seemed to split her heart in two.

  She went from Rory’s room to her own, where Mrs. Sutherland was waiting for her.

  “Everything’s arranged, miss,” she said in a low voice as Pepita closed the door behind her. “One of my nephews’ll carry your trunks down to the quay last thing and a boat’ll be waitin’ to row you doon the coast at half-after-four in the morn’.” She paused and then added,

  “The ship that’ll carry you to Edinburgh’ll be leavin’ at five o’clock and you mustna be late for it.’

  “I will not be,” Pepita answered, “and thank you so much for all you have done for me.”

  “I canna say it’s been a pleasure,” Mrs. Sutherland replied, “for I’ve no wish to see you leave, but you know your own mind and I’ll no argue with you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll call you at four o’clock,” Mrs. Sutherland went on, “and I’ll have the money ready for you then.”

  She looked to where Pepita’s trunk was standing at the end of the room and added,

  “I’ve packed everything for you. All you have to do is to put in the gown you’ll be wearin’ for dinner. Your travelling suit and a warm coat, which you’ll need, are on the chair.”

  “Thank you – Mrs. Sutherland – thank you – very much indeed.”

  It was difficult to say the words for fear that she would burst into tears.

  As if she understood what she was feeling, Mrs. Sutherland went from the room, saying as she did so,

  “If you want me to fasten your gown, ring the bell. I’ll be in my own room.”

  Pepita put her hands up to her face, fighting for composure and trying desperately to hold back the tears.

  Now that the moment of leaving was actually upon her, she felt it impossible to do what she intended and yet she knew that there was no alternative.

  She had to go and to linger on would only make things worse.

  The Tutor for Rory was arriving at the end of the week and she had the suspicion that the very nice woman who had been engaged to teach both the children reels was the Governess whom the Duke had in mind for Jeanie. He had not said anything, but her instinct told her that it was what he was planning and she would not humiliate herself by waiting until he dismissed her.

  She had not been alone with Torquil since he had come to her bedroom the night of the Duchess’s death.

  Yet she knew that he had been vividly aware of her, as she was of him, every time they were in the same room together.

  Even though he was busy with all the arrangements for the funeral and the mourners staying in the house, she was sure that he was thinking of her as she was thinking of him.

  ‘I love him,’ she murmured to herself now.

  Although she might never see him again, he would always be in her heart.

  Slowly she changed into the evening gown that Mrs. Sutherland had left out for her.

  She noticed vaguely that it had been her sister’s and was almost too grand to wear for a quiet evening.

  And yet she was glad that the last time Torquil saw her she would be looking her best.

  With that thought in her mind she took longer in arranging her hair than she usually did.

  It was still too early to go to the drawing room and so she opened the trunk to put the gown into it that she had been wearing during the day.

  As she did so, there was a knock on the door and she thought that it must be Mrs. Sutherland coming to do up her gown.

  “Come in,” she called out and added as the door opened, “Thank you for packing everything so beautifully and far better than I could have done it myself.”

  There was no answer and Pepita turned her head and then saw that it was not Mrs. Sutherland but Torquil standing inside the room.

  She gave an audible gasp as he walked forward a few paces towards her before he demanded,

  “Packing? What do you mean, you are packing?”

  He was holding something in his hands, which he set down on a table at the bottom of the bed and then came towards her with his eyes on her trunk.

  “What is happening? What are you doing?”

  The questions were sharp and aggressive.

  “I-I am – going – away.”

  Pepita’s voice was little above a whisper and because she thought that Torquil was angry she was trembling.

  “Going away?” he repeated. “How can you do anything so cruel, so damnably cruel as to leave me?”

  “I-I have to,” Pepita argued. “Oh, darling – do try to understand – I have to leave!”

  “Why?”

  “Because I – love you too much to – ruin your life.”

  It was difficult to say the words and they were almost incoherent.

  Then once again she gasped as Torquil put out his hands to hold her by the arms.

  His fingers dug into her flesh and, when she looked at him. she saw an expression of anger on his face that she had not seen before.

  “How dare you!” he exclaimed. “How dare you go away. Do you not realise that wherever you went I would follow you and however skilfully you tried to hide I would find you?”

  The words were harsh and raw and she knew that he was angry because she had made him frightened that he might lose her.

  “Please – understand,” she pleaded. “Please realise that I cannot stay here and – destroy everything that is – familiar to you.”

  She gave a sob as she added,

  “You would be – sent away as Alistair was. You would be – exiled and I could not – bear that to happen to you.”

  “Why could you not bear it?”

  She thought it was a strange question, but she answered,

  “Because – I love you – I love you so much that I want to protect you.”

  “And you think you would be doing that by taking from me what matters more to me than life itself?”

  He looked at her and then suddenly the anger was gone from his eyes.

  As he pulled her almost roughly closer to him, his expression was very tender.

  “What does anything matter, my foolish one,” he asked, “except our love? We have something that is far more important than position, family, Clan or nationality.”

  Pepita had hidden her face against him while he was
speaking and now he put his fingers under her chin and turned her face up to his.

  She was very pale and the tears were running down her cheeks.

  He looked at her for a long moment before he said fiercely,

  “You are mine and neither man nor God shall take you from me!”

  Then his lips were on hers and for a moment they were hard and hurt the softness of her mouth, until because they were touching each other the rapture of it rose in both of them.

  Now his lips became more demanding and more possessive and no longer hurt her.

  He drew her closer and still closer and kissed her until once again she was part of him and they were indivisible.

  She felt herself quiver with a rapture that was inescapable and when finally he raised his head she could only whisper brokenly,

  “I love you – I love you!”

  Once again she hid her face against his neck.

  “You will never leave me,” Torquil asserted and she thought as he spoke that his voice was unsteady too.

  She felt his lips on her hair as he went on,

  “We are going to be married immediately and I came here to tell you that we would discuss it with the Duke tonight.”

  “No – no!” Pepita cried in terror.

  She looked up at him as she spoke and was surprised to see that he was smiling and there was an unmistakable look of happiness in his eyes.

  “You have not asked me why I came to see you just now,” he said quietly, “but it is a good thing I did!”

  He glanced disparagingly at her open trunk and then as she was unable to speak he went on,

  “Actually I have brought you a present!”

  “A – present?” Pepita murmured.

  “A somewhat unexpected one that needs a little explanation.”

  He did not move.

  She was still close in his arms, but she looked to where he had set down what he had been carrying in his hands and saw that it was something wrapped up in white paper.

  “First, my precious,” Torquil said, “I want you to tell me the name of your grandmother.”

  “M-my – grandmother?” Pepita asked in astonishment.

  “Your father’s mother,” Torquil persisted. “Do you remember her name?”

  “Of course,” Pepita replied, “but – I never knew her because she died when my father was quite small and my grandfather married again. Papa often talked – of his stepmother, who he was very fond of, but he could not remember his own mother.”

  “But you knew her name?”

  “It was Lamont and I always thought that she must originally have been of French origin.”

  Torquil smiled.

  “No, darling – Scottish!”

  Pepita stared at him.

  “What – are you saying?”

  “I am telling you,” Torquil answered, “what you should have found out a long time ago that your grandmother, Mary Lamont, came from a Clan that was established in Cowal in the middle of the thirteenth century.”

  Pepita stared at him as if spellbound and he went on,

  “The Lamonts still own land in Cowal and there are a great number of the Clan living round Loch Striven.”

  There was silence before Pepita murmured,

  “I cannot – believe that what you are – telling me is – true.”

  “What I am telling you,” Torquil replied, “is that you are in fact one-quarter Scottish on your father’s side and your mother some way back had a great-great-grandparent who was a Rose.”

  “Rose?” Pepita questioned. “Surely that is not a Scottish name?”

  Torquil laughed.

  “The Roses settled in the district of Nairn in the twelfth century and one of them, a great-grandparent of yours, received Bonnie Prince Charlie at Kilravock just before the Battle of Culloden.”

  “How can this – possibly be – true?” Pepita gasped.

  “I see, my precious, that you are very ignorant about your ancestors. You need a Scottish Tutor and I offer myself as a very competent teacher on the subject as well as on many others.”

  She knew that he was teasing her, but, because what he had just told her was so overwhelming, she could only hide her tears against his arm.

  Now they were tears of relief even though what he had just said still seemed incredible.

  As if he understood what she was feeling, Torquil continued,

  “I could not believe that in any distinguished family like that of your father’s that there would not be one Scottish ancestor. So I sent somebody I trusted and who is very knowledgeable on genealogy to the College of Arms in Edinburgh.”

  He kissed her forehead before he went on,

  “He returned this evening with the information that alter all your heart-burning you have enough Scottish blood in you, my darling, to make you, from the Duke’s and everybody else’s point of view, a very suitable wife for one of the McNairns.”

  “I-I cannot – believe it!” Pepita cried. “I thought I had to leave you – but now I can – stay?”

  It was a question and very gently Torquil turned her face up to his again.

  “Do you really think that I could ever let you go?” he asked. “You are part of me and without you I have no wish to go on living.”

  Pepita put her arms round his neck and drew his head down to hers.

  “How can you have been so – clever as to – discover all this? But because you have – I am the happiest woman in the – world!”

  Even so she could not stop her tears from falling and gently Torquil wiped them away before he said,

  “You will never be unhappy again. We have so much to do together here and, my darling, although you and I will help look after Rory and Jeanie, I want a family of my own.”

  “That is – what I want to – give you,” Pepita whispered.

  Because she felt shy, she pressed her cheek against his.

  “Now that is settled,” Torquil said in a different tone of voice. “You can now unpack your trunk, although it will be only a few days before we are married and I take you to my own Castle for our honeymoon.”

  “Can we – really do – that?”

  He smiled at her.

  “I think we both know that the Duke will look after the children and you need not worry about them. Personally I think it is time that you looked after me!”

  “That is – what I was – trying to do.”

  “Let me make this quite clear,” Torquil said. “You will never leave me again or even think of doing so. You are mine and I shall be jealous if you ever think of anything else except for me.”

  He pulled her closer to him and kissed her passionately and demandingly.

  It was impossible to tell him that she was his completely, but she was aware that he knew it already.

  *

  Both Torquil and Pepita were smiling as they walked hand-in-hand down the corridor to the drawing room.

  The Duke was waiting for them and there was a slight frown between his eyes because they were late.

  Then, as they walked in through the drawing room door, his eyes were on Pepita and, as she and Torquil came towards him, he asked with a note of astonishment in his voice,

  “Why are you wearing a plaid of the Lamonts?”

  It was the present that Torquil had bought Pepita, a plaid made of her grandmother’s tartan.

  He had arranged it in the correct fashion on her shoulders fastening it with a magnificent silver brooch with a huge amethyst in the centre of it.

  Now, as she stood in front of the Duke and saw the perplexity in his eyes, she wanted to laugh, but Torquil answered the question for her.

  “It is the tartan she is entitled to!”

  “Entitled?” the Duke questioned.

  “Pepita’s grandmother was the daughter of the Laird of Striven.”

  The Duke looked astonished.

  “Are you sure?”

  In answer Torquil drew from his breast pocket the letter that had been brought from Ed
inburgh.

  It was signed by the Lord Lyon and declared that, after very minor investigations and there were a great many more the College of Arms could do, it had been found that Sir Robert Linford’s mother was Mary Lamont.

  In a postscript the Lord Lyon had added that Sir Robert’s wife, Elizabeth Sheringham, had a distant ancestor by the name of Hugh Rose of Kilravock.

  “Why was I not told this before?” the Duke asked angrily as he finished reading the letter.

  Instinctively Pepita knew he was thinking that had he been aware that her sister was one-quarter Scottish, as she was, he would have accepted her as Alistair’s wife.

  Then there would have been no reason for him to exile his son and cut him out of his life.

  Because she felt how sad it was for the Duke, Pepita impulsively put out her hand and laid it on his arm.

  “I am sorry,” she said and knew that he understood what she was referring to.

  After a little pause she went on,

  “My father was never very interested in his antecedents, and I think that is true of most English people unless they come from one of the great ancestral families. It is the Scots to whom breeding and blood means so much. And now I am very – proud indeed to know that I – belong to the – Lamont Clan.”

  She spoke a little tentatively in case the Duke should think that she was being presumptuous, but there was only a slight silence before he said,

  “It must have been your great-uncle who was a close friend of mine when we were young. I will inform him who you are and tell him that my grandchildren are related to him.”

  “He will surely be delighted,” Torquil said. “After all the Duke of Strathnairn is a very important personality in Scotland.”

  Pepita was half-afraid that the Duke might be annoyed at the way that Torquil was teasing him, which was the way he teased her.

  Instead, the Duke replied,

  “I am delighted you think so. It was clever of you, Torquil, to discover what should have come to light long ago.”

  “It is particularly important to me,” Torquil replied, “because Pepita has promised to marry me and I hope, sir, that you will give us your blessing.”

  Pepita held her breath, but the Duke, instead of looking angry, as she had feared he might, merely smiled.

  “I am not surprised,” he said, “and I suppose that you will wish me to give the bride away?”