A Heart of Stone

by Barbara Cartland

  They were delighted with their new Chieftain.

  The Earl had known many of those present since he had been a small boy and he went round shaking hands with everyone.

  He gave the impression that he would care for their well-being even better than his father had done and what was more he would make the Clan even more important than it had been in the past.

  The festivities continued for several days and then the relations, who had come from various parts of Scotland to be present, left.

  The Earl found himself alone with his aunt, Lady Sophie MacFile. She was his father’s eldest sister and had never married, but she had devoted herself to helping poor Scottish families in the North.

  She was the most charming and gentle woman and he had been very pleased to see her at his father’s funeral.

  “You must tell me, Neil,” she said now, “when you want me to leave.”

  “The answer to that question is simple,” he replied. “Never, unless you have something more pressing to do.”

  Lady Sophie looked at him in surprise.

  “Do you mean it?”

  “Of course I mean it. I shall be very lonely here in The Castle all by myself and it would be delightful to have you with me.”

  “But surely, my dear boy, you will be wanting your friends from the Regiment and others from London to stay with you, especially in the sporting season.”

  “I will think about that,” the Earl replied. “At the same time I shall be in need of a companion and who could perform that function better than you?”

  Lady Sophie laughed.

  “You flatter me, but I would like to stay with you and to become more intimate with the women of the Clan than your father allowed me to be.”

  “Did he stop you from being friendly with them?” the Earl enquired in surprise.

  “You must remember that your father thought that nothing which concerned the Clan was in any way perfect unless he did it himself. He did not trust anyone else.”

  The Earl grinned.

  “That is true. I am sure that there are a great many things that have been left undone and I should be grateful if you would notify me of them.”

  “I will do that and I am very proud of you, Neil. I thought when I was watching you receive the homage of your people that you looked like a King.”

  “Now you are flattering me. But, of course, that is what the Chieftain of a Clan always feels. I think they regret the day when they had the power of life and death!”

  He thought while he was talking to his aunt that he must learn more about the Clan than he knew already.

  He was rather vague, he told himself, on the history of Scotland as a whole and, although he had been at school in Edinburgh, he was sure that there were many facts he had not learned or had forgotten.

  They might be of assistance to him now and it was because he was thinking of this that he went to the library.

  He was appalled at what he found there.

  His father had never been a great reader, but even as a boy Neil had explored the library for history books.

  He had read even when he was very busy with his Regiment or in London when he had the time and he was well aware that some of the books in the library of The Castle were of great value.

  There were many first editions and some of them were very old and there had also been, he remembered, one part of a wall reserved for books on Scotland.

  But over the years, while he had been away, people had pulled out books and, when they were finished with them, they put them back anywhere on the shelves.

  There were at least three thousand books in the very large library and he knew that he could not find the time to put them all in order himself.

  ‘I shall have to find a librarian,’ he decided.

  He sent for Mr. Tyler, the secretary to his father, who had been at The Castle for the last fifteen years.

  “I am appalled at the state of the library, Tyler,” he began when the secretary appeared.

  “I was afraid you might be, my Lord,” Mr. Tyler replied.

  He was a small, very Scottish-looking man, who might, the Earl thought, easily have been an ancient Pict.

  They had been small dark men until they had been overwhelmed by the Scots and Vikings and they had grown much taller when their blood was mixed. The Tyler family, however, he felt, must have remained undiluted for many generations!

  Once again the Earl was thinking that he should learn more about the Picts and the Scots and what they had meant to Scotland itself.

  “What I suggest we should do, my Lord,” Mr. Tyler was saying, “is to advertise for a librarian.”

  “A good idea!” the Earl replied. “It will certainly keep him busy for at least a year.”

  When he left the library, the Earl carried with him a book on Scotland that had been written by a Scotsman only ten years ago.

  He thought with a somewhat wry smile that quite a number of books had been published since and, of course, as his father was not interested, none had been purchased for the library.

  The Earl was, however, not at all pleased when, a week later, Mr. Tyler informed him that the only applicant who had answered his advertisement was a woman.

  “It would be much better to have a man,” the Earl replied sharply.

  “I am afraid, my Lord, that we are so far in the North that there are not too many unemployed intellectuals here. But if you wish, I can advertise the post in one of the Southern newspapers and see if there’s any response.”

  The Earl considered for a moment and then he said,

  “It might be best to see this young woman, who can start tidying things up until we find someone better.”

  “She has one very good reference, my Lord,” Mr. Tyler said, “having been working for Lord Blairmond, who speaks of her very highly.”

  “I have, of course, heard of Lord Blairmond,” the Earl said, “and I understand that he has now retired, except when he attends the House of Lords.”

  “He says in his reference,” Mr. Tyler replied, “that he had not only found Miss Bruce exceptionally intelligent when dealing with his library but she had also helped him with a book he is writing.”

  “Well I shall not be writing a book at the moment,” the Earl smiled.

  “I have heard about some of the changes you have already brought in, my Lord,” Mr. Tyler said, “and I do congratulate you because they are long overdue and will be of great benefit to the Clan.”

  “That is what I thought myself,” the Earl replied with a note of satisfaction.

  He then forgot that he had told Mr. Tyler to make an appointment for him to see this woman.

  It was therefore quite a surprise when he told him that she was arriving for the interview that afternoon.

  ‘I can expect,’ he thought, ‘that she will be middle-aged, ponderous and certainly over-talkative. I must make it clear from the very beginning that I do not have the time to listen to her.’

  He left The Castle and only returned for a very late luncheon.

  He apologised to Lady Sophie and told her that she should not have waited for him.

  “I was not hungry, dear boy,” his aunt replied. “I much preferred to wait and talk to you. I know you have been seeing to improvements on the river, which I thought for some time were long overdue.”

  “You are quite right,” the Earl said. “I was rather surprised that my father did not do any more to the river. What I have done now will be a great help, I hope, to the fishermen who fish in it.”

  “Which should include yourself. It surprises me, Neil, that you have not brought in a salmon before now.”

  “I simply have not had the time,” he answered. “I assure you that the Elders are full of matters they want me to inspect and I have not had a day off to enjoy myself.”

  “That is something you should certainly take next week,” Lady Sophie said. “I think it would be a good idea if you asked one of your friends to come and stay. There are many salmon in
the river at the moment and you used to be such a good fisherman when you were a small boy.”

  “I hope I have not lost the knack. You are so right, Aunt Sophie, all work and no play is good for no one.”

  He was still talking to his aunt when the butler came into the room.

  Donald informed his Lordship that Miss Bruce was now waiting for him in the Chieftain’s Room.

  *

  When Vanora had been told by her brother that he had written to the Earl for her appointment calling her Miss Bruce, she had laughed.

  “Why Bruce?” she asked him. “As far as I know, there has never been anyone of that name in our family.”

  “That is one reason why I chose it. Then I thought that no one was more of a hero to us that Robert the Bruce, so why not use his name? I believe in fact that we are distantly related to him.”

  “I am delighted to be in the Royal circle,” Vanora replied. “I only hope that I remember not to refer to myself in an absent-minded moment as a McKyle.”

  “In which case you will no doubt be kicked out of the door,” her brother retorted, “and I will never forgive you for losing the Stone.”

  Although he was talking lightly, Vanora knew that there was many a true word spoken in jest.

  She was quite certain that, if she could not obtain the Stone, Ewen would bear a grudge against her for the rest of her life.

  And that might be almost as bad as being exiled from the Clan.

  She therefore set off for The Castle, not feeling at all confident but depressed.

  She was sure that, if she did not get the position, her brother would blame her for it.

  Although she had no wish to work for the Earl of Glenfile, she knew that she must make the best of it.

  She could not help, however, feeling a little thrill of excitement when The Castle came into view.

  She turned in at the imposing gates. On either side were two stone turrets where the lodge-keepers lived.

  Ewen had dropped her some way from the gates as she must not be seen approaching The Castle in case she was recognised by one of the MacFiles.

  She was glad that she had put on comfortable shoes to walk in.

  The drive was far longer than she expected it to be, although she knew that The Castle was at the far end on the sea and she remembered vividly just how beautiful it had looked as she had sailed past it before reaching home.

  It had hardly seemed real and now, when she saw it from the other side, she was again conscious that there was something deeply romantic about the towers silhouetted against the blue of the sky.

  The long mullioned windows were shining in the sun against the white brick of The Castle walls.

  Vanora knew from what she had seen from the ship that the garden was ablaze with flowers as it sloped down to the sea.

  There was a portico over the front door and, when she climbed slowly up the steps, there was no need for her to knock or ring the bell.

  The door was opened immediately by a footman.

  There were two men in the hall both wearing kilts of the MacFile tartan.

  Before either could speak, an older man appeared, who was obviously the butler.

  “I thinks you be Miss Bruce,” he said with a broad Scots accent. “We’re expecting you and I am Donald.”

  “I hope that I am not late, Donald,” Vanora replied. “But the drive is longer than I anticipated.”

  “A great number of people have said that, miss,” he replied. “Will you no come this way?”

  He went ahead up a broad wooden staircase which was decorated with stags’ heads and when they reached the top there was a passage carpeted with the MacFile tartan.

  They walked for quite some distance along it before Donald opened a door.

  The moment Vanora entered she knew that it was the Chieftain’s room. It was exactly as a book she had read about The Castle years ago had described it.

  Portraits and stags’ antlers decorated the walls and everywhere there was a riot of tartan and Vanora wished she had read the book again before coming to The Castle.

  She had been only fifteen when she had read it and her father found her reading it and took it away and flung it into the fire.

  “I will not have you learning anything about our enemies,” he had growled angrily. “And I will not have the name of the MacFiles mentioned here in my home!”

  Vanora thought at the time that he was overdoing his hatred of the Clan who had defeated him and it was time that everyone forgot it.

  But she knew that no one else would agree with her and that her father’s violent hatred of the MacFiles was part of his life.

  They had defeated him and one day in the future by some miracle he intended to defeat them.

  How it would be done or when, it was impossible for him to decide. He only knew that he was convinced it would happen and, when it did, he would triumph over the enemy who had triumphed over him.

  “I’ll tell his Lordship you are here, Miss Bruce,” Donald was saying.

  He left the room and closed the door.

  Vanora, instead of sitting down on a chair, walked to the windows.

  They were long and high and just as they made The Castle beautiful from the outside they enriched the room within.

  Through the windows, which opened outwards, she could see into the garden below and now she had a much better view of the flowers than she had had from the ship.

  She knew how carefully the gardens must be tended to cope with the snow and cold of the winter.

  Now under a clear sky the flowers were vivid.

  A large stone fountain stood in the centre of them and the sunshine was catching the water as it flew upwards, then fell down forming a thousand tiny rainbows into the shallow bowl below.

  It was all so lovely and Vanora could not help but regret that she had never been allowed to come here before, as The Castle after all was not far from her own home.

  She looked out at the sea, blue in the reflection of the sky as the Mediterranean, as she thought that she could hear the soft wash of the waves where the garden ended.

  It would be impossible, she felt, to live in a place so beautiful and at the same time be filled with hatred.

  The Scottish Clan feuds which had existed all down the centuries seemed absurd when one compared them with the beauty of Scotland itself.

  If only her countrymen could look at the moors and the rivers, they would no longer carry so much hatred in their hearts.

  Intent on her musings and gazing at the enchanting garden below her, she did not hear the door open.

  Then it was a footstep which told her that the Earl had joined her.

  She turned round.

  If he was astonished by her appearance after what he had expected, she was surprised at his.

  The MacFiles had not been spoken of in her home except with hatred and the very name seemed not only to set fire to the words that were spoken but to contort the face and the mouth of the speaker.

  Vanora had indeed expected the Earl to be ugly and unprepossessing, perhaps a short stout man.

  To her surprise the man standing in front of her was almost the replica of a Viking.

  Well over six feet tall, he had fair hair and blue eyes and he was wearing his kilt and Chieftain’s sporran.

  He was magnificent and for the moment completely overwhelming.

  Vanora could only stare at him and she was aware that he was also staring at her.

  She had no idea how lovely she looked with the sun behind her.

  She was quietly and unobtrusively dressed in a soft blue suit, which accentuated the translucence of her very fair skin and the touch of red in her hair.

  Vanora had come to The Castle wearing a little hat which did little to disguise what was beneath it and, as her hair was thick and naturally curly, it outlined her small pointed face.

  As she opened her eyes in surprise, they seemed to be enormous.

  The Earl thought that he had never expected to find an
yone so lovely in the Highlands.

  There was a short and slightly awkward silence.

  Then with what seemed almost an effort he walked forward and held out his hand.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Bruce,” he said, “it is very good of you to come here and see me.”

  When he said the name that her brother had given her, Vanora pulled herself together and remembered why she was here in this magic castle.

  “It is kind of your Lordship to see me,” she replied.

  “Shall we sit down?” the Earl suggested.

  He walked towards two chairs which were in front of the mantelpiece and above it was a huge portrait of his grandfather in full Highland regalia.

  Vanora sat down opposite him.

  She was thinking as she did so it was lucky that she had not exclaimed in surprise at his appearance.

  How could she ever have guessed that the man her father loathed and detested would look as if he had stepped out of a picture book?

  He was undoubtedly the most handsome man that she had ever encountered.

  ‘It is the Highland dress that makes him seem so different,’ she told herself.

  Yet she knew that none of the men she had met at her uncle’s house, and there had been quite a few, could compare with the Earl.

  “I understand,” he was saying, “that you have been the librarian to Lord Blairmond. I have met him once or twice and I admire him for the considerable success he was as Secretary of State for Scotland.”

  “He is an exceedingly clever and interesting man,” Vanora said.

  “Yet you are prepared to leave him. Why are you doing so?”

  It was a question Vanora had not expected and she gave him the first answer that came instantly into her head.

  “I am a Scot.”

  The Earl laughed.

  “So the Fatherland has called you back and you could not refuse?”

  Vanora smiled, but did not answer and he went on,

  “I suppose I am in the same boat. I find it is only when one returns to Scotland that one realises how much one has missed it while away.”

  “That is true, my Lord, and I had nearly forgotten how beautiful it is.”

  She looked towards the window as she spoke and the Earl said,

  “I do agree with you. When I saw my castle when I arrived a month ago, I found it hard to believe that it was real and would not vanish when I touched it.”