The Emerald Tartan

by Patricia McGrew

  She sputtered and coughed in surprise. Her arms flailed about, ready to hit whoever or whatever startled her. Ian stepped back.

  “Are you all right my love?” asked Ian. “I know the trip has been a bit trying for you, but surely it’s not so bad as all that.”

  “What are you talking about, Ian? I was just letting my hair soak before I washed it so I could get out all of the knots and the matting. The dried blood created snarls and clumps I cannot loosen.”

  “You mean … Oh, I’m so sorry, lass. I’ve been worried about your frame of mind. You’ve been through so much lately.”

  “Nonsense! I’m just getting clean.” It then dawned on her that she was standing up in the tub, stark naked. She looked to the chair for the towel, but Ian stood in front of the chair, blocking her access. Her pink skin grew even pinker as she struggled to cover herself as much as possible with her hands.

  “Ian. Just leave me in peace for a little while longer.”

  Perplexed, Ian stared at her. He grinned. “Ah, you’re feeling a wee bit modest, eh? Have you forgotten that I know your body well?”

  She plopped back down into the tepid water. “Really, Ian. If you don’t mind I would really enjoy some privacy so I can complete my bath before the water turns to ice.” Embarrassment kept her from looking him in the eye.

  He did not want to leave the room. He just stood there and smiled.

  “Are you sure you dinna need help with your hair? When you’re ready, I’d be happy to pour a bucket or two of fresh warm water over your head to rinse you off.”

  He looked at her so hopefully, like a puppy eagerly awaiting a good word from its master, that she wanted to laugh. How could she resist him? She knew she could not.

  “That would be nice, Ian. Could you just give me a couple of minutes to finish washing my hair?”

  He grinned. “Pleased to be of service. If you don’t mind, I’ll pour this warm water into the tub and get some fresh hot water for your hair.”

  She found she was still smiling after he left the cabin. Then, a small voice deep in her subconscious questioned her earlier actions. The doubt blossomed. In order to become a teacher to children of a respectable family, she had to maintain a demure and circumspect appearance and life. She had not done so.

  Carrying on now with Ian could only make her separation from him excruciating.

  Her father had certainly drilled into her the idea that outside of marriage most men “used” women for their own evil gratification. When a woman was no longer convenient or amenable, for whatever reason, the man simply moved on without ever giving a second thought to the woman or her feelings. Lydia did not want to become one of those women whose life choices made her socially unacceptable because she was a “used” woman.

  In the eyes of her father, and maybe even herself, she was already a fallen woman.

  Reality clicked in. The fact was indisputable. She was a “used” woman. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She pondered what she could never experience again: the explosion of her senses when wrapped up in Ian’s arms and legs and the feeling of all her nerve endings quivering with sexual delights.

  Of all the problems Lydia had confronted from the onset of this journey, this one thought threatened to break her heart and to leave her devastated like no other. She had fallen in love with Ian without fully realizing it, until now. Based upon what her father had said, Ian could never have fallen in love with her, and marriage to her was not a consideration for such a handsome man with females waiting for him at every port.

  She had sealed her own fate. She had no choice now. From this point on, Lydia realized she must focus her life on her personal goals: Hawaii and then San Francisco. When she arrived in San Francisco, she would begin looking for a position as a governess for children. She knew she could recede into the background to live a “safe” life once again.

  No more adventures. No more men. Just a quiet, respectable life.

  She would contact her parents as soon as she secured a position, to let them know she was safe and doing fine in her new position. She felt a little better. At least, now she had a plan.

  When Ian came into the cabin again, she would be prepared.

  It did not take long for the door to spring open again. It was Ian. He halted quickly and stared at Lydia as though mesmerized. In his left hand he held a steaming bucket of water. The water sloshed precariously over its edges.

  A silly grin crept into the corner of the Ian’s mouth, and his eyes twinkled. Lydia knew that look. She also knew she had to think fast, or else she would end up as the mistress of Captain Ian MacLeod … until he grew tired of her. For just a moment the thought of lying naked next to Ian made her catch her breath, and a warm sensation spread between her legs.

  Struggling with momentary indecision, Lydia came upon an idea.

  “If we don’t rinse my hair soon, the water will be cold.”

  His stare stopped abruptly, as though he had just remembered what he was about. “Aye, lass. You’re right.” He carefully poured the bucket of warm water over her head, rinsing out the soap.

  “Would you mind turning around for just a minute?” she asked.

  He quickly complied.

  “Ah, that’s better. Now you can turn around,” said Lydia.

  He could not believe his eyes. She was completely dressed in a clean but old pair of his trousers and a wrinkled shirt from his closet. The twinkle in his eyes faded in a heartbeat.

  “Ian,” she began as though she had no idea what his intentions had been. “We have to talk.”

  He eyed her warily. “Lydia, are you aware every time a woman begins a conversation with the phrase, “we have to talk”, men shake in their boots? Those words are the kiss of death.”

  She laughed. “No, Ian, there’s nothing wrong, if that’s what you’re thinking. While bathing, I realized even though we have known each other for many weeks, we really don’t know each other. I know very little about you. You have never spoken to me about your family at all. You are not a child who was abandoned to the streets at a young age and left to your own devices. You appear to be well-educated, and despite the fact your Scottish brogue gets a bit thick when you’re excited, you handle the Queen’s English quite well. You are an enigma to me. I want you to tell me about yourself.”

  His eyes closed, and he rubbed his hand across his forehead. It looked to Lydia as though he was trying to shut out a bad dream.

  “I didn’t mean to pry,” she said taking his hand in hers. “But we all come from somewhere, and we all have a past. Granted, some of our pasts are not worth reliving,” she said while mentally chasing away her own demons, “but our pasts make us who we are today, for better or for worse. I only want to understand you a little better. If the topic is so upsetting to you, we can talk about something else.”

  “Nay, Lydia. Of course, you are quite right. I am very much molded by my past. Too much, I think, and to my detriment.

  “You see, in a way, I am the result of a child abandoned to the streets, at least in a way.” He sat down on the edge of the bunk and looked toward the porthole as though some old story was being replayed for him in a far-away place.

  “It’s funny though. Sometimes I think the pain that my body feels the next morning after drinking too much, stiffens my resolve to never think about the past again. However, life doesn’t let me, or anyone else for that matter. I guess I should be proud of my accomplishments, but I still feel too much bitterness to really notice.”

  This was not the response Lydia expected. Stunned, she sat down at the chair at his desk. Without meaning to do so, Lydia understood she opened Pandora’s box to Ian’s past and stirred up painful memories.

  “Ian, I had no idea…”

  “No, it’s all right. The past, as you said, does contribute mightily to who we are. I’ve learned my lessons. I hope. So, I don’t mind sharing my memories with you.”

  He slumped onto the bunk and glanced at Lydia. He frowned and then began.
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  CHAPTER 18

  “My full name is Ian Welby MacLeod, and I am from the Fallkirk area of Scotland. The last time I saw my home, I was barely thirteen years old. Until shortly before I left our family estate, my life was rather typical. I have two sisters: Belinda was seventeen when I left home, and my younger sister, Annie, was only eight.

  “They are so dissimilar; I canna believe it. Belinda was fair-haired, tall, and rather big boned. The only things Belinda ever seemed to care about were the latest clothing fashions and getting married. I do believe she never had an original thought in her flighty brain. Though she had a tendency toward plumpness, she had the face of an angel – crystal-clear blue eyes and a fair complexion.

  “My Annie, that’s what I always called my little sister, was the serious one. From the time she was three, she was fascinated with books and reading. The last two years I was at home, I never saw her without an old, lop-eared tome in her arms. She particularly loved volumes on science. She insisted she wanted to grow up to be a doctor. Imagine that! What will women think of next?”

  Lydia said nothing, but simply raised her eyebrows.

  Ian continued. “The fact of the matter is, I don’t even know if they are dead or alive. I’ve had no contact with them at all since I was thirteen.

  “At any rate, fourteen years ago in early November my parents traveled to St. Mary’s to complete Belinda’s wedding plans for her marriage to Percy McDougal. Our parents had scheduled the marriage ceremony for early December. On their way back home, the weather turned foul, and we experienced an early blizzard. The weather had been so warm that fall, I guess none of us expected winter to hit us for a while. We were all completely unprepared for such a vicious onslaught.”

  Ian paced in the small confines of the cabin.

  “My parents left St. Mary’s early in the morning and should have been home by late afternoon. The sun was out when they began their journey. Within less than five hours, the sun disappeared, darkness descended, and the snow began to fall.

  “At home, I remember the wind whirled frantically in every conceivable direction at once. Annie and I were playing in the barn with some kittens. We both wore only sweaters over our clothing. Before long, and the sky darkened, and the wind and snow forced its way through the cracks in the wooden slats of the barn, hitting us like thousands of small needles. At times we weren’t sure if it was snow, sleet, or hail. By the time we realized we needed to go back to the house, the snow was already about an inch deep. We ran to the house as quickly as we could, laughing all the way. But the time we entered the great hall, the brutal chill had already set into our bones. Annie’s laughter changed to tears from the sudden and frightful change of weather, and our nanny sent us both to bed. She brought us steaming bowls of hot potato soup to help us warm up.

  “When I got up the next morning, I went downstairs to the sideboard in the dining room for a bit of breakfast. Belinda sat at the table, barely moving. When she looked up, her nose was bright red, and her eyes were puffy and red. She must have been crying for quite some time.

  “Before I could ask a single question, she burst into tears and sobbed that mother and father were missing – they did not make it home the night before. Now, the Orkneys get some snow, and the weather can be bitter cold, but this blizzard lasted for two days. It was certainly not a weather condition common for the area, especially for early November.”

  Ian stopped pacing and became very still. A sad look spread across his face and then was gone.

  “That same morning the constable, Liam McNish, organized a search party. Unfortunately, the blizzard continued throughout the second day. But, we still nurtured hopes to find our parents. With the weather being so nasty, we knew our parents would need help and warmth soon. I insisted I be allowed to joined in the search – something I now wish I had not done. Herb Ross, one of our neighbors, allowed me to go with him and some of his men on the search.

  “Not more than five miles from the house, the carriage lay on its roof. I was the first person to come upon the splintered wreckage.”

  “Oh Ian. That must have been so hard for you!”

  There was a long pause before Ian resumed speaking. He continued.

  “Their necks were broken. Benson, their driver, had been thrown clear of the carriage, but his head was smashed in. He must have landed headfirst on a boulder. Looking at the poor condition of the road, Mister McNish surmised that the carriage had slipped, going too fast on the bend in the road, and it rolled over. It was such a terrible sight. Benson never drove the horses very fast, but with the storm, he must have been trying to get home as quickly as possible.

  “From that point on for the next couple of days, my memory is mostly blurry. Things happened so fast, and I was so full of grief I was not cognizant of events. Even now when I think back to that time, my memory seemed like a kaleidoscope, moments frozen in time, changing scenes flickered by one after another, so nothing really made sense to me. I can still feel the confusion and terror from those first few days after my parents’ accident.

  “Percy, Belinda’s fiancé, and his father made the arrangements for the funeral, which was held five days later. In fact, Percy and his father, Winston, literally moved into the house and took over our lives at that time. We children were all minors, even Belinda, who was still just seventeen. We had no close relatives to assist us, and because the marriage contracts had already been signed, it was decided on some level the marriage should move forward without the usual one year of mourning. That way, there would be someone ‘of age’ who could act as guardian for Annie and me. Thirty-one days after my parents’ burial, Percy and Belinda got married in a quiet ceremony in the chapel on the estate grounds.”

  “Oh, Ian. I am very sorry you had to endure such a terrifying experience.”

  “Actually, it got worse.”

  “Worse? How is that possible?”

  “How do I explain it without sounding overly paranoid?”

  “Just tell me what you remember, without any conclusions. I will let you know if you are being paranoid or not.”

  “Well,” began Ian slowly as though pondering each word. “Even after over fourteen years, I remember those events as though it all happened only yesterday.

  Shortly after the wedding, within a matter of a few weeks, strange things began to happen to me.”

  “What do you mean by ‘strange’?” asked Lydia.

  He walked around the cabin, wringing his hands together. His face paled as he stopped and looked off into nowhere.

  “I have tried so hard to forget those memories. My stomach churns with just the effort of remembering them.” He frowned and began to pace again. He looked directly at Lydia.

  “You realize I have never shared this with anyone. I ask you never to reveal to anyone what I am about to tell you. My day will come to rectify the events of the past – but the time must be of my own choosing.”

  She nodded her head in agreement and sat on the edge of the bunk.

  “A few weeks after the wedding, I noticed Percy’s behavior toward me changed. Actually, his attitude altered toward me about the same time his father, Winston McDougall, moved to the estate. The rationale for Winston’s move to our home was because Percy really had no expertise with the running of an estate, so Winston could provide him with necessary guidance. They insisted it did not make sense for Winston to be riding between St. Mary’s and the estate, so Winston simply moved into the dowager’s house. His wife had died when Percy was still a babe, and he never remarried, so it was just him.

  “While Belinda had been trained in the duties of the chatelaine, she was still trying to come to come to grips with her grief over the loss of our parents. So, for all practical purposes, she was unprepared and unready to assume her natural duties as the lady of the house.”

  “Did you like having them live there?” asked Lydia.

  “That is an interesting question which actually has a couple of answers. Initially, I was relieved to b
e getting so much support. Neither my father nor my mother had any surviving kin we knew of, so I was the natural heir to all the estates of the MacLeod family in that area.

  “From the time I was a wee lad, my father taught me my numbers to prepare me for the duties of the Laird of the estate. By the time I was ten years old, he taught me the rudiments of keeping the books for the estate. At the age of twelve, I took over all the bookkeeping for the estate accounts. At first, my father double-checked everything I did. However, after a month or two, he found I understood the checks and balances of the system, and he never questioned or reviewed my work again. Working with numbers came easily for me. Of course, he conducted all the face-to-face meetings with the tenants and carried on all other aspects of running the estate. But, I was the official ‘master of numbers’ as he used to call me.

  “Within a matter of days of Percy and Winston moving into the house, they took over all aspects of managing the estate, including the books. I was completely cut off from bookkeeping. They did not permit me to be in the office or to look at the books from that point on. Percy and Winston insisted I could not possibly know anything about managing the income and debts of such a large estate, especially at my age. They took over my father’s office and kept the door locked. Because the court had already made Percy the legal guardian for Annie and me, no one dared to gainsay his order.”

  “How did you take that?” she asked.

  “As well as could be expected under the circumstances. I was still fairly well shaken with the death of my parents. As the only son, I felt some amount of guilt at not having been able to prevent their deaths, even though I realized there was nothing I could have done.”

  She looked at him in surprise, but before she could say a word, he interjected, “I know, I know. A lad of barely thirteen is not expected to be able to foresee the future or to be everywhere so as to prevent harm to his parents. Nevertheless, because I had already taken over the management of the estate’s books, and the fact my parents treated me as the Laird to be, I felt somehow I had failed in my duty and in my love for them as a man, albeit, a young one. I began to doubt my own abilities. So when Percy and Winston forbade me to handle the bookkeeping anymore, I rationalized it was probably for the best, lest I fail in that duty as well.”