The House of Lyall

by Doris Davidson

  On the evening of the dinner, wishing that she had something more elegant to wear, Marianne put on a skirt and blouse she had bought the previous summer and, it still being cold in the evenings, she was forced to cover the pastel pink with a muddy-grey woollen cardigan, felted after being washed so often. She didn’t care so much that her well-worn coat was bordering on the threadbare – she would be taking that off – but while Andrew walked with her to Albyn Place, she wondered if anything would be said about her lack of dress sense. But surely Fate couldn’t be so cruel as to have the horrible girl of the Hogmanay Ball at Stephen’s house tonight?

  She soon discovered that Fate could. Stephen himself admitted them to his home and detailed his sister, Myra, to show Marianne where to leave her coat. Then, when she was taken into the drawing room, the first person she saw was the stuck-up pig, as she had designated her.

  Only too conscious of her matted cardigan, Marianne stepped forward to shake hands when Myra made the introductions. ‘Marianne, meet Sybil and Barty, and Ethel and Richard. Hamish and his partner haven’t arrived yet.’

  Taking in only one of the names, Marianne sat down in the chair Myra indicated. So she was called Sybil, was she? Well, if she started anything here, she would get more than she expected. Another man coming in at that moment, there was a renewed flurry of hand-shaking, and when that was over, Sybil leaned across her partner and said to the girl on his other side, in a clear voice that echoed round the room, ‘Do you see what I see? It’s the crinoline creature from the ball – and she is no better dressed for the occasion tonight than she was then.’

  Her blood boiling, Marianne strove to keep calm. ‘We do not all have the money to dress in the height of fashion,’ she said quietly, into the deathly hush that had fallen. ‘I have to work for a living, though I don’t suppose you’ll ever know what that means.’

  Sybil turned a scarlet face towards her. ‘You … you … insolent … guttersnipe!’ Barty, her partner, tried to calm her, but she went on, ‘Who do you think you are talking to?’

  ‘To a bad-mannered, spoiled bairn that should ken better!’ Marianne spat out, the speech lessons forgotten in her white-hot anger, the good impression she had wanted to create killed off in the first few minutes. ‘I’m nae as well-educated as you, but I wouldna dream of doing to onybody what you just done to me!’

  Tears stinging her eyelids, she stood up to go to look for Andrew, who had disappeared somewhere with Stephen, and the tall, fair-haired stranger who had come in behind her stepped aside to let her pass. ‘Good for you!’ he murmured, patting her on the back. ‘I have been dying to take Sybil down a few pegs for a long time.’

  Recovering some of her equilibrium as he followed her out of the room, Marianne sighed, ‘But being a gentleman, you couldn’t, so it fell to an ignorant peasant like me.’

  ‘No, no, do not degrade yourself like that. I just wish I had your spirit.’ After closing the drawing-room door behind him, he gave her arm a brief, reassuring squeeze. ‘I do not suppose you will feel like staying here now, so if you go and fetch your coat, I shall take you home.’

  Still too upset to think, she was halfway to Strawberry Bank with him when she exclaimed, ‘Oh, Andrew’ll be wondering where I am! And what about your partner?’

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. ‘She had not come out of the cloakroom when we left, but I should think they have both been told by this time that I whisked you away. And if it was Andrew who was talking to Stephen on the stairs, Hester won’t mind being left with him. The question is – will he mind being left with her?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’ She knew Andrew would be hurt that she had run out on him, but she couldn’t have stayed a minute longer.

  ‘Perhaps I had better introduce myself. Hamish Lyall, your very good servant, Miss …?’

  ‘Marianne Cheyne,’ she laughed.

  ‘Are you and Andrew …?’

  ‘We’re just good friends. I work in his aunts’ shop, and I’ve got a room in their house.’

  ‘I hope you do not think me too bold on such short acquaintance, Miss Cheyne, but I would be honoured if you let me treat you to a meal one night, to make up for tonight’s disaster.’

  ‘But it wasn’t your fault, and I don’t know –’

  ‘I will ask your employers’ permission, if you think it necessary.’

  Her temper having completely cooled, she looked at him appraisingly. He was very tall and not particularly handsome, but he was dressed in the latest style – a cut-away coat and brimmed hat, which must have cost a pretty penny. Slim, with a longish, leanish face and straight blond hair combed well back, his chin was clean-shaven, but his top lip sported a neat moustache. She was sure that this was the first time she had seen him, yet there was something familiar about him.

  ‘Have we met before, Mr Lyall?’ she asked.

  ‘Not met, exactly,’ he smiled, ‘although I have seen you before. At the Hogmanay Ball,’ he added, noticing her perplexity.

  It came to her suddenly. He was the man who had been surrounded by adoring girls! Well, well! If she were to be seen out with him, it would be one in the eye for the obnoxious Sybil. ‘You don’t have to ask anybody’s permission,’ she said. ‘I’ll be happy to go for a meal with you, thank you for asking me … and for rescuing me.’

  ‘May I call for you tomorrow at … half-past seven?’

  ‘Half-past seven’s fine. Good night, Mr Lyall.’

  ‘Hamish, please … if you will allow me to call you Marianne?’

  ‘Good night … Hamish,’ she smiled.

  The sister were surprised to see Marianne home so early, and although she confined her tale to Sybil’s nasty remarks of that night and did not mention her criticism of the crinoline, they were outraged that anyone could treat their protégée in such a barbaric manner.

  They were still discussing it when the door opened and Andrew came in, having run all the way from Albyn Place. ‘I’m sorry,’ he panted. ‘I was having a quiet chat with Stephen and I didn’t know what had happened until we came downstairs.’

  Miss Edith gave a start. ‘Then who took you home, Marianne, if it wasn’t Andrew?’

  ‘One of the other guests,’ she smiled. ‘His name’s Hamish Lyall, and he’s very nice. He’s taking me for a meal tomorrow night.’

  Andrew’s concerned face turned an even deeper shade of red. ‘Is that what he said his name was?’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Miss Esther fluttered. ‘Did he give a false name?’

  Marianne’s stomach plunged. She might have known he was too good to be true. ‘What is his name, then?’

  Andrew was obviously reluctant to tell her, so she repeated, ‘What is his name, Andrew? Tell me!’

  He looked at the floor for a few seconds. ‘It wasn’t really a false name,’ he mumbled, then stared defiantly at her. ‘He didn’t tell you his full name, that’s all. He’s the Honourable Hamish Bruce-Lyall, and his father is Lord Glendarril, an old friend of Stephen’s father.’

  Miss Edith was first to recover. ‘Ah, yes. I have read about the Bruce-Lyall family, and if my memory serves me correctly, there were twin sons. One suffered from some kind of debilitating disease and died when he was still quite young, and it would appear that Hamish stands to inherit the title.’

  Miss Esther clasped her hands together in pleasure. ‘Our Marianne will be sharing a table with an honourable tomorrow night.’

  ‘Fancy that!’ Miss Emily looked awestruck.

  ‘Yes, just fancy!’ Andrew said dolefully. ‘I’ll have to go now.’

  ‘But neither of you could have had anything to eat?’ Miss Esther was a willing hostess. ‘We have enough ham and vegetables left over to make a decent meal for two.’

  ‘I couldn’t eat a thing,’ he muttered. ‘Thank you all the same.’

  ‘Neither could I,’ Marianne said. ‘I’ll see you to the door.’

  Outside, she started to apologize, but Andrew had worked himself into what bordered on
a frenzy of jealousy. ‘You could have waited for me. I came down a few minutes later, but you had found your rich man! Is he the one, Marianne? Is an honourable good enough for you? I don’t believe you could do much better than him. He will be a lord one day!’

  Marianne’s temper flared once more. ‘Andrew Rennie! I didn’t know who he was. I only agreed to see him once because I thought it’d be bad manners to refuse when he’d rescued me from your snob friends, but if he asks me to meet him a second time … or a third or fourth, I will! I’m sure he would never sneer at me, for he’s honourable in every sense of the word, and you needn’t think I’ll take a walk with you on Sundays again, for I won’t!’

  She slammed inside, and barged past the sisters, who looked at each other in dismay as she stamped upstairs.

  ‘Oh dear!’ moaned Miss Esther. ‘It looks like Andrew has put his foot in it somehow.’

  Miss Emily was wringing her hands. ‘Poor boy! Poor boy!’

  ‘Perhaps we should consider this more,’ Miss Edith observed wisely. ‘Is it fair of us to want Marianne to stick to Andrew if she will be happier with young Bruce-Lyall?’

  Her head on one side, Miss Emily murmured, ‘But she only met him tonight.’

  ‘It could be love at first sight,’ romantic Miss Esther put in.

  Miss Edith snorted. ‘I think it is love of money with Marianne. I’ve had the feeling, from little things she let drop, that she has always wanted a rich husband. I hoped that she was growing out of it, but Andrew’s jealousy, understandable though it is to us, may have pushed her into this other man’s arms.’

  Miss Edith was very near the truth. Marianne had wounded Andrew by what she had done, but he had wounded her every bit as much. She had expected him to sympathize, not to upbraid her for making her escape from a terrible situation with the only person available. Andrew had left her on her own with a roomful of strangers and he hadn’t been there when she needed him, after all his promises. She couldn’t rely on him, whereas Hamish knew the right thing to do at the right time … and he was rather nice. Besides, according to Miss Edith, he had a lineage to be proud of, and she hadn’t objected to him as a suitor.

  In the dining room of the comfortable inn where he had a room, Hamish told Marianne that Ma Cameron – as the hostess was affectionately known – was famed for the meals she provided. ‘I always stay here when I’m in Aberdeen overnight, though I don’t like leaving home for long these days. My father’s health is none too good, and –’

  ‘Hamish,’ she interrupted, ‘why didn’t you tell me who you were? I got an awful shock when Andrew said your father was a lord.’

  He smiled enigmatically. ‘He came to check if you got home safely? Did he think I would seduce you on the way?’

  Shocked, she said, ‘He wouldn’t have thought anything like that.’

  ‘But he wasn’t pleased?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Is he in love with you?’

  ‘He says he loves me.’

  ‘Do you love him?’

  ‘Why are you asking all these –’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  He leaned back now. ‘I am pleased to hear that, Marianne. You would certainly know if you were in love with him, and it encourages me to … get to know you better, if I may?’

  Overwhelmed by astonishment as well as shyness, she could only whisper, ‘I’ve no objection.’

  So Hamish called for Marianne every Thursday for three weeks, taking her first to His Majesty’s Theatre where her awe at the magnificence of her surroundings was dispelled as soon as the first act came on. She was totally unaware of Hamish, who spent his time watching her rather than the performers on stage. In the second week, he introduced her to the Music Hall, where, although the acts were of much the same standard – men and women singing or dancing, jugglers juggling with an assortment of items – the sketches were humorous instead of dramatic, and the interior was not quite so impressive.

  The third week saw her at the Tivoli, laughing at the jokes delivered at speed by the comedians and the slightly naughty ditties sung by women – one dressed as a man – who encouraged the audience to join in the choruses. There were also some acrobats, young men and girls in scanty costumes contorting their bodies in unbelievable ways. She loved every minute, as she told her escort while he walked her home.

  ‘I must apologize for the rowdiness of the audience,’ Hamish said. ‘The people up in the gods are a rough bunch – that’s the top tier of seats,’ he added in explanation.

  ‘Oh, I didn’t mind that,’ she smiled, ‘though I did wonder at first why they were shouting. You’ve opened my eyes to things I never knew went on, you know.’

  He gave a sad little smile. ‘Perhaps that was not such a good thing, but next Thursday, if you will allow me, it would give me great pleasure to take you to Ma Cameron’s for a meal.’

  ‘But you took me there already – to make up for the meal I missed at Albyn Place, and you’ve taken me to all these other places, so you’ve more than made up for –’

  ‘None the less, I need an opportunity to talk to you properly, to ask –’

  He broke off, but she was so involved in thinking of all the things she had to tell the Rennies that it didn’t occur to her to wonder what he meant to ask.

  As he had done every week, he bade her good night at her door and waited until she went inside before walking away. Marianne always felt uncomfortable about that – it made her feel self-conscious to know his eyes were on her every step. But as she had known they would be, the sisters were waiting eagerly to hear where she and Hamish had gone that night, so it was some time before she managed to get to bed, to dream, naturally, of all the wonderful things she had seen.

  There was something different about Hamish, Marianne thought the following Thursday as they sat down in Mrs Cameron’s dining room. His face was just a trifle flushed, his voice was pitched a little higher as if he were excited about something and, recalling that he’d said he would have something to ask her, she waited for him to ask.

  She was beginning to think he had forgotten, or had changed his mind and wasn’t going to bother, when he said, hesitantly, ‘Marianne, when I asked you a few weeks ago if you were in love with Andrew, you did not know. Have you come to any conclusion yet?’

  She shook her head. ‘I haven’t given it any more thought, but like you said before, if I was in love with him, I would know, so I suppose I’m not.’

  ‘Good! That enables me to come to something I have been mulling over since the night I met you. If I asked you to marry me, what would you say?’

  She grinned now, sure that he was joking. ‘I’d say you were drunk … or mad … or both.’

  There was no answering humour on his face. ‘I am neither,’ he said gravely. ‘My father is obsessed with getting me married so that he will know, before he dies, that I have a son to succeed me. To let you understand, the title always goes to the next legitimate male – even those born through the female line – and he is afraid that …’ Hamish halted briefly, then changed what he had been about to say. ‘He has also stipulated that I find a woman who is fit enough in mind and body to be the perfect mother, and who will be less likely to give birth to puny weaklings – his words. You see, with so much inbreeding over the centuries, very few of my ancestors lived to a ripe old age … indeed, some were bordering on idiocy.’

  ‘Oh, surely not!’

  He clicked his tongue. ‘Not literally perhaps, but quite near. I am making heavy weather of this, I am afraid, and I have said enough at present. I will give you ten days to think it over, and if you are interested, we can discuss it further.’

  ‘Yes, I need time. I don’t know what to think right now, my mind’s in a complete whirl.’

  Hamish laughed. ‘I had better take you home.’

  On the way, Marianne was too stunned to speak and was thankful that he expected no answers to the inconsequential remarks he was making. But when they re
ached the end of her street, he said, ‘I shall meet you here at the same time a week on Saturday … so be ready with your answer.’

  When she went in, her benefactresses were waiting anxiously to hear how she had fared, so she described the inn, the room, the food she had eaten and some of the things they had talked about, but she could not bring herself to tell them about Hamish’s proposal. She was still too dazed by it.

  Unable, even after two whole days, to make up her mind, Marianne felt the need to discuss it with someone, and during a restless Saturday night, she hoped that Andrew would turn up the next day, to see his aunts, if not Marianne herself. She had never made any secret of her ambition, and surely he’d have got over his pique by then – he might even be pleased that she had got the chance to fulfil her dream – and she had always been able to tell him more than she could tell his aunts.

  Unfortunately, she rose on Sunday morning to the sound of heavy rain battering against her window, and although she put up a silent prayer that it would clear by lunchtime, it had not eased off at all by the time Andrew arrived. She had meant to ask his advice and be guided by it, but it seemed that there would be no opportunity for private talk.

  When he came into the parlour, however, and Marianne saw how pale and drawn he was, she was quite glad that she would be unable to discuss anything with him. It would be too cruel to let him believe, even for a few minutes, that she wasn’t sure. She had been offered the chance of a lifetime – how many girls got the opportunity of being a real lady with a title? – and even if there were no family fortune, how could she turn the rest down? Her very position would give her access to the wealth she craved, and a title would give her power.

  She tried, by addressing most of her remarks to him, to let Andrew see that she was still friends with him, and she wasn’t the only one who was relieved to see him brighten as the afternoon wore on. The weather had faired by the time he was leaving in the evening, so she walked a little way with him, ‘to blow the cobwebs off me’.