The House of Lyall

by Doris Davidson

  ‘I’ll have to go and get Carnie,’ she told them, aware as she ran off that neither had understood a word.

  The coachman collared one of the stable lads and between the three of them they got the miscreants to their feet and more or less trailed them to the stables, where Carnie ducked their heads into the water trough, over and over again, calling them every name he could think of, rough words not meant for female ears. After almost an hour, he gave up and let them sprawl on the cobbled yard, coughing and retching, but miraculously conscious of what was going on. Thankfully, it was a warm April day and the sun soon dried their hair and the necks of their thin cotton shirts. When they went inside the house, they were almost back to normal, apart from somewhat pasty faces, which Rannie excused by saying they had eaten some berries which must have been poisonous.

  Melda’s mind returned to the present. She’d had hardly any time with them recently. Every time they came home, their mother either had visitors to stay or had accepted invitations on their behalf to the homes of rich families where there were marriageable daughters. Lady Glendarril seemed to be doing her best to introduce her sons to prospective wives. Not that they took it seriously; they just laughed and said they had no intention of marrying anybody just to please their mother, and besides, they were far too young to worry about it.

  Melda was counting the days until the start of the Christmas holidays when she was given some bad news.

  ‘You won’t see the Bruce-Lyall boys this time.’ Becky Drummond, daughter of the minister, took a delight in saying things to hurt the girl she envied more than any other. ‘Oh, goodness! Did you not know they’re in the army?’ she went on, her sneer deepening.

  Melda hadn’t known, but was angry at herself for rising to Becky’s baiting by showing her surprise. Trying to cover up, she grinned. ‘Oh, that! Last time they were home they said they were going to enlist, but they thought they wouldn’t be taken till summer.’

  She waited until the crestfallen Becky had moved away before she let herself mull over what she’d been told. She knew they had been in the cadets at their college since war was declared. Rannie had said they were training to be officers, but he hadn’t said anything about actually joining up and she felt quite put out, for they had never kept anything secret from her before. But maybe Becky had made it up to annoy her.

  Unhappily, Melda discovered when she went home that the information was genuine. Her father had been called to the castle to attend to Lady Glendarril that forenoon.

  ‘Her blood pressure was sky high,’ Robert Mowatt told his wife. ‘It was Ranald’s idea, but she’s spitting mad at Hamish for buying them into the Royal Scots Fusiliers without discussing it with her first. I can’t understand her. She should be proud that her sons are so patriotic.’

  ‘Her boys mean everything to her,’ Flora pointed out. ‘She’s bound to be terrified they’ll be killed. I know I would, if it was me.’

  The doctor took another helping of mashed potatoes. ‘I suppose so.’ He turned to his daughter now. ‘I bet you’re proud of them? They’ll soon be off to France to fight for their country.’

  Melda fought to banish the fears her mother had aroused in her, and losing the battle, she burst into noisy sobs and ran out of the room. Her father raised his eyebrows. ‘What’s wrong with her?’

  Flora shook her head sadly. ‘She’s grown too fond of them. I think that’s why their mother sent them to boarding school originally.’

  ‘Why? It was a cruel thing to do when they were always together, like two brothers and a sister.’

  ‘Oh, Robert,’ Flora sighed, ‘don’t bury your head in the sand. When they were younger they were like brothers and sister, but it was obvious when Ranald was only about ten that there was going to be trouble.’

  ‘Trouble? Because two boys and a girl liked each other?’

  ‘Because the two boys loved the same girl, because the girl loved both the boys.’

  ‘Melda will choose when she is ready, and whichever one she picks, the other will have to accept it.’

  ‘You’re not thinking clearly, Robert. Marianne will want her sons to marry within their own class.’

  ‘She was only working class when Hamish married her. The old laird told me at the time he was glad his remaining son had taken a wife who would put some life into the Bruce-Lyall blood.’

  Flora laid her hand gently over his. ‘That’s just it, dear. Have you forgotten whose blood runs through Melda’s veins?’

  Clearly deeply disturbed, his eyes slid away. ‘Surely Marianne would never hold that against her?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be too sure. Remember what Duncan did to her?’

  The doctor ran his free hand through his thatch of wiry greying hair. ‘Does it really matter now?’

  After a moment’s reflection, Flora said, ‘I don’t suppose it does.’

  Ranald wished now that he had not pressed his father into buying him and his brother commissions in the Fusiliers, in which his grandfather, Hector, had been an officer when his twin brother died. Then he’d been ordered home by his father to be trained to run the estate.

  But this wasn’t the adventure Ranald had thought it would be. He and Ruairidh were both stationed in Inverness yet saw little of each other. The initial zeal, the spirit which had spurred him to train as an officer in the first place, was somewhat blunted now, and, as he wrote to his mother, he was bored stiff up here and wished he had been posted directly to France to see some action.

  His boredom was considerably brightened on meeting a very attractive seventeen-year-old at one of the officers’ dances. She was a vivacious girl who fixed her sights on the tall, blonde second lieutenant as soon as she was introduced to him. While they recovered from an eightsome reel, she told him her name was Catriona MacLennan and he gave his as Ronald Lyall. He and his brother had both decided that life would be simpler if no one knew that their father was a lord.

  At the beginning of the last dance, ‘Ronald’ suggested going outside for some air, and was flattered at how eagerly she agreed. Her unhidden admiration went to his head, and without having planned it, he steered her towards a dark corner.

  It was the first time he had ever been alone with a girl, and his stomach knotted with excitement as Catriona opened her lips to his kisses. Inexperienced, he copied the moves his fellow officers bragged about, and when she arched her back, he knew she was his for the taking.

  So he took her, and liked it so much that he took her again.

  The following day, he sought out Ruairidh to boast about his conquest, and was deflated when his brother’s face broke into a wide smile. ‘Oh, great! Now you’ve got a girl, I’ll be free to tell Melda I love her.’

  This was not how Ranald saw things. Ruairidh had no right to take it for granted that he wouldn’t want Melda now; he wanted her more than ever, really wanted her. Catriona was only a stopgap. Wisely, he kept these thoughts to himself and resolved to arrange his furlough as soon as he could … before his brother’s, that was imperative.

  Melda was astonished but delighted to see Ranald Bruce-Lyall waiting for her when she came out of the Academy one afternoon at the end of May, so pleased that she hitched up her skirts and raced to the kilted figure as fast as she could. Grinning, he lifted her off her feet and kissed her in front of everyone, sensuous kisses that took her breath away and had the schoolboys hooting.

  Letting her go at last, he whispered, ‘It’s good to see you, Melda.’

  She tried to still her fluttering heart. ‘It’s good to see you, too, Rannie, but where’s Ruairidh? Didn’t he come home with you?’

  The tiny frown which flitted across his face at this was gone in an instant. ‘We don’t all get leave at the same time. He’ll likely get his when I go back. Now, how do you get home from here?’

  ‘I take the train to Laurencekirk to collect my bike.’

  ‘I thought that would be it, so I left my bike there, as well.’

  He put his arm round her waist and t
hey ambled along until Melda said, ‘We’d better put a step in. The train won’t be long.’

  On the fifteen miles’ journey, she listened to his humorous accounts of being a raw young officer when the sergeants had ten or twenty years’ service behind them. ‘They don’t think much of us “wet-behind-the-ears-jumped-up gentry”, so it’s best not to put a foot wrong. They don’t know I’m the heir to a title, and I try to learn from them and not to get their backs up by pretending I know better than them, but it’s bloody hard going.’

  ‘What about the ordinary soldiers?’ Melda asked, guessing that it was from them he had picked up the swearword she had never heard him use before. ‘Do they object to having young officers? Do they cast up that you’re gentry?’

  ‘Not to our faces, though I bet they resent us. Mind you, there’s a few of them came from boarding and public schools themselves. They’re the ones who wanted no privileges because of that, whereas I’m happy to have a decent bed at nights and a batman to look after me.’ He winked to show that he was joking.

  At Laurencekirk, they collected their cycles from the station yard, but before they set off for the glen, Ranald said, ‘I’ve got to see you alone, Melda. We haven’t had a chance to talk properly yet.’

  Her heart sank. ‘If it had been the school holidays, I could have met you any evening, Rannie, but my examinations begin in a week, and I’ve hours of studying to do. My father’ll be really disappointed if I don’t pass, for he’s set on me studying Medicine at university, and taking over from him one day.’

  ‘Couldn’t you say one of your school friends in Laurencekirk has asked you to tea, and she says you’d better stay all night so you don’t have to cycle up the glen in the dark?’

  Melda saw a big flaw in this. ‘Where would I sleep if I said that?’

  Rannie didn’t meet her eyes. ‘I could book a room for us. I’m sure the Western must be used to officers spending the night with one of the local girls.’

  Melda shook her head. ‘I don’t think Father would let me be away for a whole night, and, in any case, I couldn’t face a hotel clerk.’

  ‘Don’t you want to … be with me?’

  His wounded look made her say hastily, ‘You know I want to be with you, but not like that, Rannie. It’s … sordid, cheap.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right.’ Ranald comforted himself by thinking that Catriona would jump at such an offer if it were made to her. He might try it when he went back. Piqued, however, at being refused by a girl he could have sworn had always loved him, he attempted to punish her. ‘I might go and ask Becky Drummond out again. She can give a man an exciting night.’

  Having known him for so long, Melda was sure that there was no truth in either of these statements, and decided to ignore them. ‘I could get out for a while on Sunday afternoon,’ she ventured.

  ‘That means I’d just see you once. I go back on Tuesday.’

  A little devil got into Melda now. ‘You’ll always have Becky to give you some excitement,’ she said sarcastically, and putting her foot on the pedal, she hoisted herself onto the saddle and cycled off.

  Ranald came racing after her, but he waited until they were well into the glen before he took hold of her rear mudflap and pulled her to a stop. ‘I’m sorry, Melda,’ he panted, as he cast first his bicycle and then hers down at the roadside. ‘I don’t know anything about Becky, I’ve hardly ever spoken to her, never mind anything else.’

  ‘Then why …?’

  ‘To make you jealous.’ He grinned at her mischievously. ‘You’re the only girl for me, Esmerelda Mowatt.’

  Her heart flipped over. He had never said anything like this to her before, but … she couldn’t encourage him; Ruairidh’s face, leaner and a little paler than his brother’s, had come to the forefront of her mind and was hovering there as if to warn her.

  ‘Come on, Melda,’ Ranald coaxed. ‘We’ll find a place to sit down and have a proper talk.’

  ‘I can’t,’ she murmured. ‘If I’m late home …’ She raised her eyes to his. ‘I will meet you at the old hut on Sunday afternoon, though, I promise.’ Even as she said it, she wondered if she was being foolhardy. Rannie wasn’t a boy any longer, to roll around with on the ground as the three of them had done when they were younger, innocent fun that could never be repeated. He was a grown man now, an officer in the army, so handsome in his dark green kilt and khaki barathea jacket that a pain was gnawing at her insides.

  ‘You’re sure you’ll be there?’ he asked, his eyes, a slightly lighter shade of greyish blue than Ruairidh’s, quite serious now, as if her answer was a matter of life or death to him.

  ‘I’ll be there.’ She lifted her bike and saying, ‘Three o’clock,’ she cycled off, waving to him airily and feeling cheated that he didn’t follow her.

  When she reached her home and dismounted, she looked back hopefully, but there was still no sign of him, and she propped the bicycle against the gable end and went inside, wondering where he’d gone. She stayed inside the porch for five full minutes, pretending to brush the dust off her boots, but really watching for Rannie going past, and when she gave up, she tortured herself by imagining that he must have gone looking for Becky Drummond.

  She thought about Ranald at every opportunity over the next few days, and felt bitterly let down when he didn’t turn up outside the Academy again. An awful feeling had risen inside her that he knew Becky better than he professed, and to settle her doubts one way or the other, she sought out the girl at the midday break.

  ‘Have you seen Master Ranald since he’s been home?’ she asked, trying to sound casual.

  The question was a dead giveaway, as even a girl less perspicacious than Becky would have realized, and the minister’s daughter wasn’t going to pass up the chance to take Melda Mowatt down a peg or two. ‘Every day. He’s so manly in his uniform, isn’t he? He told me his mother got it made by a tailor in Aberdeen, and it’s far smarter than the ordinary soldiers get.’ She widened her green eyes to feign surprise. ‘Why did you ask? Haven’t you seen him since he came here to meet me that day?’

  Melda’s heart cramped. ‘He was waiting for you?’

  ‘Of course he was. He apologized later and said we shouldn’t blame you for jumping to the wrong conclusion. After all, you always hung round him and his brother before they went away, didn’t you?’

  Never having come in contact with such an accomplished liar before, Melda took every word as gospel. The colour had drained from her face but she had enough grip on herself to say, ‘I’m sorry if I spoiled it for you that day, Becky. Like you said, I used to hang round them and I naturally thought –’

  ‘Oh, it doesn’t matter now,’ Becky interrupted with a gracious smile. ‘And I know you’re seeing him on Sunday afternoon, but he’ll be with me on Sunday night. He’s been with me every night.’ She met the other girl’s eyes shamelessly for a moment before walking away.

  Between then and Sunday, Melda’s mind was in deep confusion over what she should do. Should she leave Ranald waiting? Or should she meet him and let him know how sorry she was for butting in when it was Becky he had been there to meet? Yet, every now and then, she suspected that Becky hadn’t been telling the truth. Melda would eagerly linger over that until it came to her that Becky knew things that only Rannie could have told her: where he’d had his uniform made, for instance, and the meeting that had been arranged for Sunday. They must have been alone together some time, speaking confidentially, or how would she know?

  On Sunday afternoon, she decided to keep her promise. She owed it to Rannie to explain, to tell him that she knew about Becky, to accept his apology for leading her on (if he made one), or to accuse him outright of philandering if he tried to bluster it out.

  When she reached the old hut, the still long since gone, he was already seated inside, and patted the soft floor of golden pine needles to show she was to sit beside him. The scene brought back memories of rainy days during long-ago school holidays, the three of them
playing guessing games to pass the time, squabbling if one tried to cheat, laughing hilariously if one made a comic error. She did sit down though, but not as close as he had indicated, and she wasted no time in getting to the point. ‘Becky told me.’

  Ranald screwed up his nose. ‘Told you what?’

  ‘About you and her.’

  ‘There isn’t any me and her,’ he said, somewhat shortly. ‘I only said there was to –’

  ‘To make me jealous,’ Melda finished for him. ‘I wouldn’t have been, you know. I’d have been glad for you, I’d have wished you well, but you lied to me. That’s what I can’t get over.’

  ‘I didn’t lie,’ he protested, edging nearer and putting an arm round her waist. ‘I really don’t know anything about her, but I did meet her once on the road since I saw you, and we spoke for a few minutes, that’s all.’

  Melda shrugged off his arm. ‘Did you tell her where you got your uniform made?’

  After thinking about this for a moment, he smiled. ‘Yes, I did, now you come to mention it. I didn’t know what to say to her, and I was just making conversation.’

  ‘It had been a long conversation,’ Melda said sarcastically. ‘You’d time to tell her you were meeting me this afternoon, and likely a whole lot of other things.’

  ‘I don’t like you in this mood,’ he observed.

  ‘Oh? I won’t bother you any longer, then.’ She made to stand up but he grabbed her arm.

  ‘Melda, what’s got into you? I told you you’re the only girl for me, so be sensible. If I wanted Becky, why would I tell her about you? I’d the feeling she hoped I’d ask her out, so I told her I was serious about you. I didn’t mean to let anyone know that yet, but it’s true. I love you, Melda Mowatt, and I’m going to marry you when the war’s over.’

  Before her astonished brain could form any words to answer this, his arms were round her, his lips travelling slowly from her ear round to her mouth, and when the long tender kisses began, all she could do was give herself up to the pleasure of them.