That had been quite plain to be seen as soon as they had met. Caroline knew that Stephen resented her because of her treatment of Hew in the past, but so often a clever woman was more than a match for a man. Especially a straightforward, generous type of man like Stephen Friend.
“Come on aboard,” he urged, holding out his hand. “I promise I won’t let you keep Hew waiting for more than five minutes. We can see his car coming back along the front. We’ll sail round Kerrera, which shouldn’t take us more than an hour in this wind.” After that, argument seemed ungrateful, and she really was anxious to go, if only to establish some sort of contact between this man and Tony. He had promised so much—a clean, invigorating sport, young company, and, by no means least, his own guidance where her brother was concerned. A week or two in Commander Friend’s company, Elizabeth felt certain, would add enormously to Tony’s stature and perhaps make things easier in the future for both Hew and himself.
She looked at Stephen and felt a tremendous gratitude, and he smiled back at her with a new light in his eyes.
Up till now—and he was thirty-two—he had never allowed any woman to dominate his life. He had sailed the Seven Seas, in the course of duty and for his own pleasure, and always the sea and the ship that skimmed over it had taken first place in his heart. But now— now that he was ready to settle down with only the odd trip to satisfy the sea-hunger in him—he supposed he ought to think about falling in love.
The idea had never occurred to him until now. Not too seriously, anyway, but a week before he had made a promise to his elder sister in Bemberg, and he meant to keep it. The home which had been so well-beloved to them all in their youth was his, and he had promised to open it permanently now that Imogen had put her schooldays behind her.
Things had worked out well enough when there had been only holidays to consider, the brief vacations which could be spent as easily at Bemberg as in Scotland, but Thyra quite often went abroad with her husband for long periods in between, and so Glenisla was the answer.
He was glad, he supposed, that it had come to a final decision. He had been more or less ready to give up his roving and come home.
Sitting with Elizabeth in the deep well of the ketch which had carried him so gallantly across distant seas, he watched the white sails fill out and felt deeply content, as if a door had been unexpectedly opened to show him a bright glimpse of the future.
Elizabeth listened to him discussing the set of the sails and the run of the tide with the deck-hand who had come forward and saluted them as they came aboard, and it seemed to her that they were moving in a vaguely happy dream. This swift and silent winging over the water was a new and wonderful experience for her, and her only regret was that Hew was not by her side.
Yet Hew himself would probably have reminded her that he had little time for sailing idly across a pleasant sea. He would be busy this very minute about the task of eliminating Tony’s impulsive folly, and suddenly she felt guilty and more deeply ashamed than ever.
When they came again into the shelter of Oban’s blue and peaceful harbour she knew herself relieved in spite of the pleasure of the trip.
Just before the launch reached the jetty they saw the Daimler coming slowly along the promenade. Hew was in it alone.
“Looks as if he’s jettisoned Mrs. Hayler somewhere,” Stephen observed with strange satisfaction. “One could almost hope that the police have taken her into custody. That’s the only place Caroline would be really harmless!”
“You don’t like her,” Elizabeth said, “and I would hardly call you a vindictive person, but we really have to remember that this accident was mostly Tony’s fault.”
“You’ve heard the fable about the snake and the rabbit, haven’t you?” Stephen returned, offering her a steadying hand as she stepped on to the jetty. “And Tony’s a very young rabbit!”
A little stab of fear found its way into Elizabeth’s heart. Was Caroline far more dangerous than she thought?
“I wish all this hadn’t happened,” she sighed. “It makes me feel such an added burden to Hew.”
He did not answer that, since they had almost reached the stationary Daimler. Hew did not get out. He remained behind the wheel, rather tight-lipped and grim looking, watching their approach.
“Is all well that ends well?” Stephen asked.
“More or less.” Hew’s mouth relaxed a little. “There were very few questions asked, and the police did not prefer a charge. There were no witnesses of the accident and no one else involved.”
“You’ll be relieved,” Stephen suggested. “Have you time for tea? Elizabeth and I had a quick ‘cuppa’ in the galley going round Kerrera, but I’m sure she could cope with another one and some sandwiches.”
Hew looked at Elizabeth for the first time, his eyes peculiarly remote, as they had been on that first occasion of their meeting in London.
“I’d like to get back to Ardlamond,” he said, “as quickly as possible.”
“Sorry, Elizabeth!” Stephen said ruefully. “No tea. Will you come and see Naomi going through her paces on a race day?”
“I’d love to,” Elizabeth told him sincerely. “How soon will you be racing?”
“A week on Saturday. Can we call that a date?” he asked. “You too, Hew?”
“I doubt if I shall be in Oban then,” Hew returned. “I have to go to Edinburgh—to arrange about the sale of Whitefarland.”
“Must you—so soon?” Stephen looked regretful. “Perhaps if you could hang on to it for a month or two till you see how things are going to turn out—”
Hew smiled and shook his head.
“I haven’t got that kind of money, Steve,” he answered candidly. “Of course, it may not sell quite so quickly as I imagine, but I’ve got to try. Why not come down to Ardlamond one of these days?” he added. “Naomi could just about make the distance, couldn’t she?”
Stephen closed the car door on Elizabeth’s side. “That’s the sort of remark that has split nations!” he grinned. “Nevertheless, I’ll be looking out for you at the regatta, if only to prove to you how wrong you are!”
He stepped back on to the pavement and Hew drove away letting a rather lengthy silence fall between them until Elizabeth convinced herself that he did not want to discuss his visit to the local police headquarters nor the past two hours which he had spent in Caroline’s company.
“Did you enjoy your sail round the island?” he asked at last.
“It was wonderful,” she responded eagerly, all her enthusiasm shining in her candid grey eyes. “The sun was lovely out on the Firth and Naomi went like a bird. I’ve never been on board a yacht like that before. It was a tremendous experience. Stephen,” she added warmly, “is very kind.”
“Yes,” he agreed just as readily, but now there was a reserve about him which seemed to reject confidences. “We have been friends since we were boys,” he added briefly.
They drove on, covering the miles along the winding road between the mountains and the sea, and everywhere there were deep glens and bright, unexpected flashes of loch water glittering in the sun. These gentle little lochans covered with the great saucer-leaves of water-lilies and fringed with reeds were a never-ending source of delight to Elizabeth, and suddenly she found herself asking:
“Hew, have you ever been to Loch Tralaig?”
“Yes,” he answered. “What makes you ask?”
“I—my mother used to speak about it. I always felt that it had a—special sort of magic for me.”
“It’s a hidden sort of place among the hills.”
“How far?”
“Not so very far. There are dozens of these small lochs between here and Loch Awe.”
He had not offered to take her to Tralaig, and she could hardly have hoped for the concession, not even to make reality of a dream. Suddenly she was remembering why she had wanted so much to go there. “It’s right in among the hills,” her mother had said. “It’s a difficult place to get to, but when you’ve made the
effort, when the road and the pass are behind you, it’s so much worth while. We used to go there for picnics, all the way from Dromore...”
And Ronald Kintyre, as he had been in those far-off days, had gone there, too!
Something poignantly tender about her mother’s lost love rose in Elizabeth’s throat, choking back any further confession about the past. Even if Hew knew about that unhappy little love affair long ago, she decided, he would not attach any importance to it now. There would be no thought in his mind of affinity between them because of it.
When they reached Ardlamond Mrs. Malcolm came hurrying through from the kitchens to hear the latest news. Hew had phoned from Dromore Castle, apparently, when he had taken Caroline home, and he supplied her with the few details of the intervening hours before he left them to go to Whitefarland.
“He’ll be up there all night,” Jessie said with a shake of her head as he drove away. “His heart’s there, and no mistake. There’ll be a lot of crippling debts to face here, but Whitefarland was paying its way and it seems such a waste. It will mean the sheep over on Lingay will have to go, too, as like as not. There’s a lot to manage on the estate. Too much for one man, I’m thinking.”
Elizabeth had noticed the flock of sheep grazing on the island when she had gone with Hew to the old laird’s funeral, and she had wondered about them at the time.
“Are the sheep left across there all winter, Mrs. Malcolm?” she asked.
“My goodness, no!” Jessie exclaimed. “They’d be done for if they were. Lingay’s grazing is about the finest there is round these parts, but it’s an exposed place. Exposed to wind and gale. After September, too, the tides are high. There would be terrible losses in the flock if they were left there. They’re all brought off by mid-September or early October, at the very latest, and wintered on the hill. The young master would be planning that when his father died, I dare say. He’ll bring them off in a week or two,” she mused sadly, “perhaps for the last time. It’s a great pity. Ay, a great pity!”
Elizabeth made her way to her own room. It seemed an eternity since she had last climbed the stairs and closed the door behind her, an eternity in which so much had happened.
CHAPTER FIVE
HEW did not return to Ardlamond that night, as Mrs. Malcolm had predicted, and the following morning, left to her own devices and curiously restive, Elizabeth set out for a long walk to pass the time till his return. She had helped Mrs. Malcolm about the house, and now she was free to make the acquaintance of Ardlamond in detail.
When she reached the boundary wall of the estate she was, immediately confronted by the hill, and all the morning sunshine seemed to be lingering up there.
It would be an adventure, she decided, to climb as high as she could—as high as the white cottage, perhaps, which stood out plainly once she had reached the moor road.
It looked so small from the road, no more than a two-roomed croft or a summer shieling nestling in a green fold between the rocky spurs, remote and high and alone, like an eagle’s eyrie set up there where only the bravest foot would tread.
Something about its stern isolation on the brow of the hill vibrated a chord in her memory, too vague to be connected with any specific thing or person, yet it drew her on in a peculiar way.
The road that went up the hill was no more than a cart track leading, at length, into a miniature glen where she lost sight of the lonely croft for a while. It was further up than she had at first imagined, more inaccessible, maybe, yet she pressed on.
It was almost the end of August, and when she reached the tree line the heather was dying. In places, however, vivid purple clumps of it still stained the moor, and she sat down beside one of them to draw breath.
All about her was very still, and from her vantage point she could see all Ardlamond stretched out in the sun at her feet. The coastline was clear and sharply defined by the fringe of yellow seaweed which clung to the rocks, lifting and falling with the tide, and everywhere there was a sense of time suspended, of contentment and peace.
She could have lived there quite happily all her life, yet how long could she really stay? Was it fair to Hew to accept an invitation which must only have been offered out of courtesy and at a time when he had been more or less forced into it? He had suggested that she should stay at Ardlamond till Tony settled down, but how long would that take? Tony had to accept a whole new attitude towards life, and it would not prove easy.
Somewhere in the distance a dog barked, and the sound came down to her through the still air, breaking her train of thought. She got to her feet, looking down rather ruefully at her shoes, which were already stained darkly by moss and peat, and wondering if she should retrace her steps towards the road.
The strange, persistent call of the hill still attracted her, however, and after no more than a second’s hesitation, she was climbing upwards once more.
It took her a good half-hour to reach what she had thought to be the highest point, but beyond she found more hills, fold upon fold of them, rounded and gentle against the sky.
And there, across a tiny lochan golden with yellow waterlilies, stood the croft she had seen from the shore. It was no more than ten minutes’ walk away, and it was bigger than she had thought.
On either side of the main door were two windows, and she noticed, to her disappointment, that they were curtainless. The whole place, she realized, had a peculiarly deserted look, as if no one had come there for a very long time, yet the building itself was in good repair and had benefited by a recent coat of whitewash. The window-frames, too, had been painted, all in uncompromising white.
She had thought to ask for a glass of milk to drink after her long climb, but now it seemed that she, would have to go away thirsty.
Lingering by the lochan edge, she looked about her for a spring or a little burn of the red hill water which gushed everywhere, and when she turned towards the house again a white cat had made its appearance on the doorstep.
She saw then that one half of the double-storm door lay open, possibly to let the cat pass freely in and out.
It was an enormous cat, pure white, with long, silky fur and yellow, almond-shaped eyes, narrowed in the full light of the morning sunshine, and it kept a cat’s dignified distance between them as she approached.
There must be someone in the house, she decided, and she could still ask for a glass of milk.
The cat stood up, arching its back and seeming to block the doorway as she came near. Certainly it barred her further approach.
“You’re not exactly a friendly puss,” she addressed it. “But perhaps you’re not used to visitors.”
As a rule she had a way with animals, but the gentle persuasion in her voice did nothing to capture this one. Thomas stood his ground, eyes opened wide now as her shadow fell across the step.
Gingerly Elizabeth knocked on the closed half of the door, and the sound went back hollowly into an empty house.
She was so certain that it was empty that she turned away, and then, on an impulse of curiosity, she went back and pushed open the door.
The white cat followed her in.
Blunting in the sudden dimness after the bright sunlight outside, it was seconds before she saw her way about. The hall was completely bare and stretched back only a little way, where it ended in a blank wall. The door immediately to her right was closed; the one on her left lay open. She went through it to find herself in a tiny raftered bedroom.
With a sense of shock she realized that the croft was furnished. Sparsely furnished, no doubt, but the very fact that the room she had entered contained a chair, a dressing-chest and a bed flanked by two magnificent sheepskin rugs made her instantly guilty of trespass.
She drew back, but in that instant she had seen all there was to see in the room—the simple furniture, the double row of books on the low shelves built in on either side of the bed, a man’s thick checked flannel shirt tossed across the back of a chair, and a girls photograph adorning the centre of the bowfron
ted chest.
It was the photograph which held her there immovable, the large studio portrait of a girl she knew. Caroline!
It was unmistakeable, even although the simple classic jumper and single row of pearls bore no resemblance to the immaculate tweeds which Caroline Hayler now wore. The portrait, of course, had been taken several years ago. The hair was shorter, more simply styled, and Caroline’s smile was a little less artificial.
Elizabeth gazed back at the pictured face for minutes before she remembered where she was, and then she knew the truth. This, of course, was Whitefarland.
The knowledge hit her like a blow across the face. It chained her there while something in her heart rose and fluttered, like a bird beating delicate wings against imprisoning bars, and then it dropped and died. She could feel it lying there, cold and heavy, against her breast.
He was in love with Caroline. He was still in love with her.
The words mocked, her, going round and round in her brain, and then she heard the dog barking again, very near this time, close above her on the hill.
Panic seized her and she wanted to run like the wind, but Hew was between her and escape.
He was standing just inside the door, his broad frame seeming to take up all the space between her and the light, and as she backed away he looked almost menacing.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
She could not answer him. Words rose and choked against her throat and she felt all the colour running out of her cheeks and a cold fear encircling her heart. She had done an unpardonable thing, trespassing in this place which he had always considered his own, like some inner sanctum of the spirit which no intrusion must spoil.
“I had no idea—” she gasped at last. “I—thought Whitefarland was a much bigger place—a sheep-farm somewhere farther down the coast—”
He smiled thinly.
“You flatter it.” He turned abruptly away from the door, allowing her to pass. “If you had told me you intended to come—”
He left the sentence unfinished, his meaning abundantly clear. If she had insisted upon coming to Whitefarland he would have been there to meet her, conventionally, on the doorstep, not here in the innermost privacy of his own room. He must consider her cheap and inquisitive and as lacking in sense as Tony had proved himself to be in so many ways ever since their arrival.
The Last of the Kintyres Page 9
