The Last of the Kintyres

by Catherine Airlie

  “I’m sorry. That’s all I can really say,” she told him unhappily. “I had no idea the house was occupied. There were no curtains. It looked empty—”

  “Curtains,” he said briskly, “are a woman’s fad. A man has very little need of such things in a place like this.”

  Something about his tone seemed to break the icy tension between them. They were in the living-room now. He had opened |fie door on the other side of the hall, ushering her in there, and suddenly she felt as if a spring had been released.

  The room was large and open-raftered, like the bedroom, with a big fireplace in an ingle-nook and the whole of another wall taken up by adjoining windows. It had been two smaller rooms at one time, and she saw at once why he had scorned the use of curtains.

  From the wide, breast-high windows all the panorama of the blue Firth lay before them, with its green islands dotted over it and the hills of Mull standing guard above. She could see as far as Scarba and Colonsay and away to the stark peaks of Jura, with the little Isles of the Sea lying in between. It was a scene of sheer magic, and she drew in her breath at sight of it.

  “No wonder you can’t bear to part with this place, Hew,” she said involuntarily. “Is there no possible way of keeping it?”

  “I’m afraid not,” he answered, his voice no longer stiff. “I’m not alone in this, you know,” he added, taking out his pipe to fill it from the tobacco jar which stood on a table in the ingle-nook. “Other people have had the same sort of decision to make and have survived it.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, but she knew now how he felt.

  “Can I give you some tea?” he asked. “I’ll be going down in about an hour and we can go back together.”

  “I came up thinking I might ask for a glass of milk,” she confessed.

  “Sorry,” he apologized, smiling for the first time. “We don’t run to a cow up here.” He turned to stroke the cat, who had climbed up on the arm of the chair beside him. “Mr. MacKellar has grown large and silken on condensed milk out of a tin!”

  “Then—let me make the tea,” she offered.

  For a split second she thought that he was about to refuse. He doesn’t want a woman about the place, she mused, but I’m here and—and it can’t be helped.

  “I’d be grateful,” he conceded at last. “I’d like to take a look at one of the collie’s paws. She was limping just now as we came down the hill.”

  Two black-and-white collies had settled themselves on the warm gravel in front of the doorstep and one of them was licking a paw and whimpering a little, as if in pain.

  “You’ll find all you need in here,” Hew said, leading the way into a small back kitchen. “If there’s anything else you want, give me a shout.”

  When she had made the tea, fumbling about in her search for cups and the tea-caddy, she went out into the sunshine to tell him it was ready, feeling more relaxed.

  “Can I help?” she asked, kneeling down beside the injured dog who turned soft brown eyes towards her. “Is she badly hurt?”

  “Not too badly,” he said. “A piece of shale has run in behind her dew claw and torn the flesh.”

  He was cutting away hair from the injured paw, his head bent to the task and quite near to Elizabeth’s as she stooped to fondle the collie’s silken head, and once again she was acutely aware of that almost physical sense of contact which she had first experienced at the Folly high above Oban’s glittering blue bay.

  Instantly she drew back, the vision of Caroline—of Caroline’s portrait standing so prominently in his room—forcing itself between them.

  “I’ll bring some hot water,” she offered stiffly.

  “There’s a bottle of antiseptic on the kitchen shelf, beside the sheep-dip in the corner,” he called to her as she made her way indoors. “And a basin under the sink.”

  He had accepted her help now, she thought, because it wasn’t quite so personal. They were both fond of animals and the collie was a working dog. He told her when she went out again with the hot water and the bottle of antiseptic that Wraith was also a champion. “This will put her out of the Trials,” he added ruefully. “It’s a pity because it might have been her last effort.”

  “You mean that you won’t use her at Ardlamond?” Elizabeth asked, squeezing hot water over the injured pad. “I thought you might perhaps keep some of the sheep.”

  “Oh yes,” he agreed. “I intend to hang on to the flock on Lingay. They’re a special breed and we can winter them at Ardlamond. All I meant was that I’m not going to have the time to spare for sheep-dog trials after this, or for training another dog to take Wraith’s place.”

  “It does seem a pity,” Elizabeth said, stroking Wraith’s head. “I’d like to have seen her in action.”

  “You’ll be seeing the others,” he reminded her. “Next week-end.”

  When she carried the basin back into the croft Hew came with her and it seemed quite natural that she should pour out the tea. He stood with his back to the fireplace, looking down at her for several minutes after he had accepted his cup, his red brows drawn sharply together, and suddenly she was remembering Caroline again, thinking of the portrait in the other room which he had treasured now for over four years.

  Suddenly she felt that she must get away, that she couldn’t stay at Whitefarland a moment longer with the feel of Caroline’s presence all about her and that dark, remembering look disfiguring Hew’s face.

  “I’ll wash up,” she volunteered, “and then I think I ought to go. It must be getting on for twelve o’clock.”

  “Ten past,” he said, his mind so obviously on something else that she turned sharply away in the direction of the kitchen with the teapot and her own cup. “Drain them on the board,” he called through to her. “I don’t bother with drying.”

  She smiled a little wanly.

  “How like a man!” she tried to say lightly.

  “Yes.” He had followed her into the low-ceilinged annexe which was furnished with the bare necessities of sink and paraffin stove. “One couldn’t exactly say that Whitefarland suffered from the woman’s touch.” Elizabeth could not imagine Caroline here, working beside him, helping in this small, inconvenient house.

  “Did you mean to stay here, Hew?” she asked. “Was this to have been your home?”

  “I thought of it that way,” he answered abruptly. “You see, I suppose I expected my father to live for ever. One rarely thinks of death—sudden death, anyway, in connection with one’s parents. I don’t think I ever really saw myself as the laird of Ardlamond before it happened. I was a sheep-farmer and quite happy to remain one, although Whitefarland and Ardlamond were always connected in my mind.”

  “Didn’t you feel—lonely in the winter?”

  He shrugged.

  “Not really—after I got used to the idea of being alone.”

  So that was it! He had fought out his battle of loneliness and bitterness after Caroline had gone, up here among the hills, and in the process Whitefarland had come to mean more to him than any ordinary farm.

  “I wish you could keep it,” she said impulsively. “I wish there was some way—”

  He opened the back door to whistle to the dogs, who had strayed back on to the hill.

  “There is no other way,” he said decisively.

  Slowly they went down the hill path together, the collies at their heels, Wraith still limping a little and distressed by her bandage, but far too well-trained to attempt to remove it, at least in their presence. And it seemed to Elizabeth that the journey back was so much quicker than the way she had come. The sun shone warmly on their faces and the distant sea was very blue. They had left Caroline behind.

  “I think Tony ought to interest himself in something definite,” Hew suggested as they neared the main road. “He can’t just drift through the next eighteen months doing nothing. There isn’t a lot here, but he should have an interest—even if it’s only in helping to run the estate.

  Elizabeth turned towards him, her
eyes shining. She had not expected anything like this.

  “Oh—would you?” she breathed. “Would you really give him that chance?”

  “We could try it,” he agreed without a great deal of enthusiasm. “Don’t overrate it,” he warned dryly. “Estate management is a synonym for hard work and wearyingly long hours at times.”

  “I don’t think Tony would mind that,” she assured him. “The long hours I mean—if he were really interested. I think he could be, Hew,” she added swiftly, “if he were given the chance.”

  “There would be quite a bit of discipline to enforce,” he warned again. “If he agrees to that the offer is open, and I’ll pay him a reasonable salary. It won’t be much, but it will let him feel independent while he has to stay here.”

  He had made no reference to the length of her own stay, but she hardly noticed that. She expected to go as soon as Tony was reasonably settled, in any case.

  She had always known it would happen, but her eyes were misty as she looked towards the islands and the sea. How eagerly, how contentedly would she have stayed here for the rest of her life!

  At the foot of the hill there was a bank and a steep ditch between them and the road and Hew negotiated them easily, his long legs taking both in their quick, muscular stride.

  “Watch me jump in the ditch!” Elizabeth laughed. “Is it clean water?”

  “Perfectly clean!” He looked up at her with a smile which erased all the deep lines from his dark face. “All the same, I shall be prepared to catch you. You won’t feel particularly comfortable walking back to Ardlamond once you’ve been in the ditch!”

  He held out his arms and she jumped, feeling his hands tight and firm about her waist as he steadied her on her feet. Her heart was pounding heavily—madly—and her fingers had fastened over his sleeves, as if she would grip this moment, never to let it go.

  Then, thundering out of nowhere, it seemed, a car came flashing round the bend in the narrow road and plunged towards them.

  As Hew pulled her to him and stepped back, Elizabeth was aware of a vivid flash of white bodywork and the screech of hastily-applied brakes as the car bumped up on to the grass on the far side of the road ahead of them and came to a standstill.

  Hew’s quickly indrawn breath seemed to shiver through her and she felt his whole body tauten as he recognized the occupants of the car, and then he put her firmly away from him and was walking down the road towards Caroline.

  But it wasn’t Caroline that Elizabeth saw in that first moment of shock. It was Tony.

  The blood rushed to her cheeks and angry recrimination rose in her heart as her brother opened the car door and got out to follow Caroline along the road.

  It was then that she looked at Caroline and saw what fury really meant. The older girl’s eyes were blazing, her face completely colourless, and both her hands were clenched.

  “What the devil were you doing?” she demanded in the first flush of her anger. “Fooling about there on the roadside with a couple of dogs all over the place!”

  “Calm down, Caroline,” Hew returned with what must have been maddening equanimity, although Elizabeth realized that he was just as angry as Caroline. “We hardly expected you to come hurtling round the bend at fifty miles an hour, you know.”

  “Evidently not!” Caroline had cloaked her anger in sarcasm now. “Sorry we interrupted a summer idyll. Where had you been?” she seemed compelled to ask.

  “At Whitefarland,” Hew said steadily.

  “Oh—!”

  She had to take out a cigarette and light it to steady her hands. She had not given Elizabeth a second glance.

  Tony came up, saying rather sheepishly:

  “Hullo! We didn’t expect you to come charging off the hill like that.”

  “Apparently not.”

  Hew turned slowly, and suddenly Elizabeth was aware that most of his anger was directed towards her brother. The narrowed eyes which a moment or two ago had looked blue and friendly were now slate-grey and coldly demanding as they met Tony’s half-apologetic gaze.

  Her heart began to beat slowly and heavily in her breast. Was Hew’s fury double-edged? Was there jealousy as well as annoyance behind that cold glance?

  Elizabeth felt herself chilled by it into a silence which gave Caroline her chance to explain.

  “I went up to Oban to collect the car,” she said, blowing a perfect smoke-ring into the still air. “So naturally I went on to Ravenscraig to see how Tony was. Poor dear! he was bored to tears, and only too pleased to come back with me!”

  In that moment Elizabeth knew that Caroline had gone deliberately to Ravenscraig for Tony. She had been determined to bring him back to Ardlamond for a reason of her own. She did not want Hew to be alone with anyone else for any length of time.

  Hew’s anger was still obviously uppermost as he turned away.

  “I’d like a-word with you, Tony,” he said, “when you get back to Ardlamond.”

  Elizabeth did not quite know what to do. They stood there on the open road for a moment or two longer with a tumult of conflicting emotions in their hearts until Caroline laughed lightly and moved back towards her car.

  “I’d offer you a lift,” she suggested, “but you’re almost at Ardlamond now.” She looked deliberately across at Hew. “See you at the Trials,” she added. “You know, of course, that I have been asked to preside with you, to present the cups? The lady of the Castle!” She laughed again, rather bitterly. “La belle Dame sans Merci—remember, Hew?”

  He did not answer the bitter little jibe, which seemed to have some connection with the past, recognizable only between themselves.

  Tony lingered to say good-bye to Caroline.

  “Carol, we’ll be meeting again at the sheep-dog trials,” he said eagerly. “That’s the day after tomorrow.” He made it sound an eternity. “I’ll be looking forward to it tremendously.”

  When Caroline had treated them to an airy wave of her hand and driven away, he stood watching the white car until it had disappeared over the brow of the hill in the direction of Dromore.

  Hew had already disappeared through the arched doorway in the wall, taking the dogs with him, and brother and sister were alone.

  “Tony,” Elizabeth said, “please try to understand about Caroline and Hew. They were engaged to be married four years ago and—and they’re still in love.”

  “Who told you that?” Tony demanded. “What a lot of nonsense you talk!” he added quickly, angrily. “Caroline’s not engaged to anyone—not in love with anyone. It’s only a year since her husband died. How could she be?”

  She could not explain to him how an old attraction could last, persisting down through the years, nor could she tell him about the photograph which Hew still kept in his bedroom at Whitefarland. It would be like breaking a confidence.

  “I wish you hadn’t come back without letting Hew know,” she said instead.

  Tony flushed scarlet.

  “I say, what is this?” he demanded irritably. “I don’t like being catechized about my actions. I came back because I wanted to come, because I thought I should when I was perfectly all right, apart from a superficial scratch or two.”

  “You would have stayed,” Elizabeth ventured, “if Caroline hadn’t turned up.”

  “I suppose I would,” he conceded. “So what? Am I to wait for Hew to send for me, like he would for a five-year-old, and take a ticking off because I drove a car a bit too fast and came to grief on an awkward bend?”

  “It could have been so very much more serious.” Elizabeth closed her eyes before the picture of what might have happened. “You’ve been lucky this time, Tony, but please, please think twice before you do that sort of thing again!”

  “All right! All right]” he calmed her. “It was an experiment not to be repeated. Which doesn’t mean to say that I’ve got to shun Caroline like the plague from now on.”

  “No,” she said. “No, I couldn’t suggest that—”

  “And Hew better not
either,” Tony said belligerently. “I’m not taking my cue from him where Caroline’s concerned. He probably wants to marry her now for all the money she’s got—”

  “No, Tony! No, he wouldn’t do that!”

  “How can you be so sure?” They had reached the door in the wall and he halted to let her pass through into the shrubbery ahead of him. “Unless,” he added, “You’re in love with him yourself?”

  “That wasn’t—what we were discussing,” Elizabeth said almost inaudibly. “All I know is that Hew wouldn’t do anything underhand. He’d—have to love someone very much before he asked her to marry him.”

  “You think so? Well, I’m not so sure. Caroline says he’d do anything to secure Ardlamond’s future—anything short of murder, I suppose she meant. There would, too, have to be an heir, wouldn’t there? He can’t go on being the last of the Kintyres. Caroline says he owes that to Ardlamond, too, so I guess he’ll have to marry sooner or later, even though it isn’t Caroline.”

  “Please,” Elizabeth begged, “don’t let’s talk about it any more. It—just isn’t our affair.”

  “Perhaps not.” He was willing enough to let the matter drop. “I wish he wasn’t quite so remote. If he were more approachable—”

  “If you did approach him, Tony, in the right way,” Elizabeth suggested, “you’d find him kind enough. He feels that you might like to take an interest in the management of the estate. You could work here,” she rushed on in case he might refuse out of hand, “and learn how to run things and—and help Hew a lot. He’s willing to pay you a little and teach you all he knows.”

  “What’s the catch?” he demanded suspiciously. “There isn’t one,” she answered patiently. “All that Hew is likely to demand is obedience and a sense of obligation to your job.”

  “The perfect disciplinarian, in fact. You do as I say, not as I do!”