Beyond Reason

by Gwen Kirkwood

  ‘Mother is staying up at the Big Hoose.’ She explained about Janet being so ill and Mr Saunders insisting she stay at the Keep. ‘He has been wonderfully generous and kind. Mother and I have taken turns at nursing her.’

  ‘Janet is here?’ He could barely wait for Peggy to give him the details of Janet’s flight from Braeheights.

  Maggie saw Fingal pass the kitchen window on his way to the back door of the Keep. She opened the door before he could knock, delighted as always to see her only son.

  ‘I’m fine, laddie,’ she assured him as she drew him through into the large kitchen. ‘I’ve told ye often not to worry about me when I have Peggy and Donald so close, and Mr Saunders is a most considerate employer. Did Peggy tell you we have a visitor here, though? I reckon ye’ll want to see her, though she will na ken ye,’ she warned. ‘She’s still very ill with the fever.’

  ‘How can this be? How did Janet come to be here?’

  ‘Peggy has aye been a second mother to the lassie. Where else could she go? Anyway I dinna think she had the strength to go any further. I thank God she reached the stable.’ She explained how Donald had carried her here, almost frozen to death.

  ‘Why did she come at night, in the snow? Why is she here, at the Keep?’

  ‘Mr Saunders thought it best and I am glad. We can keep her warmer here. He and Mrs Mossy watch over her during the day. Peggy and I take turns to stay with her at night. She drifts in and out o’ the fever. The only word she’s uttered that I can catch, is your name, Fingal. She was clutching the wee book you gave to Andrew. She didna want to let it go.’

  ‘I must see her,’ he said urgently. ‘So many Sundays I have journeyed all the way to attend our own wee kirk but Janet has never been there. What can be wrong, Mother?’

  ‘I fear she must have run away frae Mr Foster. Nothing else would drive her out wearing only her nightgown on such a night.’

  ‘You think he has harmed her?’ Fingal asked, a muscle pulsing in his lean jaw.

  ‘We don’t know, laddie. She must have been badly frightened to flee like that. It’s obvious she hadn’t planned to do it.’

  ‘I’ll kill him if he has—’

  ‘Hush, hush, son. Don’t say such things,’ Maggie McLauchlan said in alarm.

  Fingal was dismayed when he saw Janet’s slight figure tossing and turning restlessly beneath the blankets. Josiah Saunders watched the concern, compassion – and was it love in his troubled gaze?

  ‘I fear she is worse today,’ he said quietly, ‘but Doctor Carr warned us this might happen. He said it would be the beginning of the end.’

  ‘Oh dear God, surely she can’t die? So young? Not Janet….’

  ‘You care deeply for her, Fingal?’

  ‘You must know I do. She was like a younger sister to me. And more….’ he added in a choked whisper.

  ‘Then you will not return to your lodgings tonight? Tomorrow is the Sabbath. Tell your mother I have requested you eat here with us. She cannot be in two places.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘Your mother and your sister will watch over her tonight.’

  Janet’s fever increased alarmingly. She tossed aside the bed-clothes and shouted unintelligible words, almost screams at times. Peggy and Maggie stayed with her, willing the fever to break, each exhausted but unwilling to leave.

  ‘The doctor said we must keep her warm, but her brow burns like a furnace as soon as I have wiped it with a cooling cloth,’ Maggie McLauchlan said in a troubled voice. She was worried and weary.

  ‘It is the delirium which worries me,’ Peggy murmured brokenly. ‘She raves like a madwoman. It is as though all the demons in hell are chasing her.’

  ‘She has grown worse, and weaker. I fear we’re going to lose her,’ Maggie said. ‘Mr Saunders said we must call him if she reached a crisis during the night. I fear the time has come.’

  ‘Oh, Mother, surely not,’ Peggy wept. ‘Janet is as dear to me as my own bairns.’

  ‘I know. It is because you suckled her as an infant and she brought you comfort. I believe Fingal loves her too. He did not want to bide at the cottage tonight but I persuaded him to sleep so that he might help watch over her during the day while we rest.’ She sighed heavily as Janet threw off the eiderdown again and gabbled incoherently.

  ‘I will waken Mr Saunders. I fear the end is near.’

  Josiah did not wait to dress but pulled on his woollen robe and slippers and followed Mrs McLauchlan back to the sick room. His heart had been heavy with dread when he went to bed and now his fears were confirmed.

  He knelt beside the bed and helped Peggy Baird to hold Janet’s thrashing limbs and keep her covered with the blankets as Doctor Carr had advised, while Maggie bathed her burning forehead and cheeks and hands with a cooling cloth. They fought together until the first streaks of the winter dawn began to peep through the side of the curtains. Then, as though all the strength had drained from her exhausted body, Janet shuddered several times and lay still, her body drenched, her long hair dark and damp with sweat.

  ‘She breathes still,’ Josiah said and took her hand in his, stroking her wrist gently as he felt for her pulse. He began to talk to her in a low voice. Peggy Baird realized he was reciting poetry. Janet showed no response but neither did she struggle any more. She lay white and still upon the bed.

  ‘I think we should bathe her and put on a dry nightgown and sheets,’ Maggie McLauchlan said, following her instincts. Almost as though recognizing her voice, Janet’s head turned slightly and for a moment she opened her eyes and actually looked at the two women. But then her eyelids fluttered as though the effort of lifting them was too great.

  ‘The wildness has gone!’ Peggy said. ‘Is the crisis past? And ma bairn still lives?’

  ‘I think you are right,’ Josiah said. ‘We must thank God. I will go and dress now while you wash and change her so that she may sleep naturally at last. Then I shall watch over her from my chair before the fire. You have both done well to nurse the child so diligently. Now you need rest.’

  Although Janet was too weak to speak to him, indeed almost too weak to lift her eyelids, Fingal felt the faint pressure of her fingers in his own when he spoke to her. He uttered prayers of thankfulness as his mother assured him she had reached a crisis as the doctor had predicted, and she had come through it.

  ‘She will need time, a long time, before she is well and strong again. Mr Saunders says she will need good food and plenty of rest so she should stay here.’

  ‘Here at Crillion Keep?’ Fingal asked in surprise.

  ‘Yes.’ His mother chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. ‘Where else can she go, except with us? Mr Saunders is a kind man and he has the room here and he knows Peggy and I will do all we can for her. I don’t know what he has in mind but he told the doctor he would have found work for her here if he had known the granddaughter of his old friend was so unhappy and living in fear up at Braeheights. We – we don’t know what that devil Foster may have done to make her flee in the dead of night. Fingal, we must trust Mr Saunders’s judgement.’

  ‘I don’t like it but there is no place for Janet with her mother. I wish I did not have to leave today, but I need my work more than ever now. I must save enough money to rent a house instead of lodgings and then….’

  ‘And then?’ Maggie asked.

  ‘Then I will take care of her. I have nothing to offer yet, but one day I shall have more, and I….’ He looked at his mother, his blue eyes pleading for understanding.

  ‘You love the lassie, Fingal?’

  ‘I think I always have.’

  ‘She is so young still. And what if Foster has given her a child?’

  ‘A child? You think it is possible?’

  ‘We don’t know.’

  ‘Whatever happens I shall always love her.’ But could he love another man’s child, he pondered, especially the spawn of a devil like Foster was reputed to be?

  His horse had been well fed and rested and Fingal dec
ided to make a two-mile detour to call on Mary Scott on his way back to the town of Annan. He wanted to tell her that Janet was still frail and in need of her care.

  It was Mr Cole himself who opened the door in answer to his knock early on Sunday afternoon. He explained his mission but the tailor stared at him in dismay.

  ‘You must come through and speak with Mistress Scott, Master McLauchlan, but you will see she is not in a fit state to care for herself, even less for her daughter; or my wife,’ he added almost to himself.

  Fingal had seen the look of despair in the tailor’s eyes. When he came face to face with the woman who had been almost a mother to him during his years at the dominie’s schoolhouse with Andrew and Janet, he understood the tailor’s dilemma. There was no sign of the active young woman who had fed and cared for the winter boarders so diligently. He barely recognized the skeleton who stood before him, with her haggard face and wispy grey hair. She was around the same age as his half-sister, Peggy, but she looked old enough to be his grandmother.

  On the other side of the fireplace sat Mr Cole’s wife, rocking silently to and fro in her chair, clutching her arms around her thin body as though she was cold, although the room was hot and she was warmly dressed. Her eyes were vacant and she never uttered a sound, apparently lost in a world of her own.

  Mary Scott buried her head in her hands and began to weep silently.

  ‘If only Andrew had been spared,’ she whispered brokenly. ‘He would have cared for us, for Janet and for me. What am I to do? I can no longer do the work I came here to do. I am a burden to Mr Cole but I have nowhere to go.’

  Fingal looked helplessly at the dapper little tailor in his best Sunday suit. He was an elder of the kirk and he attended every Sunday. Fingal’s parents believed he was one of the most genuine men in the parish and anyone with a less kindly heart would have dismissed Mrs Scott. He bit his lower lip.

  ‘I am so sorry to have disturbed you all on the Sabbath,’ Fingal apologized, moving backwards toward the door, recognizing an impossible situation, knowing he could do nothing to help. ‘I thought you would be glad to have news that your daughter has survived the fever, Mistress Scott, but I see you have problems of your own. Do not worry about Janet. My mother and sister will take care of her until she regains her strength.’

  ‘Thank you, Fingal,’ Mary Scott said listlessly.

  As he followed the tailor out of the small cottage and into the crisp cold air, Mr Cole wagged his white head.

  ‘I wish I was in a position to offer help,’ Fingal said sincerely, ‘but I am still a clerk in training and the pay is low until I am a fully-fledged lawyer. Sometimes I wish I had taken the dominie’s advice and become a teacher. I owe him, and Mistress Scott, a debt I cannot repay,’ he said unhappily.

  ‘I understand, young man, and I know your intentions are good, but the problem is not yours. I wanted to send word to Miss Janet but she rarely attends the kirk these days.’

  ‘No, I think Foster was responsible for her absence,’ Fingal said grimly. ‘I am sorry to have troubled you, Mr Cole.’

  ‘But what will happen to the child?’ Mr Cole asked with genuine concern. ‘Her father was a fine tailor and a hard worker when he was in good health. The dominie was a good friend to many of us.’

  ‘Mr Saunders regarded Dominie McWhan as a good friend too and he seems willing to allow Janet to stay at Crillion Keep for now. Her mother’s plight is more serious, I think.’

  ‘You are right, young man. I don’t know how long I can go on supporting two invalid women. The Reverend Drummond assures me the Lord works in mysterious ways and my prayers will be answered. I pray He may not take too long.’

  The following day, the housekeeper from one of the large houses on the outskirts of the village called to collect the suit Mr Cole had been making for her master, an elderly bachelor. Her husband was also employed as coachman and gardener and he had driven her down in the pony and trap.

  ‘It was Mary Scott who wrapped up the parcel and wrote the receipt when I handed over the money,’ Mrs McBain told her husband. ‘She looks like a ghost. I’m sure a puff of wind would blow her away. She barely had the energy to tie the string. She doesn’t have the same look as her husband and son did but I’m sure she doesna have long for this world.’

  ‘Did ye tell her what we heard at the kirk yesterday?’

  ‘No, but I asked how her lassie was keeping. She gave a sorrowful sigh and leaned on the table as though she hadna the strength to stand. She said she hadna seen Janet but Fingal McLauchlan told her Janet had been close to death with a fever but his mother and sister are nursing her at Crillion Keep, so ’tis true she must be biding there. Mary’s eyes filled with tears and she muttered. “I can only thank God for Mr Saunders’s generous heart for I canna look after my own bairn.” She turned away frae me but I heard her whisper, “Only God knows what will become of us.” My heart felt sore for her because she was always a pleasant, kind young woman when she looked after the schoolhouse for the old dominie.’

  ‘Aye, our ain bairns liked her well when they attended the school. I’m wondering what Mr Saunders’s sister will say if she hears her brother is giving a home to the dominie’s granddaughter. Nae doubt he’ll be paying Mistress McLauchlan to nurse her, and from what I hear, Mrs Ross grudges every penny her brother spends on his good deeds.’

  ‘Aye, and she’ll take out her spite on your sister-in-law and the rest o’ the maids who work for her. Poor Maisie, I dinna envy her working for that vicious-tongued woman.’

  ‘Maisie has worked for the Ross family since she was thirteen, long before Mr Ross married that she-cat. Maisie said his first wife was a gentle, sweet-natured woman.’

  ‘I’ll bet he regrets his second choice, then,’ his wife said darkly, ‘but she’s given him a son. Some say the boy is as sly and spiteful as his mother.’

  ‘It’s hard to believe she’s Mr Saunders’s sister.’

  ‘They’re not kin by blood. Her mother married his father.’

  Two evenings later, Benjamin McBain was at the Meeting Rooms to pay his sixpence into the savings bank in the presence of the minister and two of his elders. Ben saw several men he knew and as usual they fell to exchanging news. He told them it was true young Janet Scott had run away from Braeheights and was being cared for at Crillion Keep. These bits of innocent gossip usually spread like goosedown in the wind.

  So it was that early on Friday afternoon Donald Baird hurried to warn Josiah that the Rosses’ carriage had turned into the long drive to Crillion Keep. Josiah groaned aloud. He thought for a moment, then he sought Maggie McLauchlan.

  ‘Get a large white handkerchief and tie it in a triangle around your mouth and nose. Ask Mrs Mossy to do the same and tell her to wait with Janet beside her bed. I shall answer the door myself and I shall tell Mrs Ross we have a patient with a fever, which is like to be infectious. You may enter the hall when you hear me speaking. Let Mrs Ross see you in your mask, then scurry away out of sight. She does not like illness of any kind, especially if her son is with her. I hope that will keep her from entering the house. If she insists on peering into the room, I shall warn Janet to snuggle beneath the blankets and pretend to have a fever or a spasm of violent coughing. I think she can do that without pretence,’ he added with a frown. ‘Her illness has left a rattle in her chest. Doctor Carr says it may take six months or more before she can get rid of it. Today we shall make use of it.’ His eyes twinkled and he gave Mrs McLauchlan a grin like a mischievous boy. ‘We must act as though we are at a playhouse. Will you do that for me, for Miss Janet’s sake?’

  ‘Aye, sir. We’ll try our best.’ She hurried out to find Mrs Mossy and to tell Donald, so that she could prepare him to tell the same story to the coachman.

  ‘What’s this, Josiah! Answering the door yourself? Keeping guests waiting?’

  ‘We have not had many guests, invited, or otherwise.’ He paused watching a flush mount Eliza’s sallow skin as she drew up her bosom in indi
gnation. ‘No one wants to catch an infectious disease. We are at pains to prevent—’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, sir,’ Maggie McClauchlan mumbled behind a large white handkerchief. ‘I couldna get to the door any quicker. I-I must get back to the sick room. Excuse me, ma’am.’ She scurried away before Eliza could ask her any questions. Josiah bit back a smile as he watched his sister’s eyes grow round. He knew Mrs McLauchlan had opened the door of Janet’s room when they heard a deep chesty cough, slightly more prolonged than usual, he fancied. Eliza stared at him and edged backwards onto a lower step.

  ‘So it is true! You do have that girl staying here? You are a fool! You with your weak heart, taking that waif into your own home? The fever could kill you if it brings a cough like that!’

  ‘The girl is too young to die for want of warmth and food. But, Eliza,’ his eyes were mocking, ‘I’m sure you will not grieve, if the fever should carry me away. You have wished me dead many times since I inherited my great-uncle’s estate.’ Eliza became aware of the irony in his expression. Even as a young boy, he had been able to see right through her motives. He had often made her squirm with his clear-eyed honesty. Even as a sickly child, death had held no fear for him. His stoicism had found him a tender place in her own mother’s heart, something she had never achieved herself, even though she was kin by blood, rather than by marriage as he was.

  Josiah watched the expressions chasing over her face. He had never seen a vestige of tenderness there. Not that he expected any for himself. He had learned there was only one love in Eliza’s life and that was for herself.

  ‘Is Henry with you? He must be cold waiting in the coach. You are welcome to come in and take refreshment, but the risk must be on your own head. Mistress McLauchlan and Mistress Mossy attend our patient before their other duties.’

  ‘I shall not enter,’ Eliza snapped. ‘You are a fool to waste your inheritance. I have heard rumours of your generosity, even though you would keep them secret from me and my son. It is our inheritance you are wasting.’ She ignored Josiah’s raised eyebrows. ‘What reason had you to take this chit into your home? Don’t tell me she is the granddaughter of that old fool of a dominie!’