Through the Mist: Restoration

by C. Renee Freeman

  “In the early years, I followed my father’s orders like a dutiful son,” he explained. “However, I knew the chief problem of maintenance was money, as it is with most things. If I could produce a certain amount of income, then my father might not notice how that income was generated. He would be content that the money flowed and would not ask too many questions.”

  “So, what are you doing to provide income?” she asked suspiciously. She hoped he was not engaged in anything illegal. She was wrong.

  He grinned broadly. “Whisky is a fine drink, aye?” he asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

  She groaned. Illegal moonshine making was once common in the mountains of Western North Carolina. She knew the tradition of bootleg liquor came from Scotland when immigrants moved to America. She never thought she would meet its source.

  “The family has always produced small batches of whisky for our personal use,” he said mischievously. “I decided it could become a money-making venture after observing our English guests. They drank it in large quantities and always left with a cask or two when they returned home. They proclaimed it was the best whisky that ever touched their lips.”

  Tilly reluctantly extracted herself from the embrace. She wanted to see his face when he shared this particular tale. “Did you decide to sell it illegally?”

  He feigned shock. “Why, no! I am a respectable gentleman,” he said. “Imagine the shame that would befall the great House of Campbell!”

  He lowered his voice, even though the boys could not hear. “I officially sell a few casks and pay my taxes on the lot, like a good lad.” He dramatically looked around him. “On the side, though, I have a larger operation that generates a great deal of income. The excise men look the other way.”

  “You bribe them?!” she exclaimed in disbelief.

  He pursed his lips, sucking in air. “Oh, lass, we do not call it that.” He tried to look pious when he added, “I believe the Crown does not sufficiently compensate them for their tireless efforts. I simply wish to assist the poor men and their families. It is an act of Christian charity.”

  “Benjamin Campbell, you are a criminal!”

  “Aye – and a right good one at that,” he boosted, grinning wickedly. “I have earned enough money to bring back most of the families who my father evicted. They can set up shops in Deoch or return to farming, whatever they choose. I can also afford to keep my father in comfort and happiness in England, where he belongs. He entertains his fancy English friends at his estate there and regularly travels to London for politicking. He has all the money he needs to live a life of comfort and ease. The man has not set foot on this land in four years. I mean to keep it that way.”

  “You say that the castle has spies like Mr. Murphy,” she said. “Doesn’t he tell your father what you are doing?”

  “Ah, Mr. Murphy,” Benjamin sighed. “It takes a great deal of effort to conceal most things from him. I fear he knows more than I realize. I have a secret weapon, though, that helps me in my dealings with him.”

  “Oh? What?”

  “My son Allan. Mr. Murphy fell in love with him the first time he held him. He would do anything for the boy.”

  “How does that keep him from saying something about your illegal activities?” she asked in confusion.

  He stared at the ground for a moment as he collected his thoughts. “Mary first noticed his affinity for our son. The man knows how ruthless my father can be, and he saw how my father treated me,” Benjamin said, his head lowered. “He does not want that for Allan. As long as the estate runs smoothly, there is no need for my father to come here. I imagine Mr. Murphy omits certain pieces of information to ensure that does not happen.”

  She had a new respect for the stern butler – and for Benjamin. She fully understood the potential sacrifice he made to have her there. One whisper from Mr. Murphy would send his father racing back to the estate and undo all the careful work he had done over the last several years. “I am a complication, aren’t I?” she asked. “I could ruin everything for you.”

  Benjamin rose abruptly and yelled for the boys to join them. He offered her his hand. “We have lingered too long,” he said. “Let us away.”

  Twenty Seven

  Benjamin, Tilly, and the boys rode for several miles. Tilly was stunned at the great swaths of land completely stripped of both timber and inhabitants. She could not fathom how one’s man greed could transform such a country, yet knew it continued even during her day. Her admiration for Benjamin’s efforts grew as she surveyed the damage caused by his father.

  They stopped at a small farm so that their horses could rest and drink water. A woman emerged from the cottage and immediately broke into a run when she spotted Benjamin and the boys. She flung her arms around his waist and cried, “Oh, what a sight you are! You have not been here in weeks, my boy!”

  Benjamin lifted the woman, eliciting a squeal of joy. He released her from the embrace and gestured toward Tilly, “I would like to introduce you to Mrs. Tilly Munro.”

  “Oh, aye,” the woman said as she appraised Tilly. “Iain has told me about the lass. It is a pleasure to meet you, dear. I am Fiona MacIver, Iain’s mother.”

  Tilly bobbed a weak curtsey, which made the woman cackle. “You will drop in a moment,” she said, taking her by the arm. “Come inside, child. Rest a bit.”

  She bade Benjamin and his sons to follow as she led them all inside the cottage. It was a cozy home comprised of a small kitchen to the right of the doorway, a sitting room to the left, and what was most likely the bedroom in the back. They gathered in the sitting room where a warm, welcoming fire awaited them. Tilly immediately walked to the fireplace and warmed her cold hands.

  Benjamin joined her. He watched Mrs. MacIver leave the room in search of refreshments. “She is like a mother to me,” he whispered.

  “She reminds me a lot of Iain,” Tilly replied with a smile. “She seems to be a very friendly lady.”

  “Aye, she is wonderful.”

  They were interrupted by Mrs. MacIver. She carried a tray with a plate of hot bannocks and mugs of whisky for the adults and tea for the children. Allan and Angus quickly devoured the bannocks as they gulped the tea. Benjamin and Tilly sat on a small settee beside the fire. They enjoyed the refreshments while she informed Benjamin about the latest news from the farm. It seemed Mr. MacIver was in the fields, tending to a heifer who newly delivered a calf. He intended to lead the animals back to the barn where they would be safer.

  Upon hearing this, Benjamin announced that they would assist him. “Would you mind visiting with Mrs. MacIver for a bit while we help?” he asked Tilly as he beckoned the boys to join him.

  “It would be a pleasure.”

  “He headed east, toward the stream,” Mrs. MacIver added helpfully before the party walked out the door.

  “Now, my dear, we can have a proper chat,” she said, joining Tilly on the settee. She tucked an errant strand of her curly white hair into the little cap she wore on her head and smoothed her worn, wool skirt. She seemed nervous.

  “I understand that you have been a guest for a couple of months,” she said. Without giving Tilly time to respond, she remarked, “And, I hear you have been teaching the children.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Do you enjoy the work?” she asked, taking a sip from her mug of whisky.

  “Yes, ma’am. I have always loved teaching children.”

  “Ah, children are a great blessing from God,” Mrs. MacIver said. “Iain was my only bairn. Benjamin seems like a second child to me. I love him as much as I do my own blood. Oh, and his wee bairns are like my grandchildren. They are such a joy!” She patted Tilly on the hand. “I do not know what I would do if any harm came to Benjamin or his children.”

  We get to the heart of the matter, Tilly thought. “I share the same concern. He has been so gracious to me.” She leaned closer and placed her hand upon Mrs. MacIver’s. “I would never wish harm upon Mr. Campbell or his family.”
>
  “Well, the Campbells have many enemies. One cannot be too careful.”

  “I have heard of the long feud with the MacDonalds. It seems treachery is everywhere.”

  “Aye, it is,” Mrs. MacIver said thoughtfully. “Those of us who care for Benjamin and his kin must always be vigilant. You never know when the enemy may be near.”

  Tilly shifted in her seat. You are an outsider, and you have done nothing to earn this woman’s trust. Message understood. She desperately wanted to shift the attention away from herself. The woman’s piercing gaze was unnerving. “I understand that Mr. MacIver was the factor when Mr. Campbell’s father was here,” Tilly said. “What are your memories of Mr. Campbell – the father, I mean?”

  Mrs. MacIver took a deep breath. “To understand the father, you must know more about his upbringing,” she said. “He grew up in the years after the Rising. Times were much different than they are now.”

  “How so?”

  “My mother told me stories that would raise the hair on your head,” she said, pursing her lips. “After the Rising, the English spread across the Highlands like a plague of locusts. They murdered the men and raped the women. They burnt villages and destroyed fields ready for harvest. The Act of Proscription banned the speaking of our native tongue and wearing of the bonny tartan. Our land could be seized on a whim. We had no recourse.”

  “The Campbells aligned with the English, didn’t they?” Tilly asked. “Didn’t that protect the people here?”

  Her eyes grew watery. “Yes, but my mother’s family did not live here after the Rising,” she replied. “They suffered greatly.”

  She wiped her eyes with a lacy handkerchief she produced from the pocket of her apron. Tilly noticed the initials “MC” embroidered in dainty pink thread upon one corner of the cloth. “When I was a child, I knew hunger and grief,” she said quietly. “It was a dark period of my life. Marrying Robert saved me from it.”

  Tilly squeezed the woman’s hand. “You do not have to share the story if it is too painful,” she said.

  “No, I want you to know,” Mrs. MacIver said, tucking the handkerchief into her pocket. “Robert worked for His Grace. We settled in a cottage near Castle Fion. It was like walking into the sunlight.” She paused, lost in the memory. “Benjamin’s grandfather Allan secured the estate by siding with the English. Everyone was safe, and the family kept its property. Many people called him a traitor, though.”

  “Do you think he was?” Tilly asked.

  “In my youth, I would have,” she said, smiling faintly. “As I grew older, I learned that you must sometimes do bad things to help people. We all dance along that line between right and wrong.”

  Tilly could not reconcile the woman’s story with what she knew about the Campbell forefathers. “Based upon everything I have heard about the elder Campbells, they sound like men whose actions were more about their own advancement than protection of the people,” she said.

  Mrs. MacIver chuckled. “Aye, that may have been the primary goal, but the people benefited too,” she said. “I never had to worry about the English killing my husband or burning down our farm. We always had food on our table and a little bit of money from Robert’s work. The Campbell family’s actions made that possible.”

  “Malcolm’s father showed him what must be done to win favor with the English,” she explained. “He taught His Grace how to use influence and gain power. By the time His Grace was old enough to manage the estate, he knew exactly what he must do.”

  “And, what did he do?”

  “He found a woman with money. He was a very practical man. The Campbells may have owned a vast amount of property, but they lacked the financial resources necessary for the improvements His Grace wanted to make. He was elated to meet Eleanor. Oh, she was a great beauty, but, for him, her main attraction was the large dowry that came with her.”

  “I understand that he used the funds to renovate Castle Fion.”

  “Aye, he transformed the castle and hosted any influential noble who would accept an invitation. He catered to their every whim. His plan worked brilliantly. The English loved him.”

  Tilly’s brow furrowed in frustration. “If the English enjoyed staying at the castle, then why did His Grace move the cottars?” she asked. “Surely, the nobles would not notice or even care about that.”

  “Eleanor Campbell’s dowry provided funds for the improvements, not upkeep,” Mrs. MacIver said. “His Grace needed revenue to supply the castle with all the comforts that the English desired. He sold timber. He raised sheep. He did all sorts of things as he tried to generate enough income to keep the castle going. If anyone stood in the way, he removed them from their farms. It was of no consequence to him that the family had been there for generations.”

  Tilly shook her head. “Benjamin – I mean, Mr. Campbell – told me about his father’s actions,” she said. “I just cannot believe someone would be so cruel.”

  “Rich men often think their actions are above contempt,” Mrs. MacIver said. “They do what they want because no one stops them.”

  “Well, I am glad that the whisky business makes a fine profit,” Tilly said wryly, rising her mug of whisky in silent salute. She noticed the shocked expression on Mrs. MacIver’s face. “Mr. Campbell told me about it on the ride here. If it keeps His Grace from returning, then it is a fine endeavor.”

  Mrs. MacIver stared at her for several moments. Finally, she said, “If Benjamin trusts you enough to reveal the whisky business, then I suppose I can speak plainly with you.”

  Tilly already felt the woman was being rather forthright but said nothing. Instead, she nodded encouragingly.

  “Allow me to provide a sketch of His Grace’s character,” she said. “He never gave a thought to anyone but himself. When my poor Robert became too weak, he forced us from the farm on which we lived for years into a tiny room above the stable in Deoch. He gave us a little bit of money to get by.” She paused, looking as if she just sucked on a lemon. “All those years of faithful service meant nothing to him. The day he rode away from here was the happiest of my life. Benjamin immediately moved us to this farm. My husband has dignity and feels like a man again.”

  “Benjamin has given the same opportunity to other families who were similarly discarded. He has tried to heal the wounds of the past.” She stared fiercely into Tilly’s eyes. “He has accomplished much since his father left. I shudder to think how life would be if His Grace returned.”

  Tilly took a long drink of whisky. She realized her own fate was equally tenuous. What would happen to her if the dreaded man returned?

  ∞

  Fortunately for Tilly, Benjamin and his sons soon arrived with Mr. MacIver and the prodigal cows. After the livestock was safely corralled in the barn, the jovial party joined the ladies. Any tension between the women quickly evaporated. To the casual observer, it seemed as if they had enjoyed a pleasant chat by the fire.

  Tilly did a double take when Robert MacIver entered the room. The resemblance between father and son was remarkable. Like his son, he was a tall man with a bushy beard. His wavy, red hair was streaked with white, a sign of his advancing age. His hands were gnarled from arthritis, no doubt making some farm work difficult for him.

  Robert was an affable man. He teased Allan and Angus about their cattle-wrangling skills. “Fiona, it took those boys a full 15 minutes to bring the heifer round,” he told his wife, eyes watering from laughter. “Iain and Benjamin could gather a full herd in the blink of an eye when they were six years of age. I tell you; castle life has made the boys soft. They should stay with us for a few months.”

  The prospect of staying with the MacIvers seemed to be very exciting to the boys. They looked eagerly at their father. He said, “I will consider it. They do not spend as much time as they should on the farm.”

  The boys settled in front of the fire and listened to Robert’s stories. Benjamin and Iain were very naughty as children. Tilly hoped the tales of their exploits would not in
spire Allan and Angus to similar misadventures.

  After a particularly embarrassing story involving a pretty girl from another farm, Benjamin cleared his throat and stood. He tugged at Tilly’s elbow. “As much as we love visiting with you, I fear the hour grows late. We should return before it is dark.” With a sharp look, he ended the protests from his sons.

  The MacIvers accompanied the group outside, extending a warm invitation for a return visit. Robert retrieved the horses from the field where they were hobbled and helped Tilly mount her horse. He patted her on the leg and whispered, “Take care of my boy, Mrs. Munro.”

  She nodded, though perplexed by the comment. Mrs. MacIver’s words still rang in her ears. Did the husband have a kinder view of her?

  They waved goodbye and headed for a trail that Benjamin said would lead them back to the castle. Even though she was not looking forward to another long horseback ride, she felt her heart lift a little at the thought of returning home. Home, she repeated to herself. Is Castle Fion my home now?

  ∞

  The little party rode in silence for some time before Tilly reined her horse to a stop. Benjamin swung around, a concerned expression on his face. “Are you unwell?” he asked.

  “I am fine,” she said, waving her hand. “Could we stop a moment?”

  He looked ahead on the trail. “Let us make our way there,” he said, pointing to a clump of trees in the distance. “It is a nice spot that is sheltered from the wind.”

  When they reached their destination, Benjamin helped Tilly from the horse. He retrieved the plaid blanket and sent the boys to play in the woods.

  As she spread the blanket onto the ground and took a seat, she tried to gather her thoughts. She was not sure how to begin the conversation.

  He stared expectantly at her. “Mrs. MacIver is like a second mother to me,” he said defensively. “I hope she did not frighten you.”

  She shook her head. “She is a kind woman who means well.” She added, “She didn’t say anything that I didn’t expect to hear.”