When Wyatt and Angus Cameron nodded, the estate administrator exclaimed: ‘Of course you do. I’d forgotten how effective the information service is in a small Highland village. I came straight to the inn from the boat without saying more than “Good day” to anyone, yet the news was here before me. Be that as it may, Lord Kilmalie died seven days ago and has been buried in London. His heir was in the country until recently, but is now en route to his home in Australia. It will be some time before he can be contacted and instructions received. In the meantime I imagine things will continue much as they have in recent years. I need to conduct a survey of estate lands and property. It’s necessary in order to set a value on the new Lord Kilmalie’s inheritance and assess the income and liabilities with which he’ll be faced. I’ll be sending a messenger to John Garrett, inviting him to meet me here this evening. We need to discuss both my survey and the prospects for the future….’
At that moment both visitors were forced to move to make way for a number of inn servants. They were bringing in luggage from the boat.
When the servants had gone, leaving the room cluttered with the administrator’s belongings, Charles Graham said: ‘I fear any attempt at serious conversation is doomed right now. Perhaps you gentlemen will join the factor and myself for dinner this evening.’
As Wyatt and Angus Cameron left the inn, luggage was being carried through the passageways of the inn and more was piled up on the roadway outside. Angus Cameron stopped to gaze at the luggage, and his bushy eyebrows met across a deep furrow.
‘There’s an awful lot of luggage for such a small party. They would seem to have come prepared for a long stay.’
‘No doubt. Many of the bags will contain instruments belonging to the surveyors. Anyway, we’ll hear more of their plans this evening. But come to the manse with me first, Angus. We must discuss a memorial service for Lord Kilmalie. You can tell me of some of the benefits he has brought to the village.’
Angus Cameron nodded seriously. ‘There’s maybe not so many as there might have been. Yet I’m afraid time might show the worst thing he ever did for Eskaig was to die.’
Every man and woman in Eskaig and in the mountains beyond the village knew how important to them was the accession of a new landowner. Their future lay entirely in his hands. A good landlord could ensure happiness and security. A bad one had the power to dispense misery, poverty and an end to their very way of life. The new Lord Kilmalie could squeeze Eskaig out of existence, if he so wished. Every householder in Eskaig and the surrounding mountains was a tenant of the new inheritor.
Aware of the great importance of the evening meeting, many tenants gathered in the road outside the inn. They stood in silence, or conversed in low serious tones. When Wyatt and Angus Cameron arrived a path was quickly made for them and a few of the men directed low-voiced instructions to Wyatt.
‘Don’t let them put up our rents too much, Minister.’
‘Invite the new laird to meet us.’
‘We’re relying on you to speak for us, Minister.’
Wyatt was aware of the responsibility he carried upon his shoulders. He was also painfully aware how misplaced was their faith in him. He had been invited to ‘discuss’ the future of the Kilmalie tenants, but he had no power to influence any of the parties involved. However, nothing could be finally decided until the new Lord Kilmalie had made his wishes known – from his home many thousands of miles away.
The meeting was to take place in a private room beyond the taproom. Charles Graham, his clerks and the senior surveyor were already seated about a large fire. The days were growing shorter, and the evenings had a chill about them that heralded an early winter.
Charles Graham suggested a drink as they sat by the fire and waited for the factor to come from Corpach.
Wyatt accepted, but Angus Cameron declined both seat and drink. He believed that sitting too close to a fire aged the skin of a man. As for strong drink … the elder had never touched a drop during all the years of his life. He intended his entry into the Lord’s kingdom to be as a lifelong abstainer.
Cameron’s frown of disapproval would have disconcerted most men, but Charles Graham merely smiled and poured a glass of water for the church elder.
‘Your stand against alcohol is admirable, Elder Cameron, but I read my bible regularly and I expect to find the good Lord waiting to greet me at the gates of heaven with a glass of superb wine in his hand.’
‘If all men had the same strength of will as our Saviour, strong drink might indeed be a blessing, Mr Graham. As it is, the devil uses it for his own works.’
‘I respect your convictions, Elder. However, I believe you’re missing one of life’s rare pleasures…. Ah! This sounds like your factor. Now we can get down to business.’
John Garrett’s loud voice could be heard outside the room. He seemed to be in an unusually jovial mood. Entering the room, Garrett ignored the two Eskaig churchmen. He nodded to the lesser members of the Edinburgh party and extended a hand to the Kilmalie estate administrator.
‘Charles! It’s good to see you in the Highlands at last. But there’s no need for you to lodge here, in the back of beyond. You must come to the house.’
Charles Graham declined the offer. ‘We have much work to do in and around Eskaig. We’ll be calling on your services, of course, and I trust I’ll be a welcome visitor to your home. However, my business will be more conveniently carried on from Eskaig.’
Accepting a drink from one of the clerks, John Garrett frowned. ‘What sort of business? It must be extremely pressing to have brought you from Edinburgh with such a large entourage.’
‘As I explained in my note to you, I’m here as a result of the sad death of Lord Kilmalie. Unfortunately, his passing means rather more than the loss of a fine man. We’re witnessing a period of great change in Scotland. Values are changing, too. It’s been felt for very many years there should be a reassessment of the estate’s value. Now it has become necessary in order to ascertain the extent of his successor’s inheritance. Would you believe the boundaries of the Kilmalie estate have never been accurately defined? We must progress with the times, I’m afraid.’
‘Today’s world overtook Lord Kilmalie many years ago, but he refused to face the fact,’ declared John Garrett callously. ‘Things will change now, and I for one am not sorry….’
A servant appeared at the doorway and waited patiently until he caught Charles Graham’s attention. Graham held up a hand to silence the factor. ‘It seems our meal is ready, gentlemen. Shall we resume our discussion over the dinner-table? Let me lead the way.’
As they walked together from the room, Angus Cameron shook his head gloomily. ‘I don’t like it, Minister. “Change” and “progress” are words that mean very different things to landowners and tenants. To them it means making more money. To us it’s just another way of saying “clearance” and “hardship”.’
‘Let’s wait to hear what everyone has to say before we make a judgement, Angus. We have a thriving little community here. The new Lord Kilmalie won’t want to destroy it. We might even find an improvement in the quality of our lives.’
Wyatt was aware there was a hollow ring to his words. Angus Cameron was right. Enthusiasm for change usually spelled disaster for the inhabitants of the Highlands.
For much of the meal the talk about the table was light-hearted. Both the Kilmalie administrator and the chief surveyor led busy social lives and they possessed a wealth of anecdotes about life in Scotland’s capital city. Only Elder Cameron maintained a sombre and unsmiling demeanour throughout the meal. Wyatt suspected much of this stemmed from unfamiliarity with the variety of cutlery placed on either side of his plate. In many parts of the Highlands a knife and wooden spoon were the only dining implements deemed necessary. In the mountains the spoon itself was scorned as an unnecessary luxury.
Not until the port was circulating and tobacco-smoke drifting up to form a blue haze above the table did the talk turn to business matters, prompted
by Charles Graham. He was seated at the far end of the table from Wyatt, flanked by John Garrett and the chief surveyor.
‘Minister Jamieson, are you aware you’re a benefactor under Lord Kilmalie’s will?’
The information, called the length of the table, took Wyatt by surprise. Lord Kilmalie had been so generous during his lifetime, Wyatt had not considered he might benefit by the landowner’s death.
‘Do you mean I benefit personally? Or is it a gift to my church?’
‘It’s a gift to you, Minister. In recognition of your heroism in saving Lord Kilmalie’s son. The man who should have been his heir. I’m not at liberty to inform you of the details, the will has not been officially read yet, but I can assure you it’s a substantial sum.’
‘Has his Lordship been equally generous to his Eskaig tenants? I’m rather concerned about these “changes” you’re forecasting.’
Seated beside Wyatt, Angus Cameron was nodding vigorous agreement with his minister’s words.
‘I’m more concerned with gathering facts about the estate, Minister. It will be for the new Lord Kilmalie to act upon my findings as he thinks fit, of course. However, I don’t foresee any immediate changes. I gather he has no intention of leaving his home in Australia and taking up residence in this country, so administration is likely to prove difficult for a while.’
‘Not as difficult as you think, Charles. I have some papers I would like you to read.’
John Garrett rose from the table abruptly and left the room.
He returned carrying a leather satchel from which he produced a number of papers. He handed them to Charles Graham with a triumphant flourish.
Graham frowned when he glanced down at the papers, and his puzzlement grew as he read them. He read the first paper thoroughly and then glanced quickly through the remainder. Suddenly looking up at John Garrett, he said sharply: ‘Where did you get these … and when?’
‘I met Major Skene – the new Lord Kilmalie – when I was in London. We spent a lot of time together. He gave me these papers shortly before he left for Australia. A solicitor was consulted before they were drawn up. I think you’ll find they’re all perfectly legal.’
‘I don’t doubt it. I’m less concerned with the legality than with the manner in which this whole matter has been conducted. Why was I not informed of this before?’ Charles Graham threw the papers down on the table in front of the factor. ‘Such an underhand “arrangement” is disgraceful.’
John Garrett shrugged. ‘You’ll have to speak to the new Lord Kilmalie about that. It was his duty to inform you, not mine.’
‘I’m not talking of anyone’s duty, John. I’m talking of trust – and honesty. You and Evangeline stayed at my house when you were on your way home from London, yet you never gave me a hint that you had these documents in your possession. Documents that make my position as administrator for the Kilmalie estates damned near untenable! ’
The factor seemed genuinely startled by Charles Graham’s anger. ‘Nothing has changed as far as you’re concerned. You’re still the administrator for Lord Kilmalie’s estates, no matter who holds the title.’
‘An administrator with very little power of administration. It’s an intolerable situation.’
Charles Graham stood up from the table, pushing back against his chair so hard it crashed noisily to the floor behind him. ‘My obligations to the estate of the late Lord Kilmalie mean I must carry out a survey. It doesn’t decree that I need be present. I shall return to Edinburgh first thing in the morning.’
‘Will someone please explain what’s happening?’ Wyatt had been a confused onlooker until now.
‘Yes, tell him, John. The minister has a right to know. Mr Cameron, too. Tell them how you’ve persuaded the new Lord Kilmalie to give you absolute power over the Kilmalie estates – and its tenants. Full executive powers “for as long as you are making a profit”, I believe is the wording. Answerable to no one but a man in far-off Australia! Here….’
Charles Graham picked up the documents and threw them down the table towards Wyatt. ‘Read for yourself how one man’s ruthless ambition has been achieved. Read it – and then warn the people of the estate what they can expect from a man who does this to his friends. God help them, Minister. I doubt if anyone else can.’
Thirty
THE SNOWS REACHED the Highlands earlier than usual in the winter of 1842. Travelling from the Arctic circle, the wind piled cloud upon dark grey cloud. Then one day the wind suddenly dropped and the clouds no longer sped across the sky but hung over the mountain-tops, swollen and menacing. The Highlanders waited anxiously as the gap between sky and land closed. It seemed that when a sharp mountain-top touched the plump belly of the grey mass overhead its contents would empty upon the Highland landscape.
This was exactly how it occurred. As the grey of day became the black of night, the cloud sagged upon the heights of Ben Nevis. An eerie silence gripped the land, and when Eskaig awoke the next morning four feet of snow blanketed the village and surrounding mountains.
Wyatt had seen Mairi only once since their visit together to the Munro home, and it had been an unsatisfactory meeting. Mairi came to church with her mother, father, six brothers and Tibbie. Somehow, Wyatt never seemed able to speak to her without one of the others being present. Now he knew they would probably not meet again until the spring.
The weather was not allowed to interfere with the important church conference held in Edinburgh halfway through November. Minister Coll Kennedy came from Letterfinlay by boat, travelling along Loch Lochy and the lower reaches of the Caledonian Canal to Corpach. Here he joined Wyatt and two other local ministers in Donald McKay’s steam-launch for the passage to Glasgow, en route to Edinburgh. With the future of the Kilmalie tenants so uncertain, Wyatt had thought of cancelling his trip to Edinburgh. However, Garrett was unlikely to make a move against the Highlanders in such weather, and the conference was vitally important to the future of the Church in Scotland.
It was a rough and uncomfortable voyage, almost as though the Lord was putting their resolution to the test. For the whole of the journey the four preachers discussed the future of the church to which they had dedicated their lives. From all over Scotland hundreds of ministers were doing the same as they converged upon the Scots capital.
Arrangements had been made for the ministers to be lodged in houses of church members. Coll Kennedy and Wyatt were billeted with a very elderly widow who was terrified when one of the Edinburgh elders informed her that her charges were from the Highlands. Her relief when she saw they were not coarse, armed or red-bearded was evident. However, Coll Kennedy was disgruntled when she informed the two clergymen she did not allow drinking, smoking or swearing inside her house.
‘If I come here again, I’ll wear my tartan, carry a claymore with me and walk in shouting my clan motto. She’ll not care what I do afterwards, just as long as I keep quiet.’
‘What is the motto of the Kennedy clan?’ Wyatt was curious. As far as he knew, his own family had neither tartan nor motto.
Coll Kennedy had said more than he intended and he appeared slightly self-conscious. ‘It’s French. “Avise la fin.” ’
“‘Consider the end.” ’ Wyatt grinned. ‘It’s very apt, Coll. Our landlady’s rules might succeed in saving you for greater things.’
‘I don’t think the family is particularly noted for observing the motto. One of them, some centuries ago, roasted the Abbot of Crossraguel in his castle. It couldn’t have enhanced his chances of a place in heaven, although it did vastly increase his temporal land-holdings. ’
The two men were sharing a room, and Wyatt paused in his unpacking. He realised he knew very little about the happy-go-lucky preacher from Letterfinlay.
‘Which of your ancestors lost the family fortunes and made it to heaven?’
‘Oh, it was never lost. The sixteenth earl is my brother. Another brother is a baronet. We’re also distantly related to the lords of Kilmalie.’
Wya
tt’s open-mouthed astonishment brought a smile to the face of Coll Kennedy. ‘Don’t let it overawe you, Wyatt. I’m never likely to have a title. There are six older brothers between me and the earldom. My father was in the habit of telling his friends I’d joined the Church in order to gain a heavenly inheritance, because I’ll never have one here on earth.’
‘With such a background why are you fighting the landowners – people like your own brother – over the issue of patronage?’
‘Being well-bred doesn’t mean I have no principles.’ Coll Kennedy’s indignation lasted only a matter of seconds. ‘While we’re on the subject of principles, I refuse to set off on an unknown journey without drinking to whatever lies ahead….’
With a wink at his companion, Coll Kennedy produced a bottle of whisky from his baggage. ‘Share this with me, Wyatt. God knows – and He alone – it’s certainly an unknown road we’ll all be travelling if the Convocation votes to stand or fall on the patronage issue. There’s no way we can retreat with honour.’
On 17 November 1842, 474 dissatisfied ministers of the Church of Scotland assembled in St George’s Church, Edinburgh, to listen to Dr Chalmers, one of the Church’s most respected ministers. He took as his text ‘Unto the upright there ariseth light in the darkness’. He proceeded forcibly, and with great skill, to relate his text to the darkness that had caused the Church to stray from the path wherein lay its duty.
It was the largest gathering of ministers Edinburgh had ever witnessed, and the people of the Scots capital sensed they were bearing witness to an historic occasion. When the service was over the ministers adjourned to Roxburgh Church, close to the university where Wyatt had been a student. Along the route the pavements were lined by silent members of the Church, most with heads bowed in prayer, calling for wisdom to prevail at the Convocation.
The ministers were anxious to reach the right decision. Their livelihood and the future of their families were at stake, along with their Christian principles.
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