The Inheritance

by Irina Shapiro

  Chapter 37

  Danny’s house was on a leafy side street in central Inverness, within walking distance to his office. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but it was tastefully decorated in a modern style with comfortable leather couches, low tables and a flat-screen TV. There were several landscapes on the wall, and a picture of a happy-looking older couple who could only be his parents judging by their features, and the prominent place the picture held.

  I peeked into his bedroom while he busied himself in the kitchen. A platform bed with bedding in shades of blue and gray, a chest of drawers and some night stands, very masculine and neat. I noted there was no TV in the bedroom, which I liked. I could see no traces of feminine occupation and felt a giddy relief. No girlfriend then, but I would have to check out the bathroom before I knew for sure.

  I had no idea where Danny and I would go from here, but it would certainly help if I wasn’t the other woman. I ran a reconnaissance mission to the bathroom while the banging in the kitchen continued, and having found no tampons, lipsticks or thongs, felt much better, and went to help with dinner.

  Danny had things well under control. The steaks were broiling, the potatoes were boiling, the salad already in the bowl waiting for dressing. I set the table and accepted a glass of wine from Danny. Truthfully, I was burning to read the letters, but Danny was obviously starving after his exertions, and I resolved to wait patiently until after dinner.

  “Wow,” I said biting into the tender piece of steak on my plate. “Tiger in the bedroom, chef in the kitchen, how did you manage to stay single for so long? Or aren’t you?” I couldn’t help myself. I needed to know.

  “I could ask you the same question,” he countered.

  “You haven’t tasted my cooking yet. That might answer your question.”

  He leaned back in his chair taking a sip of wine and studying me across the table. “I’m not interested in your cooking,” he answered, giving me a look that made me blush beet red. “I wasn’t always single. I was in a committed relationship until about a year ago, but I’ve been on my own since.” He seemed reluctant to talk about it, but I wanted to know.

  “What happened?”

  “Laura and I met in law school. I was studying estate law, while she wanted to be a corporate lawyer. We ended up at the same party one night, and spent the whole evening together. She came back to my place afterward, and never really left. We moved out of the dorm, rented an apartment together and got on with our lives. We often talked of marriage and children and made plans for our future.

  Laura was ambitious, and got into a prominent law firm after graduation. Her schedule was so hectic, I hardly saw her. She thought it was quaint that I wanted to take over my father’s practice. She made me feel like I wasn’t ambitious enough.

  There was no big dramatic ending. A couple of years went by and there was no more talk of marriage or children. I still would have married her, but I could see it wasn’t something she longed for. She had bigger plans than being married to a small-time lawyer. I woke up one morning to see her packing. I could have tried to stop her, but truthfully, I felt relieved. I haven’t seen her since.”

  “Do you miss her?” No one could say I wasn’t a masochist.

  “Sometimes. I went out with a few women over the past year, and when I was with them, I missed the comfort of being with someone who already loved you and knew all your quirks. I missed the ease of being with someone who understands you, but then again, maybe she never did. What about you?”

  “I haven’t been lucky enough to have that kind of relationship. There were a couple of boyfriends in high school and college, but never a great love. I met my last boyfriend at the Metropolitan Museum. He was an Art History professor at City College, and had recently moved to New York from Madrid. I was taken in by his suave manner and romantic words, but I don’t think he ever really loved me the way I loved him. He left me for one of his students right before Christmas. I was devastated at the time, but now I see that it was truly for the best.” And I did. The thought of Xavier left me completely cold. It had been a romance, not a love.

  I helped Danny clear away the dishes and we went into the living room to finally read the letters. I was bouncing with anticipation, desperately hoping they had been worth the wait.

  “You dreamed this?” Danny asked incredulously. “How odd. Can’t you dream the lottery numbers or something?” He put his arm around me as we sat down on the couch and I took out the little packet, gingerly removing the faded ribbon.

  Chapter 38

  September 23, 1745

  My dearest Love,

  I hope this letter finds ye well and happy. Not a day goes by that I dinna think of yer bonnie face afore I fall asleep, counting the days until we can be together again.

  We met His Majesty at Eriskay, Hebrides where he traveled after landing at Eriskay Island. His noblemen passed him off as a young Irish priest to disguise his identity until reinforcements arrived. He had left France with two ships, one carrying munitions and troops, but that ship was badly damaged by the storms at sea and was forced to turn back. The king landed with only a few supporters, and was greatly upset by this setback. Upon his arrival, he was informed by one Alexander McDonald that he should go back home, since the clans wouldna be coming. His Majesty informed him that he was already home, and has nay intentions of leaving.

  The decision was made to march to Glenfinnan, where His Majesty raised his standard and anxiously awaited the clans, hoping that the dire predictions of McDonald had been inaccurate. It took a few days, but they began to arrive. We were joined by the Clan of Ranald, the MacDonells of Glengarry, the MacDonalds of Keppoch, Frasers, Grants and most of Clan Cameron. There were roughly 1,200 men by the time we turned our steps toward Edinburgh, and His Majesty declared himself King James VIII.

  More men kept arriving as we marched south and our numbers swelled to 3,000. The British, under the command of Sir John Hope, dinna engage us and we marched on.

  The first battle finally took place at Prestonpans two days ago. It was an easy victory, as we snuck up on the English and came at them out of the mist. There were few casualties on our side, and everyone was in fine spirits.

  Our “beloved” Laird has made me War Chieftain of Clan McBride, which is a dubious honor, since it will put me at the front line of every battle. I suspect he wants to be rid of me, but I couldna refuse the “honor”. Dinnae fret, my dearest, I will take care.

  I live for the day I will hold ye in my arms again.

  With all my love,

  R.A.M

  P.S. Please burn this letter as soon as ye have read it.

  I turned to Danny. This letter was obviously meant for Isobel, but who was R.A.M? Her husband’s name had been John. This man obviously loved her, and judging by the hiding place and the red ribbon, she loved him too.

  “It seems our ghost had a lover. I wonder how he got the letters to her without her husband knowing.” I mused. “Who do you think he was?”

  “I have no idea. I never heard of a romance. It was always believed that she grieved her husband after he was taken prisoner and executed. Read the next one.”

  Chapter 39

  November 3, 1745

  My Love,

  I was overjoyed to receive yer letter. I am much relieved that ye are in good health and spirits. I thank the Lord that Dougal and Anna are willing to take the risk of helping us. I suppose nay one would think of intercepting their letters.

  We have been in Edinburgh for some weeks now, having taken Perth and the capital with almost no resistance. We weren’t able to capture the castle, but His Majesty is holding court at Holyrood, where there are nightly dinners and entertainments. Our Laird is quite the favorite of his, and I’ve shared the royal table on several occasions as well. Some of the men are getting restless, and there are those that have melted away in the night, returning to their homes with booty and no desire to continue fighting.

  His Majesty is nae satisfied with r
egaining the Scottish throne, and declares his intent to march south to England; since a French convoy has arrived in mid-October bringing troops and munitions. He is intent on regaining the English throne as well, and there are those among his Scottish supporters who are nae in favor of the proposed action. As I am sure ye know, those left behind are shorthanded in the fields, and sorely missed the men during harvest when all available labor was much needed.

  I pray that ye are well and managing on yer own. I know Anna is a comfort to ye.

  With all my love,

  R.A.M.

  P.S. I have met with yer father and brother here at Holyrood. They are both well, and eager to serve our king.

  **

  “Any idea who Anna and Dougal might be?” I asked, not really expecting an answer. Unless they were important, there would be no mention of them anywhere. The only reason we knew about Isobel was because she had been the Laird’s wife, and had distinguished herself by vanishing without a trace.

  “None. I was hoping for some answers, but this raises more questions.” Danny reached for the next letter.

  “Is there any way to find out more? Archives, library, anything?” I was overwhelmed with desire to know. “There must be something written about the McBrides.” I wasn’t giving up until I found something.

  “I suppose there must be. I have work tomorrow, but if you want, I’ll drop you off at the library.” He was already pulling me off the couch and leading me to the bedroom, the stack of letters abandoned on the coffee table.

  December 1745

  Chapter 40

  Rory excused himself, bowed to the king, then to the assembled company and took his leave. The supper had lasted for hours and he was desperate for some fresh air and exercise. He walked through the empty halls of Holyrood toward the door to the courtyard, and filled his lungs with cold air as he stepped outside. The night was cold, and he saw the shadowy forms of sentries stomping their feet and rubbing their hands in order to stay warm. The cloudless winter sky was strewn with brilliant stars, and the moon hung low over the distant hills making Rory long for home and Isobel. He wasn’t in the mood for company, so he turned away from the sound of approaching voices and walked through the gate. His steps took him to the Royal Mile and he walked up the cobblestone street lost in his thoughts.

  Meeting Prince Charles had been one of the most exciting days of his life, and he’d held his breath as he was presented to the young king, who welcomed him and greeted him warmly. Rory had been a passionate supporter of the Stuart cause since he was a lad, and would have gladly laid his life down for his king if the need arose. He’d not had much contact with His Majesty in the weeks following his landing and the subsequent march to claim Edinburgh, but now that they had been in the city for weeks, he was often in the presence of the king.

  Rory hated to admit, even to himself, that he was harboring reservations. He still believed in the Stuart’s absolute right to the throne and in gaining independence from English rule, but he doubted that Charles would be the one to bring that about. The king was a self-centered youth, who squandered money on multicourse suppers and nightly entertainments. He whined to his confidants about his love affairs, and spent hours choosing fabrics for his suits and buckles for his shoes, twirling before the looking glass and waiting for compliments. The army was not adequately fed or clothed, and lacked weapons and training. Most of the men weren’t professional soldiers. They all knew how to fight, having learned swordplay from an early age, but they lacked discipline and proper training. Going into battle against the crushing force of the British Army required not only people, but strategy, discipline and good leadership, which was sorely lacking.

  Rory pushed away the hand of yet another young woman trying to sell him her wares and walked away, refusing her politely. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of refuse littering the gutter and turned back to Holyrood. His thoughts were treasonous and had to be kept to himself. He hadn’t even shared his feelings with Dougal, not wanting to endanger his friend. Their course had been set and he would follow the young king to the bitter end, whether it entailed victory over England or a devastating defeat.

  June 2010

  Chapter 41

  Danny drove me to the library as promised, and I spent several fruitless hours looking at dusty texts. There was plenty of information on the ’45 uprising, but no mention of specific people unless they were commanders or people of prominence. I was sorely disappointed and asked the librarian where else I could search.

  “If ye have the time, ye might want to nip down to Edinburgh. They might have more information there. Check the archives.”

  I went out for a walk after leaving the library, my mind full of theories. I would meet Danny for dinner after his last appointment, but I was free until then. I wandered into a few stores, but the merchandise held no interest for me. I wanted answers.

  I retraced my steps back to the library and found Danny already waiting for me by the entrance. He had taken off his jacket and loosened his tie, and I smiled at the sight of him. He kissed me thoroughly before asking to hear about my progress, then tossed his briefcase into the back seat and held the passenger door open for me.

  “Come on, lass. We’ll have some dinner and come up with a plan of action. Do you like sushi?”

  Danny took me to a little Japanese place that reminded me of New York. We settled into a booth separated by bamboo walls and oriental hangings and placed our order.

  “I have an idea,” he said. We can drive down to Edinburgh on Saturday. We’ll go check the archives, do some sightseeing and then on the way back, get your things from the inn.”

  “Am I leaving?” I enquired.

  “You’re coming to stay with me. There is no point in you staying there alone when I have a perfectly good house and a sinfully comfortable bed. Unless, you don’t want to,” he finished giving me a sheepish look.

  “I accept your offer, Mr. Ogilvy, on all counts. Saturday it is then.”

  I wasn’t holding out much hope of finding anything, but it was still an adventure. Whether we found any information or not, it would be a fun day spent together sightseeing and searching for answers. I’d been planning to visit Edinburgh and I was looking forward to going there with Danny. The romantic in me was blissfully happy.

  December 1745

  Chapter 42

  Isobel put another log on the fire and looked out at the darkened sea. The gibbous moon hung over the water illuminating a silver path on the placid surface. She opened the window just a crack and took a lungful of frigid air. She thought it would snow tonight.

  Life at the castle had been very quiet since the men had left. The women went about their business of living life, caring for their children, and worrying about their men. Correspondence was sporadic, and if anyone had any news, they shared it with the rest.

  The harvest had been difficult with so few workers, but they managed with the help of the children and old folk who had been too frail to ride with the Laird to join the king. Isobel’s favorite part of the day was when the women gathered in the sewing room to work together. They exchanged news and told stories, real and imagined, and Isobel didn’t feel so alone. She loved hearing the stories of the fairy folk and selkies because they took her away to a different world. They gave her a short break from her own anxiety.

  She would be forever grateful to Anna and Dougal for their help. Rory had told her to trust them and she did. He inserted his letters to her inside Dougal’s letters to Anna, and so far it had worked. No one would intercept the correspondence of a blacksmith and a farmer’s daughter in hope of learning state secrets. They weren’t important enough and hoped to keep it that way. Isobel thought that Anna would be shocked by her relationship with Rory, but Anna was very matter-of-fact about the whole thing.

  “I always thought him a handsome devil,” she said, “but be careful, my girl. If yer husband gets wind of this, there will be hell to pay. Have nay doubt he’ll kill him. He won’t fight him openl
y, because Rory is the better swordsman, and nae as clumsy as the Laird, but he will make sure that a sword or a bullet finds his heart. It was always like that between them. John never openly did anything to hurt Rory, but managed to manipulate the situation to his advantage, and blame Rory for whatever misdeed he was guilty of until Rory learned to anticipate his venom. And dinna worry about Dougal betraying you. He would die for Rory.”

  Isobel had had a letter a few weeks ago, but hadn’t gotten one since. She knew that the king was still in Edinburgh planning his campaign against the British. Several men had turned up in the past few weeks having gotten tired of sitting around and missing their home. They felt no desire to march on England, and felt that the king was being overly ambitious in hoping to take on King George’s army. Isobel went cold with fear every time she thought of it. They were safe for now, but the Highland Army would march south toward London. Sooner or later, battles would be fought and her Rory would be in front, leading the charge as they faced English cannons with broadswords. John didn’t have to lift a finger to dispose of Rory. The English would do that for him.

  Isobel turned from the window and sat down at her dressing table, picking up her hair brush. Christmas was coming and she would have to put on a merry face for the inhabitants of the castle. She heard a noise at the door and turned around in annoyance. She had a new maid, Bess. The girl was slow and clumsy and a bit daft, but she felt sorry for her and told herself to have patience. She probably just forgot something. The door opened quietly, and Isobel gasped in fear to see a man looming in the darkness until she saw Rory’s eager smile. He locked the door and swept her off her feet in a bone-crushing embrace. He was smeared with mud and smelled of sweat and horses, but she didn’t care. He was home, and that’s all that mattered for the moment.