Prisoner of Love

by Jean S. MacLeod

  “It was Helene, wasn’t it?” Laura said slowly.

  “What makes you say that?” she asked in a tense undertone.

  “I’ve known, I think, ever since I met him.” Laura was looking out of the window again. “That was him playing the pipes out on the moor just now, wasn’t it?” she added.

  “Yes,” Cathie said. “Sometimes he goes out. He never plays them in the house. I heard him at the Piobaireachd,” she added simply.

  Laura did not answer. She was thinking of Zachray out there on the moor, giving up the sorrow of his soul to the music he loved and understood so well, his torment of love not lessened by time, his loss growing deeper and perhaps more bitter with the passing years. She wondered, too, of his hatred for Julius but she couldn’t bring herself to ask Cathie any more questions.

  “Will you ring the bell?” Cathie said. “It's out there on the wall beside the door.”

  Laura found the ancient ship’s bell suspended from an iron bracket and clanged it lustily to call Zachray in from the moor.

  To her surprise and Cathie’s obvious delight, he did not come alone. When he walked down across the heather and swung his legs over the low drystone dyke that walled in Cathie's Highland garden he had a visitor with him.

  “Blair Cameron!” Cathie said, looking through the window, her eyes alight. “I wonder why he has come back so soon?”

  Laura could not give her a reason. She was aware of Blair, tall and, somehow, more erect, standing in the open doorway, filling it up, dominating the lovely old room and looking as if he belonged there.

  “It’s good to see you, Blair,” Cathie said, shaking hands. “Did you take me at my word and come back for a taste of my butter?”

  “I came up to listen to the pipes!” Blair told her, sitting down on the arm of a chair and helping himself to one of her home-baked scones. “I heard them while I was fishing over the top reaches of the burn and they drew me like a magnet.”

  “What the man means is that he couldn’t land a fish and he wants to use the pipes as an excuse!" Zachray declared, coming over to the table to collect his cup. “He told me when he first came up that my music was frightening away the salmon for miles!”

  He had put his pipes away in the wooden case beneath an ancient dresser in the corner, and Laura realized, with a keen sense of disappointment, that he did not mean to play again. Perhaps he could not after that heartrending lament she had heard out there on the open moor.

  “I really ought to go,” Laura said. “Julius is away and I told Morag I would be in for dinner.”

  Nobody had asked about Julius, she realized, and there had been a small, awkward silence when she had mentioned his name.

  “Well, that settles it,” Cathie agreed. “You could quite easily have stayed the night, though. We could have got Mairie MacDonald to take a message to Dunraven and we could have had a trip into Ullapool in the morning.”

  “I wish I could have stayed,” Laura said, “but I think I ought to go back. Julius may have sent a message, you see. I’m expecting my brother from London.”

  “Oh!” Cathie looked disappointed. “Blair can see you down the glen, in that case. How long is your brother going to stay?”

  “Till he goes to school, I should think.” Laura was smiling at the thought of Lance. “He’s much younger than I am, you see, and Julius has arranged to send him to Ashleigh. It’s a wonderful chance for him.”

  Cathie exchanged a swift glance with her brother, which appeared to be some sort of warning. Zachray’s lips were tightly compressed when he got to his feet, but he said nothing.

  Blair rose to follow Laura out.

  “I’ll see you back to Dunraven,” he offered.

  Laura wondered if she ought to refuse because of the distance he had already walked, but he seemed determined to accompany her.

  “How old is your brother?” he asked as they set out.

  “Lance? He’s fourteen. He’s going to be so excited about everything up here, Blair,” she added. “You can imagine a boy of his age being let loose in the glen!”

  “We’ll have to teach him to fish,” he said with an oddly reminiscent smile. “I cast my first fly at that age—successfully. It wasn’t so very far from here, either,” he added, “and I thought the man who taught me to use the rod and gaff was pretty wonderful! The eyes of youth are readily given to that sort of hero-worship, I suppose.”

  “I was wondering about that,” Laura said tentatively. “There’s nobody around about to show Lance—”

  “Do you want me to do it?” he asked.

  “I'd like you to, if it isn’t too much to ask.”

  “I still possess enough energy for a day’s fishing,” he said rather bitterly. “Bring him up to the lodge when he feels like it and we’ll have a day together along the burn.”

  Laura hugged the offer to her all the way to Dunraven. Lance would love the experience, and it would be something to interest Blair, too. Later, they might even take out the yacht. But, no, she decided swiftly. That decision had better wait until Julius got back.

  “Is your brother traveling up from London alone?” Blair asked as they neared the causeway.

  “I think so. Really,” Laura confessed, “I’m waiting for word from Julius. It was all arranged quite suddenly, you see. Julius had to go to London in rather a hurry, and he promised to send Lance up as soon as he got there.”

  “Yes,” Blair said. “He left me some capsules on the way to the station. He’s trusting me with these rather than trouble your Morag to give me the usual injection.”

  Julius had not mentioned the injections to Laura, and after he had gone she had wondered about them; but Blair was looking so vastly improved now that she had thought Julius must have decided to do without drugs altogether.

  “Are you sleeping any better?” she asked kindly. “That’s the most important thing.”

  “I got five hours at a stretch last night, and that was about my usual before—this happened. I could always get along with a minimum of sleep.”

  “Like most good doctors!” she smiled, and was instantly sorry that she had made the remark because his eyes darkened with the old pain of failure and he took his leave of her almost abruptly.

  When Lance arrived two days later she told him about Blair’s offer. Zachray MacKellar had run her to the station to meet the train and brought them back to Dunraven, but he could not be persuaded to come in.

  “I’ve got lots of work waiting to be done,” he excused himself. “How about you coming up to Garvie and lending a hand, Lance?” he suggested to cover up any embarrassment Laura might have felt at his refusal to accept her hospitality. “There’s always lots to do and see on a farm.”

  Lance looked eagerly in Laura’s direction.

  “May I?” he asked. “And would you come too, Laurie?”

  “I’m sure you would like it very much,” Laura said, thinking how kind everyone was being in Julius’s absence. “And of course I’ll go with you.”

  “Mr. MacKellar’s very nice,” Lance proclaimed as they stood watching Zachray drive away. “Is everyone up here like that?”

  “The few people there are!” Laura smiled. “One of Julius’s patients has offered to teach you to fish. He’s living up in a shooting lodge in the glen just now. It’s a sort of experiment with his health that Julius is trying out, but I think it might be better if you didn't mention it. He’s rather sensitive about being ill, you see.”

  “He must be able to get about all right if he can fish,” Lance decided. “Golly! This is going to be a wizard sort of holiday—coming all that way in the train by myself, and having a sleeper, and you meeting me—”

  “Lance,” Laura asked, “who put you on the train?”

  “In London? Oh—Holmes, of course. Julius was too busy.”

  “And Holmes took you to Ashleigh. Has Julius heard the result of your examination?”

  “Not yet, I don’t think.” Lance looked worried. “I hope I’ve done al
l right. Julius would be furious if I failed.”

  Laura turned in the doorway, feeling the house behind her suddenly chill and cold.

  “What makes you say that?” she asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know. It’s just the sort of feeling you get with Julius. He’s so clever. I suppose he thinks it’s all easy enough—to be brilliant, I mean.” He ran a hand through his hair, a small gesture he had when he was confused, and Laura put a comforting arm about his shoulders.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she advised. “And, anyway, I don’t think you’ll fail.”

  “What would happen if I did, Laurie?” he asked anxiously.

  “We’re not going to consider that possibility,” she told him firmly. “It’s no use crossing our bridges before we come to them.”

  “Talking about bridges," he grinned. “What a great place this is, with the bridge across to the island and the house built on it! It’s like a fortress.”

  “I thought you might find it a bit grim,” Laura said with relief, “but I can see you like it.”

  “Like it! I think it’s terrific! Does it all belong to Julius?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s rather strange,” Lance observed, walking about the hall, “Julius wanting to live all this way from London, but then I suppose he can live where he likes.”

  “Yes,” Laura said again as Morag came into the hall at the sound of their voices. “Lance,” she introduced them, “this is Mrs. Finlayson, Julius’s housekeeper.”

  “My goodness! Isn’t it the big boy he is!” Morag exclaimed with her warmest smile. “We will have to be getting out a kilt for him one of these days and making a true Highlandman of him!”

  “Could you?” Lance asked eagerly, taking her at her word. “I’ve always wanted to wear a kilt. Could you find one, Mrs. Finlayson, do you think?”

  “I will have to have a try!” Morag promised, looking at Laura. “What does Mistress Behar think about it?”

  “I think it’s ideal,” Laura said. “But isn’t there some question about having the ‘right’ to wear a tartan?”

  “Oh, indeed!” Morag agreed. “But we could be turning a blind eye to that, just for once, I think! Go up and see the MacKellars,” she advised Lance. “They’re sure to have a kilt of some sort hidden away in a drawer.”

  Under these conditions, Lance could hardly wait till he got to Garvie Lodge, and when he found himself the proud possessor of one of Zachray’s outgrown kilts his delight was complete. He swaggered about in it and would not change it for his corduroy shorts even when he went up the glen for his first fishing lesson with Blair.

  Laura hadn’t seen Blair for two days and she was rather anxious about him. Julius had not asked her to keep an eye on his patient, of course, but it seemed only neighborly to go and see how he was.

  He was lying on a long cane chair on the verandah when they looked up at the lodge from the path beneath it. When he saw them he put the book he had been reading aside and came to lean on the rail as they negotiated the final steeper stretch to the door.

  “Come up and have a seat for a minute till you get back your breath,” he invited. “I’ll see what Callum can do about some coffee.”

  Laura looked up at him, recognizing instantly, that he must have had two distressing nights. All the progress he had seemed to be making had been wiped out by a recurrence of the fever that he had suffered from for weeks in London, and her heart began to beat unsteadily as she wondered what was the best thing to do in the circumstances. She introduced Lance and sent him in search of Callum.

  “Blair—don’t worry about the fishing trip," she said swiftly. “Lance can come up another day, when you feel better.”

  He smiled, turning to face her.

  “You’re seeing the aftermath,” he told her. “The worst of the attack was over twenty-four hours ago.”

  “Why didn’t you send for me?” she asked. “You should have done. Callum could have come down with a message and I would have done what I could.”

  “And risked Julius’s wrath when he discovered that I had exposed you to a midnight journey up the glen? Callum wanted to bring you,” he mused reminiscently when he saw her flush. “I think he felt that I was likely to pass out on him at any moment. Thank heaven I was able to tell him what to do before things got really frightening,” he added whimsically. “I think the terror on his face kept me more or less conscious all the time, though. I felt far more sorry for Callum than I did for myself, as a matter of fact!”

  She knew that he was trying to minimize his ordeal, but probably he was right when he said that the fever had subsided. All the same, she insisted on taking his temperature and his pulse.

  “Laura,” he said with the thermometer still in his mouth, “how long were you a nurse?”

  “Long enough to decide that you’re not going fishing with a temperature,” she told him firmly.

  “You’re wasting your time,” he said. “I know whether I have a temperature or not.”

  “You have a very quick pulse.”

  “That’s quite natural—under the circumstances!”

  She took the thermometer out of his mouth and examined it.

  “No?” he said hopefully.

  “It’s only one degree above,” she was forced to admit. “All the same, Blair, I want you to rest.”

  “You told me not so very long ago that fishing was by far and away the best relaxation I could find,” he reminded her, “and I mean to fish. You wouldn’t have me let Lance down, would you—kilt and all?” he grinned. “Where did he get it? From MacKellar?”

  “Yes. It was one Zachray had when he was about Lance’s age.” Laura stood uncertainly, facing him in the morning sunshine. “If you do mean to defy me,” she said, “I’m coming, too.”

  “To pick up the fragments when I fall to pieces?” he asked with sudden bitterness. “They wouldn’t be a lot of use to you, Laura.”

  The change of mood had been so utterly unexpected that she could not pretend not to have noticed.

  “You’re bound to have this sort of setback, Blair,” she reasoned, “until the effect of the germ is completely out of your system. I wish Julius hadn’t been in London,” she added with a hint of desperation in her voice. “There might have been something he could have done.”

  “Julius couldn’t have done a great deal this time,” he said, turning back to the rail so that she could no longer see his face. “I practically brought it on myself.”

  It was an admission she had not expected and one that she did not understand.

  “How could you? These things happen. One doesn’t ‘bring them on’,” she pointed out.

  “No?” He turned to face her again. “I decided to try an experiment of my own. I convinced myself that I could do without the capsules Julius left, but, you see, I was wrong.”

  Dry, soul-shaking bitterness underlined the words. As a doctor he had failed once again. He had experimented and set himself back, possibly by weeks.

  “Don’t look at it in that way, Blair,” she pleaded.

  “What other way is there?” he demanded, his eyes darkened by pain. “I thought I knew what was going on inside me, but now I have to admit that I don’t.”

  “You’re a surgeon, not a physician,” she reminded him.

  “What difference does that make?” he asked scathingly.

  “This is a specialized branch of medicine. Julius knows all about it because he studied it—”

  “My dear Laura,” he said flatly, “Julius is a genius. That is the real difference.”

  “Blair!” she cried, her voice trembling, “don’t give in. It’s so unworthy of you.”

  “What do you really know about me?” he asked.

  “Laurie!” Lance called from the lodge doorway before she could find an answer, “I’ve got a rod! And come and see the flies! They’re all colors, and Callum has found me a creel to put the fish in!”

  “You see,” Blair said in quite a different tone, “We�
��ve got to go. We couldn’t disappoint a budding Isaak Walton, and on such a day!”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “You’ve fished every day for a week,” Laura pointed out several days later when Lance appeared for breakfast carrying the old pair of waders he had found in the gun room at Dunraven. “Blair can’t possibly want you up there every minute!”

  “If he doesn’t he’s a hypochondriac—a hypocrite, I mean!” Lance retorted between hurried mouthfuls of oatmeal porridge. He had learned the “correct” way to eat it from Morag, spooning it into a separate bowl of rich goat’s milk, which she provided freshly each morning for his benefit. “He says it’s doing him all the good in the world, and he likes me to come. And it keeps him in fish,” he added with a true angler’s conceit.

  “Seeing that you’ve only caught one salmon in a week—” Laura began.

  “Yes, but you should have seen the ones that got away!”

  “Blair will hardly get very fat on those!” she teased him. “Did he really say you could go today?”

  “Yes, honest he did! He’s great, isn’t he?” Lance enthused, having finished the porridge and started on two boiled eggs. “It would have been terrific if you had married someone like Blair—Oh! sorry, Sis!” he apologized in the same breath as he saw the quick color running into her cheeks. “I shouldn’t have said that, should I?”

  “No,” Laura agreed in a voice she hardly recognized as her own. “You shouldn’t, Lance. You owe a lot to Julius, you know.”

  “I guess so,” he said, looking ashamed.

  “You’re coming up afterward, aren’t you?” he asked after a pause in which the second egg disappeared. “Blair said it was a sort of special day and we could take a picnic down to the rocks, only you’ve not to prepare anything this time because it’s his treat.”