The Balmoral Incident

by Alanna Knight

  ‘It was quite an experience.’ I stifled a yawn. ‘A rather long sermon.’

  He laughed again. ‘Pity Biddy isn’t like the collie of a former minister. Rev. Anderson’s dog was famous as a regular follower of the Sunday service. He followed him up to the pulpit steps and lay quietly on the top step during the sermon, or quietly at least until he decided that time was up and further eloquence unnecessary. He would then stand up, stretch himself and yawn – just like you wanted to do, Rose – I saw that! Anyway, when the Queen came to morning service, Rev. Anderson left the dog at home but she had heard of the collie’s habits. Someone had made a sketch of the pulpit with him lying there and she suggested that the minister’s dog must certainly not be excluded for her sake. Although she claimed to be a ready absorber of sermons, especially of Scottish ones, she may have valued the dog’s services as timekeeper.’

  I was looking round for Lily so that she could come back with us in the motor car. And there she was, head down, talking animatedly to a man, a tall man, wearing a bonnet.

  ‘Look, Uncle Vince, Lily’s made friends at last,’ said Meg.

  ‘A dark horse, indeed,’ Vince laughed. ‘It is a well-known condition among young females who never have a word to say to their own kind that they prefer to save their sparkles for gentlemen. Ah, here’s our car at last.’

  As it came alongside it momentarily blocked our view but as the man turned I thought I recognised him as the passenger racing along the station platform in Edinburgh and with those alighting from the royal train at Ballater. Then again, among the gipsies when we were held up en route by the sheep. He seemed to be everywhere. Who on earth was he, this man who reminded me of Danny? And what was his connection with Balmoral Castle?

  And more intriguing was the animation of the normally speechless Lily. I decided I must tactfully raise the subject with Mabel when we got back to the cottage but no opportune moment occurred that day.

  Then, next morning, not only the hoped-for postcard from Jack, but the totally unexpected arrival of Vince rushing in clutching a telegram. His smile, radiant as the sun that had deigned to reward us with an appearance, put our fears at rest.

  ‘You’ll never guess! Livvy’s on her way with Faith. They’re arriving at Ballater this afternoon.’ He was almost jumping for joy and I knew how sad and concerned he had felt at their absence, how much he was missing Olivia, anxious about that frail wee daughter too, when he added:

  ‘Nothing serious with Faith after all, but you know how it is, how cautious one becomes.’ And to Mabel. ‘Livvy was so disappointed – felt she was letting you down missing this meeting after so many years.’

  Now there was a great flutter of excitement at the prospect of the new arrivals. Mabel was cautiously pleased, Meg delighted that she was to see her new-found cousin, confident that they would be great friends and have such fun playing together. As for me, I was delighted at the prospect of being with Olivia again, since we had met far too rarely since I came back to Scotland; a conscientious mother, she was bound by children who she refused to leave in the care of servants so that she could come to Balmoral with Vince and break her journey in Edinburgh.

  There was a further reason too, which accounted for her overprotectiveness, when she told me about the other wee girl, who would have been Faith’s older sister. Born with some organic defect, she had died just a few months old. Olivia said it was still so painful that Vince would never discuss it, how he felt in a way responsible, that as a doctor with all his knowledge he had been helpless to save his own child.

  We naturally expected that Olivia would be staying in the royal household apartments with Vince and when Mabel mentioned this he laughed. ‘Not at all. She is quite definite about staying here in the cottage with you.’

  Smiles were exchanged. We were immensely flattered at such a decision, choosing the humble cottage rather than the grand castle.

  Mabel said in tones of awe, ‘Indeed, that is good of her,’ while Meg was busy telling Thane how he would love Faith. ‘We will have such fun, climbing all those trees, playing games together.’

  I wasn’t so sure about that. Vince had confided that Faith was terrified of large dogs and was regarding Thane thoughtfully. I was regarding him thoughtfully for another reason. A new Thane had emerged since we came to Balmoral. He had become a domestic pet, no longer the strange creature more human than canine, and that set me wondering if his magic was related to his mysterious origins, that he belonged to and was controlled by Arthur’s Seat. At least Meg had not observed any change in him while I thought of those interminable rainy days when he was quite content to lie at her feet.

  By introducing him to another environment, had he reverted to being ‘only a dog’ as Vince insisted, or ‘That Dog’ as Mabel described him? I hoped I was wrong, remembering ten years of protection during which he had watched over me and had known instinctively when I was in danger.

  At last the sound of the motor car’s horn, with Vince at the wheel. We ran to the door as Olivia and Faith emerged. The next moment, we rushed forward, hugs exchanged.

  ‘Rose, let me look at you,’ said Olivia. ‘You haven’t changed a bit since last we met – how long ago?’

  Olivia had changed, but for the better, more elegant, more regal and composed, security fulfilled by a happy marriage and motherhood.

  Meg had taken charge of Faith, leading her by the hand, and observing them together there seemed little difference in the three years between them. Meg was tall for her seven years while Faith at ten was rather pale and frail-looking. Like her father, I suspected she was never going to grow up to be taller than average height.

  Thane was framed in the doorway, tail wagging, a large friendly dog waiting to be introduced. I saw the look of alarm, the hesitancy as Faith looked towards her mother, but Meg held her hand firmly, whispering words of reassurance. A sigh of relief from me, at least, as I saw her tentatively stroking his head, the signal that he was not to be feared.

  The ever-silent Lily had been instructed to set the table and prepare tea and as we went inside, Vince marshalled the new arrivals’ luggage upstairs. Mabel and Meg and I had the best rooms but Olivia insisted that no change be made.

  This was to create problems. Olivia’s choice to remain with us in this far from humble abode instead of under the royal castle roof left the only other available bedroom in the attic next to Lily. However, by evening, the two girls, friendship firmly established, had arrived at a solution.

  Meg said that her mother and I should share my room while she moved up to the attic and shared with Faith. She did not regard losing the comfort and the magnificent view as important.

  Mabel said: ‘I am most impressed by Olivia’s sacrifice,’ having obviously feared that she might be the one downgraded to the attics.

  In an aside to me, Vince murmured: ‘Mabel hasn’t seen the household’s quarters or she might change her mind about them. They are rather starkly furnished and quite chilly, the late Queen was a stickler for economy and did not think that ordinary mortals needed the comfort of warm beds and cosy fires.’

  He rubbed his hands together. ‘Nothing like having a snug little cottage, a pretty little garden and an ancient tree with the right kind of stout branches. Meg is wistful about turning it into a tree house when I have the time.’

  At the back of my mind the presence of that great tree, although handsome and sturdy-looking, suggested alarming possibilities for the fragile Faith. As for Meg, she had inherited another of Jack’s more dangerous traits. She was utterly fearless.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Olivia’s decision to stay with us was mostly influenced I thought by her anxiety to watch over Faith. We could continue to have meals provided by the castle kitchens, a splendid idea initially but there were complications. Even moving dishes very swiftly across the short distance, food tended to be lukewarm by the time it reached the table. As neither Mabel nor I were enthusiastic cooks, we were coping with that quite well but Olivia decide
d that she would prefer we made our own meals.

  ‘Faith can be difficult about food, she doesn’t like meat and has other fads, like all little girls.’ Olivia paused and smiled at me encouragingly for support that I could not give her. Meg had been brought up from her first days in Solomon’s Tower to eat the same meals as we did. This was something Jack insisted on. He had no time or patience for faddy eaters.

  Olivia’s other reason was that she adored cooking and confessed that she read recipe books like other women of her acquaintance read romantic novels. ‘I never get the chance at St James where everything is provided by a very efficient kitchen staff,’ she sighed. ‘So this is such an opportunity.’

  We couldn’t deny her that and Mabel for one was very pleased and offered to help. Living alone, she said, was so dreary where meals were concerned and Lily, we gathered, was not particularly accomplished in that area either. I occasionally lent a hand, although the two ladies provided a surprisingly excellent cuisine which also met with Faith and Meg’s approval.

  So a daily routine was established. Provisions such as vegetables would come via the kitchen gardens, meat (mostly venison) and fish (mostly salmon) from the larders. The two maids we had met on arrival, Jessie and Yolande, whose exotic name and dark good looks hinted at more romantic forbears than Royal Deeside, would look in each morning, sweep floors and light fires when appropriate, as indicated by the weather. They would also carry off our not inconsiderable laundry, thanks to the addition of another female and a small girl to our regular change of linen.

  We had no facilities for washing clothes at the cottage, not even the sight of a drying line. A mass of underwear conspicuously blowing in the wind would, I fear, have lowered the tone of the estate and have been distinctly frowned upon by ‘higher’ authority.

  It was decided that we should all go to Ballater, not only to pick up some special ingredients for Faith’s diet but also several crucial necessities her mother had omitted through their hasty departure.

  Vince reassured her that as Ballater shops were used to coping not only with tourists but also with the castle itself she would find all she needed. In an aside to me, he whispered: ‘Typical. Livvy’s not used to travelling alone. She needs me at her elbow saying “have you remembered so-and-so, be sure to pack this and that”.’

  Mabel, overhearing, nodded in agreement and said to Olivia: ‘It is so essential to have one’s personal maid and a comprehensive list on even the shortest stays away from home, my dear.’

  Olivia laughed. ‘Not I, Mabel. And I do not need a personal maid. I can manage perfectly without one. Besides I am frequently on my own these days with Vince up here in royal attendance.’

  Mabel sighed. ‘All those children too.’ (As if there were thirteen, not three.) ‘No wonder you prefer to remain at home.’

  As we prepared to leave, she said: ‘Lily will be coming with you. She will be needed to carry all our purchases.’

  By which ‘our’ not ‘your’ indicated that Mabel intended availing herself of the opportunity of some personal shopping.

  ‘Surely you intend coming with us?’ Olivia said.

  Mabel shook her head, insisting that she would be quite content to remain with the two girls, especially as she had notes to add to her speech of thanks to dear Emmeline and dear Christabel at the Aberdeen meeting, adding sternly, ‘While you are pouring over your shopping lists,’ making that particular activity sound very frivolous, like an admonishment, although on further questioning Lily was to be sent in search of lace and wool for Mabel’s embroidery, which we had yet to see in evidence.

  Olivia was charmed by Ballater and the shops, most of which carried By Royal Appointment signs. Lily received polite directions from shopkeepers where her mistress’s requirements could be obtained and an hour later Olivia and I adjourned with our shopping to the nearest hotel for afternoon tea.

  As we waited to be served, we realised that this was the first time we had been on our own together and I was curious to learn how she had reacted to this meeting with her old school friend. I asked: ‘How do you find Mabel?’

  Olivia thought for a moment before replying. ‘She isn’t at all what I expected from her letters. I know that does happen quite often and a person can change over the years from the one you imagined you knew so well, and quite a stranger emerges.’

  Pausing she sighed. ‘It’s as if we have to get to know each other all over again and there are certain limits to conversations about schooldays. So remote and far away, now like part of another world, especially as we both seem to remember happenings that were so important at the time, that the other has forgotten completely.’

  ‘What about her suffrage involvement?’ I asked.

  Olivia shook her head. ‘It was barely mentioned in her letters. Most were about the books we were both reading, and in her case, about her travels.’ She frowned and added, ‘Strange, she doesn’t seem at all as I remembered her from our schooldays. Quite mannish, somehow.’ Then apologetically, ‘Not in appearance, of course, but that rather aggressive manner.’

  As I listened, I felt that Olivia was disappointed in this long anticipated reunion when she added: ‘I do hate having to confess this, Rose. It does seem disloyal. I feel mean, especially when she has come so far, all this long way just so that we could meet again.’ She sighed. ‘And she seems to have a genuine fondness for me.’ A depth of feeling I gathered that Olivia was finding it difficult to reciprocate.

  It was time to pay the bill. We had asked the driver Dave to draw up outside the hotel. I looked across the square and saw Lily. She was talking to someone taller than herself, the shadow of a man I couldn’t see distinctly, a shadowy figure hidden by the trees. But there was an urgency in their conversation; he put a hand on her arm as he walked away, as if he sought to detain her.

  ‘Ready?’ said Olivia. Dave had arrived, standing alongside the motor car which had drawn some interested attention and comments from passers-by.

  As he saw us seated on board, I looked across the square but Lily had disappeared.

  I asked Dave had he seen her but he shook his head and said slyly: ‘Seems she had a chap to meet, madam. Saw them walking away while I was taking a breather half an hour ago.’

  ‘Someone you knew?’ I asked eagerly since logically this must have been a local man.

  He shook his head. ‘Seen him around the stables.’

  I was taken aback. So the ever-silent Lily had hidden depths and had got to know some lad when she had her meals there.

  I said to Olivia, ‘I wonder if it’s the same fellow we saw her talking to outside Crathie Church.’

  She shook her head. ‘Whoever it was, Mabel will not be pleased.’ Then laughing, she added, ‘Well, good luck to her. It’s not much of a life for a young girl being lady’s maid to Mabel.’ But looking around, her frown indicated that she should not have kept us waiting.

  Curiosity aroused, I said to Dave: ‘What was he like, this fellow?’

  Dave looked at me, also curious that I should be interested in a mere maid’s fancy.

  He shrugged. ‘Tall, thin, dark, youngish – maybe a ghillie or one of those gipsies we have about here,’ he added darkly. ‘She should be careful, they’re a rum lot.’ He paused. ‘Do we leave without her, madam?’

  Olivia and I exchanged glances. This was a quandary and what were we to say to Mabel? However, at that moment, Lily appeared hurrying towards us, mumbling apologetically about having problems matching madam’s wool.

  That was a lie and I wasn’t listening. I gave her a hard look, as she sat eyes downcast, clutching the small packages. As we moved off towards the Balmoral road, I was unable to shake off a growing chilly feeling of unease, certain that I had recognised the description of her male companion.

  A ghillie? Dave’s description also fitted the traveller on the train to Ballater, the man in the gipsy camp who had taken such an interest in our passing. But what was the connection, what was his interest in the ever-silent
Lily? I had to find out!

  Another thought, almost incredible. Could he be her lover? Was he in fact the gardener I had glimpsed at Penby who had followed her all the way to Scotland? Was she the reason for his presence, keeping an eye on her? I found that difficult to convince myself, even my flights of imagination failed to reach such heights, although I had often heard from clients with unfaithful husbands that it was often the maid, ‘the quiet plain unobtrusive maid’, who had fatally attracted them.

  And our journey over, watching her trailing towards the cottage, remembering the somewhat sad and pathetic figure who regularly trailed a few steps behind Mabel’s regal figure, I thought, surely not Lily.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Vince had been busy in our absence. We were to take the girls to Braemar Castle on the neighbouring estate, home of the once powerful and still extremely rich Farquharson clan. Vince wanted the girls to see a ‘real’ old castle and they were very excited at the prospect.

  The present laird’s younger brother had been at Edinburgh University with him and was in residence at the castle meantime, with his wife and two little girls.

  ‘Is there a ghost?’ Meg demanded eagerly.

  Vince laughed. ‘Not that I know of.’

  Meg looked disappointed. In her opinion no castle was worthy of the name unless it had a bloody history and a ghost roaming the battlements or disappearing through the bedroom wall.

  I smiled, feeling sure she felt let down by her own home in Solomon’s Tower whose ancient history, long lost, belonged to a Scotland once described as ‘theology tempered by murder’, a time when a permanent building for domestic use and peace was not encouraged among wild Highlanders raised from their earliest years on hot tempers and cold steel.

  We had our own strange history full of unsolved mysteries. One day when she was older Jack and I would show her the ‘secret room’ and tell her how we had discovered it.