The Tobacco Lords Trilogy

by Margaret Thomson-Davis

  ‘Trust you to say a thing like that.’ Griselle straightened up, coldness stiffening over her. ‘We should do quite the opposite. The only way we’ll get safely out of here is by a boat going past that window. We’ll have to make ourselves both seen and heard there.’

  ‘Dear girlie, I could have done that. The children needn’t have been worried just now.’

  ‘How can a boat go past the window, Papa?’ George asked, giggling a little behind his hand and making Mungo erupt into chuckles too.

  Griselle crushed them with a look.

  ‘That’s enough of that. The town’s flooded and it’s no laughing matter.’

  ‘Well, well, it never does any good to mope, as my dear saucebox of a sister would say.’ Douglas made a brave attempt at jocularity. ‘I’ll box your ears for you if you don’t put on a cheerful face, she would say.’

  ‘Oh, be quiet,’ Griselle snapped. Then she jerked the curtains aside. ‘Hurry up, boys, come over here and stand by the window. We’d better open it so that we can call out. Get your coats on so that you won’t be too cold. And bring my cloak. Trust you to allow both the servants to go home tonight, Douglas.’

  ‘Well, my dear girlie, they are brother and sister and their mother is dying. We couldn’t let one go to see her without the other, especially on such a wild night. And as far as we could tell, we didn’t need them again until morning.’

  ‘They’ll see her on the other side eventually. They didn’t need to go stravaiging away to Bell’s Wynd tonight.’

  ‘Last night it is now,’ Douglas said. ‘Just look at the time. Gracious heavens, aren’t you young fellows up early this fine morning?’

  The boys giggled again

  ‘The rain’s stopped,’ Griselle said, peering out.

  ‘There! What did I tell you?’ said Douglas in a bright, shaky voice. ‘It is a trifling adventure. We shall be perfectly all right.’

  ‘Tuts, don’t be ridiculous, Douglas. The river’s obviously burst its banks. It’s going along here like a raging torrent. We’re in mortal danger and there’s no use hiding from the fact. Surely somebody will have managed to get a boat,’ she said, peering out again.

  He fetched her cloak and helped her to wrap it round herself, all the time keeping his face averted from the window.

  ‘Open it, then,’ Griselle said.

  He stood staring at her helplessly, as if waiting for her to speak again.

  ‘Open it. sir!’

  Turning, he saw the water again so terrifyingly near the room it didn’t seem possible. He thought he was going to faint. Closing his eyes, he leaned against the window before somehow managing to wrench it open. Then he slid away from the aperture, feeling his way along the wall.

  Mungo pushed passed him.

  ‘Gracious heavens! Look, George, it just needs to rise another few feet and it’ll be inside the room.’

  George crowded between Griselle and Mungo at the open window.

  ‘Lord’s sake!’ he gasped.

  The wind scampered round the room and snuffed out all the candles. But they could see by the moon’s silver light, except when clouds scudded across it and left them in darkness for a few seconds. Then like a curtain it was pulled aside and moonlight opened everything up again. They could see the low-ceilinged room, the crimson upholstered chairs, the rumpled bed, its white linen brightening the shadows, the heavy gilt-framed portrait above the fireplace of Griselle wearing the lavender dress. It now looked a ghostly grey and the china vases underneath it had acquired a cold gleam.

  Safely clear of the window once more, Douglas said,

  ‘I’d better go and fetch my coat. It’s devilish cold. I think I’ll bring my muff as well.’

  The whisky bottle drew him towards it first, however, and he gulped over another glassful in the hope it would inject some heat and strength into him. His nerves had turned to feathers and were floating, fluttering free in his body, making him light-headed. The whisky gave him some warmth which was comforting, yet it did nothing to dispel the icy nightmare that surrounded him.

  ‘It won’t help us any if you get yourself drunk,’ Griselle called over to him, making him suffer immediate pangs of shame and remorse.

  ‘I’ll go and fetch my coat and muff,’ he repeated. ‘Don’t worry, my dear girlie, we are going to be perfectly all right.’

  In the lobby, he held the candle up and peered around. The doors to the kitchen, the other bedrooms and the closet were all tight shut and the closed-in feeling of the lobby gave him a transient impression of safety. He clung to it with gratitude, closing his eyes for a long minute to help steady himself. When he widened his eyes again, he caught a glimpse of water trickling in under the outside door. His mouth parched with terror. The water could not possibly have risen at the back of the building to such a height. It must only be a little rain that had been blown under the door by a gust of wind. Tearing his eyes away and trying not to look in the direction of the outside door again, he opened the closet and pulled out his coat. Then, clutching it against his chest, he was about to stumble back into the main bedroom when the tirling of the door-pin stopped him.

  He crumpled with relief. If someone was at the door, the water couldn’t have risen that far. Putting the candle down on the lobby table, he struggled into his coat, hurrying to see who was there. When he opened the door he was taken aback to see not one person but a crush of ragged humanity pressing close.

  ‘You’ve got to let us in, maister,’ the nearest beggar pleaded with Douglas. ‘We’ll drown out here on the stairs.’

  Douglas fluttered his handkerchief in front of his face to try and dispel the stench of the man and at the same time peer beyond him at the mob of ragged men and women on the stairs. Some of them were waist deep in water and were balancing children up on their shoulders.

  ‘Oh, good gracious alive, what am I to make of it?’

  ‘If we could get to the front and shout for help from your window there would be a chance of folks hearing us and seeing us.’

  ‘All right, all right, my cockies. But look here, you must …’

  He was taken aback by the speed with which the crowd took up his invitation. Indeed, he was swept aside and almost knocked to the ground in their desperation to enter. People splashed up the stairs to the dry landing and stumbled gratefully into the house shedding pools of slimy water all over Griselle’s best rugs. Hastily recovering himself, Douglas called after them.

  ‘Look here, you fellows, you must keep back until you’re told. My family are at the window and they must come first.’

  In the bedroom, Griselle swung round and halted the rush with an outraged face.

  ‘What is the meaning of this? How dare you enter my house!’ She glared furiously at Douglas. ‘Have you completely lost your wits, sir? Why have you allowed these thieves and vagabonds to enter my house?’

  ‘They hadn’t anywhere else to go, Grizzie.’

  ‘That is no concern of yours, sir. Your responsibility is to me and these two boys.’ She jerked her head towards George and Mungo who were propped on the sill of the open window.

  He fluttered over to pose protectively in front of the children. Then he shook his hanky in the direction of the bedraggled group crowding together at the other end of the room.

  ‘You’ll wait there like good fellows, won’t you?’

  The beggars looked menacingly out of place in the richly furnished room. Their deformed and emaciated bodies, their skeleton faces and protruding eyes had an aura of desperation that worried Douglas.

  ‘You’ll be all right,’ he said. ‘We’ll all be perfectly all right if we simply wait and …’

  Suddenly George called out excitedly.

  ‘There’s a boat! There’s a boat!’

  And like an avalanche, the crowd plunged forward, sweeping Griselle and Douglas aside, knocking George and Mungo off-balance and sending the two boys tumbling down into the water.

  From the boat, Annabella and Big John saw a couple of
figures like silver dolls fall from the dark cave of the window. A violently struggling mob of people was gesticulating from the window and shouting and pleading for help. Then they discerned Griselle fighting her way to the front to lean out and scream:

  ‘Geordie! Geordie!’

  Big John quickened his pull on the oars but the water was turning past them with the rapidity of a mill lead and even he found it difficult to force the boat to breast the current. At the same time, Annabella saw Mungo surface and strike out towards them. In a matter of seconds they had reached each other and she was dragging him into the boat beside her. Once Mungo was safe, she called across to Griselle,

  ‘It’s all right, Grizzie. We’ll get George too.’

  As if hearing her voice, George surfaced some way from the boat, struggling, choking, sinking, gasping up and sinking again.

  Big John flung down the oars.

  ‘Hang on, mistress.’

  The boat rocked wildly, nearly sending Mungo and her after him as he dived into the water. Reaching the spot where George had gone under, Big John kicked up his feet and disappeared. Annabella held her breath in an agony of suspense as she watched Big John surface several times and look helplessly around.

  Eventually Mungo said in a shaky voice,

  ‘It’s too late, Mother. George has gone. He has drowned.’

  ‘Fiddlesticks. If I say Big John will find him, he will.’

  And sure enough the servant eventually bobbed up with George. When he reached the boat, Annabella was ready and waiting to lift the child inside and try and minister to him.

  Griselle was still screaming broken-heartedly. Annabella said to Big John.

  ‘Do you think we could get Griselle and Douglas out of there without all that mob jumping on top of us?’

  Still in the water and clinging to the side of the boat, Big John thought for a minute before managing a reply.

  ‘I’ll swim over, then climb in the window and hold the crowd of vagabonds back. Then you bring the boat over and the mistress and maister can drop down.’

  ‘Very well.’ Annabella was breathlessly working on George in an attempt to bring him back to consciousness. But still without effect.

  ‘I told you he was drowned,’ Mungo said.

  ‘If you don’t be quiet I’ll throw you back in.’

  Big John was soon clambering up to the window and, using his head and fists as battering rams, cleared a space and hoisted himself into the room. Then he heaved the beggars back and for the first time Douglas came into view. He staggered against the sill as if he was going to faint but quickly reached out to comfort the distraught Griselle. She pushed him aside and Annabella barely had time to manoeuvre the boat underneath the window before Griselle had lowered herself into it.

  ‘Geordie.’ She snatched the little boy into her arms and rocked backwards and forwards with him tightly clutched against her.

  Douglas was in the boat now and Big John shouted,

  ‘Take it away. I’ll dive in and swim after you.’

  Annabella said, ‘We’ll hurry straight back with him, Grizzie. Papa will know what to do.’

  But by the time they reached her father’s close and stair, she knew in her heart that George was too far gone to recover. Nevertheless she snatched him from Griselle and raced upstairs shouting as she went.

  ‘Papa, Papa, quickly, open the door.’

  Her father was waiting on the landing holding a candelabra towards the stairs.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Never mind about me. It’s George.’

  ‘Bring him through.’

  He led the way to his room with big thumping strides, the candle flames fluttering back in the rush of air. They bled the child and massaged him and worked on him until the cold light of day was shrinking the candles, and the fire in the grate had sunk into ashes. At last Douglas wailed,

  ‘It’s no use. It’s no use. Can’t you see?’

  Griselle whirled on him.

  ‘You’re no use! What do you know? You useless, spineless wretch. Just hold your tongue.’

  With a big sigh Ramsay straightened up.

  ‘No, he’s right. The lad’s gone. It’s God’s will. Nothing we can do can change it.’

  ‘No.’ Griselle shook her head.

  ‘It’s God’s will,’ Ramsay repeated.

  Annabella put an arm round Griselle’s shoulder.

  ‘Come on through to my room and sit down. I’ll get Betsy to bring a cup of tea with a wee drop of whisky in it.’ Then to Big John who had been hovering in the doorway anxiously watching, ‘Tell Betsy to stop her howling this instant and bring us all a cup of tea with whisky. And get into some dry clothes and take a good dram yourself.’

  ‘Yes, mistress.’

  ‘And Big John,’ she shouted when she reached her own bedroom. ‘There’s still a glimmer in this fire. Build it up before it goes out. It’s prodigiously cold.’

  She had not realised how chilled she was until now. Her breasts hung heavy against her like balls of ice. She seemed to be moving in a nightmare. Her room looked strange in the bleak half-light and unfamiliar with so many people at such an early hour.

  Betsy came rattling in with the tea-tray, her face scarlet and swollen.

  ‘Oh, dear Jesus,’ she sobbed. ‘Poor wee George is drowned.’

  ‘Be quiet, or I’ll beat what little wits you have out of you,’ Annabella snapped. ‘Put the tray down before you break my good china. And I hope you saw that Mungo took his wet clothes off and bedded himself down by the kitchen fire like I told you.’

  ‘Yes, mistress.’

  ‘Well, don’t just stand there. Go pour Big John a good dram. And keep that fire burning bright through there.’

  Big John lumbered into the room with a bundle of wood under one arm and a bucket of coal in the other and before Annabella had poured out and handed round the tea, the fire was crackling and blazing.

  ‘You’re shivering,’ Annabella said to Griselle. ‘Let me put some more whisky in your tea, then drink it down. It will ease you. Douglas, you have some too.’

  ‘Thank you, dear girlie.’ His voice trembled and he looked paler than the white paint on his face. A waxiness pinched the corners of his mouth and his long sliver of nose.

  Griselle said,

  ‘I’ll never forgive you. You killed my son.’

  ‘Compose yourself, woman,’ Ramsay growled. ‘He was Douglas’s son too. And he was my grandwain.’

  Griselle gave a bitter laugh.

  ‘You never cared about Geordie. And neither did Douglas.’

  ‘Grizzie, how can you talk in so wicked a manner?’ Douglas’s empty cup rattled so much on his saucer he had to put it down.

  ‘I loved the dear boy. I’m sure Papa did too.’

  ‘Lies. Lies.’

  ‘Griselle,’ Annabella protested. ‘I know how you must feel but it won’t bring George back and it won’t make you feel any better to fly into a passion against Douglas.’

  ‘I’ll never forgive him.’

  ‘Forgive him for what? It was the beggars who made the boys fall into the water, wasn’t it?’

  ‘They would never have been there if the stupid, useless wretch hadn’t let them in.’

  Ramsay swung round, his face incredulous.

  ‘You allowed a crowd of thieves and vagabonds to enter your house?’

  ‘They were waist deep in water on the back stairs and some of them had already drowned. I’d seen their bodies floating away.’

  ‘Oh, aye, so you decided you’d send your son’s body to join them?’

  ‘Papa,’ Annabella interrupted. ‘This is monstrous and damnable. You know perfectly well he did no such thing. Drink your whisky, sir, and let us have no more of this outrageous behaviour.’

  ‘Devil choke you, Annabella. You’ve an impertinent tongue.’

  ‘You’re as much to blame as anyone,’ she said. ‘You’re on the Town Council. Why can’t something be done about the river to p
revent it overflowing like that? I’ll tell you one thing. I’m not going to stay here and endanger my own and my son’s life again.

  ‘And where will you go, pray?’ Her father raised a sarcastic eyebrow. ‘You haven’t two bawbees to rub together.’

  ‘No, but you have, Papa. You could quite easily have a mansion like Mr Glassford’s built on the outskirts of town.’

  For a moment, Ramsay was so astounded he couldn’t make a sound.

  ‘A mansion?’ he managed eventually. ‘A mansion? By God, I’ll grant you one thing, mistress, you’ve nerve.’

  ‘You have money, Papa. You are one of the wealthiest men in Glasgow.’

  ‘Aye, but I wouldn’t be for long if you had your way. I can see that.’

  ‘Would you rather stay here and risk losing another grandson?’

  He glowered at her from under bushy brows.

  ‘We were in no danger here and fine you know it, mistress.’

  ‘No, I do not know it. Nobody knows how stormy it’s going to be and how far the water is going to rise. And we might not have had a boat here last night. Think of that.’

  ‘Oh, he’ll think of it all right,’ Griselle said bitterly. ‘He’ll think of his precious Mungo. But nobody thought of my wee Geordie.’

  Douglas fluttered towards her.

  ‘Grizzie, Grizzie, you know I …’

  ‘Get away from me,’ Griselle said.

  Ramsay sighed again.

  ‘You’d better send Big John for Letitia and Phemy.’

  Annabella rose. ‘Yes, Papa. I’ll go and tell him.’

  The heat in the kitchen was as thick as a blanket and the place reeked of whisky. A fire glowed poppy red under the black iron pot hanging from the swee on a chain. Big John snored at the table, his head collapsed onto his arms. Betsy was hiccoughing backwards and forwards on the rocking-chair on one side of the fire. On the other side slept Mungo wrapped snugly in a plaid.

  Annabella shook Big John’s shoulder, making him snort and jerk awake.

  ‘You’ll have to go and fetch Mistress Letitia and Mistress Phemy,’ she said. ‘Tell them they’re needed but don’t divulge why.’

  He nodded, his rugged, good-natured face sad.