Jamie MacLeod

by Michael Phillips

  “I know why I love you so, Jamie!” He drew her closer to him and they sat in silence until the fire had burned so low.

  “It is peaceful up here,” Edward stated at last. “I can feel why you love it so, and why you had to come back.”

  “It was the only place I could come to think it through. Oh, there’s so much I want to show you, Edward. I grew up here!”

  “And I want to see every inch of it! But now we need to think about getting back down the mountain.”

  Vowing to make whatever repairs were necessary to the cottage and to outfit it as a summer hideaway or a winter’s lodge, and then to come often to the peaceful mountain, they took their way, after a brief visit to Finlay’s grave, down the hill. Not knowing the precise direction, Edward had tethered his horse about a mile away where he had encountered a particularly steep and rocky climb. Now, as Jamie led him by a more roundabout path, he could see that his journey to the cottage had been more difficult than necessary. Once on horseback the descent became easier, but when they reached the lower levels of the mountain, they found themselves in no hurry to speed their trip home. It was late afternoon by the time they came within sight of the spacious lawns of Aviemere, and both were by this time famished.

  Leaving the horse with Sid, they entered the house by way of the kitchen. There Dora Campbell immediately accosted them, looking more florid and breathless than usual.

  “Your Lordship,” she said. “We have a guest—that is, well, not a guest exactly. It’s your brother, sir.”

  47

  The Unmasking

  Jamie and Edward exchanged glances.

  Edward’s color paled perceptibly and a stunned look spread over his face. Jamie grasped his arm as if somehow she might steady him. It did appear to have some effect, for he took a deep breath, and—seeming to come to some decision within himself—he grasped the self-control which had almost fled him.

  How could his brother still have this kind of effect on him even when he felt God had given him freedom at last from worldly cares and ambitions? Perhaps God was about to give another kind of freedom—a real and tangible and earthly freedom from all the bondage that Derek symbolized in his mind. Yes! Yes! he thought, the time for resolution and decisiveness has come!

  “Jamie,” he said, his voice hollow and forced, but nevertheless determined in a way she had never heard it before. “As soon as I go, I want you to begin packing your things. Then get Andrew’s things together—only the necessities. The rest can wait . . . or we can do without them.”

  “Edward . . . ?” A hundred questions crowded into her mind, but she could tell from the seriousness in his tone that the time for trusting obedience had come.

  “Jamie, I wanted you to have so much—most of all, Aviemere. Though it would never have truly been ours, at least we might have enjoyed it together. I have little to offer you except myself, but it appears that will have to suffice. Even the mountain is his! Perhaps—in time—we could save enough to buy your grandfather’s croft back. Yet, now that I even say the words, I know he would never sell it to us knowing how important it is to me. He will no doubt turn it into a hunting lodge. He’s spoken of such things already.”

  “You know all that’s not important to me, as long as I have you.”

  “I know, Jamie. I’m only trying to prepare you. Perhaps, even more, I’m trying to prepare myself,” he concluded with a weary sigh, his shoulders sagging. “I didn’t think it would be this hard. Oh, Jamie, I love this place!”

  “You don’t know what he wants.”

  “He hasn’t shown his face here in over ten years. Now suddenly he comes twice within a year.”

  He shook his head. “I must expect the worst. I have no reason to hope otherwise.”

  Then he turned to the housekeeper. “Miss Campbell, would you kindly help Jamie?”

  “Of course, your Lordship,” she replied.

  He opened his mouth to protest her use of the title—especially now. But stopped himself. It hardly seemed to matter anymore.

  He walked to the door to go, then turned back, seemingly as an afterthought.

  “Miss Campbell, you’ve been a faithful servant these many years,” he said. “If I must leave Aviemere . . .”

  He paused.

  Was what he had been about to request of her asking too much? He had not always been the best of masters. Why should he think that she would—?

  But the housekeeper gave him no chance even to complete his thought.

  “Your Lordship, if you are leaving Aviemere, I would count it not only my duty but also my honor to continue to serve you wherever you may go,” said the housekeeper, though she knew nothing of what was happening or what doom might await her employer.

  Edward grasped her hand gratefully.

  “Thank you—thank you Miss Campbell—Dora!” he said. “We shall need you now more than ever!”

  Finally he looked toward Jamie. “Tell Dora what is going on—tell her everything! Though she has probably guessed much from listening to us talk!”

  Jamie laughed, breaking the tension, and the other two joined in.

  “She has a right to know.” Then he spun around and strode quickly from the kitchen.

  He walked down the corridor to the main staircase. He tried to focus his eyes straight ahead, but he could not prevent them from wandering occasionally toward this or that room as he passed. This is where he had been raised. He knew and loved every inch of this place. This was his own personal Donachie. But he would not look upon these beloved rooms and halls and tapestries and gardens again! He had hung on for many years, hoping and dreaming. But now the time of parting had certainly come!

  Yes, it was more difficult than he had thought it would be. But he wondered what it would have been like had not God’s strengthening hand been there to sustain him, or had God not already given him a far more precious gift in Jamie than a dozen Aviemeres! For God, in His wisdom, had given Edward Graystone the real love his heart had yearned for all his life. He no longer needed to cling so desperately to Aviemere. It suddenly dawned on Edward, as he walked toward his appointed destination, that this painful era in his life was at last coming to an end. The seeds of his new life had been planted the day innocent young Jamie MacLeod had arrived, though he had hardly known that was the day of beginnings. And now the fruit of that seed of their love was about to ripen. They would leave Aviemere behind them to start their new life—together! By the time he stood to face his brother, a great inward peace had settled over his spirit, and he thought that if Derek had any other design than the immediate assumption of his rightful place as laird of Aviemere, he would be disappointed.

  He mounted the steps with renewed determination. He was anxious to begin anew. His new life with his son and the woman he loved and God to guide and protect them—it was all he needed—or wanted!

  He had glanced into the parlor as he passed, but somehow he had known Derek would not be there waiting like a guest for the return of his host. He was right. Derek had gone upstairs, making himself fully at home—but then, it was his home—it always had been.

  He found Derek, as expected, in the library. When Edward entered, the older brother greeted him casually with a broad grin.

  “I’m glad you stock a supply of good brandy,” he said, holding up a glass in which he had helped himself to the amber liquid. “Thus, waiting has its rewards.”

  Edward could tolerate almost anything at that moment except the prospect of his brother’s malicious banter and shallow quips.

  “You’re welcome, of course,” was all Edward could say.

  “Ah, Edward! Will you never cease to be so dull?”

  “I’m sorry, Derek. I suppose my wit is lost in my surprise.”

  “I told you I intended to make Aviemere my home one day.”

  “Is that the purpose of this appearance?”

  “Always to the point, Edward,” replied Derek. “An admirable quality, I suppose. Though really, my dear brother, soon you w
ill no longer have the pretense of land and title to rely upon, so if I were you, I’d try to polish my wit a bit more.”

  “Thank you for the advice.”

  “I give it as freely as I have given you liberty over the years with my inheritance. Not many brothers would have been as benevolent as I have been in letting you relish in a taste of glory.”

  “I have never looked at it in quite that way before,” said Edward with the hint of a smile. “And I now realize you are absolutely right. But I think I would have been a better man if I could have long ago walked away from your—benevolence, as you call it.”

  “But you didn’t!”

  “No. But waiting, as you put it, does have its rewards. And that privilege of laying down something I love has been reserved for me for this very day.”

  “Bah! Did you care that much for this place that you were willing to so demean yourself all these years?”

  “I never until lately thought of it as demeaning,” replied Edward. “I suppose I always thought that caring gave me something of a right to it.”

  “Caring—rights—such noble thoughts!” Derek smirked. “In the end, it got you nothing!”

  “I’m not so sure of that, Derek. I think at this moment I have more than I ever had in my life. I know I am certainly happier today than any other day since I was born.”

  “But you don’t have Aviemere.”

  “It was never mine to begin with.”

  “Do you concede so easily?” For a moment some of the spark left Derek’s eyes. “You’re taking all the sport from this, you know.”

  “Did you expect me to rant and rave? Did you expect violence?”

  “If our last meeting were any gauge of what my expectations should have been,” replied Derek, “you disappoint me, Edward. You have gone weak-kneed on me. Why, we had a name for cowards like you down in Africa, but I don’t want to offend your weak woman’s ears with it!”

  “I will leave as soon as my things are together,” said Edward, ignoring his brother’s insults. “But there is one matter I would like to discuss with you before I take my leave,” he continued, gathering new resolve.

  He reached into his pocket and took out the cufflinks which Jamie had shown him. “Do you recognize these?”

  Derek gazed at the items with a genuine blank expression; then slowly a light began to dawn in his eyes.

  “A gift from our father, I believe,” he said. “A gift to you.”

  “They were lost some thirteen years ago—”

  “Terribly careless of you,” Derek interrupted with another smirk.

  “One found its way back to my bureau,” Edward went on, ignoring his brother’s comment. “The other was found gripped in a dying man’s hand. But it did not come back to me until yesterday. I have wondered since then how my cufflink came to be in this man’s hand? He was no thief, though perhaps he found it lying about and chose to clutch it with his last desperate strength. Or perhaps they had been stolen from the house, and the unknown thief killed the man. But then the question becomes more complex. For why would that thief then sneak back into the house to return only one cufflink? It is puzzling, as you can tell. Look, there is still blood encrusted around the gems!” He thrust his hand toward Derek’s face.

  “For a man who seems to pride himself on brevity, you are being unusually loquacious, little brother,” said Derek sarcastically as he stepped back from Edward’s hand after only a cursory glance. “I wonder that you don’t come right out and say what you are driving at. Are you looking to me for some alibi to a murder you committed!” He laughed. “Certainly you are not trying to implicate yourself in some heinous crime, Edward!”

  “I will speak plainly then,” said Edward, dropping his hand. “Did you borrow my cufflinks?”

  “Upon occasion, yes, I do believe I wore them. They are a fine set, you know.”

  “Without informing me, or asking my permission?”

  “We were not, you may recall, in the habit of observing such niceties.”

  “Were you then involved in the deaths thirteen years ago of Frederick Lundie and Gilbert MacLeod?”

  Derek responded with a loud, outright laugh. “My, my! You are speaking plainly!” He proceeded to drain his glass of brandy, then poured another before speaking. But he made certain the silence was long enough to be agonizing.

  “Are you asking if I committed murder?”

  “At least one of those men was contemplating a scheme to blackmail our esteemed family—you or our father, I presume.”

  “Oh—you are spotless yourself!”

  “I had nothing to hide.”

  “And so—a perfect motive for murder then, is that what you are saying?”

  Edward did not answer. Derek remained silent for a moment, deep in thought. He did not appear in any sense guilt-stricken, or even nervous, but simply weighing a decision in his cunning mind. When he spoke at length, each word was drawn out with a cool and calculating deliberateness.

  “Yes, Edward,” he said, “I did kill Lundie—he was nothing but a dirty extortionist.”

  “He had been a faithful factor!” cried Edward.

  “Had been, Edward. Had been! When he turned colors on me I had no choice.”

  “Though it was you who got him fired?”

  “Bah, Edward! Don’t be so naive! Low breeds like him hardly deserve to live! But I only meant to frighten the other rotter.”

  “Oh, my God, Derek!” Edward cried, less in shock than in sorrow. “God help us!” His whole body felt suddenly weak and he staggered backward. He caught himself against the door. But he barely stood, so limp had his legs become. “What has our family become!”

  “No doubt you’ll now be off to fetch the bailiff,” said Derek, his smug look intact. “But you needn’t bother, for I’ll deny it, and it’ll be my word against yours. And the word of a younger brother, hungering after the estate, will not carry much weight with the law.”

  “Then why tell me at all?” asked Edward, his voice still choked with dismay.

  “Your docility about my return and my taking the estate from out of your hands has spoiled my sport on that account. I thought this would add some zest to the day, Edward. Seeing that look on your face—that wonderful, pale, horrified look of shock and dismay and disbelief—why, Edward, it makes the whole day worth getting up for! Ha, ha! Can’t you see the irony of it? You, knowing your brother, the holder of your precious land, is a murderer—and you can’t do a thing about it! Ha, ha, ha! I can hardly believe my good fortune with the turn things have taken. It should make for some interesting family reunions through the years, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Do you hate me that much?”

  “It has nothing to do with hate or affection. It’s merely a matter of survival and of keeping some spice in life, as they say,” replied Derek matter-of-factly, but with a grin still on his face, that grin which contrived to say so much while his lips remained silent. He caught up the brandy decanter rather buoyantly, like the attentive host bent on making a good impression. “Come,” he said, “have a brandy. I’m sure you could use one! Let’s toast the new understanding between us, dear brother!”

  This man is my own brother, Edward thought, yet I feel as if I am looking on the devil himself! He wanted to turn and flee, but his legs were still weak. Even more, he still hoped to find at least one spark of humanity in him.

  “Now, Edward,” Derek continued, as if his crimes were nothing and his brother’s pain was but a lark, “there is one matter of business I wish to discuss.” He paused, taking a drink from his glass as if shifting the mantle of superior authority which he had just donned. “I’m still a bit new to this landlord business and thus I would appreciate as it were, the assistance of one more experienced. The present factor—what’s his name?”

  “Ellice.”

  “Ah, yes—Ellice! As I say, Mr. Ellice would do, of course, but I would like to offer you the position in his stead. You’ve done well by the estate in my absence. Ther
e’s no reason you have to do anything hasty in leaving.”

  Had Derek’s words held even a vague appeal for assistance, Edward might have reconsidered his former decision in hopes of yet having some positive, and possibly even redemptive, impact on his brother. But the words were not an appeal—they were a challenge. Derek well knew his brother’s weak spot, and he relished the thought of keeping him in his power. He was certain it would be difficult, if not impossible, for Edward to resist the offer to stay at Aviemere.

  But Derek did not know his brother as well as he thought. The shackle of Aviemere had fallen from Edward that day. Only hope for Derek’s restoration could persuade him to stay. He could clearly see his brother’s intent, however, and he knew that to stay might only be a further goad to his brother’s crooked morality.

  “Derek, that would be impossible. And George can do for you all I could.”

  “That old Graystone pride—”

  “Perhaps,” replied Edward. “But I think I would sooner take a position as a stable hand than to work in the employ of one I respected so little.”

  Derek smiled, but there was a hint of surprise in it.

  “Then . . . I suppose this is it,” he said haltingly.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Even as he spoke, Edward wondered if he could really walk out—leave everything in the hands of one so monstrous. “I shall take what I can carry now, and send for the rest of my personal belongings later.”

  Derek raised his glass in silent consent.

  Woodenly, Edward slowly turned, opened the door, and walked out of the library for the last time and toward the stair. There was but one thought in his mind: Lord, I can’t do this thing alone. Continue to strengthen me!

  ———

  Two hours later Sid drove the carriage away from the doorstep of the grand mansion, with George Ellice following behind with a small wagon full of the belongings they were taking. Inside the carriage its passengers were silent and subdued, but not heartbroken. There were few tears, except for Dora’s and a few that Edward managed to blink back.