The gardens were one of the great sights of that part of Scotland and the Duke contrived to grow a great number of different flowers and houseplants.
He had also used the cascade that fell down the side of the hill to create a Water Garden that, with its rocks and shrubs and small bridges, evoked the envy of every gardener North of the border.
Isa had read about the Water Garden of The Castle and now, she thought, she would be able to see it for the first time.
Opening the window, she could see the cascade. Brown with peat, it was splashing down to where it joined a burn which ran through the garden to fall over the cliffs into the sea.
On the other side of the gardens flowed the river that the Viking ships had sailed up when they crossed the North Sea for their raids on Scotland.
It had in those days furnished them with a harbour where they could disembark their warriors.
It was all quite fascinating and, as she stood looking out at the bright lights, the Chinese lanterns and a moon rising over the moors, she knew that nothing could be more beautiful.
It stirred her imagination so that, as she had often done before, she thanked God that she had been born a Scot and every nerve in her body responded to the beauty of the land of her birth.
She felt that she was so much a part of it all that she had no separate identity of her own and she could feel the whole history of Scotland pulsating in her mind.
She could breathe the heather-scented air and her eyes were illuminated by the silver loch in the distance.
The wind blowing in from the sea made her think of the Scots who had left their homes and settled in many different lands. However much they succeeded in their new lives it never compensated them for the home they had lost.
‘Once a Scot, always a Scot!’ she said to herself.
There was nothing in London that she loved in the same way as she loved the light on the hills when there was sunshine and the mists over the moors when the skies were dark.
With an effort she remembered that she was expected after dressing to go downstairs before dinner and meet her host and the other guests who were staying at The Castle.
A groom had brought her instructions to her home and they had been very explicit, so that there was no chance of her making a mistake.
She was expected to arrive just before it was time to dress for dinner.
When she had immediately been handed over by the Major Domo to the housekeeper, she had realised that she was not first to meet the Duke.
She thought with a little smile that he was being very autocratic and it was only surprising that she had not expected to ask for an audience with him.
Then she told herself that she would be wise to keep her sense of humour under control.
She was quite certain the Duke would not think it amusing if she did not treat him as the Chieftain.
As a Chieftain, this meant that on his own lands he was a King in his own right.
She took one last glance at herself in the long mirror.
Her gown, which had come from a very expensive dressmaker in Bond Street, was exceedingly becoming. Of white satin, its low décolletage, and she had at first been shocked at how low it was expected in London to be, was draped with chiffon.
There were flounces of chiffon around the hem, which formed a short train behind her when she walked.
And the pure whiteness of her gown threw into prominence the strange glowing red of her hair.
In it instead of diamonds, which she expected would be worn by most of the other guests, there was just a tiny white osprey feather, which fluttered when she walked and made her seem ethereal rather than of this world.
This was partly due to the fact that she was very thin.
Because she had taken so much exercise when she was at home in Scotland, she found it impossible, as so many musicians did, to rush straight to rehearsals without taking the air.
In London she therefore rose very early and would walk in Hyde Park, stepping out as if she was tramping over the moors. Deep in her thoughts she had no idea that people stopped to stare at her until she was out of sight.
Her aunt, however, had insisted that she was accompanied on her walks.
But no housemaid, however young, who was sent as a chaperone found it possible to keep up with Isa who resented having to slow down.
She therefore made an arrangement without her aunt’s knowledge that the housemaid would wait for her on a bench in the Park.
Then she would walk quickly away and return to her in half-an-hour.
It was a subterfuge that the housemaid appreciated and provided Isa with the exercise she needed.
It also kept her slim and athletic and her gown moulded to her figure made her look very young and graceful and somehow unlike any other woman in the party.
Because besides the number of guests staying the night there were others from other houses in the neighbourhood, everyone was announced.
When she entered the drawing room, the Major Domo called out,
“Miss Isa McNaver, Your Grace.”
For a moment Isa could see nothing but a kaleidoscope of colour and the glitter of jewels.
Then the Duke came towards her and she thought in full dress with a lace jabot at his throat and his plaid over one shoulder that no man could look more magnificent.
As he took her hand, he said,
“Welcome to The Castle!”
She then felt a strange vibration from his fingers that she had never experienced with any other man.
Then Harry was beside her saying,
“You look beautiful, as I expect you will be told a thousand times this evening, but I wanted to be the first.”
Isa smiled at him.
Then, as the Duke’s attention was transferred to a new arrival, Harry drew her across the room to introduce her to the Dowager Duchess.
Isa had not seen her except at a distance many years before and she now felt that with her white hair she looked more beautiful than any young woman could do.
The Dowager Duchess was wearing a mauve gown, the colour of the heather just coming into bloom.
Her tiara of amethysts and diamonds had been a present from the whole Clan when she had married the Duke and there were stones of the same gem around her neck and on her wrists.
It flashed through Isa’s mind that it was jewels like these found in the mountains of Scotland that were in the treasure that had been hidden from the Vikings.
“It is a great pleasure to meet you, Miss McNaver,” the Dowager Duchess was saying. “Do you live near here?”
“About three miles from The Castle, Your Grace.”
The Dowager Duchess could not repress a little look of surprise and Isa knew that it was because her gown was so obviously smart and expensive.
It must seem strange to the Dowager Duchess, she thought, that she had not been invited to The Castle before.
Then, as Harry introduced her to one person after another, she realised that all the people staying at The Castle were either from England or else from the South of Scotland.
The Duke of Hamilton was wearing the tartan of the Royal Stuarts which he was entitled to and the Duke of Buccleuch was equally resplendent in his own tartan.
If the men were magnificent, Isa’s breath was taken away by the elegance of the women.
As she heard their names being announced, she recognised several of the great beauties like Lady de Grey and Lady Brooke.
She thought it would have been impossible for any women to glitter more brightly than the stars.
Yet the jewels on their heads and around their necks eclipsed anything she had seen before.
Then at last, when the room seemed to be filled to overflowing, they processed in to dinner and Isa found herself being escorted by a gentleman she was introduced to as Lord Durham.
He immediately began to pay her compliments, which she found somewhat embarrassing.
During dinner he expressed himself very volubly on the subjec
t of how he enjoyed the company of beautiful women and made it quite clear that he put her in that category.
The gentleman on her other side was more prosaic, but amusing when she talked to him about sport.
She found herself fascinated by the huge dining room, the gold and silver ornaments on the table and the meal, which was really delicious in itself.
At the end of dinner when the port had been taken round, the Duke’s piper circled round the table playing tunes that Isa had known since she was in the cradle.
She felt that the music was moving and very exhilarating.
She was aware, however, that some of the English guests made little grimaces at each other and put their hands up to their ears.
When the piper had finished, he stopped at the Duke’s high chair at the top of the table.
The Duke handed him the special silver cup that was kept for the occasion and contained whisky.
The Piper drank his health, speaking in Gaelic.
When the ceremony was finished, the ladies left the room and Isa knew that a number of them were curious as to who she was.
They tried by asking tactful questions to ascertain if she was anyone of importance.
Only when they reached the Chieftain’s Room did Isa remember for the first time that she should have been thinking of the real reason why she was at the party.
Because she had been so interested, she had forgotten that she was supposed to be listening to the gentlemen’s voices.
Now she asked herself if one of the guests could be the man who was plotting to find the treasure and perhaps murder the Duke in the process.
When she had thought about it before she arrived, she had been quite confident, because she was so attuned to music, that she could not fail to recognise the way he had spoken.
It was nothing she could explicitly describe as being different from any other man’s voice and yet there had been something about it that she felt she would definitely remember.
Now that she had entered the Chieftain’s Room where the ball was to take place and saw the large number of men present in kilts, she was sure that it was like looking for a needle in a haystack.
The band was playing a soft waltz and she was immediately claimed by Harry and taken onto the floor.
He danced very well and she thought that he too looked exceedingly smart in his tailcoat and stiff white shirt.
It was difficult, however, not to compare him with the Duke.
He was not yet dancing, but receiving with his grandmother a number of other guests from various house parties in the neighbourhood.
“You are enjoying yourself?” Harry asked as they moved sedately over the polished floor.
“It is all like a scene from an Opera,” Isa said, “and I find it difficult to believe it is real.”
“That is what people are saying and thinking about you!” Harry smiled. “I find it impossible to believe that you spend much time in Scotland.”
She was about to tell him that she was working in England when the dance came to an end and several people came up to talk to Harry.
There were other partners, in fact Isa was never without one, and, because it was a warm evening, they wandered into the garden.
Instinctively she moved towards the Water Garden and Lord Durham, who was her partner, looked at the cascade that fed it and observed,
“I am beginning to believe, lovely lady, that you have emerged from the cascade or else you are a mermaid from the sea who has become human for one night only!”
“I am delighted to be either, my Lord.” Isa replied.
“You really are a McNaver?” he persisted. “If that is true, I cannot think why you have been allowed to remain hidden here in the hills instead of fascinating us all, as you should be doing, in the glittering lights of London!”
It seemed too much trouble to explain that that was exactly what she did.
She therefore let him continue to flirt with her as they walked back to The Castle and she was claimed by some other gentleman to take part in a reel.
As Isa had danced it ever since she was a small child, she had no difficulty with the complicated steps and looked exceedingly graceful as she did so.
Some of the other ladies were very clumsy in following the most intricate of steps.
Finally Isa found herself partnered by the Duke and, as they danced opposite each other, he said,
“Now I am prepared to believe that you really are a McNaver!”
“Why should you have doubted it?” Isa enquired.
“For a start, most of my Clan do not look at all like you!”
Then they both laughed because it sounded so funny.
They were parted and she did not speak to him again until the ball ended and the visiting guests had driven away.
Only the house party was left, some of the ladies looking tired.
Isa however, although she was not aware of it, was still sparkling.
“This is the best ball I have been to for a long time, Bruce,” Lord Durham declared.
“Then I must certainly arrange another,” the Duke replied.
“I shall look to Miss McNaver, as one of your Clan, to keep you up to that promise,” Lord Durham smiled.
A middle-aged man whom Isa had not spoken to before joined in the conversation by saying,
“I have been puzzling all the evening as to where I have seen Miss McNaver before and somehow the name does not suit her.”
Isa turned to look at him and, as she did so, he gave an exclamation.
“Now I have it!” he said. “You are Isa of the Isles! I listened to you just three weeks ago.”
Isa smiled.
“At the Aeoleon Hall.”
As she spoke, the Duke interposed,
“What is this you are saying?”
“Now at last I have remembered,” the gentleman replied, “where I have seen this lovely lady before. She is not only beautiful but has a voice like an angel. She was so enchanting that I found I had been sitting on a very hard chair without complaining for two hours listening to her!”
Isa laughed.
Then she saw that the Duke was looking at her with a frown between his eyes.
As Lord Lovat turned away to say ‘goodnight’ to another lady in the party, he said in a low voice,
“So I was right! You were acting a part, Miss McNaver, and I can only congratulate you on thinking up such an original way of obtaining an invitation to my ball!”
Isa’s eyes seemed to widen until they filled her whole face.
The way the Duke spoke and the sarcasm in his voice made her realise that he was being insulting, but for a moment she could not think why.
Then, as she realised what he was insinuating, the blood flooded into her face.
“If that is what you really believe, Your Grace,” she said, “I can only assure you on my word of honour that it is untrue.”
The Duke raised his eyebrows.
“And of course, Miss McNaver, I have to believe you,” he replied.
His tone nevertheless told her only too clearly that he thought she was lying.
“I shall look forward,” he continued, “to hearing tomorrow anything of interest that you have discovered here this evening, which I believe I am right in saying was the reason for your presence.”
Because he was so obviously contemptuous Isa felt for a moment that she wanted to scream at him for doubting her.
She felt herself tremble and, although she was not aware of it, she went very pale.
It was impossible to speak, impossible even to refute the way that the Duke was accusing her.
As he turned on his heel and walked away, she did the same.
She left the room and, when she was outside it, she ran down the passage and up the stairs to her bedroom.
Only when she was inside and had closed the door behind her did she realise that her breath was coming quickly and her heart was beating tempestuously.
“How dare he! How dare he ca
ll me a liar just so that I could receive an invitation to his ball!”
She walked to the window to stand looking out.
Now the servants were extinguishing the lights that had edged the paths and hung from the trees.
The moon, high in the Heavens, was now throwing its silver light over everything, gleaming on the cascade so that it was turned to silver and casting strange shadows on the fir trees.
It was lovely, but Isa was looking out into the darkness and her fury seemed to make everything dark and ominous.
How dare the Duke talk to her in such a way? She regretted now that she had not said at the very beginning of their acquaintance that she was a singer and that she had returned home from London.
She had in fact tried to talk very little about herself, feeling that if she did so she would make it obvious that her father had felt neglected because he was not asked to The Castle.
The Duke had merely carried on the pattern set by his father, who had never thought it necessary to entertain his more lowly and unimportant neighbours.
She stood for a long time at the window forgetting that the maid who helped her dress had told her to ring when she returned to go to bed.
Quite suddenly Isa made up her mind that she would go home.
How, after the way the Duke had spoken to her, could she stay at The Castle and perhaps be obliged to meet him at breakfast?
He had made it very clear that he thought she was an imposter.
She would let him think what he liked, but in the circumstances she would no longer accept his hospitality.
Quickly, because she was angry, Isa took off her white gown and dressed herself in the clothes she had arrived in.
Because they had been the best she had brought with her from London, she put on the pleated skirt that she had ridden over originally in and the green velvet jacket that went with it.
She slipped on a pair of sensible walking shoes, did not bother with a hat, but took the osprey feather from her hair and laid it on the dressing table.
She wrote a note to the maid asking her to pack everything and said that she would send for it during the morning.
Putting the letter in an envelope with a tip, she left it on the unslept-in bed.
Taking one quick glance around the room, she opened the door quietly, realising that the passage was almost in darkness.
169. A Cheiftain finds Love (The Eternal Collection) Page 5
