Danny seemed nonplussed by this. He gave Alice a resentful look but said no more, curtly instructing two of his men to help the survivors down to the boat.
‘One of the passengers, John Sinclair, is not well enough to go yet,’ said Alice firmly. ‘He was injured in the storm. Perhaps you could get word to his family that he is alive?’
Danny noticed the way a blush came to his sister’s cheeks. ‘I can post a note,’ he agreed.
Alice hurried below to take a message from John, which she wrote down swiftly and gave to her brother. Danny’s interest was piqued.
‘Hercules MacAskill of Ramanish? Is he one of the gentry then, this young lad?’
‘MacAskill is his foster father. John was orphaned very young.’
‘Rich then, is he?’
‘I don’t think so. That’s why he’s going to join the army and seek his fortune.’
‘How do you know so much about him?’
Alice felt herself go hot. Since John had gained consciousness they had talked much to each other about their lives. ‘I’ve been nursing him.’
Her brother gave her a teasing wink, like the Danny of old. ‘I’ll come back for him in the next week or two if you signal he’s well enough to travel,’ he offered.
She smiled. ‘Thanks, Danny.’
There were hasty goodbyes and promises to send money to recompense the family for their hospitality, which Effie and Arnold protested were not necessary.
The Browns waved their new friends away, standing in the autumnal sunshine. Effie gave a sigh of relief as they turned back to the lighthouse. ‘They were good folk,’ she said, ‘but I’m glad it’ll be just us again.’
Arnold gave Alice a quizzical look. ‘Not quite just us – there’s the young soldier still under our roof.’
‘Alice is looking after him so well,’ Effie said, ‘that the laddie will soon be back on his feet.’
Alice turned swiftly, so that they would not see the smile on her lips, and dashed eagerly up the steps ahead of her parents.
‘Trumped!’ Alice cried, slamming down her nine of hearts on John’s king of spades.
‘You win again.’ John grinned. ‘It’s just as well we’re not playing for money.’
He sat back at the kitchen table, his arm in a sling. Over it, he wore a rough woollen shirt of Sam’s – the only one that would fit his broad frame.
Alice laughed. ‘So how will you repay me?’
John glanced across the kitchen to where Effie was churning butter. The Brown father and son were out fishing. He lowered his voice.
‘With a poem to your beauty and cleverness at cards.’
Alice smothered a giggle.
‘Will you be writing it in English or the Gaelic?’ the watchful Effie asked him in Gaelic.
John threw back his head in laughter, answering her in their native tongue. ‘The Gaelic, of course. It’s the language of love, is it not? I will tell how Alice got her beauty and bravery from her mother.’
Effie turned back vigorously to her task without answering.
‘What are you saying?’ Alice demanded. ‘It isn’t fair that you talk about me in secret.’
‘Like the bards of old, I shall write about the beauty and generosity of my patrons here on Black Harbour Island. You shall be remembered in verse long after I am gone.’
Alice smiled but it pained her to hear him talk of when he would be gone. Although she longed for his recovery, she dreaded the day he would have to leave. Each day with John seemed to fly too quickly. She felt no desire to be anywhere else but in his company; she no longer thought of trying to get over to see Gillveray or stock up on books from his library. Her keenness to visit Black Harbour House had dwindled since the rescue in the storm.
One day, ten days after the shipwreck, John emerged from his bedchamber with his arm out of its sling. He pulled on his own jacket, the torn sleeve of which Alice had mended. Alice looked at him in dismay.
‘Walk with me outside, Alice,’ he bade her with a defiant look at Effie. Arnold was sleeping after his shift and Sam was out digging up potatoes.
Effie let them go with a nod. Alice knew her mother had a soft spot for the young Highlander.
Outside, the sea was calm and the sky cloudless. He took her hand and slipped her arm through his as they walked across the narrow island, out of sight of the lighthouse windows. She thrilled at his touch. They could see for miles; from Gillveray’s grazing land in the west to the rim of sparkling sea beyond the Black Needle. It was impossible to imagine how deadly the sea had been the night of the storm that had thrown Alice and John together. He stared out to sea, his green eyes narrowed in thought, and Alice braced herself for what he was going to say, for she knew their time together was almost done.
Turning to face her, John said, ‘Dearest Alice, it’s time that I was going. If I delay much longer I will miss my chance of a commission in the East India Company. And I cannot let down my chief after all he has done for me.’
Alice gulped and nodded, her heart leaden.
‘Besides, your parents have been more than generous to me and I must not be a burden to them any longer.’
‘Not a burden,’ Alice insisted.
‘But I want you to know that I go with a heavy heart,’ he continued. ‘I have grown to care for you greatly. You must know that, Alice?’
She looked into his eyes and saw the same mixture of passion and sorrow that she felt. Her tears brimmed. John cupped her face in his strong hands and brushed away the spilling tears with his thumbs.
‘I care for you too, very much,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t want you to go.’
‘My darling girl, I hoped as much,’ he murmured and then bent to kiss her lips.
Alice felt a jolt go through her like a lightning bolt. She pressed her lips back against his. She had dreamt about kissing them so often, she could hardly believe it was happening. His good arm went about her waist and pulled her to him. She was heady at the contact, his mouth covering her face with hungry, tender kisses.
He winced when she put her arms about him.
‘Sorry! Your arm . . .’
‘Don’t be sorry.’ He smiled. ‘I would endure twice as much pain just to have you embrace me, my sweet Alice.’
They kissed again, Alice’s heart thudding at her daring. She knew they were being reckless and that he was about to disappear out of her life but she couldn’t stop herself. She had never felt so in love or alive as she did at that moment. Who cared about the future?
‘Alice,’ John murmured in her ear. ‘Oh, Alice.’
Just then they heard Sam holler. Alice sprang away from John. Her brother appeared on the far side of the island, waving at them.
‘Boat’s coming! Danny’s boat!’
‘But we didn’t signal for him,’ Alice said in dismay.
John grasped her hands in his. ‘There’s something I wish to say.’ His eyes gleamed; there was an urgency to his words.
‘What is it?’ Alice could hardly breathe for the panic that gripped her. They might never have the chance to be alone again, ever.
‘Marry me, Alice!’
She stared at him, open-mouthed. She must have misheard him.
‘I want no other lass but you,’ John insisted, his look penetrating. ‘I know it must seem sudden to you but I’ve known since that moment I saw you in the boat – my angel of mercy – that you were the girl I wanted as my wife.’ His grip on her hands was warm and encouraging, willing her to agree. ‘If you say no, I will go with a sore heart but at least I will have no regret that I asked. Regrets are for things left unsaid.’
Sam shouted for them to come and something about visitors.
Alice swallowed. ‘Yes,’ she said, her voice hoarse with emotion. ‘Yes, John, I will marry you!’
He let out an exultant roar, crushed her to him and gave her a long passionate kiss on the lips, not caring that they were now in Sam’s view.
‘Come away with me then,’ John said rashly. �
�Let us go south together and be married. We’ll start a life of adventure. You’ll come with me to India.’
‘India?’ Alice gasped. She thought of that faraway land of heat and wild beasts, of strange customs, exotic blooms and snow-capped mountains that Gillveray had told her about. Then she thought of the distance on Gillveray’s globe and the long hazardous voyage that would take her so very far away from her family and the only place she knew as home.
Alice felt doubt creep in. For all she loved John with a passion that shook her to the core, she had only known him for such a short while – less than two weeks. She couldn’t run away with him. What a scandal that would cause her parents! She couldn’t be so cruel.
‘You look unsure,’ said John. ‘I promise you I would never leave you. I am not one of those men who woo a woman for his own gratification only to abandon her when he has no more need of her. I swear on the grave of my beloved mother I will treat you well all your life, Alice.’
‘I believe you,’ Alice said, her pulse racing at his earnest words. ‘But my parents might not. If we are to be married we must do it properly.’
‘Then we shall go to the mainland at once and find a priest,’ John declared.
‘No.’ Alice was firm. ‘When you get to Addiscombe, you must write to my father and ask his permission. Then I will have time to plant the idea in his mind by telling him about your good qualities and what a grand match we would make.’
Frustration crossed his handsome face and then John smiled. ‘If that is what it takes to make you happy, then that is what I shall do, sweet Alice.’
‘Thank you, John.’ She leant up and kissed him again.
‘But I will have a hard job not snatching you away with me.’ He grinned and lead her back towards the gesticulating Sam.
Danny had not come for John. He had brought strangers from the mainland who wanted to meet Alice. One was a writer from a newspaper in Newcastle; the other was an artist who wished to paint her portrait. Alice looked in frustration at John. With these men around there would be no chance of any final private words or kisses.
‘There is very great interest in you, Miss Brown,’ said Moxon, the journalist. ‘There is a penny sheet circulating about your heroic deeds.’
Alice looked baffled. ‘What penny sheet?’
‘Look at this,’ Danny said, thrusting a creased piece of paper at her. ‘Says you’re a heroine and no other lass has ever been as brave. It’s selling like hot cakes in the village and beyond.’
‘Let me see.’ Arnold frowned, taking it and reading. ‘Who wrote it?’
‘Someone without the gift for journalism,’ Moxon said with disdain. ‘No doubt he paid one of the survivors for their story.’ He smiled at Alice. ‘But I would like to hear the story from you. Your brother Daniel says no one has been out here yet. Would you do me the honour of allowing me to be the first to interview you?’
Alice felt embarrassed. ‘Why don’t you ask Sam? He did more than me to save those poor folk.’ She looked around but Sam had not followed them inside.
John spoke up. ‘Sam couldn’t have done it without you. I saw your bravery with my own eyes.’
Moxon pulled out a small notebook and began to write. ‘And you must be John Sinclair, the injured one?’
‘Our Alice has been nursing him,’ Danny said. ‘He owes his life to my sister.’
‘I do indeed,’ said John, giving Alice a tender look.
Flustered, Alice asked, ‘What do you say, Father?’
‘I don’t see the harm in giving your version of the story,’ Arnold said. ‘Better to have the truth told than fanciful claims.’
‘Exactly,’ Danny agreed. ‘And Mr Collins would like to sketch you for the newspaper too.’
Alice wondered why Danny was now enthusiastic about her rescue in the storm. Perhaps these men were paying him well for bringing them out to the island? But he needed to provide for a young family so she wouldn’t begrudge him. Reluctantly, she agreed to be interviewed.
At the end, Alice insisted, ‘You will make it plain that I was only there helping Sam and that he did the lion’s share of rescuing the shipwrecked?’
‘Of course,’ said Moxon. ‘Sam will get his due. But I can’t deny that it is your story that our readers want to hear. You are a remarkable young woman.’
Effie looked worried. ‘I hope this isn’t going to bring more people to our door bothering my daughter? We live quietly and don’t want fuss.’
‘A week or two of interest is all you will have to endure,’ predicted Moxon.
They left shortly afterwards – having eaten half a ham and a loaf of bread – with Danny rowing them back to shore and taking John with him. Alice hardly noticed the looks of unease on her parents’ faces; she was too heartbroken at John’s departure. They had exchanged longing looks as John had raised her hand to his lips in courteous farewell. But he had been unable to say more than general pleasantries and thanks.
Over the next few days, she imagined him travelling on south by stagecoach or on horseback. Or had he taken another ship from Newcastle? She had not had time to ask. And where exactly was Addiscombe? All she knew was that it was south of London. She would ask Gillveray.
It struck Alice how she had hardly given her benefactor a thought over the past weeks. She felt restless on the island, unable to settle to the everyday tasks that normally brought her satisfaction: tending the animals, trimming the lamps and keeping the log. Even reading books could not distract her from thoughts of John and their rash plans to marry. Would it really happen? One day soon, a letter would come from John to her father asking permission – only then would the fantastical idea become a reality.
CHAPTER 9
Alice was aghast at the feverish interest of complete strangers in her and the lighthouse. She was quite unprepared for the sudden unwanted attention from others – people who she had never met or heard of – that she attracted. Danny brought out boatloads of inquisitive trippers to Black Harbour Island to show them around and meet his sister. The article in The Newcastle Messenger had been taken up and repeated in other regional broadsheets and then national newspapers.
The public could not get enough of Alice’s heroic story. Pamphlets began to appear about her. These, along with artists’ impressions of Alice rowing through the terrible storm, were sold in Thomasina’s mother’s post office.
‘That wretched journalist!’ cried Effie. ‘He knew we wanted to be left alone. And why are you bringing all these folk here to poke their noses into our home, Daniel?’
‘You should be pleased that Alice is so famous now,’ said Danny. ‘They’re raising money for her and Sam.’
‘Money,’ Sam said scathingly. ‘That’s all you care about, isn’t it? You and Thomasina.’
‘It’s only fair that we all benefit from a piece of good fortune,’ Danny retorted.
‘Good fortune?’ Alice exclaimed. ‘That shipwreck was a terrible thing.’
‘Not for you! Look at all these letters I’ve brought from your new admirers.’
Alice was embarrassed by them. Men were writing to her from far and wide wanting to correspond with her, asking to meet her, to paint her portrait or offering her marriage and riches. Many of the letters looked as if they had already been opened. Alice suspected Thomasina was reading them before sending them on with Danny.
The one letter that she looked out for – the only one she wanted with all her heart – was from John. But none came, either for her or for her father. She was beset with worry that some other ill luck had befallen him. As Danny left on one occasion, having argued hotly with his parents and Sam over the continuing boat trips of sightseers, Alice gave him a letter to post.
Danny eyed the name and address of Addiscombe College with interest. ‘I bet Father doesn’t know you’re writing to that soldier?’
‘I just wish to know he got safely to his new quarters,’ Alice said, blushing but defiant.
‘I don’t think you should encourage him.
You can make a better match than that Scotch lad.’ Danny was reluctant to take it. ‘You can have your pick of rich men now, from what I hear.’
‘That is my business,’ Alice said. ‘If you won’t post this letter, I’ll take it myself.’
‘Give it here.’ Danny relented.
Winter storms brought relief from the constant intrusion of boat trippers to the island. For once, Effie and Arnold were thankful for the bad weather. Alice could tell that having to entertain these strangers in her home and feeling obliged to give them refreshments had taken its toll on her mother. She looked ill and anxious.
Sometimes, through the partition wall that divided their bedchambers, Alice overheard urgent whisperings between her parents but the only words she could make out clearly were when they spoke her name. She felt wretched for bringing this unwanted attention to their door. Many were the times she wished it had not been her who had gone out in the boat in the storm that fateful night. Yet, if she had not, she would never have met or saved John.
Oh, John! What was he doing and why didn’t he write? Had he changed his mind about marriage? Had his feelings shrivelled like the last autumn leaves? As the winter dragged on, Alice’s longing for him strengthened rather than weakened. Yet she would not send another letter begging for him to write to her until he answered the first.
The spring of 1828 arrived and Alice took a rare trip over to the mainland with her father to collect provisions and visit Gillveray. Perhaps a letter from John would be waiting at the post office? She would go straight there to visit her nephew and niece. As soon as she arrived in the village, Alice attracted a crowd all eager to speak to her.
‘What was it like in that storm?’
‘Were you frightened, Alice?’
‘How much money have they given you for saving them?’
‘Is it true you’re going to meet the king?’
‘Can I have a lock of your hair for good luck?’
Alice was overwhelmed. ‘I-I did nothing,’ she stammered, ‘nothing that you wouldn’t have done if put in the same position.’
In the Far Pashmina Mountains Page 10
