The Secret of the Glen

by Barbara Cartland

  There was a river running through the centre of the Glen.

  Presently the road ran beside it, while the mountains rose so sharply on each side and were so high that it made everything seem overshadowed.

  And yet it had a majesty and a beauty that was all its own.

  It had not the gentle loveliness of the loch at Cairn Castle, but something more impressive and to Leona at this moment more ominous.

  She had not realised until she actually reached it that Ardness Castle was so near the sea.

  She could see, at the end of the Glen, white crested waves before high above the mouth of the river, she saw Ardness Castle.

  It was far more impressive, far more awe-inspiring than she had expected.

  It had been built, she was certain, as a defence against both rival Clans and the Vikings and it was still a giant impregnable fortress.

  With the river running below it and the sea beyond, its grey stone harsh against the surrounding hills, it was most overpowering.

  They crossed a bridge over the river and drove through low twisted trees and thick shrubs along a drive.

  The great tower nearest to the sea still had its arrowhead slits, but the later addition of grey stone with a trestled roof and sixteenth century turrets had long narrow Gothic windows.

  The carriage drew to a standstill. The great door was a formidable, nail-studded bastion of timber with iron hinges. Stone machicolations were poised high above to deluge an unwelcome visitor with molten lead.

  There was a large number of servants, all wearing kilts and seeming to Leona, because she was nervous, to be enormous bearded men, frightening because they were so large.

  One who appeared to be in charge led her to a huge square-built hall and up a wide stone staircase on which their footsteps sounded loud and appeared to echo.

  At the top the servant flung open a door and announced in a stentorian voice,

  “Miss Grenville, Your Grace!”

  Leona had the impression of a room far larger than she had expected with a high-arched roof and windows that seemed to let in very little light.

  The Duke was standing at the far end in front of a heavily carved fireplace.

  As she walked towards him, she felt as if she had shrunk in size while he was overpoweringly big.

  This was, she found as she reached him, a slight exaggeration arising from her nervousness, but he was in fact tall, grey-bearded and exceedingly autocratic.

  He held himself proudly, but Leona realised that he was an elderly man and his face was deeply lined.

  Yet she could understand all too well what her mother had meant when she had said that he was intimidating.

  The hand he held out to her was so very much larger than her own that she felt as if her fingers were lost in some inescapable trap.

  “You have arrived at last!” the Duke exclaimed.

  His voice was resonant and, although he was smiling, she had the feeling that there was a rebuke behind his words.

  Leona curtseyed. Then, as she rose, she found the Duke was still holding her hand and looking at her with eyes that were staring at her so penetratingly that it was embarrassing. “I think you have already learnt, Your Grace, that there was a slight accident yesterday evening?”

  “Which meant you had to stay at Cairn Castle! That is extremely regrettable. My coachmen should have taken more care of you.”

  “It was not really their fault,” Leona said. “The wind was very fierce and the rain was blinding, so I think the wheels must have run off the road.”

  “The coachmen will be reprimanded!” the Duke said sharply. “But at least you have arrived!”

  “I am here,” Leona agreed, “but, Your Grace, I saw a horrible sight on the way.”

  “What was that?”

  She thought the question was something like a pistol-shot. “An – eviction – Your Grace.”

  The Duke did not answer and Leona went on,

  “It was the most – degrading and the most – heartbreaking spectacle I have ever – seen.”

  She meant to speak firmly, but her voice sounded weak and agitated even to herself.

  “My mother often spoke of the Clearances,” she went on, “but I did not – believe they were still taking place – not in Ardness!”

  “There is only one Glen left in which there are defiant idiots, who will not do as they are told,” the Duke answered.

  “But their crofts were being – set on fire!”

  “You had no right to stop!” the Duke exclaimed.

  “That is not the point,” Leona replied. “It was taking place and – one child was nearly – burnt alive!”

  The Duke made a restless movement and she realised that he was angry.

  “I think that, as you have been travelling for some time, you will want to wash before the meal that has been prepared for you,” he said coldly. “You will be shown to your bedchamber.”

  His hand was on the bell-pull and, although Leona had a great many other things she wished to say, they somehow died on her lips.

  She felt that he was brushing her aside as if she was a tiresome insect and that what she had said had made no impact upon him whatsoever.

  Never had she known such a feeling of impotence and helplessness.

  Then, before she could find her voice again, before she had time to think, she found herself being escorted down a corridor and shown into a large bedroom where a housekeeper was waiting for her.

  There were also two maids and they all curtseyed.

  “I’m Mistress McKenzie,” the Housekeeper said, “this is Maggy and this is Janet. We’re all here, miss, to make ye comfortable.”

  “Thank you,” Leona said.

  “And His Grace’s instructions are that ye have merely to ask and anything ye require shall be procured for ye.”

  “Thank you,” Leona said again.

  She wondered what would happen if she asked for food and clothing to be sent to the families who were being evicted.

  It was what she wanted to do, but she knew even as she thought of it, that she was not brave enough.

  ‘No wonder Lord Strathcairn has quarrelled with the Duke,’ she reflected.

  She found herself longing to be back in the quiet and safety of Cairn Castle.

  Or was it more truly a longing for its owner?

  CHAPTER THREE

  Leona went towards the washstand and one of the maids hurried to pour some hot water into a basin.

  “Would ye wish to change, miss?” Mrs. McKenzie enquired.

  “I think I will,” Leona replied. “My travelling gown is thick and today it seems very warm.”

  “The sun is awful hot at midday,” Mrs. McKenzie agreed.

  “Perhaps, miss, ye’d like to put on one of your new gowns.” “My new gowns?” Leona exclaimed in surprise.

  She realised, having just arrived, that the housemaids had not yet begun unpacking her trunks.

  In answer to her question Mrs. McKenzie crossed the bedroom and opened the door of a wardrobe. Hanging there were half a dozen dresses.

  Leona stared at them in astonishment.

  “Whose are those?” she enquired.

  “They’re for ye, miss,” Mrs. McKenzie replied. “His Grace ordered them from Edinburgh and there are more to come.”

  “For me?” Leona exclaimed, “b-but why – and how did His Grace – know my size?”

  Mrs. McKenzie smiled.

  “His Grace told me, miss, that he remembered ye mother well and that she wrote to the Duchess Jean sayin’ ye resembled her closely when she were a girl.”

  Leona recalled her mother saying that in the letter that had been despatched to the Duchess.

  “Why should His Grace – wish to give me some – new gowns?” she questioned. “It is exceedingly kind of him.”

  “His Grace wishes ye to be happy, miss, as Ardness Castle is to be your future hame.”

  Leona could not help wondering if it was not rather frightening to think her futur
e was decided for her. Then, as if compelled, she walked towards the wardrobe.

  The gowns were charming. They had the full crinolines she had always longed for and tight bodices to accentuate her tiny waist.

  For the evening there were elaborate, beautifully embroidered or embellished berthas and draped skirts ornamented with bunches of artificial flowers.

  “They are lovely – quite lovely!” she exclaimed, delighted in spite of her misgivings.

  “His Grace hoped ye would think so, miss,” Mrs. McKenzie smiled. “He sent the most minute instructions to the best dressmaker in Edinburgh. I’m sure when His Grace sees ye in the gowns he’ll not be disappointed.”

  “I hope not!” Leona remarked.

  She took off her own dress, realising how dowdy and plain it looked by comparison with the new ones.

  She chose a pretty day gown of heavy green silk trimmed with lace round the neck. It buttoned tightly to the waist, then flared out in heavy frills to the ground.

  It was so beautiful that she stared at herself in the mirror in astonishment, hardly believing that she could own anything so attractive or feel so well dressed.

  “It’s just a wee trifle large in the waist, miss,” Mrs. McKenzie was saying, “but, now I knows what’s wrong, I can alter the others. There’s a very beautiful gown for ye to wear for dinner tonight.”

  Feeling bewildered by such munificence on the part of the Duke and at the same time a little shy of her appearance, Leona walked back along the corridor to the large room where she had met him on her arrival.

  He was waiting for her and she thought there was a look of approval in his eyes as she moved towards him.

  She curtseyed.

  “I am overwhelmed, Your Grace, by your kindness. I only hope my appearance meets with your approval.”

  “You look very attractive,” the Duke said, “and I expect there have been lots of men to tell you that before now.” Leona smiled.

  “I have lived a very quiet life in the country and Mama has not been well this past year.”

  “No, of course not,” the Duke said, “and that was why I was sure you would require many things which I hope I can provide for you.”

  “You are very thoughtful and generous.”

  “I want you to realise,” the Duke replied, “that this is your home and that you will take your place in The Castle as if you were my daughter.”

  “But I thought you had a daughter!” Leona exclaimed, remembering her mother had spoken of the Duchess having children.

  “My daughter is dead.”

  “Oh – I am sorry!”

  “She died two years ago. She was younger than you are, but she was never strong.”

  There was a note in the Duke’s voice that made Leona feel that he had suffered when his daughter died.

  “I am so very sorry,” she said again. “But you have other children?”

  “I have a son.”

  Leona was about to ask if she would meet him when the Duke said,

  “Luncheon is waiting for us and I feel that after your journey you must be hungry.”

  “Yes, I am, Your Grace.”

  Even as Leona spoke, she remembered the cries of the children being evicted and felt as if food would choke her.

  She wanted to speak of them to the Duke, to beg him to be merciful, to ask if any arrangements had been made to provide them with another home.

  But then, as they moved towards the dining room, she found it difficult to know what to say.

  She was well aware that if she raised the subject he would brush it aside as he had done already. Yet she told herself she must not be a coward. Sooner or later she must talk to him about the evictions.

  It was, however, impossible to do so at luncheon.

  She had expected to find herself alone with the Duke, but to her surprise there were a number of people waiting for them in the dining hall.

  It was an enormous Baronial room, far larger than the dining room at Cairn Castle and the table could easily have seated thirty people or more.

  They sat down eight for luncheon. The other guests were two elderly cousins who lived in the Castle, the Duke’s sister who was there on a visit, two neighbours who had been invited for luncheon and a Minister from the fishing village that lay at the mouth of the river.

  ‘Perhaps I will be able to talk to the Minister,’ Leona thought as she was introduced to him.

  But, as the meal progressed, she realised very clearly that the Minister was in considerable awe of the Duke and was prepared to agree with him on any subject under discussion.

  She had the feeling that, if it did not please the Duke, the Minister would not be prepared to offer the evicted families even the hospitality of his churchyard.

  However strongly she felt on the matter, Leona realised that nothing would be gained at this particular moment by upsetting the Duke.

  She had seen the anger on his face and heard the coldness of his voice when she had first spoken of the evictions.

  “As Leona Grenville is to make her home with us,” the Duke was saying to his cousins, “we shall have to see if there are any festivities or amusements in the neighbourhood, otherwise she will find Scotland a dull place.”

  “I assure Your Grace,” Leona interposed, “where I lived in England it was very quiet and I love the country, so please do not trouble about entertaining me.”

  She looked across the huge dining hall at the sunshine outside the windows and went on,

  “I want to find the white heather which my mother has always told me was lucky and I hope that I shall see the salmon in the river and the grouse rising on the moor.”

  “I can promise you all those things,” the Duke said. “Do you ride?”

  “I love riding,” Leona replied.

  “You will find all the horses that you need in my stables,” the Duke told her. “And for the moors there is nothing more sure-footed and hardy than the Ardness ponies which are, I assure you, famous.”

  “I shall look forward more than I can possibly say to riding one.”

  Everybody was so kind to Leona and so pleasant that she thought she would be very ungrateful if she did not appreciate the effort being made to welcome her.

  Equally she could not help thinking of Lord Strathcairn and the way in which she had felt safe and protected when she was with him.

  Perhaps it was the largeness of Ardness Castle, perhaps it was that she knew, despite his kindness, that she was afraid of the Duke, but there was something that made her feel nervous and a little ill at ease.

  After luncheon the Duke asked if she would like to see the Staterooms and he took her first to the Chief’s Room, which, unlike the one she had seen at Cairn Castle, was on the ground floor.

  It was, she thought, one of the largest and most impressive rooms she had ever seen.

  “This is where our Clan gathered when we were attacked by marauding bands of hostile Clans,” the Duke explained, “or when the Viking ships were sighted out to sea.”

  There was room, Leona thought, for hundreds of Clansmen and their families and hanging on the wall were the trophies they had won in battle.

  There was even a flag that had been captured from the English at the battle of Preston Pans.

  “It is magnificent!” she said, knowing that the Duke expected her to comment on what she saw.

  “This is the finest Chief’s Room in the whole of Scotland,” he answered, “and on the walls you will see the coats of arms of the families who have joined with ours down the ages. The Earldom goes back to the twelfth century, but the Dukedom is of fairly recent origin and always the Chieftain of the MacArdns has been succeeded by his son.”

  “That is a wonderful record,” Leona said. “And your son in his turn will succeed you!”

  “He will!” the Duke answered.

  He took Leona from the Chief’s Room to various other places in The Castle where there were relics of the past, treasures that had been accumulated down the ages.

/>   Then he opened a heavy oak door and she saw a flight of stone steps.

  “This leads to the tower,” he said. “I think it would interest you to see where my ancestors kept a man on watch day and night for fear of being surprised by the Vikings.”

  “And did they ever succeed in capturing The Castle?” Leona asked.

  “Once and they stayed here for two months,” the Duke replied.

  There was a faint smile on his lips as he continued,

  “The legends allege that the reason why many of the Clan are so tall is that they have Viking blood in their veins and there is no doubt that there are many fair-haired MacArdns who appear more Scandinavian than Scottish!”

  “I noticed when I arrived that many of your servants seemed to be very tall,” Leona commented.

  “They are chosen for their height,” the Duke replied. “Shall I lead the way up the steps?”

  “Yes, please do.”

  The Duke went ahead of her and the stone steps spiralled up inside the tower with only arrow slits to let in the light.

  Another heavy oak door with wrought-iron hinges opened at the top and, as she stepped out onto the top of the tower, she had a view that was breathtaking.

  Looking East she could see miles out to sea, North there were high mountains silhouetted against the sky and to the West the deep dark Glen through which she had journeyed to The Castle, lay beneath her.

  It was all very beautiful and at the same time, as she had thought before, awe-inspiring.

  She looked first one way, then another. Then her eyes rested on the small village almost directly below them where the river ran to the sea.

  She could see the harbour stonewalls and one or two fishing boats tied up beside the jetty.

  “Is there plenty of work there?” she asked.

  “There is always work for those who look for it,” the Duke answered.

  “But is it not only for people who have a knowledge of the sea and its ways?” Leona questioned.

  She was thinking of the people who had lived up the Glen. They would understand only how to till the soil and feed cattle.

  “I think you will realise,” the Duke said, “that from here a watcher would have plenty of time to warn the Chieftain that an enemy was approaching from whichever direction he came.” With an effort Leona repressed the words that sprung to her lips.