The Secret of the Glen

by Barbara Cartland

  It would be foolish, she thought, to refuse to wear them on other occasions, but a wedding gown was different, something sacred.

  “Thank you, Mrs. McCray. I would love to see them – but how could the Laird have – known that was how I would – feel?” she added almost beneath her breath.

  Mrs. McCray smiled.

  “Ye must have realised by now that the Laird is fey?” “He is?” Leona exclaimed.

  “Ever since he was a wee bairn, the Laird has known what other people are thinking and feeling. And he has moments when the vision burns in him and he sees the future.”

  “My mother told me that many Scots have Second Sight.” “Och, aye,” Mrs. McCray agreed. “That’s true. And now miss, shall I bring some of the gowns for ye to see?”

  “That would be very kind.”

  Later when Leona was dressed in a gown she learnt had belonged to Lord Strathcairn’s grandmother, she thought that nothing could become her better.

  Married in 1785 the future Lady Strathcairn had chosen a gown not unlike those that were in fashion at the moment except that it had no crinoline.

  The skirt was full and the tight bodice was softly draped with lace that blended with the exquisite lace veil, centuries old, which Mrs. McCray carried almost reverently in her arms.

  When it had been draped over Leona’s golden head, it was surmounted by a tiara of diamonds set in the shape of thistles which had been worn by every Chieftain’s wife for centuries.

  With her fair hair and blue eyes, Leona knew that she looked almost unreal and she only hoped that Lord Strathcairn would think once again that she resembled the mists rising over the loch.

  Her bouquet was of white roses from the garden and she remembered that Lord Strathcairn had said that she resembled a white rose in bud.

  ‘Make him always think me so pure and perfect,’ she prayed.

  She felt shy when she went from her bedroom down the passage to the room where he was waiting for her.

  She loved him. She loved him so overwhelmingly that she could hardly believe it was true that she was to be his wife.

  Equally, now that the dramatic events in which they had both taken part were over, she realised that they knew little about each other and she felt very young and inexperienced.

  Lord Strathcairn was nine years older than she was, a Nobleman and a Chieftain, the owner of great properties and a leader of men.

  ‘Suppose I – fail him?’ she questioned herself and her eyes were worried as she looked up into his face.

  He stood staring at her and for a moment he did not speak. Then, in a voice that vibrated with emotion, he said, “I have no words, my darling, to tell you how beautiful you are!”

  She felt a little quiver run through her, then she said,

  “It was – kind of you to think that I – might wear your – grandmother’s gown!”

  “I think if she knew she would be as proud of you as I am!”

  “Do you – mean that?”

  “We have many years ahead of us in which I shall tell you how much you mean to me and how very much I love you,” Lord Strathcairn replied. “But now, my dearest heart, the Minister is waiting for us and I am impatient for you to be my wife.”

  He offered Leona his arm and she slipped her hand into it. Then he led her towards the stairs and she knew where they were to be married.

  What more fitting place, she wondered, than the Chief’s Room, redolent with the history of the McCairns, where the Clan had assembled in times of victory or defeat, in good times and in bad.

  They walked upstairs without speaking and Leona knew that Lord Strathcairn had deliberately not kissed her or touched her in any way.

  She had known he wished to do so, she had seen the light in his eyes when he looked into hers and she felt that his heart was beating as tumultuously as hers was.

  But they were both dedicating themselves to the ceremony that lay ahead.

  The door of the Chief’s Room was open and now Leona could see the walls were lined with the Clansmen, a brilliant display of colour in their kilts and sporrans.

  There were no women present, only the men.

  The enormous long room was decorated with heather, great bunches of it in every available space, even tucked into the shields and pikes on the walls and above the pictures.

  The whole room was symbolic of Scotland.

  At the far end the Minister was waiting in his black robes and behind him were huge bowls of white heather – so much of it that Leona felt everyone must have scoured the moors for the whole day to find it.

  Moving slowly but proudly, Lord Strathcairn led her down the length of the room, until they stopped in front of the Minister, a white haired man with a kindly face.

  He opened his book and the Marriage Service began.

  The simple words which joined her for all time to the man she loved would, Leona knew, be engraved in her mind and heart for the rest of her life.

  She felt her whole being respond to them, praying that she might make her husband happy and she might give him sons as fine as he was himself.

  Then they knelt in front of the Minister and, as he joined their hands, Leona felt the strength of Lord Strathcairn’s fingers and knew that she would be safe and protected as long as she lived.

  The ring was on her finger and, after the Minister had blessed them, they rose and quite unselfconsciously Lord Strathcairn took his wife in his arms and kissed her.

  It was a gentle dedicated kiss and yet Leona felt that spiritually in that moment, she gave him her lips, her heart and her soul.

  The pipes blared forth as they walked back down the Chief’s Room amid the cheers of the Clansmen and the piper led them down the stairs and into the sitting room.

  Servants closed the doors and they were alone.

  For a moment they just stood looking at each other. Then Lord Strathcairn held out his arms and Leona ran to him.

  “My wife!” he exclaimed.

  The words seemed to express his love far more effectively than any others might have done.

  “We are – married – we are – really married!” she whispered.

  There was relief as well as exaltation in her voice, for, after all she had been through, she had been so afraid that at the last moment something might prevent him from marrying her.

  She had thought that she had lost him when the Duke had told her he was already married and he might easily have been killed when he climbed the tower.

  Her thoughts shied away from imagining what the Marquis might have done if he had not been afraid of the steel blade of the skean dhu.

  But that was all over.

  Now there was only their future together to think about and plan for.

  Lord Strathcairn drew her to the window and she saw that the sun was sinking in a blaze of glory over the loch that was shimmering gold and the lights on the hills were unbelievably lovely.

  “Your Kingdom, my precious!” he said. “Just as you will always be the Queen of my heart.”

  “You must help me to do what is – right and what you – wish me to – do,” Leona said in a low voice.

  “Everything about you is perfect!” he replied. “But will what I can give you be enough?”

  She knew then that, at the back of his mind, there was still the hurt that had been inflicted on him when Isobel had craved for the South and to live the life that was not his.

  In that moment Leona knew that she must constantly reassure him that, where she was concerned, such fears were groundless.

  She raised her face to his.

  “All I ask of life,” she said softly, “is that I shall be with – you. It does not matter whether we are in this Castle or in some small croft tucked away under the hills. It is being – together which matters – belonging – as I belong to you at this moment.”

  She saw the light in his eyes and the expression on his face that seemed to transform it.

  He drew her close to him and kissed her until she coul
d no longer breathe or think, but only know that she was his as he was hers.

  The butler came to tell them that dinner was ready and they moved into the dining room with its red curtains, which Leona loved.

  The servants brought in food that the cook had excelled herself in preparing and there was even a hastily iced wedding cake because, as Lord Strathcairn said with a smile, no wedding was complete without one.

  Although there was so much to talk about, there were moments when their eyes met and there was no need for words.

  Heart was speaking to heart, spirit to spirit, man to woman and their happiness encircled them like an aura of light.

  It was only when the servants had withdrawn and Lord Strathcairn sat back at his ease in his high-backed chair with a glass of port at his side that Leona said,

  “I know we will not wish to – talk of it very often – but I cannot help wondering why the Marquis was – born as he was. I did feel sad for him, even though he repulsed and frightened me.”

  Lord Strathcairn paused a moment before he replied,

  “There may be a medical explanation, I do not know. But in Scotland I know that everyone will believe that what happened today was the result of the curse!”

  “A curse!” Leona exclaimed.

  “I would not have thought of telling you about it before,” he answered, “because it might have upset you, but every Duke of Ardness has been cursed for the last two hundred years!”

  “But why?” Leona enquired, “and by whom?”

  Lord Strathcairn took a sip of port before he began,

  “Some men from Ross brought their ship into harbour one night because the sea was so rough that they could proceed no further. They asked permission of the Chieftain to walk across Ardness land to their own County and return when the weather was more clement.”

  Leona was listening wide-eyed as Lord Strathcairn continued,

  “Permission was granted and the men came ashore, carrying the spoils of what had been a very successful voyage.” “How many were there?” Leona enquired.

  “I imagine about fifteen or twenty,” Lord Strathcairn replied, “and it was dusk as they proceeded up the Glen.”

  Leona felt the Glen must have seemed as dark and menacing to them as it had to her, but she did not speak and Lord Strathcairn went on,

  “The Chief and the Clansmen were greedy and they lay in wait for the men from Ross. When they reached the centre of the Glen, they sprang on them!”

  “That was wicked!” Leona exclaimed.

  “It outraged every code of decency and hospitality,” Lord Strathcairn agreed. “Then, having stripped them of everything they owned, the McArdns buried them by the roadside and went back to The Castle.”

  “They were all killed?” Leona asked. “There was no one left to tell the tale?”

  Lord Strathcairn shook his head.

  “No one,” he answered, “their wives, sweethearts and their Chieftain waited in vain for their return.”

  “And the ship?” Leona enquired.

  “The McArdns appropriated it, because they said it had remained too long in the harbour unclaimed.”

  “That was stealing!”

  “It was indeed!” Lord Strathcairn agreed.

  “How did anyone find out what had happened?”

  “Five years passed,” he replied, “before the Bard of the Rosses, a man with Second Sight, told the Clan that he was continually disturbed by the voices of the missing Clansmen crying out for revenge.”

  “They listened to him?” Leona asked.

  “They listened because he was sure not only that their kinsmen had been murdered, but also described graphically the actual place where their bodies would be found.”

  Leona drew in her breath.

  “And they found them?” she questioned.

  “Stealthily one night the Rosses, led by the Bard, stole in to Ardness to find, as he had prophesied, the skeletons hidden in the Glen.”

  “How terrible!” Leona exclaimed. “And that was why the McArdns are cursed?”

  “Not the Clan,” Lord Strathcairn corrected, “but the Chieftain, for he must always bear responsibility for what happens to those he leads. As he had the right of life and death over his people, he was equally responsible for their actions, but in this case he had behaved as criminally as they had!”

  His voice appeared to ring out as he added,

  “And in my opinion he deserved the retribution that fell upon him.”

  “What was the curse?” Leona asked.

  “The Bard, standing in the Glen and looking towards The Castle, called on Heaven to witness that peaceful men who had come in friendship had been brutally and shamefully murdered.”

  Lord Strathcairn paused.

  “He must have looked very impressive, for the Bards are usually tall men with long white hair and a resonant voice.”

  Leona could almost see the picture he conjured up. Then he said,

  “So the Bard cursed the Chieftain of the McArdns for all time – cursed him in a way that was a just retribution for the crime he had committed.”

  “What was the curse?” Leona asked.

  She felt herself shiver at the thought of it, because she was half aware what it would be.

  “The Bard predicted then and the words have proved true ever since, that every Chieftain of the McArdns would die by the hand of treachery.”

  “And has that really happened?” Leona enquired.

  “The last Duke was killed in a duel he fought with his wife’s lover in Paris. The Duke before him was struck down by a servant he found stealing.”

  “And the Chiefs before that?”

  Lord Strathcairn made a gesture with his hand.

  “I cannot remember what happened to them all, but in every case the curse has fulfilled itself and they have died by the hand of treachery.”

  “So that is the secret of the Glen!” Leona said. “When I drove through it for the first time, I felt that it was dark and menacing.”

  “And the curse menaced you, my precious. That is something I shall never forget or forgive.” He put his hand out across the table and Leona laid her fingers in it.

  “Shall I reassure you,” he asked, “by saying that there are no curses as far as I know laid on this Chieftain, who has this day been more blessed than any man could ever be?” “I know now that you would never – behave treacherously.” “And yet you suspected I had done so.”

  “Forgive – me,” she pleaded. “Please – forgive me.” He raised her hand to his lips, kissing first the softness of her palm, then her fingers one by one.

  “There will never be anything to forgive between us,” he said. “We understand each other. We are not two people, but one.”

  There was a fire in his eyes as he said the last word. Then with what Leona knew was an effort, he said,

  “You have had a long day, my precious one. You must rest. Such events as we have passed through take their toll not only of health and strength, but also of the mind.”

  He rose to his feet and drew Leona to hers.

  “I will come and say goodnight to you,” he said in his deep voice. “But our whole lives are in front of us for me to tell you how beautiful you are and how greatly I love you!”

  He was speaking, she thought, more to himself than to her and because he wished it she went to her bedroom to find Mrs. McCray there waiting for her.

  There were tears in the housekeeper’s eyes as she said, “Och, my Lady, there’s never been a more beautiful, sweet-faced bride than yourself.”

  “Thank you Mrs. McCray.”

  “It,s all we’ve ever wished for the Laird. Ye’ll bring him happiness and he’ll no be so lonely as he has been since his mother died.”

  “I will do my very best to make him happy,” Leona said, “and, you too.”

  Mrs. McCray wiped her eyes.

  “Tomorrow night there’s to be dancin’ and everyone’ll gather in the Chief’s Room to pay their respects, brea
k the bannock o’er ye heads for peace and prosperity and to bring ye gifts.”

  “Gifts?” Leona queried.

  “Which they have been hoarding against this very day.” “What sort of gifts?”

  “Carvings of the stags’ antlers and the bones of the cattle, feathers from the blackcock and the capercailzie for the Laird.”

  Mrs. McCray smiled.

  “And for ye, my Lady, bobbin lace and fine knit, at which the wifies of the McCairns excel.”

  “They sound delightful!” Leona exclaimed.

  “And milk white pearls from the river,” Mrs. McCray went on, “and amethysts hewn from beneath the mountains.”

  “How lovely! I shall look forward to receiving such exciting gifts!”

  ‘Mrs. McCray appeared to have more to relate. Then, as if she remembered her instructions, she said,

  “Tonight the Laird says ye’re to rest and Maggy’s awa to fetch ye a warm drink so that ye’ll sleep well.”

  “I am sure I shall do that.”

  Leona let Mrs. McCray assist her to undress and then she put on one of the nightgowns that had been sent from Edinburgh with her gowns, brushed her hair and got into bed.

  Mrs. McCray made up the fire, put the hot drink that Maggy had bought beside the bed and blew out the candles.

  Then she curtseyed and said with a sincerity that was unmistakable,

  “God Bless your Ladyship. Ye’ve brought good luck to Cairn Castle – I’m a-sure of that!”

  With tears in her eyes she went from the room.

  Leona lent back against the pillows, while the flames of the fire lit the room with a golden glow and there were no shadows to make her afraid.

  The door opened and Lord Strathcairn came in.

  He had changed from his evening clothes into a silk robe and she thought as he moved across the room that he seemed very tall and commanding and yet she knew she could never he afraid of him.

  He smiled at her and sat down on the side of the bed, taking her hand in his.

  They looked at each other and Leona’s eyes were very large in her small face and her hair seemed to shine in the light from the fire.

  “We have been married in great haste,” Lord Strathcairn said after a moment, “because, my darling, I wanted to be in the position to look a after you and also it was not right for you to stay in The Castle alone unless you were my wife.”