Heather Song

by Michael Phillips

  Alasdair had his business affairs to attend to, and I couldn’t be underfoot eight hours a day. I loved to read, and I could pass hours playing and practicing my harps. For a musician, the refining and expanding of one’s available repertoire of music is a never-ending and delightful process.

  But was it enough? I had to have more than my own interests to occupy my time and fill my days. And after all was said and done…I was a teacher. I loved to teach others to play the harp as much as I loved to play myself. Actually, I think I was better at teaching. I was an okay harpist. I could hold my own in a symphony or playing for a wedding. But as a teacher I was often able to get a higher level out of my students than I could hope to attain myself. Three of my students had far surpassed my own level of ability and had gone on to study the harp at university. Though I enjoyed making music, and could sit for hours at a time with the Queen or Journey resting on my shoulder, the achievements of my students gave me even more pride and satisfaction.

  Resuming teaching, however, was more complicated now than merely hanging out my shingle and passing out business cards that read “Harp Lessons Given,” or “Harp Music for Hire.” I was married to the Duke of Buchan, for heaven’s sake! I lived in a castle. To advertise myself—for either weddings or events, especially as an incomer to the region—would have been unseemly and presumptuous.

  I spoke with Alasdair about it.

  “What would you think about my giving harp lessons again?” I asked.

  “I think it would be brilliant,” he replied.

  “How should I go about it? You must admit, the situation is much different than in Canada. I can’t just anonymously set up a studio.”

  “Anonymity is something you will never know again, my dear!” Alasdair laughed.

  “That’s just it. Every move I make is scrutinized, and reflects on you besides. How do I go about it without seeming…I don’t know, forward and presumptuous?”

  “Everyone loves you!”

  “Nevertheless, you do see the problem? I want to be accessible, but even more than that, I want to make harp music more known and available…What better way than beginning to give lessons again? Just think how wonderful it would be for children from around the community to come to the castle once a week for a harp lesson! That is, if you agree. It is your castle, not mine!”

  Alasdair smiled. “Of course, my dear. Anything to make you happy. After so long living in virtual isolation, I welcome the commotion. I have to admit, the sights and sounds of children in the castle would probably remind me of Gwendolyn and make me sad. But it would be a good sadness. I think it would be wonderful for you to give lessons here. Why don’t you just play during our Sunday open-house times and see what kind of interest it generates. Oh—I’ve an idea! You could play at the Deskmill Flower Show that’s coming up—in a couple of weeks, I think it is?”

  “I can’t just show up and start playing!”

  “Sure you can—why not?”

  “It would be, you know…awkward. I’m not in charge of the thing. I know people have accepted me, but I am still a relative outsider. I can’t just barge in. It would be like gate-crashing someone else’s party.”

  “These things are community events. Anyone and everyone is welcome. But tell you what, I will talk to Judith Johnston. I think she’s one of the organizers. Once she takes the thing in hand, it will be done.”

  True to his word, Alasdair spoke with his friend, and two evenings later she was on the telephone asking to speak with me.

  “I would not want to presume on your kindness, Mrs. Reidhaven,” said Mrs. Johnston, “but the duke told me you might be willing to bring your clarsach and play for our flower show. I had thought of you, but I didn’t know if you would want to play for such an occasion. And I’m afraid we would not be able to pay you more than a few quid—”

  “Mrs. Johnston,” I said, “I would be delighted to play, and any thought of payment is out of the question. I wouldn’t take so much as one quid. How much is a quid again?”

  “A pound,” she replied with a light laugh.

  “In any case, if you would like me to, I would love to play. You must just tell me what time you want me there.”

  “That is very kind of you. I know everyone will look forward to it.”

  The people of Scotland are great for shows and festivals and all manner of community expositions. Just in our little corner of Moray, there were several craft fairs and numerous flower shows, for which the whole community turned out. The Portsoy Boat Festival drew visitors from everywhere throughout the north of Scotland.

  As word spread that the duke’s new Canadian wife was willing and able to play her harp for local events, invitations began to pour in through the summer months—more than I could accept. Before long I was being invited to play for every wedding between Elgin and Fraserburgh!

  What had I opened myself up to?!

  I did play for the Portsoy Boat Festival, though the bagpipe band from Shetland mostly drowned me out. I’m not sure the harp can compete with bagpipes, accordions, and drums, even under the best of conditions! But at a crowded harbor with several thousand people coming and going, with fifty booths selling their wares…those best of conditions did not prevail. But it was fun. Most people, I think, had no clue who I was. As they came closer and watched, their fascination with the harp and its music was always wonderful to see. Some children just stood and stared, and two or three times I overheard mothers whisper, “That’s the duchess, dear.”

  A few sheepishly came up and spoke to me. If a child seemed particularly intrigued, I asked if they would like to try the harp, and some did, to the delight of the onlookers. I often say that it is impossible to make a harp sound bad. Even a child randomly plucking the strings creates tones that hint at the magic. And the greatest magic of all takes place within them.

  Meanwhile, another telephone call came to the castle from an unexpected quarter, which had the result of starting my teaching again, though much differently than I had anticipated.

  The call did not come directly to me, but to our housekeeper, Alicia Forbes. She found me and explained that she had been talking with Adela Cruickshank. Adela asked her, she said, to ask me if I would be willing to let her begin with the harp again.

  “She was afraid, you now being the duchess,” said Alicia, “that you would be too busy…or not want to because of how, she said, she had not been altogether gracious to you before, when Olivia began spreading tales about you and the duke.”

  “Did Olivia spread tales about me?” I asked. “I thought her only gossip was about Alasdair and what had happened years ago and not being a good father to Gwendolyn.”

  “That was always at root of it,” Alicia said, nodding. “But yes, in stirring up the old suspicions about the duke, she made certain you were cast in none too positive a light.”

  Her words brought back all the trouble we’d had with Alasdair’s sister over Gwendolyn.

  “I never believed that part of Olivia’s tales,” said Alicia, “because I’ve been with the duke all these years. But a few did, especially among some of us who were friends years ago. But if I believed what Olivia said, I would be crazy to live under the same roof with the duke and serve his meals and make his bed. But he was always kind to me, and I knew Olivia was just secretly angry that she wasn’t in the castle and duchess herself instead of him the duke.”

  “Was she really jealous of his title?”

  “Not just the title, but everything—his power and influence, his wealth. She hated him for it.”

  “How do you know all that? I had no idea you and Olivia were close.”

  “We aren’t…not anymore,” replied Alicia, hesitating a little as an uncertain expression crossed her features. “I used to know her well. I think she thought that I was betraying her by working for Alasdair. Those of us who were…Well, there were some of us to whom she confided things. We were all young and knew no better. But some of what she said was frightening.”

&
nbsp; “Like what?”

  “It is no longer important,” replied Alicia, shaking her head. She obviously didn’t want to “go there,” as the saying is.

  But I wanted to know more of what Alasdair had to deal with in his family life. For good or ill, Olivia was his only living family, and I doubted we had seen the last of her.

  “But what if it is important?” I said. “If she actually made…​threats, I want to know. What was frightening?”

  “I’m not talking about when you came, Marie…not recently, you know, but when we were all girls. That’s when I mean. She wanted the castle; she wanted to be the duchess. It sometimes seemed she was so determined that she would do anything to get them, even—”

  Alicia glanced away, realizing she had said more than she intended.

  “Go on, Alicia,” I said. My voice held a firmer tone than I had ever used with her. It wasn’t my way to pull rank, but suddenly this sounded serious.

  It remained quiet for a moment. The air was tense.

  “What did you mean, anything?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Alicia, speaking slowly, “say things, spread rumors…I have to admit the thought even crossed my mind that she might do something…something bad…try to hurt him. You know, the terrible kinds of things that go through your mind when you’re young. I had visions of her trying to poison him or some such dreadful thing. She always said that he didn’t deserve to live, that the world would be better without him, that we would all be better off if he was dead…‘dead on his bed,’ she said.”

  I glanced at Alicia, wondering if the sinister-sounding rhyme had been intentional. But she seemed oblivious to what had popped out of her mouth and continued.

  “She said he didn’t deserve to be duke. ‘My brother as duke, it makes me puke,’ she once said. Not very nice. But Olivia wasn’t always nice. She said that no man deserved such a position.”

  “No man? Who else would deserve it?”

  Alicia laughed a little nervously. “A woman, of course,” she answered. “Olivia thought all men were fools.”

  “What about her own husband?”

  Again Alicia laughed, a little scornfully I thought.

  “Poor Max,” she said almost wistfully. “He had no idea what he was getting into.” She sighed. “Maybe I was wrong about him,” she said with a sad smile. “Maybe he was a fool. I didn’t think so. But anyone who would marry Olivia…Of course, she made all the rest of us believe her, too. She could make anyone believe whatever she wanted, so why should Max have been any different. He was once so strong and—”

  Again the sad, wistful smile.

  “And full of life and energy and fun…Now he is a shadow of the man he once was. I hate to say it, but he is weak. I don’t know what he is like when he is on the oil rigs—maybe he is a man’s man, for all I know. Maybe he lives a double life—the man and the mouse. But around Port Scarnose, he walks with stooped shoulders, like an old scarecrow who is afraid of his own shadow. It pains me every time I see him…which isn’t often. I think he is afraid to show his face knowing what everyone thinks, that Olivia has completely dominated him into submission.”

  “Does he love her?”

  “Who knows? I certainly have no idea.”

  “Does she love him?”

  “Love…Olivia…I can’t put the two words together in the same sentence. I can’t even think how to answer you. Whether she is truly capable of love, I don’t know. Doesn’t love mean somehow putting others ahead of yourself? I can’t imagine Olivia has ever done that in her life. I suppose that’s a terrible thing to say—maybe I’m wrong. ‘Keep man in check, hang threats from his neck…break him down, be his crown…he must be led, you are his head.’”

  Again I did a double take at the strange use of words. But yet again Alicia hardly seemed aware of it.

  “But what about Alasdair,” I said. “She didn’t actually threaten him?”

  “I don’t know. We were young. All I know is that she could make the rest of us tremble with the kinds of things she said. Alasdair—the duke, I mean, he never took her seriously. It enraged her when he laughed at her pranks and sayings. That’s why through the years I’ve wondered…” Her voice trailed off.

  “Wondered what?”

  “Nothing, never mind…It’s ridiculous. I’m sorry for bringing it up, Mrs. Reidhaven.”

  “Alicia, what?”

  “Nothing. I was just going to say that I’ve wondered if his ailment, his condition…I don’t really know anything about it, but if it might have been caused…But,” she added, shaking her head, “it’s something genetic, they say, isn’t it? She couldn’t have had anything to do with it.”

  “What did Olivia say about me, then, Alicia?”

  “I would rather not go into it, Mrs. Reidhaven, if you don’t mind,” answered Alicia a little timidly. “That’s all over now, with Olivia gone and you and the duke married. What came before doesn’t matter anymore. ‘Look behind, lose your mind.’”

  Alicia was talking in such peculiar phrases!

  “Then tell me about Adela,” I said, steering the conversation away from this weird turn it had taken. “So she wants to take up the harp again?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, tell her I would be delighted,” I said. “You arrange a time when she can come—tomorrow if she would like. Tell her I shall look forward to seeing her.”

  Chapter Eight

  Ladies with Secrets

  Still flourishin’ the auld pear tree,

  The bairnies liked to see;

  And oh! how aften did they spier

  When ripe they a’ wad be.

  The voices sweet, the wee bit feet,

  Aye rinnin’ here and there;

  The merry shout—oh! whiles we greet

  To think we’ll hear nae mair!

  —Lady Nairne, “The Auld Hoose”

  Adela Cruickshank came to the castle the following day to resume her harp lessons. She was reserved, timid, a little awed to be in the castle for something as mundane as a music lesson. More than once as we made our way up to my studio and as she looked about, she made comments like, “’Tis jist as I remember it…Aye, there’s the Drawing Room…Aye, an’ the portrait o’ the auld duke an’ his green lady…Oh, aye—an’ the tapestry o’ the stag.”

  She was obviously well familiar with the place.

  “You must have spent a great deal of time here in the past,” I said.

  “As a girl, my lady,” Adela answered. “I was a frien’ wi’ Olivia, ye see.”

  “Oh…so you and Alicia must have been close, too.”

  “Aye…middlin’—but no’ for some years noo. Not after she came tae the castle tae work. Olivia didna like her workin’ for her brither the duke, ye ken.”

  “Well, maybe that will change with your coming regularly.”

  I needed only a small place to teach. The castle had dozens of rooms that would have sufficed perfectly. But Alasdair wanted to show off my harps and wanted them in the Music Room. So we set up the small end of it as my harp studio, where the dividers could be in place if I wanted the feel of a smaller room, or could be folded back to make the whole huge expanse into a magnificent concert hall.

  And so began Adela Cruickshank’s lessons. She was thrilled when I offered to let her borrow one of the harps so she could practice at home. I told her that Nicholls and I would be happy to bring either the Aida or the Shamrock to her house that afternoon, but the idea was too intimidating. However, she would be delighted, she said, to use either of the two lap harps. After an hour I sent her on her way with the Limerick, telling her she could come by the castle any time she liked to practice on something larger.

  Obviously I didn’t charge her for the lesson or the use of the little harp. In my former life, my teaching had provided a good portion of my income. Now I was married to one of Scotland’s wealthiest men, if the stories were true. Good heavens, what was I going to do…charge twenty pounds (or quid) for an hour
of my time?! I knew Alasdair’s money wasn’t technically mine. I had made sure of that fact with the prenup I’d insisted on, to prevent any unpleasant stories circulating about either of us. But Alasdair was so unbelievably generous with everything. In the same way I had insisted on a prenup, he now insisted on my having an account in Clydesdale Bank with £100,000 in it. It was twenty times—or more!—what I could possibly need, but he insisted and had followed through over my objections. Therefore, it was clear that henceforth my teaching would be more a hobby than an income, and that was just how I wanted it.

  The next Sunday afternoon’s open house on the castle grounds occurred on a lovely warm day, and I decided to take the Queen outside to play for a while as people came and went. Alicia was busy acting the part of hostess in my stead, with Alasdair entertaining the men and enjoying Stella with several local farmers. As word got around that Stella was nearly always on hand—chilled and with no limit, the bottles protruding from two great ice-filled half-casks from former distillery use sitting on the lawn beckoning thirsty palates—more and more of the local men turned up to visit with the duke. Alasdair loved it. The discussions were always animated, the topics of discussion ranging from cattle, pigs, and football to the price of barley, the weather, the good old days when fishing was king, the immigration problem, the nanny state, and the loss of jobs in Scotland.

  As I played I saw a woman I recognized talking to Alicia, then noticed her staring at me. I didn’t look toward her at first. As she moved imperceptibly closer, I could tell that she was mesmerized by the music and sound of the harp. Five minutes later she was standing nearly beside me, her eyes transfixed by the strings. I drew “MacPherson’s Lament” to a close, then glanced toward her.

  “Hello, Cora,” I said. “It is nice to see you again. I haven’t seen you since that evening at the Crannoch Bay Hotel. I didn’t know you were interested in the harp.”