Heather Song

by Michael Phillips

  “How would, as you say, getting me into the castle, help with all that?” I asked.

  “Once you were both, as it were, on the premises and tacitly in possession of the castle, a final resolution would necessarily rest with the courts. As long as it could be demonstrated that you, too, were acting on good faith and with legal grounds—which obviously you now have in the form of the Edinburgh affidavit and my having informed you that you are in fact the duchess and heir—no move would be made to forcibly have you removed. She could prevent your entry. But once you are both there, with equally justified legal claims, it would remain as a stalemate until a resolution comes in court.”

  “I think I understand, but it sounds rather obscure and uncertain.”

  “That is not an incorrect assessment. Without putting too fine a point on it, what it boils down to is the old adage about possession being nine-tenths of the law. Of course in the final analysis that will mean nothing. But for the present, it may be significant. We are, I’m afraid, in a rather tenuous position. But we will talk everything over with Mr. Murdoch.”

  “What should I do, Nigel?” asked Alicia.

  Mr. Crathie was silent a moment.

  “Didn’t you say you had a sister somewhere in the south?”

  “Yes, in Glasgow.”

  “Why don’t we drive into Elgin and we’ll put you up there, too, for the night so that you have a good night’s rest. Tonight we will have you telephone someone in Port Scarnose. We’ll use my mobile. We’ll have you call someone who will be certain to spread it about. You’ll say that you have been unable to reach—what’s the lady’s name you’re staying with?”

  “Tavia Maccallum.”

  “Right…You’ve been unable to get through, but would they mind popping over to her place to tell her that you’ll be home from your sister’s tomorrow.”

  “You could call Mrs. Gauld,” I suggested. “Whose side is she on?”

  “You know her,” replied Alicia. “She always tries to play both sides. She’s still friendly to me, but I know she listens to every morsel of gossip she can pick up, and passes most of it on to Adela and Olivia.”

  “Whoever you notify,” said Mr. Crathie, “be vague and just tell them that you’re coming in on the Bluebird. Then simply take the bus into Port Scarnose as if nothing was out of the ordinary.”

  “Adela and Olivia will be suspicious that Tavia said nothing about it before.”

  “Let them stew all they want. You will be back. There will be nothing for them to conclude other than that you were gone for a week. Mrs. Reidhaven will never enter into the thing. Then go about your life as usual.”

  Chapter Thirty-six

  The Edinburgh Affidavit

  To the raid and the onslaught our chieftains have gone,

  Like the course of the fire-slaught their clansmen pass’d on;

  With the lance and the shield ’gainst the foe they have bound them,

  And have ta’en to the field, with their vassals around them.

  —G. Allan, “Is Your War-Pipe Asleep, M’Crimman!”

  It was torment almost beyond belief to be stuck in Elgin and cooped up in a B and B for two days.

  There was so much I wanted to do, people I was dying to see. I had no ocean, no seagulls, no trails, no headlands to walk along, no Crannoch Bin—only city streets and big-box stores and bustle and traffic and noise.

  For the first time in my life, I was thankful for jet lag. What better way to pass the time than sleeping the day away.

  Finally Thursday came and the meeting with Alasdair’s Edinburgh solicitor. Mr. Murdoch was utterly gracious and respectful. He treated me like a duchess whether I really was one or not. After Mr. Crathie told him of my doubts and reservations, he went to great lengths to establish the veracity of the claim and to explain why it had taken so long to make the content of Alasdair’s affidavit public.

  “We had to get it all the way through the network of probate court,” he concluded, “and all the complex legal channels involved, with everything documented and recorded, before any potential challenge could be mounted.”

  I nodded. “I appreciate how thorough you have been with everything, Mr. Murdoch,” I said. “But you do understand my own mixed feelings and reactions.”

  “Of course. They are understandable given the circumstances. We are all very sympathetic. But you see, Mrs. Reidhaven,” he went on, “it is already beyond the point where you have to do anything, or even whether you have to take my word for it. The matter is concluded. You will be listed in the forthcoming edition of Debrett’s Peerage as Lady Angel Dawn Marie Buchan Reidhaven, Duchess of Buchan.”

  I shook my head again in disbelief. Hearing him say it like that, especially with the Lady in front of my name, was like hearing it all again for the first time.

  “I didn’t realize you knew my full name.” I smiled.

  “Indeed, Mrs. Reidhaven, I probably know more about you than you have any idea. The legalities involved have required the most exhaustive research into your background.”

  “In any event, I am honored,” I said, “and I will do my duty to Alasdair’s memory. But it is still very difficult for me to fathom why he did it in this way.”

  “I understand,” rejoined Mr. Murdoch. “He anticipated exactly this contingency, even this moment when you would raise these very questions. He attempted, he said, to convince you against the prenuptial agreement, but did not want to pressure you unduly. He hoped your precautions, and this whole matter of his subsequent precautions as well, would turn out to be moot anyway. But to make certain nothing untoward should eventuate, he then undertook, as he said when he first broached the subject to me, ‘Plan B.’ He asked me to convey to you his sincere apologies for the subterfuge. But he could not help fearing what his sister might do. While respecting your selfless desire to marry him without anticipation of future benefit to yourself, the fact of the matter is that he trusted you to deal with his affairs more than he trusted anyone else. It was for the good of the estate and the community that he did what he did. He prayed you would understand and forgive the temporary deception. Even if you couldn’t forgive him, he said, he would still rather you, not Mrs.Urquhart, not even the National Trust, were in a position to make decisions on his behalf. After all was said and done, if you still chose to relinquish the title and all claim to the estate, that would be your decision to make after you saw, as he put it, the direction the winds of future change were blowing.”

  Even before he was through, I was weeping. It was Alasdair again—thinking of me, thinking of everyone, trying to cover every contingency. How could I blame him—he was trying to do what he thought best. None of it would even have come up had I not insisted on the prenup. In a way, I had only myself to blame for making it all as complicated as it was.

  “He wanted me to tell you above all, Mrs. Reidhaven,” added Mr. Murdoch, “how much and how deeply he loved you.”

  I nodded and smiled, wiping my eyes. But I could say nothing. It was quiet a minute or two.

  “What am I supposed to do now?” I asked at length.

  “As I see it,” replied Mr. Murdoch after a moment, “we must do two things—get you into the castle and in control of the estate, and get Mrs. Urquhart out. The legalities of the thing are established. You are the owner of Castle Buchan and the legal administrator of the Buchan estate. Mr. Crathie and I have been, as your husband’s solicitors, acting on his, and your, behalf for the past year. With a few signatures, we will put everything at your disposal that will enable you to assume your position and take over the estate’s affairs and begin acting accordingly. However, your sister-in-law’s legal action in contestation of your husband’s will remains problematic. We must proceed carefully so that she is not able to block us in the establishment of your position. As I believe Mr. Crathie has explained to you, we have to get you physically into the castle. Once there, you may, under our supervision and with our help, begin your administrative duties on behalf of the e
state until the courts play out her lawsuit and her claims are denied. Hopefully we will then be able to ease Mrs. Urquhart out with as little difficulty as possible. Therefore, we want you in the castle and in possession of the property before going public with all this. You might want to wait until a time when she is away on errands or at her solicitors. I will leave the logistics of your next moves to you and Mr. Crathie. Unfortunately, I have some pressing matters and must be back in Edinburgh this evening.”

  When Mr. Crathie and I were left alone, he outlined his plan.

  “I want you to be able to contact me easily at any time, day or night.” He handed me a mobile phone and charger. “Keep this with you at all times. My number and Alicia’s…Miss Forbes’s—both are programmed into it. She has an identical phone. The three of us may need to be in close contact and able to act quickly. I have booked a room at the Crannoch Bay Hotel. It is in my name. All they know is that it will be occupied by an out-of-town client. Tonight I will drive you there. We will slip in late in the evening through the back door. I have reserved their largest room on the seaward side. I hope you will be comfortable. I know it may not be pleasant, but at least you will have a view of the bay and harbor and Florimel’s Rock and Bow Fiddle Rock.”

  “What do I do then?” I asked.

  “I’m afraid you wait. Either Alicia or I will contact you when the time is right.”

  “The time for what?”

  “Actually, I am uncertain,” replied Mr. Crathie. “It is my hope to find an opportunity when Mrs. Urquhart is gone for a few hours, as Mr. Murdoch suggested, and one of the gates to one of the three entries to the castle is open. If such a time presents itself and Alicia is able to get word to me, I will collect you and simply drive you into the grounds.”

  “But with the castle locked and the locks changed?”

  “There remain contingencies to be worked out. We will have to see. Alicia tells me that she is aware of Mr. Nicholls’s movements and occasional errands in the village. She hopes to intercept him. She believes he will be sympathetic and may provide us with a key to the castle, possibly even the remote-control code to one of the outer gates, though she is uncertain whether even he knows it. Everything, she says, has become secretive about the place. She also fears the Cruickshank woman. Her exact words were, ‘Adela is a bloodhound. We won’t be able to do anything that escapes her notice.’ But the first step is to have you nearby so as to be ready to move quickly.”

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Midnight Summons

  Then raise your wild slogan cry! on to the foray!

  Sons of the heather hill, pinewood, and glen!

  Shout for M’Pherson, M’Leod, and the Moray,

  Till the Lomonds re-echo the challenge again.

  —G. Allan, “Is Your War-Pipe Asleep, M’Crimman!”

  I crept through the rear entrance to the Crannoch Bay Hotel that evening about ten-thirty. Mr. Crathie had gone in some forty-five seconds earlier to make sure the coast was clear and now signaled me to follow.

  We snuck up the stairway, with the old wooden steps squeaking so loudly under our feet in spite of the carpet it seemed sure everyone in the place would be roused. Within a minute I was down the corridor and safely in the room with the door shut behind me.

  Whew! I sighed in relief.

  “So far so good,” said Mr. Crathie. “I’ll be right back with your bags and your harp.”

  He disappeared again to his car and returned two or three minutes later with my things. Once more he left, and when he returned for the last time it was with several bags of groceries.

  “I told the hotel manager that my client was a recluse,” he said. “He was not completely pleased, but I said I would pay for the extra services and he reluctantly obliged me. So call down if you want anything brought up. They will bring you a tray with breakfast at 8:30—I hope that will be all right.”

  “Just fine, thank you.”

  “The imperative thing is that you are not seen and recognized. Mrs. Urquhart would know of it within minutes. We must not allow her to file an injunction. Once you are inside the castle, it will be too late. Wresting possession away from you would be very difficult for her, especially with the papers you will have in documentation of your rights. Actually, that reminds me—”

  He removed a thick envelope from inside his coat.

  “This may not be enough in itself,” he said, handing it to me. “It is a legal documentation, with all appropriate seals and signatures from Edinburgh, attesting to your position as Duchess of Buchan and your rightful ownership of Castle Buchan. Mrs. Urquhart may still be able to cause us difficulties, but if you get into the castle and she should try any strong-arm tactics with the local authorities, this document should slow them down long enough for me to get there. Call me instantly at the sign of any trouble.”

  “I will, believe me. I have no desire to tangle with Olivia. What shall I do in the meantime?”

  “Wait, I’m afraid. Alicia will look for an opportunity to intercept the fellow Nicholls, and then hopefully an opportunity will arise when Mrs. Urquhart is away. Until then…I hope you have all you need—water boiler, tea, tele. If there is anything else, don’t hesitate to call.”

  He left me and I sat down on the bed and sighed. At least my immediate way was clear. It was time for bed.

  What a glorious awakening the morning brought. I threw back the curtains. Spread out before me like a spectacular wide-screen movie was Crannoch Bay stretching from Bow Fiddle Rock all the way around to Crannoch Harbor.

  How I had missed the sea!

  I was home!

  I made tea and sat down in front of the window and remained staring out at the lovely expanse with the gentle sound of the tide making the most pleasant background music imaginable. If the whole world had the peaceful sounds of the sea at their disposal, there would be no need for harps. Then a thought occurred to me that had never crossed my mind before that moment: Are there oceans in heaven?

  I sat gazing at the sea through two cups of tea, until my reverie was broken by a knock on the door.

  “Breakfast,” announced a man’s voice.

  I rose and walked across the floor.

  “Just leave it outside, thank you,” I said through the door, trying to fake a British accent.

  I heard footsteps retreating. I opened the door a moment later and retrieved the tray from the floor. A full cooked breakfast with another pot of steaming tea. With provision like this, I would hardly need Mr. Crathie’s groceries!

  In spite of the best view I had ever enjoyed from any window of any room or house or hotel, by afternoon I must confess the hours began to drag by slowly. I played my harp softly, I read, I slept, I sat in front of the window—but a hotel room offers you only so much to entertain yourself until boredom sets in. By the second day I was getting antsy, by the third going stir-crazy.

  I had just settled into bed shortly after ten that night when I was startled by a light knock on the door.

  I crept from bed and hesitated. It came again. I rose and went to it.

  “Yes?” I said softly through the door.

  “It’s Alicia,” came the answer.

  I fumbled with the lock, opened the door, and pulled her inside.

  “Alicia!” I said in a loud whisper. “What are you doing here? You look like you’re off for a cross-country hike!”

  “Not so far wrong,” she said. “What I’m doing is sneaking around hoping no one will see me. Get dressed. It’s time.”

  Hurriedly I prepared to change out of my nightgown.

  “We’re not in that big a hurry,” she said. “I wanted to get here before the hotel locked its doors.”

  “Is Mr. Crathie coming?” I said.

  “No, just us. Put on trousers and walking shoes. We’re walking, not driving. You won’t need anything but a jacket and your mobile.”

  “Walking…where? You mean to the castle? Is Olivia gone?”

  “No, she’s there. We’re go
ing to sneak in right under her nose.”

  “How?”

  “Harvey is meeting us at the entry to the tunnel you and Alasdair renovated.”

  “You’re right!” I exclaimed. “Why didn’t I think of that?!”

  “It’s the one entrance to the grounds Olivia didn’t secure. At least Harvey doesn’t think so.”

  “I wonder if she even knows about it. She was in Aberdeen that whole time we were carrying out the renovations. What a fantastic idea!”

  “It’s not entirely foolproof,” said Alicia. “Alasdair’s old groundskeeper, you remember Farquharson—he’s one of Olivia’s lackeys now. He prowls around at all hours with his rifle trying to keep the foxes away from his pheasants. Harvey says he is drunk with what he supposes is his new power, lording it over everyone and giving the villagers orders as if he’s Olivia’s little puppet colonel.”

  We waited two hours—the longest two hours of my life. When we finally put on our jackets and turned out the lights, it was about thirty minutes after midnight.

  My heart was racing and my anticipation high as we crept down the stairs a minute later and out the back door of the hotel. Every sound echoed through the darkened hallways. I knew if we weren’t out and gone quickly, someone would be up to investigate. It did no good to tiptoe, the stairs creaked just the same. So we hurried along, didn’t worry about the noise, let the outside door bang shut, and ran across the parking lot toward the main road. Crossing the road, we made our way down the steep incline to the golf links bordering the wide sands of Crannoch Bay. It was a dusky night, not quite black but misting heavily and without a moon. Alicia had a hand-torch. She flipped it on and we made our way along the base of the hill beneath the road until we arrived at a door into the hillside, framed by a bricked-in arch. Behind it stretched the long-disused tunnel connecting the beach and the temple.