Love and the Clans

by Barbara Cartland

  “I think from what you have been saying that you manipulate the world into what suits you rather than what it is. As I have already promised you, Cousin Moira, I will think over all you have said and consider it very carefully.”

  “What you have to realise, Alpin,” she said firmly, “is that however you may try to talk yourself out of the fix you are in, you will have to be married and the sooner the marriage takes place the better. I assure you that every one of your relatives will say the same thing?”

  “I can well believe it,” the Duke sighed.

  “Whilst you have been away,” the Countess went on, “they have been deciding that each one of them should talk to you seriously and make you aware that you have to do something immediately to save the Castle, which means so much to all of us.”

  Now she was speaking in a different tone of voice.

  The Duke stared at her in amazement.

  There was a hard expression in his eyes and his lips tightened.

  “You have now said your piece, Cousin Moira,” he replied. “Therefore let’s leave it at that. If you will excuse me, I have a message which I must send at once to one of the river watchers who will be out on duty on the river this afternoon.”

  He left the room as he finished speaking.

  The Countess gave a deep sigh.

  She knew she had made a mistake in saying that the other members of the family would also be talking to him and yet she did feel that he must realise how serious things were and how disastrous it was to carry on the way he was going at present.

  ‘Perhaps I said too much,’ she mused reflectively to herself as she walked across the room.

  Then, as she opened the door, she muttered beneath her breath,

  ‘The sooner he faces the truth the better. He has to listen to us!’

  *

  The Duke did not walk down to look for the river watcher.

  Instead he climbed up the stairs and into one of the towers at a corner of the Castle.

  From it he knew he would have a magnificent view of the sea on one side and his large estate on the other and he had always believed that up on the tower he was higher than anyone else in the County.

  As he looked out to sea, he thought, as he had so often thought before, that nothing could be more glorious, his garden below him and the bay reaching out on either side.

  The heather was turning purple on the moors and the strange lights which were only to be found in the far North made both the land and sea part of Fairyland.

  Then he turned round to look to the North and then finally to the West and realised that he could see right over his own land and into the land owned by the MacFallins.

  He had never really thought about it before.

  But beyond the loch and a small forest of trees he could see the roof of the Earl of MacFallin’s house.

  It had never been a castle, but always the seat of the Chieftain of the MacFallin Clan.

  ‘It’s extraordinary,’ the Duke now ruminated, ‘how our two Clans have loathed and despised each other all down the centuries.’

  Yet they continued living side by side and insulting each other in every way they possibly could.

  And against all the traditions he had actually helped a MacFallin this morning to poach one of his own salmon!

  He had found her as ordinary and as pleasant as any other Scot he might have encountered in the same way.

  How could the feud have lasted for so many years?

  Looking back he remembered there had been some frightful row at the Battle of Culloden when Bonnie Prince Charles had inadvertently placed them side by side.

  The Chieftain of the McBaren Clan had accused the Chieftain of the MacFallins of taking over his place on the battlefield. In fact the two Clans had begun to fight each other rather than wait for the enemy, which was naturally the English.

  They had been supported by the Chiefs of another Clan, and Prince Charles himself had apologised for the mistake that had been made.

  Nevertheless the anger and fury the incident had aroused between the Clans had continued until long after the Prince of the Stuarts had escaped to exile in France, leaving Scotland to face its greatest enemy, the English.

  ‘How could they have been so foolish?’ the Duke wondered again.

  He thought of how many Englishwomen he had found so delightful and how gratifyingly ardent they were when it came to lovemaking.

  In fact he had enjoyed being in London perhaps more than in any other Capital City he had visited.

  France had been fascinating, but his time there had been spent almost exclusively with courtesans who were entrancing yet expensive.

  In London he only moved in the circle of those who clustered round the Prince of Wales.

  He had been a visitor to many of the great houses of England and found them comfortable and civilised in the same way as he wished for his own Castle in Scotland.

  He could not help wondering if the present Earl of MacFallin was as cultivated as his contemporaries were in England.

  It had been his father’s idea that he should go to an English school – Eton and then on to Oxford University.

  It was natural therefore that he should speak perfect English with no trace of a Scottish accent.

  Although he had been reluctant to admit it, he had English ideas of what should and should not be done rather than those that came from his ancestry.

  He had the idea, although he did not actually know, that the Earl of MacFallin was very Scottish. Not only in his blood but in his behaviour and his ideas.

  ‘I have progressed,’ he said to himself, ‘owing to the fact that the majority of my friends are English. Yet I am exceedingly proud of being a Scot, and would never do anything that is contrary to the beliefs and traditions of my people and my heritage.’

  It was one thing to think like that, but another to carry it out.

  He knew that if he really loved his own people as much as he thought he did, the houses on the estate should be repaired and the schools should be brought up-to-date.

  There was no closing his eyes to the fact that a great number of men on his vast estate were living more or less from hand to mouth.

  He turned away petulantly to look not inland but once again at the sea.

  He knew in his heart that what the Countess had been saying to him was common sense.

  Sooner or later he would have to marry.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The guests at the dinner party that night were all neighbours whom the Duke had known for years.

  They were very delighted, as they always were, to be invited to the Castle.

  He talked to two of the ladies who told him long stories of how many salmon they had caught on various local rivers.

  The men talked mostly of their particular piece of moorland and whether the grouse season would be good or bad this year.

  The young people were talking noisily at the other end of the room and he hardly gave them a glance.

  He was still feeling uneasy, as he dressed in his kilt, that he must do something for the Clan, even if it meant finally giving up his freedom.

  Yet every instinct in his body revolted against the idea of marrying a woman just because she had money.

  When Rory announced that dinner was served, they moved into the dining room.

  The Duke naturally expected to sit with the most distinguished of his neighbours.

  And to his astonishment he found that while he had an elderly lady of sixty on his right hand side, Mary-Lee was sitting on his left.

  He suspected that either his mother or the Countess had deliberately changed the placement of the table.

  When he had seen the placement earlier in the day, Mary-Lee was among the young at the far end of the table.

  He recognised the fact that she was sitting next to him would create talk amongst the neighbours, and he was exceedingly annoyed that he had been unwittingly pushed into a position where his guests would be looking at him questionin
gly.

  ‘Damn it,’ he said to himself, ‘I will not be bullied or pressured into doing something I don’t want to do!’

  He therefore talked animatedly to the elderly lady on his right and she was delighted with his attention.

  She related all the gossip of their part of Scotland while he had been away.

  There was, however, a gentleman on the other side of Mary-Lee who obviously appreciated young girls.

  When the Duke glanced in their direction, he found he was flirting with her. He made her laugh and brought a colour into her cheeks.

  After dinner the older guests, including the Duke, played bridge, while the young ones went to the music room and danced where someone was playing the piano.

  The Duke did not know that this had been arranged, but he knew there was a woman from the village who was inevitably asked to every party, whether in the Castle or in the public house – she was an exceedingly good pianist and an expert in playing Scottish reels.

  The Duke, when he sat down at the bridge table, was quite certain that Mary-Lee would be taught Highland dancing and doubtless would soon be proficient at it.

  All evening he avoided the reproachful look in the Countess’s eyes that told him she was most upset that he had ignored Mary-Lee throughout dinner nor had he made any effort to join the young in the music room.

  Knowing that she would want to scold him when his visitors left, he saw them off at the front door.

  Then going upstairs he kissed his mother goodnight on her way to her bedroom and before the Countess could say one word he left the party for his own room.

  Although he was feeling tired, he found it hard to sleep.

  He kept turning over in his mind again and again all that the Countess had said to him.

  While he recognised that she had accurately made the situation very clear, he felt it was impossible for him to do what she demanded of him.

  He would be bowing to her will and ignoring his own.

  ‘If there is one thing I absolutely loathe,’ he told himself, ‘it’s being manipulated and that is exactly what Cousin Moira is doing to me right now.’

  *

  Because he found it so difficult to sleep and when he did he had a nightmare, he woke early.

  It was five o’clock in the morning when he finally slipped out of the house without anyone noticing.

  Taking his rod and gaff he set off for the river.

  It took some time to walk up to the place where he had met Sheinna the day before.

  He usually started fishing near the Castle and the mouth of the river and this meant that if he was lucky, the fresh salmon were easier to catch.

  At times there were great shoals of them leaping in the pools almost in unison.

  However he had promised Sheinna that he would meet her upstream and he thought it would be interesting to fish the water close to the MacFallin’s part of the river.

  It would prevent his fish, as he thought of them, moving up into the enemy’s water.

  When he started to fish, it was nearly six o’clock and he thought that if Sheinna did join him an hour later there would still be time to help her have a catch or two before anyone else was about.

  There was one thing that really infuriated him as he walked up the river.

  This was the obvious marks left by the poachers the night before and he knew the lie of the river too well not to recognise where the net had been thrown across the most promising pool.

  Footprints in the soft ground told him that there had been at least four men working the net and snatching the fish coming in from the sea.

  ‘Where were the river watchers?’ he asked himself angrily.

  But he knew the answer only too well – they were growing old and now found it exceedingly unpleasant to encounter the poachers if it came to fisticuffs.

  He had already learned that one river watcher had had his nose broken while he was away. Another had been kicked on the leg so viciously that it was a week before he was back at work on the banks.

  Trying not to think how much he needed more river watchers as they were expensive, he threw out his line.

  He had only been fishing for five minutes before he felt a soft pull on his line.

  As he struck, the fish fought wildly to get away and it gave him a thrill that nothing else could ever do.

  The fish jumped again and again until finally he drew it into the bank and gaffed it expertly.

  It was only a five-pounder, but he was delighted with his catch.

  Having seen that it was completely dead he covered it with leaves to keep away the flies and started to fish again.

  He was in the process of landing his third fish when he heard someone clapping hands as he brought it ashore.

  He saw it was Sheinna standing on the river bank only a few yards from him. He had been concentrating on his fish and had not heard her approaching.

  “Is that the first one you have caught today?” she asked.

  “No, the third,” he replied proudly.

  “You are hogging it before I even arrived!” Sheinna complained.

  He was about to protest when she added,

  “I must admit, I came here early, hoping I would catch one before you arrived.”

  The Duke laughed.

  “Well, come and catch one now and I just hope that no one sees us.”

  It took a little time, but she managed to catch two while the Duke caught one more.

  He found it difficult to fish himself whilst he was landing Sheinna’s salmon.

  As they sat down on the bank, the Duke remarked,

  “I suppose, unless we want to be seen together, we should return home as the time is now approaching seven o’clock.”

  “I would love to catch half-a-dozen more before I leave,” Sheinna exclaimed.

  “Now you are being greedy. It’s always the same with fishermen – they can never catch enough.”

  “For me this is the most exciting sport in the world, Your Grace, and I particularly want to be cheered up this morning.”

  “Why?” the Duke quizzed her.

  She was silent for a moment and her head sank.

  “It is what my father said to me last night – ”

  “And what was that?”

  “I could hardly believe it myself. I lay awake most of the night thinking it was just a nightmare.”

  “What has happened, Sheinna?” he asked her again.

  “Papa told me last night that he wants me to marry Sir Ewen Kiscard whose estate, as you will probably know, joins with ours a long way away.”

  The Duke thought carefully for a moment and then he remarked,

  “Sir Ewen Kiscard is an old man.”

  “I know he is, but Papa thinks if his land is united with ours it would be very good for us and the Clan would be delighted to be larger and stronger.”

  “If I am not mistaken, Sir Ewen is getting on for seventy.”

  “That is right, Your Grace, but my Papa desires his land and Sir Ewen wants an heir.”

  The Duke stared at her and then he erupted,

  “Of course you cannot marry a man who is nearly seventy. How old are you?”

  “I am twenty, nearly twenty-one,” she answered.

  “Then he is old enough to be your grandfather. I have never heard of anything so patently ridiculous.”

  “But you do see,” she said, “that Papa is thinking of the Clan and how nice it would be for them to become far larger than we are now. As I have already said, Sir Ewen is not thinking of me but of having a son of his own.”

  “Whatever Sir Ewen thinks or does not think,” the Duke replied sternly, “you must make it quite clear to your father that you do not intend to marry someone you don’t love.”

  “That is exactly what I tried to tell him. I want to fall in love with a man for no reason except that I feel he is wonderful and that he loves me.”

  The Duke thought that he might be saying the same about himself and then he looked straight
into Sheinna’s gloriously blue eyes.

  “You must be very firm about this.”

  “I will certainly try to be, Your Grace. At the same time Papa says I have to marry whoever he has chosen for me. And of course in the old days marriages were always arranged amongst the Clans.”

  “They were arranged for the advantage of the Clan, not for the happiness of those who had to do it and it is just appalling to contemplate that you should be pressured into marrying an old man. If I am right, I believe also that Sir Ewen has rather an unpleasant life-story.”

  “He has had two wives already,” Sheinna sighed. “They both died and I cannot help feeling it was because he was unkind to them.”

  “How can your father be so ridiculous as to even believe that you might marry a man like him?”

  “He wants me to become important in the County and to be the Mistress of Sir Ewen’s land. I am terrified, seriously terrified, I will not be able to stand up to him.”

  The Duke thought he might be saying that himself after the way the Countess had behaved yesterday.

  “You must run away – ” he suggested aloud.

  Sheinna made a helpless gesture with her hands.

  “Where to?” she asked. “I was so very happy when I was living with my grandmother, but now that I am home everything is different and I am afraid because Papa and Sir Ewen are so strong. I am beginning to realise I cannot even think for myself.”

  She spoke in a voice that made the Duke feel she really was helpless.

  He knew only too well that, as Chieftain of a Clan, the Earl was a very overpowering and distinguished figure – almost like a King to the people who bore his name.

  In fact the Duke now remembered that his father had often told him that the Earl was a dangerous man.

  He was determined to exert traditional power and authority over all his Clansmen and he expected them to admire his strength and to be willing to be led by him.

  “If we were living a century earlier,” the Duke’s father had said, “I am quite certain that MacFallin would be leading an Army of his men against us and we would be fighting for our lives from first thing in the morning until last thing at night.”

  The Duke had laughed at the time, but now he felt that his father was undoubtedly right.