I am happy to say that Jack’s mother and I managed to get along quite nicely without any serious disagreements. As we sat at the kitchen table with our sewing and our lists spread out before us, I decided that although I could see no bond of great friendship being forged, at least we were both learning tolerance in one of the universal bonds of womankind – a family wedding.
And of course there were daily letters from Jack, saying he would be home at the end of the week and most importantly, Thane had to be taken for walks so I spent any idle hours making my escape into the warm sunshine with him.
We explored the old quarry, which seemed to fascinate him, although I kept well away from the disused rusted machinery as well as the dark deep pond around which Jack had spent so many happy hours as a youngster.
One day Jack’s mother ran out of matching pearl buttons for the petticoat she was making and gratefully received my offer to go down to the village shop. And there I had another encounter with Annette who was considering swathes of lace while Master Alexander Verney sat rather disdainfully on a nearby chair swinging his legs.
My arrival transformed his grumpy expression into instant delight.
‘Miss Rose! How do you do?’ He swung down from the chair, rushed over, bowed and kissed my hand in a most grown-up fashion.
Annette turned and smiled. I explained my mission for pearl buttons and she laughed. ‘Then you are just the person I need at this moment. I cannot decide which pattern would go best with a ruby silk day gown.’
There were other customers waiting to be served and suspecting that this choice might take some time I said, ‘I will be with you in a moment. I have my – my dog, tied to the post outside.’
‘Allow me to escort you, Miss Rose,’ said the gallant Alexander.
I opened the door and he yelled with delight. ‘He is your dog, Miss Rose? I say, he is magnificent!’
I said his name was Thane and wondered how my arrogant Thane would react to being called a dog and the great fuss that was being made of him by a small boy who did not reach his shoulder. I was alarmed, I had never seen him bite anyone but with the boy’s attentions, patting his head, ruffling his ears – there had to be a first time.
I was wrong. As always Thane was full of surprises and he looked quite pleased at all this admiration. In that curious cast of his countenance that made him appear to smile he looked delighted and full of forbearance, willingly giving his uninjured paw to be shaken.
Alexander looked up at me, his arm around Thane’s neck. ‘I will take care of Thane while you shop with Cousin Annette.’
When I mentioned this to Annette she looked out of the door anxiously and seemed taken aback by the picture of Alexander sitting on the pavement with Thane at his side.
She gave me a startled look. ‘How extraordinary. Alexander is usually terrified of strange dogs, especially large ones.’
A little while later, the lace decided upon, the buttons purchased we emerged from the shop. The governess cart was parked around the corner.
‘We must go now, Alexander. Say good-bye to the nice dog.’
Thane winced visibly. In a human his eyes would have been described as raised heavenward in protest at such a description.
It was Alexander’s turn to protest at this parting.
‘Hush!’ Annette said sternly, holding up her hand and turning to me. ‘Perhaps we might walk the dog in the Abbey grounds – if Miss Rose has time to spare, that is.’
‘Hurrah, hurrah!’ said Alexander bouncing up and down with delight at this prospect which, however, presented some difficulties. We could not all ride in the governess cart, so it was agreed, reluctantly from Alexander’s point of view, that Thane and I should meet them there.
‘You are quite sure, Miss Rose,’ said Annette. ‘This is not imposing upon you?’
Independently we reached the Abbey where Alexander was waiting anxiously for our arrival, determined to be allowed to walk alone with Thane. This was agreed upon and, as Annette regarded the huge deerhound and the small boy anxiously, I assured her that Thane was well-behaved and could be relied upon not to pull Alexander off his feet.
Watching them scamper off across the grass, Alexander whooping happily, Annette sighed. ‘The exercise will be so good for him. He is such a lonely child and spends far too much time on his own, reading and painting. A great pity that he has no brothers and sisters after all this time.’
As we walked together, always keeping them in sight, another reason for Annette’s suggestion became apparent. It seemed that Alexander was not the only lonely one under the castle roof, as she took my arm and said, ‘I am so glad we met, Miss Rose. You see, the choice of the right lace was very important,’ and I realised I had been chosen as confidante.
Regarding me eagerly, she smiled. ‘I have very few gowns, a much depleted wardrobe since I abandoned them all when I entered the convent as a novice. I had decided to forsake the world and to despise all such fripperies. I firmly believed then that I would never in my life again yearn for even one elegant gown.
She laughed, suddenly radiant as she clasped her hands in excitement. ‘I had forgotten somehow and now I find the world I abandoned is like a new discovery. The ruby silk was the only gown I could not bear to part with. I had an idea I might be buried in it some day,’ she said sadly. ‘You see, it was the gown I wore for my wedding in New York. The one I was wearing the day I met my future husband and it was his favourite.’
And looking round to see that Alexander was out of earshot she whispered. ‘I have news of him. Letters are smuggled to me through a friend there who works for a publishing house. She sends me their catalogues which arouse no suspicion with my guardian and she manages to slip in my husband’s letters unobserved. I should have gone mad without Sally’s help. And today, I have had word that he is on his way. He will be here in a few days. I can hardly wait for that moment,’ she added rapturously.
Of a more practical nature, I was aware of certain rather obvious pitfalls in this arrangement and asked, ‘Where will you meet?’
‘At Verney, of course. He insists on putting a bold face upon it and coming to the very door, to confront my guardian and claim me as his wife.’ She chuckled. ‘It will be a great surprise for him.’
That, I thought, was putting it very mildly indeed. Looking at her glowing face, suddenly so childlike and vulnerable, I felt extremely doubtful about her husband’s reception. I could see nothing but trouble ahead, and that she might be wise to warn her guardian rather than have him angrily run off the premises, remembering the unpleasant gamekeeper and his savage dog.
She was waiting all smiles for my comments and all I could think of was a somewhat lame: ‘Are you sure – I mean –’
‘Of course I am sure – perfectly sure,’ she interrupted, laughing, her eyes gleaming with delighted anticipation. ‘I am of age now, there is nothing they can do. I came into my legal inheritance from my grandmother on my birthday last month and that means I can walk out of Verney with my husband and they cannot stop me. Naturally, of course, I hope they will be amenable.’
‘Has your husband prospects of employment over here?’ I asked.
That brought her up sharp. She frowned. ‘He has not mentioned anything suitable but I imagine an organisation like the big shipping office he worked for in New York will have many suitable contacts over here to put his way. There are most certainly shipping offices in Edinburgh. Leith is a great port after all. And I do remember he indicated that much of the business he dealt with came through Scotland.’
How could I have the heart to disillusion her, to throw cold water over all her dreams and plans? To advise caution was rather too late in the day, but I felt that as her attitude towards this hasty marriage had been a trifle naive, so too was her taking for granted her guardian’s reception and blessing.
As though aware of what my silence indicated, she said: ‘I am not without means, Miss Rose. With a fortune of my own, we will soon find a good house in Edinbu
rgh with a servant or two and perhaps a carriage.’
She sighed, smiled again at the dream. ‘It will all be most agreeable. We shall live very comfortably but modestly to begin with until my husband can choose some occupation suitable to his talents.’
I must confess that the thought ‘fortune-hunter’ sprang unbidden to the forefront of my mind. She knew so little about this man, none of his background only that he was divinely handsome and a widower, somewhat older than herself. Romantic aspects are bound to appeal to a nineteen-year-old who had been carefully reared, waiting ready and eager to give up all the world for love. With not the faintest idea of what the real world was like, or the shady characters who inhabited the realms beyond a fine house, servants and a carriage.
I did not know her well enough, even though she was keen to make me her confidante, to tactfully bring up the subject of her promise to be governess to Alexander until he was ready for prep school. Or to remind her that she would be letting down both him and his parents, particularly her invalid cousin Amelia who had been very good to her.
It was time to leave. The reluctant Alexander, rosy faced and breathless, handed Thane’s lead over to me.
‘Have you given Miss Rose the invitation to my birthday party?’
Annette shook her head. ‘I – I forgot, Alexander.’
‘It is so important, Cousin Annette. And you forgot,’ was the reproachful reply. ‘What have you two ladies been discussing all this time?’ Then to me. ‘I shall expect you at three on Thursday, Miss Rose. You will come, of course,’ he added anxiously.
‘Please do,’ Annette murmured apologetically, birthday parties having been the last thing on her mind as we walked together.
‘I want Thane to come too,’ he said. ‘Will you bring him with you, Miss Rose?’
Annette looked somewhat taken aback by the suggestion. What would his mamma say; what about his mamma’s little dogs, etc. etc. But Alexander, firm in resolve, would have none of it and at last an agreement was made. Thane would come to his party although I was also somewhat doubtful about the deerhound’s reception by the yellow-fanged Billy.
At the governess cart, Alexander suddenly dived a hand under the seat and took out a rather ancient toy dog, lacking fur and eyes. Obviously the much beloved companion of his infancy, he said somewhat shamefacedly:
‘I would like Thane to have this. May I give it to him, cousin Annette?’
Annette looked bewildered. ‘Are you sure, Alexander. Boxy is your favourite toy.’ And turning to me, she whispered, ‘He is never without Boxy, whenever he is unhappy, or has been naughty and punished, it is always Boxy he needs. The toy dog even sleeps under his pillow.’
Then a warning to Alexander. ‘You will miss him dreadfully.’
But Alexander stood firm, shook his head. ‘I want to give him to Thane – as a toy. I really have outgrown him.’
‘Since yesterday morning,’ murmured Annette shaking her head sadly.
‘He is mine and I can give him to whoever I like. I want Thane to have him. That is my decision,’ was the reply, the final voice of authority on the subject.
Annette looked distressed and whispered, ‘Your big dog will just destroy Boxy – I have seen how long toys last with my cousin’s pet dogs.’
She was echoing my fears exactly but there was nothing we could do watching her charge hand over his most cherished possession to Thane with both of us looking on, fearing the worst – that he would tear the fragile toy to pieces on the spot.
But we were wrong. Thane sniffed at the little cloth dog, held it gently in his mouth, shook it several times and then looked up at Alexander who gave him a final hug and leaped into the cart shouting:
‘Thursday, Miss Rose. Remember that’s a promise.’
Walking back with Thane, I had an idea. I made a move to take the toy from him. In a day or two he would have forgotten all about Boxy and I could return it to Alexander unscathed.
But Thane would have none of that. With Boxy clenched between his teeth we walked back to the farm and in the stable he refused to relinquish it. Later in the day I looked in several times and there was Boxy lying close at his side, so the toy dog remained with him in the stable.
I shook my head. Here was a new version of Thane who not only made friends with a small boy but had taken to accompanying Jack’s father to the up-by field where the sheepdog Rex apparently ignored him completely. That Thane was extending his activities and making new friends I could understand and was very pleased about it, but I also realised I had never even considered that Thane might enjoy playing with a toy of his own.
‘What next?’ I said relating the story to Jack’s parents over supper that evening.
Mr Macmerry laughed. ‘You don’t surprise me, Rose. It’s obvious you haven’t had much experience with dogs or you’d know they love toys. Mind you, they have a very limited life. We tried it with ours when they were puppies, but anything we gave them was torn to shreds in a day.’
Not so Boxy, however, who Thane treated carefully and whose fate soon ceased to concern us.
As for Annette, I thought about her as I prepared for bed that night. I must confess I could see nothing but an unhappy future fraught with obstacles.
It was also perhaps for the first time in my life, that I realised I was now seeing from a completely different angle, the same headlong, headstrong future that my own family had envisaged when I sailed off to San Francisco to marry Danny McQuinn.
I had proved them wrong. And so my last thought before I fell asleep was that so too perhaps would the heiress Annette and her husband, the humble shipping office clerk. I wished them well.
Chapter Eighteen
When I came downstairs the next day the postman had arrived with Jack’s almost daily letter. I opened it with excitement, watched by his mother, as I was always eager for news.
‘He should be home tomorrow,’ she said complacently.
Scanning the first sentence, I threw it down in disgust. The crime trial in Glasgow was taking much longer than anyone had originally anticipated. There had been a change of jury.
‘He says we are not to worry. Although he is a key witness he has been assured that he will be given time off to come to Eildon and get married – however, any plans for a honeymoon may have to be shelved for the present –’
I had been promised London, theatres, museums – I was furious. In fact, we were all unitedly speechless at such treatment and I went upstairs, leaving Jack’s mother fulminating against the unfair treatment of the police. My main concern was wondering about the gown and shoes I was to be married in, not to mention my wardrobe for the honeymoon, all reposing in Solomon’s Tower for Jack to collect and bring to Eildon.
The next moment I looked out of the window and all my miseries, my indecisions and fears vanished.
A carriage was bowling down the farm track.
What a carriage! With the Royal Coat of Arms and a coachman.
And what an occupant!
Who else but Dr Vincent Beaumarcher Laurie, Junior Physician to the Household of Her Majesty Queen Victoria.
Out he stepped, arms outstretched to greet me.
Hugged and kissed in that warm embrace by my beloved stepbrother, more than a decade my elder. Reliable, honest, sensible Vince.
Suddenly I was safe again. He had come to rescue me, take me back through the magic door leading to the safe haven of remembered childhood.
Or so I believed, in those blissful magical first moments.
The Macmerrys had come to the door. Jack’s mother drying her hands on her apron, smoothing her hair to greet this unexpected visitor, worried at being taken at a disadvantage like this and looking round angrily, ready to blame someone – myself, in fact – for not giving her fair warning.
However, at second glance how her eyes lit up at the sight of the handsome carriage with its coat of arms.
A quick introduction to Vince and her first words were to ask which road he had taken. He shook his
head and said he had taken the wrong turn, past the farm end road and had to go into the village to ask for directions,
Mrs Macmerry was delighted, mentally noting how many Eildon neighbours would be similarly impressed with this Royal connection.
Throwing a shawl about her shoulders she said, ‘I must go and get Jack’s father, he’s in the up-by field. There’s tea in the pot, Rose. Make your brother at home.’
Beaming on us both, she could hardly keep the pride out of her voice. I realised cynically that once again she had a way of amending and transforming relationships to suit her whims. As I was no longer a widow in the eyes of Eildon, so too Vince had been elevated from stepbrother to brother.
He didn’t let her down either. Bowing, he gave her his most charming smile and put an arm around my shoulders, an affectionate squeeze.
And it was true, we were remarkably alike. The same eyes and nose, the same mass of yellow curls – but how those once boyish curls had benighted his early years! Despising them as far too frivolous for a doctor he had spent hours fiercely flattening them with hair oil. Where most men feared receding hairlines, to Vince this was a blessing.
He was of medium height, not tall like Pappa and I sometimes forgot that there was no blood kin between them. More than a decade before Edinburgh policeman Jeremy Faro met Lizzie, as a fifteen-year-old maid in a noble household ten years earlier, she had borne Vince out of wedlock. Marriage brought two daughters, myself and Emily, before she died in childbirth along with Pappa’s longed-for only son.
How Vince had hated the stigma of illegitimacy, but had overcome it to emerge as a brilliant doctor, to eventually recognise and forgive his titled natural father as the latter lay on his deathbed, by which time Vince was to see his ambitions fulfilled and be appointed Queen’s physician.
True, now in his mid-forties he was merely a Junior Physician to the Royal Household, but the fact that his stepfather Chief Inspector Faro had been Her Majesty’s personal detective and instrumental in saving her life on more than one occasion, had doubtless proved useful.
Ghost Walk Page 14
