Depressed though she was, however, on the actual day Clementina could not help being stirred by the magnificent parade of the pipers and drummers in their full Highland dress and plaids which reflected all the shades of the heather on the hills. Many of the onlookers were a stirring sight too, in their kilts and bonnets and adorned with Celtic jewellery set with Scottish pebbles, amethysts and cairngorms. She wished Miss Viners would go away and leave her to make what she could of the day on her own. Even the appearance of the woman had a crushing effect, with her prim hat and mouth, side-braids and skinny flat-chested figure. Although when she was in the vicinity of Clementina’s mother and father, she seemed to slip into a cloak of smiling and sugary charm which never failed to amaze the child.
Alone with her charge or out of earshot of her employers, the governess quickly reverted to her normal sharp-spoken, sharp-slapping self. Orders were rapped out in indignant tone as if Clementina’s every movement was purposely aimed to insult her.
‘Straighten your hat.’
‘Shoulders back.’
‘Don’t scuff your shoes. Stop picking at your gloves. Ladies don’t scratch. Don’t wander.’
‘Another look like that, miss, and I’ll box your ears.’ But Miss Viners’ voice was muffled into insignificance, not only by the babble of other voices all around but by the sound of the bagpipes echoing across the fields and hills.
Clementina stood watching the dancers for a time. The girls looked very pretty in their velvet doublets in rich shades of green, blue, brown or maroon to tone in with the colours of their kilts. They also wore lace cuffs and jabot, and a broad leather belt with a silver buckle.
However, after a few minutes Miss Viners jerked her away. ‘You want to go to the fair, don’t you?’ she said impatiently.
‘Yes.’
‘Why are you dawdling about as if you were half dead then?’
It surprised Clementina that Miss Viners was not only going to allow her to go near the fair but actually intended to visit it herself; she had expected her to say that ladies did not go to fairs. Now here she was, not even strolling in a ladylike way, but hurrying towards the crush of stalls and tents and colourful caravans, her large eyes bulging with urgency. A great good-humoured jostle of people were enjoying the hoopla, the coconut shies, the swings and the sideshows.
‘Roll up, roll up!’ a thin swarthy-skinned man with black curly hair was shouting. ‘See the smallest woman on earth …’
A tartan-shawled woman was selling ribbon-tied bunches of white heather. ‘Buy my lucky heather!’ she kept chanting. ‘Buy my lucky heather!’
One man had a huge brown bear on a chain and was making it dance. Clementina caught glimpses of it between the crowd of bodies as she was pulled along by Miss Viners.
Somewhere someone was playing a barrel organ and everywhere a great deal of dust was being kicked up. At last Miss Viners stopped at a red and gold-painted caravan which had a card propped outside saying: ‘Gipsy Mally—fortunes told—cards, crystal and palm.’
Sitting with knees wide and skirts hitched up on the steps of the caravan was a wild-looking woman, brown eyes bright and cunning and hair a bushy tangle.
‘Tell your future, missus?’ she grinned at the governess, her white teeth predatory looking against her brown skin.
‘You stay here,’ Miss Viners instructed Clementina. ‘Don’t move until I come out.’
And with that she followed the wild-looking woman inside the caravan. The door shut behind them and after recovering from her initial surprise, Clementina gazed idly around. It was then that she heard someone call her name and noticed Johnny McPhail, the joiner’s son from the village. Cheered a little by the sight of him, she waved. Then he was swallowed up by the crowd—but not for long. Suddenly there he was, standing in front of her with freckly face wreathed in smiles.
‘What you doing?’ he asked.
She shrugged. ‘Nothing.’
He had a bag of very sticky toffee balls which he now pushed towards her. ‘Take two.’
‘Thanks.’ It was quite a struggle to unstick two sweets from the gluey mess, especially hampered by gloves, but she managed it and stuffed both into her mouth. They bulged her cheeks and filled her with delicious comforting sweetness.
‘Come on!’ Johnny said.
‘Where to?’ she managed to get out, not without losing some saliva.
‘I know how we can get into one of the shows for nothing. You just crawl under the tent.’
It sounded a great idea and, Miss Viners forgotten, Clementina followed Johnny away into the crowd.
Lorianna strolled along between Gavin and Malcolm. Gilbert was accompanying a young lady called Fenella Campbell, daughter of Colonel Hector and Mrs Amelia Campbell of Marjorybanks Street.
‘Kelso should bring some kudos to the Blackwood estate, father. He’s competing in a couple of events, isn’t he?’
‘It would please me better if, afterwards, he would refrain from strong drink,’ responded Gavin. ‘He brings more disgrace on us than honour by his behaviour. I have seen him in the town.’
‘Ah … yes …’ Malcolm seemed to lose his nerve but managed to say, if somewhat feebly, ‘He’s a splendid athlete, though, don’t you think?’
‘Never let him hear you say that, Malcolm. He has a big enough conceit of himself as it is.’
‘Ah … well …’
Lorianna had to bite her lip to restrain both a rush of loyalty to Robert Kelso and a bitter attack on Gavin. It gave her a headache merely to listen to his self-righteous hypocrisy.
‘What are the events?’ she asked Malcolm in an attempt to change the subject.
‘In the athletics there is the 100-yards dash, the 200 yards, the mile and the high jump. The heavy events include the throwing of the hammer, putting the shot, tossing the caber, throwing a 56-pound weight over the bar and the distance—and of course, the wrestling.’
‘What on earth is going on now?’ Lorianna asked.
A noisy crowd had caught her eye and she could hear a pig squealing. Then she saw that everyone was trying to catch the pig and already half of its tail had been torn off.
‘Oh, how cruel!’ She turned away.
‘Yes,’ Malcolm agreed, ‘that ought to be stopped. They grease the pig’s tail and then the person who catches it … are you all right, Lorianna?’
She nodded and Gavin said, ‘Are you sure, my dear? Do you wish to go back and sit in the carriage?’
‘No, really, I’m fine.’
She had been looking forward to seeing Robert compete in the events and when she eventually saw him she could have wept with pride. He looked magnificent in his Highland outfit and when he looked across at her it was clear he more than approved of her own appearance. She was wearing a high-necked creamy-yellow dress that suited her dark brown hair and tawny eyes. Her hat was a wide-brimmed straw decorated with yellow roses and pale green satin ribbon, and the parasol she carried was of the same delicate green colour. Stationing herself at the edge of the roped-off enclosure, she watched Robert with soft, loving eyes as he stripped down to his kilt in readiness for the hammer-throwing event.
Eyeing up the heavy hammer with its long wooden handle, he rubbed his hands together to dry off any sweat, his powerful arm muscles rippling and dancing seemingly of their own accord. Then he strode purposefully to the throwing point and in one smooth sweep bent and grasped the shaft firmly in both hands, bands of muscle in shoulders and back bunching as they took the strain. He spun from the waist, his back arching to increase the spin; then, when he could go no faster, he let his body power off the right foot. With a bellow he released the imprisoned weight and, glad of its freedom, it hurtled up and out towards the sun. Like a tadpole in a stream it streaked, wooden tail wriggling as it flew until, tiring, it abruptly dropped earthwards, bouncing heavily across the sun-baked grass.
Heedless of Gavin, she applauded enthusiastically. Again Robert caught her eye, this time with that faintly amused but distan
t look he sometimes had.
None of the other competitors interested Lorianna in the slightest. All she was waiting for was Robert, when he took part in the weight-throwing. Then at last he was squinting up into the strong sunlight to study the flimsy wooden pole spanning the two tall uprights, fourteen feet high, which seemed to split the clear azure sky. Grunting with concentration, he hefted the solid square weight in a brown spade-like right hand and, tucking his kilt up over his left thigh, took up a broad straddle-stance. Then, gripping his thigh firmly, he began to swing the weight to and fro using his taut right arm as a pendulum. His back bent forward and then back to increase his momentum, the weight swinging in a ponderous arc through his widely-spread legs. Suddenly he thrust upwards and out, the veins on his forearms bulging like the gnarled roots of an oak. At the maximum sweep of the arc he released the weight and it soared ponderously upwards, teetering for an instant at the apex of its journey before crashing down on the far side of the bar.
What Lorianna would have given to have been able to go to him afterwards, to lay claim to him, put her arm through his and walk proudly away through the crowds with him. He belonged to her and she to him. In a surge of reckless desperation she almost went to him there and then in front of everyone, but suddenly she was diverted by Miss Viners hurrying towards her with staring eyes and trembling lips.
‘Oh, madam, sir—what can I say? This is too terrible, but not my fault I do assure you. Miss Clementina has run away, disappeared! I have been frantically searching but to no avail, Oh, madam, I have the most dreadful premonition …’
Clementina had not enjoyed herself so much for a long time—in fact, she had not enjoyed herself at all for ages. Johnny McPhail was great fun and very generous with his toffee-balls. She had lost her hat in crawling under the tent, and later torn her dress in the hurry to get safely back out again as they were chased by a swarthy-faced man with a horsewhip. But Johnny had made her laugh and forget the catastrophe. She was actually skipping along hand in hand with him and squealing with laughter when she suddenly came face to face with her father.
She immediately stopped and stood frozen with fear, but Johnny flew away like the wind and disappeared into the crowd.
‘Come with me,’ her father said and silently, sick in her stomach, she did as she was told.
Soon her mother and Miss Viners were hastening towards them and her mother was saying, ‘Thank God, she’s all right! You are all right, aren’t you, darling?’
‘Yes, mother,’ Clementina managed, but could not hear her own voice for the thunderous beating of her heart.
‘Come with Miss Viners now,’ said the governess in a smiling, wheedling tone. ‘Like a good girl.’
‘She is not good,’ Gavin said, staring with cold reproof at Miss Viners over his pince-nez. ‘Take her back to the house at once. See that she cleans herself up and send her down to my study as soon as I return home.’
‘Oh Gavin,’ her mother sighed. ‘Must you punish her? The fair must have been a great temptation and …’
‘She must be taught to resist temptation,’ Gavin insisted.
For Clementina the fair no longer existed. The reality was the terrifying ordeal to be faced in the study. Each time it seemed to get worse—a change appeared to come over her father, a strange grunting, hand-groping wildness that she could not understand. It wasn’t merely the beatings now—it was the rough fumbling, pushing and stretching between her legs that left her so bruised and tender afterwards she could hardly walk but shuffled slowly and painfully along like a stiff old woman.
‘I hope he gives you something you won’t forget for a long time,’ Miss Viners hissed at her as soon as they were out of earshot. ‘You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t kill you! Gypsy Mally said there was going to be a death.’
23
They had been very careful about never being seen together outside. But there had been times—wonderful times at night—when Lorianna had slipped out of the house to meet him in the woods. Sometimes the nights had been still and the sky full of the sound of redwings, a thin penetrating note that lingered in the air.
Robert would bring a warm plaid and wrap her in it and they would lie together until dawn brought the sweet song of the thrushes. Then they would watch the large-eyed robins feeding and the squirrels cheekily jerking and darting about as the early-morning sun made the fallen leaves shine like flames.
Everything was magic because of him.
One summer’s night, daringly, she had swum naked with him in the river and he had made love to her in the water. Then afterwards on the bank she had stood stretching her arms heavenwards in ecstasy and shaking back her long, wet hair and he had come after her and made love to her again.
Once they had nearly been discovered by gipsies. The sound of a fiddle playing warned them at first and then they had seen through the bushes that a gipsy caravan had stopped in a grassy clearing. The fiddler was dressed in a shabby greatcoat, the goatskin wallet on his back containing the rough implements for compressing horns from which such men made spoons. In front of him wildly danced a dark-skinned woman with thick tangled hair, wearing a filthy ragged dress. The music quickened and her dance grew more and more frenzied. Lorianna watched in fascination until Robert put an arm around her and pulled her firmly away.
‘Be careful she doesn’t put a spell on you,’ he said, smiling down at her. ‘That’s “Dancing Mally”. She’s supposed to be a witch! Everyone around here throws salt on the fire if she comes to their door—they say that counteracts her witchcraft.’
On another occasion they had had a very close shave with a strange-looking man wearing a long coat and a hat with a tall feather sticking up from it. Robert had pushed her out of sight just in time and bawled, ‘Wattie, you fuckin’ thief! I’ll see you behind bars yet!’ The man had immediately sped away like a hare and disappeared into the darkness of the countryside.
Lorianna had been badly shaken, not only because the man had nearly seen her, but because of Robert’s roughness and his deep voice sounding so unexpectedly harsh.
Afterwards he had said, ‘This has got to stop.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know what I mean. Someone is bound to see you eventually. It’s one thing if you are seen walking about in the daylight. If people were to see us meeting and talking together then, even walking together, it would be all right; they would just think you were asking me something about the estate. But it’s quite a different matter in the middle of the night.’
‘I don’t care. Why should I care?’
‘Don’t be foolish.’
‘All right. So Gavin would throw me out—so I would be the talk of the Lothians, the scandal of the century—so I would be ostracised from society. I’m telling you I don’t care, as long as I have you.’
Recklessly she raised her voice: ‘Let them all know! Let them think what they like of me, do what they like to me …’
Suddenly his big hand slapped across her face. Shocked into silence she gazed at him broken-heartedly, helplessly.
‘You will do as I say,’ he said. ‘And I say for your sake that this has got to stop.’
He walked away from her then and, sobbing quietly to herself, Lorianna trailed after him. She made no attempt to soften him with wheedling words or coquettish looks; she knew he was not a man to be moved by such shallowness. It was dark and cold and through the trees the gipsies’ fire glowed, emphasising the darkness beyond. Occasionally a vixen barked or an owl hooted and once a deer crossed their path.
She never wanted to reach her secret gate and pass from his magic world into that of Blackwood House, but all too soon they had reached the wooden stile and beyond it the narrow footpath which led through the thick, damp, earth-smelling foliage to the gate. There she stood with her head bowed, glossy hip-length hair hanging loose over her cloak. After a moment or two he gathered her into his arms and buried his face in her hair so that she barely heard his words.
‘Flower,
flower …’
‘Darling, I love you,’ she sobbed. ‘Don’t stop me from being with you, please. Oh, please!’
‘We’re not going to meet again at night,’ Robert insisted. And she had to be content with that.
Night after night she lay empty-armed and aching for his big hard body, sleepless as an owl and waiting only for the daytime when she could be with him once more.
Her life in Blackwood House became unreal and misty, something on which she could no longer concentrate. Even Gavin remarked on her faraway look and growing absent-mindedness. Oblivious of her surroundings, her passion became a constant flame inside her, burning only in the direction of the farmhouse and only assuaged there when she ran into Robert Kelso’s arms. There it flared wildly until it burned itself out, leaving her exhausted as she returned home to the misty unreality once more. Then the flame would remorselessly begin to burn deep inside her once more and she would exist in an agony of abstraction, waiting for another day when she could be with him.
Oh, the ecstasy of mouth on mouth, tongue on tongue, skin on skin, groin on groin. She no longer wanted him to be gentle with her. The slow tender exploration of his lips over her mouth and face, neck and body at the beginning of every lovemaking had become a torment which drove her wild and made her claw at him in her efforts to force him harder against her. But he was too strong for her puny fingers and continued to love her at his own pace. Even when she groaned and wept and cried out to him in a sweet anguish of passion, he only hushed her and continued to take his own leisurely time. Until at last he would quicken, sharply thrusting, often rolling over and over with her on the hard floor of the kitchen until she was bruised and gasping for breath and hysterically happy. And then exhausted.
She had long since ceased to care what was happening in Blackwood House. It didn’t matter that Mrs Musgrove’s tall black-clad figure was always waiting for her at the top of the stairs, literally to force her into the bedroom and push her down on to the bed.
‘You’re like a madwoman,’ the housekeeper said. ‘No one must see you like this. Rest!’
Light & Dark Page 18
