Summer of Love

by Gian Bordin

  "Come in, master Andrew. Where have you been these past three days? We worried about you. A young man asked for you several times."

  "I had a bad accident. I’m lucky I made it back in one piece."

  "Yes, look at you! You even lost your hat."

  In fact, Andrew’s clothes were disheveled, his short waistcoat crumpled and his leather breeches had blood and earth stains. It was difficult to guess the original color of his stockings. His hair hung down loosely.

  "As I said, I’m glad I didn’t get injured more seriously, just a bad gash in my leg." He pointed at his left thigh.

  While he locked the door the innkeeper briefly looked at the hole in Andrew’s breeches and exclaimed: "This looks like a bullet hole. I’ll ask my dear wife to have a look at it later on this morning, Master Andrew. Don’t you worry about it. She has taken care of many a wound."

  "Ah, this is a very kind offer," replied Andrew, "but as it is, I’m now late for catching the boat. So I must hurry off right away. I’ll just pack my things… Oh, there’s something else where you may perhaps help me. I completely ruined my saddle in the fall, but fortunately the horse was not hurt. Would you have a good saddle I could buy?"

  The innkeeper removed his night cap and scratched himself at the back of his head. "Mm … I’ll have a look in the stable. I think there’s a fairly new saddle somewhere." But the sudden glint in his eyes left little doubt that he was eager to sell it, hoping for a rather good price. He shuffled to the back of the inn which led to the stables.

  Andrew hobbled upstairs, favoring his left leg. In his room, he undressed and washed himself quickly, put on a clean shirt, stockings, and velvet breeches, and knotted a new kerchief around his neck. Then he packed his few belongings into his saddle bags. He slipped his dagger under his belt and checked the two pistols, glad that he had left them behind before going into the mountains. After combing his hair, he gathered it into a tail and put on his French beret. A quick check of the room, and he was again on his way down the stairs, just as Mr. Nichols returned from the stables with a saddle that he had dusted off superficially, revealing that it had seen a lot of use—not fairly new as he had proclaimed.

  After a bit of bargaining, Andrew settled his account.

  "Just one more thing, Mr. Nichols. I didn’t have much food lately and am rather hungry. Would you be willing to pack me double portions of your marvelous sausages, cheeses, and breads? I add another two shillings for it."

  "Wouldn’t you rather eat here at your leisure? I can make you a fresh cup of coffee," ventured the innkeeper.

  "That’s very kind of you, but I really must be going right away."

  "Why the hurry, master Andrew?"

  "Oh, you know that I had wanted to leave already a week ago and stayed because you told me I should not miss the dance. With this accident, I’m now really well behind and can’t lose more time or else I’ll miss my boat."

  Shaking his head, Mr. Nichols disappeared in the larder, while Andrew busied himself with saddling the horse. The old man soon returned and handed Andrew a fat pouch.

  "Thank you for your kind hospitality, Mr. Nichols. You can be sure I’ll recommend your inn to other travelers. And now I better be off." Then it occurred to him that he could sow false information. "It’s a long way to Dundee. I surely hope I haven’t missed my boat."

  Somewhat clumsily, he swung himself into the saddle and bent down to shake hands with the innkeeper. As he set his horse into motion, the latter shouted: "Mind the road near the castle. You have to keep right to go along the loch."

  Andrew waved in acknowledgment and trotted down the road. He was glad that he had given Dundee as his destination. Like this, the innkeeper would confirm that he had seen him ride east toward the true left of Loch Tay. After the last house, Andrew turned, skirting the town, and cantered back along the marshlands to the little forest, the uneasy feeling of having left Helen there alone growing by the minute.

  The sky had taken on a delicate, milky white, so typical of a rare clear early morning. A crown of gold was forming around Ben Lawers, heralding the rising of the sun.

  He entered the trees and stopped at the place where he had parted with Helen. She was not there, his unease escalating into panic. His heart missed a beat when she came out from behind a tree trunk. He jumped off the horse, winced in pain as he jarred his left thigh, and rushed to her.

  "I was afraid you had left me, Helen," he murmured, holding her tightly.

  She raised her head, the first smile of the day on her face. "Andrew, even if I wanted, I can’t go back. I’m too scared of Robert and my father. You’re stuck with me."

  He kissed her. "I like nothing better than being stuck with you… But now we must be going. Are you up to riding behind me, until we can get you a horse?"

  "Do I have a choice?" Blushing, she added: "Though, I’m rather sore from rubbing my thighs on the horse’s back."

  He looked embarrassed. Then his face lit up. He quickly searched through his saddle bags and handed her a pair of white stockings and tight dark green velvet breeches that he had bought in France. "You could wear these under your petticoat. They’ll protect you."

  She held them against her to check their size. "They are a bit long, but they must do."

  She quickly removed her boots and slipped them on. Trying to tie the loose front flap, she chuckled. "I’ve nothing to fill this."

  "I’m glad," he replied with a smile. Getting crimson, she averted her gaze.

  They rode briskly on the road west. There was no soul about yet. Neither talked. Helen seemed subdued. In contrast, Andrew felt almost euphoric. Periodically, he put his hand on Helen’s, clasped around his waist, as if to make sure that she was still there, although he could feel her against his back. Every time a wave of gladness flooded his heart. His Helen was coming with him! He could hardly believe it. Even in his wildest dreams, he had never dared to hope that she would actually consent.

  * * *

  After half an hour, they turned south into Glen Ogle. The highest point in the glen was still in grey shade when Andrew guided the horse into a copse of oak, hidden from the road.

  "Helen, let’s rest for a short while and eat something. I’m ravenous. Mr. Nichols packed food for me."

  "Yes, I’m glad to stretch my sore limbs too … and a bit of food will be nice."

  They munched on the delicious cheese and bread. A smile lit up Helen’s face. "You know, Andrew, whenever we’re together, we always seem to have these little banquets."

  "We will have many more. In Edinburgh we shall dine in one of the best restaurants in the city."

  "Will we?" She had never been to a restaurant, not even an inn. She had only read about them. It all felt a bit overwhelming. "I’ve never been farther south than Balquhidder. How are we going to get to Edinburgh?"

  "If we can buy a horse for you at Lochearnhead, we should be able to make it to Stirling by tonight. Another hard day’s ride and we’ll be in Edinburgh. They’ll be long rides. Do you think that you can manage, Helen?"

  "If I must, I will." She just hoped that the chafing would not get any worse.

  "The quicker we leave the Highlands behind, the safer."

  "Yes, my father will be coming after us the moment they find Robert. I’m certain he will, or I’m not a MacGregor." She smiled at her own choice of words, and Andrew returned her smile. "And he won’t give up at Edinburgh. He’ll follow us into England."

  "I guess you’re right, but if we cover each day a distance like this, we should be able to be a day or two ahead of him. Anyway, we’ll just stay long enough in Edinburgh to buy additional clothing and other things we both need." He hesitated. "We could get married in Stirling, Helen."

  She did not answer right away. Somehow she felt not yet ready for that step. Everything had happened too fast. She felt that she had lost control over her own destiny, that she needed to sort out her thoughts first, to become master of her life again.

  "Helen, there is nothing
to prevent us anymore … or is there? … Why are you hesitating?"

  "Andrew, let’s get away safely first."

  "But you know that I want to marry you, the faster the better. Don’t you want to be my wife?"

  "Yes," she answered. It sounded hesitant even to her.

  "So, what’s holding you back then? It can’t be your promise to Robert … not after what he did to you."

  "No, it’s not Robert. Let’s not rush it. Just get away first."

  "But we will be safer if we are married."

  "Why?"

  "First, it would be less suspicious. If people suspect that we are not married, they could denounce us."

  "We could claim to be brother and sister."

  "Doing what?"

  "That we’re on our way to see our father who has fallen seriously ill in Edinburgh."

  "Without luggage? And after Edinburgh?"

  "Oh, Andrew, Liverpool or whatever big city comes next."

  "But we don’t look like brother and sister … and I can’t banish my love for you from my eyes. I don’t want to curb myself even more by pretending to be mere brother and sister when I want to hold and kiss you all the time."

  "You couldn’t kiss me in the open anyway. That would cause a scandal and really get us into trouble."

  "But at least it would be all right to look at you lovingly and to sometimes touch your hand… We couldn’t sleep together. The maid would know right away next morning—or don’t you want to share the bed with me?"

  "Brother and sister are allowed to share beds."

  "Maybe in the Highlands, but not in England. And besides, if your father should catch up with us, heaven forbid, he can’t prevent it anymore."

  "Oh, nothing would stop him."

  "He would have to accept what has been done."

  "It might just make him mad enough to kill us both."

  He looked at her for several seconds, a slight frown on his face. "Helen, there is something. I can feel it. Why don’t you want to tell me?"

  "I don’t really know. I just don’t feel ready yet."

  "Is it because I’m illegitimate?"

  "No, that’s not your fault."

  "Because I am a Campbell?"

  She lowered her gaze. Is it that? Is it so deeply ingrained in me?

  "It did not matter four years ago. Does it now?"

  She raised her face, a defiant look in her eyes. "Andrew, I feel pushed around by you. Everything I say you question or put down as silly."

  Andrew seemed confused. When he did not answer right away, she added: "And I feel that you’re not listening to me."

  "I thought I was. I thought I was just using logic and sound reasoning to persuade you to marry me—"

  "— and show my reasons illogical and not sound."

  He blushed deeply and lowered his head. Helen immediately saw that she was accusing him of exactly what she had accused all men to do when they had discussed ‘Pamela’ and she knew Andrew was not like this, that he had always valued her judgment. But why didn’t he hear her now? Why didn’t he see that she needed time?

  "I’m sorry, Helen," he said in a subdued voice, and then looked her in the eyes, pleadingly. "I just love you so much that I want to bind you to me for ever… Don’t be mad!"

  Feeling bad, she made a vain attempt to smile. She went to him and put her head on his shoulder. He folded his arms around her.

  "Andrew, I’m confused. It all happened too fast. Just give me time."

  "I will, Helen… I promise, I won’t push you again. But you must know that marrying you is my greatest wish."

  * * *

  Shortly after nine o’clock they reached Lochearnhead. Helen riding behind Andrew, rather than walking—the highland practice for a married woman in the company of her husband—raised curious eyebrows, but nobody remarked openly on it. Andrew asked the innkeeper if he knew of anybody who had a riding horse for sale. He was told that if anybody did, it would certainly be the Drummonds or MacGregors of Balquhidder. Without delay, they left the little town, taking the road to Callander.

  Once past the last houses of Lochearnhead, Andrew asked: "Do any of the MacGregors of Balquhidder know you?"

  "Yes, we had several visits of cousins from Balquhidder and they might recognize me. Just last year James Drummond and his oldest son, Fergus, visited my parents. Anyway, my resemblance to my mother would surely give me away."

  "So it’s better if I go alone and you hide somewhere." He turned to look at her. "You agree, Helen?"

  "Yes." She chuckled briefly. "It will be rather ironic to get help from my cousins for running away from my parents."

  "Yes, and they’re bound to find out sooner or later." Andrew grinned too.

  "Do you think that they’ve found Robert by now and may already be on our trail, Andrew?" Her voice betrayed her anxiety.

  "They might have found him, but I think that they’ll first try to find us in Killin, and I told Mr. Nichols that I was to catch a boat in Dundee. So they might search in the wrong direction to start with."

  "You think so?"

  "Yes. I doubt they’ll get to Lochearnhead before this evening and by then we should be in Stirling already."

  "I hope so. I’m afraid for us if they catch us."

  Andrew pressed her hands reassuringly.

  "Once we’ve two horses, we should be able to keep a step ahead of them."

  Helen hid in bushes where the road to Balquhidder split off, while Andrew cantered the mile into the little settlement. After some inquiries, he was directed to the house of James Drummond, alias James Roy MacGregor, who had changed his name in honor of Lord Perth, under whom he had served in the uprising.

  James Drummond still strutted like the major he claimed to have been. Andrew put his request to him, addressing him in English. The major’s first question was: "Why do you need another horse, young man. You came riding on one, didn’t you?"

  "This one isn’t mine. It belongs to my friend. I had to put mine down when it broke a leg on Ben Vorlich."

  "Yes, those slopes are treacherous if you don’t know your way around… And what were you doing there?"

  "Oh, we came in from Crieff and were exploring the beautiful sights of Glen Artney."

  "That is pretty country through there… You are then not from around here, are you?"

  "No, I’m just visiting. I come from the South."

  "I think I have just the horse for you. He is a beauty." He quickly put his head through the cottage entrance and called out: "Fergus, bring the black stallion for this gentleman here!"

  A young man in his late teens came outside, nodded to Andrew, and disappeared behind the cottages. While they waited, the ex-officer wanted to know more about Andrew’s origin and how long he intended to stay in the Highlands. Two minutes or so later, the lad came trotting back with the horse. It was a beautiful animal and showed its high spirits by the way it was prancing about in front of them. Andrew fell in love with it instantly.

  After half-hearted bargaining—to Andrew’s surprise James Drummond let the animal go for only eighteen guineas—the major offered him a saddle: "Take this for another six guineas, young man. It was especially made for this horse."

  They sealed the deal with a handshake, and Andrew counted out twenty-eight pounds in gold coins. James Drummond pocketed them with a pleased smile and said: "Come, let us celebrate this fair bargain with a glass of claret."

  Andrew hadn’t counted on a further delay. He was nervous to get back to Helen. "Kind sir, I’m afraid I’ve to decline your generous offer. My friend and I have to get back to Crieff tonight, and it’s a long ride. We’ve been summoned to an important appointment in Perth the day after. Maybe I can take up your offer next time I visit your area."

  James Drummond didn’t seem disappointed, and after exchanging banal pleasantries, Andrew rode off on the stallion, jubilant with his purchase.

  * * *

  "Look, Helen, what a buy," Andrew called out from afar.


  "He is a striking animal, Andrew," she answered when he reached her, while her face expressed disapproval, "but don’t you think it was rather silly to buy such a horse?"

  "Why should it be silly? Isn’t he just a beauty?" he asked, his voice betraying his hurt.

  "Yes, he’s beautiful, and everybody who sees you will agree … and will remember the horse. Knowing my Balquhidder cousins, I doubt that they got that horse legitimately."

  "I see." He had lost his exuberance, frowned, and then continued her train of thought in a subdued tone: "It’s like leaving a trail of pointers behind us. Oh, Helen, how stupid of me not to think of that. I simply fell in love when I set eyes on him. What should we do?"

  Helen was almost disappointed that he accepted her rebuke without the slightest sign of annoyance or anger, even agreed with her. None of the males in her family would ever have admitted to an error of judgment unless they said so first, and that would be the rare exception. Then she reminded herself that this was Andrew, her Andrew. She tried to tone down her reproach: "Maybe, it’s not so bad. Right now, we can’t do anything. We need to press on."

  He looked at her gratefully. "You want to ride him?"

  His facial expression left little doubt that he would like to ride the animal himself.

  "No, I’d rather ride your placid mare. I wouldn’t feel fully in control on your stallion." She smiled, and he replied, blushing. A warm feeling radiated from her heart. He’s so transparent. So lovable!

  He helped her onto the mare. Her flimsy petticoat rode high, exposing her shapely legs.

  "Helen, would you be willing to wear my riding coat?" He sounded worried.

  She looked at him questioningly. "Why?"

  He blushed. "Because your petticoat is too revealing. Somebody might denounce us."

  It was now her turn to blush. Each noticed the other’s discomfiture at the same time, and both broke into an embarrassed chuckle.

  "Oh, Andrew. You’re too sweet… Pass me that coat!"

  He handed it to her, and she put it over her shoulders, adjusting it such that only her boots were showing.