by Fiona Monroe
This time, Caroline called for her to enter, and she found her cousin supine on a chaise longue, while her maid bustled about her, folding clothes. She looked in no way ready to go out.
"Oh," said Caroline, looking over Catriona's pelisse. "Are you ready? I am not yet dressed. I have such a headache. I do not want to go out this morning."
"It is of no matter, we can go tomorrow, perhaps."
"Oh! No, we had better go. My brother will have ordered James to get the gig ready. He would be angry if we cried off." She sighed. "Mackenzie, I think Miss Dunbar might have one of my old pelisses. They are kept in one of the trunks in the attic."
Catriona did not ask what was wrong with her own pelisse, as she knew very well that it was worn and shabby and not suitable for appearing in public as a companion to Miss Buccleuch. Wordlessly, she removed it and handed it to the maid, who took it with a pert curtsy and left the room.
This evidently had been Caroline's objective, for as soon as the door was closed, she sat up and held out her hands to Catriona. "Come here! We have a little time."
Catriona hesitated, but allowed her cousin to take her hands and joined her on the corner of the chaise longue.
"Now you have seen," she said tremulously, "how cruelly I am treated. My mother... my brother... they beat me over nothing at all."
"But Miss Buccleuch... Caroline... you did speak disrespectfully to them..."
"And what if I did? Do you know what they are trying to do? They want to force me to marry a man I do not love, and separate me for ever from the man that I do." Caroline's eyes were huge in her pale face.
"That is... bad indeed." What else could she say?
"Mr. Ross, of Blackrock in Ross-shire, proposed marriage to me last year. His father is Sir John Ross, and he is heir. Lady Ross and my mother fixed it all up between them, they are great friends. Mr. Ross made me an offer..." She paused dramatically. "And I refused him. There is nothing to say against Mr. Ross, except that he is dull, and heir to the most fantastically cold and dreary seat in Scotland. He is a respectable man, there is no doubt, and I believe he loves me—at least I believe he dare not do otherwise, since his father instructs him to."
"Caroline! What if he is truly attached to you?"
Her mouth twisted. "Oh, a man like that does not have very deep feelings. He wants a wife for his horrid castle, and another girl would do as well, I am sure. It is of no matter, however, for were he the handsomest and most dashing man in the kingdom, I would not accept him. My heart, my promise is given to another."
"Did you tell him this?"
"Oh yes! And still, he is coming now to try again. It is my brother's doing! I know Mr. Ross will have scruples, I refused him so very explicitly—an honourable man would not persist in such circumstances, but my brother must have persuaded him that my promise to Lord Daventry is of no account."
"So... you are promised to a Lord Daventry?"
"Yes!" Caroline spoke even more eagerly, her cheeks flushing. "Viscount Daventry, heir to the Earl of Exminster. We have been secretly engaged these two years."
"Why may you not marry at once?"
"Why do you think? My brother will not allow it! He and Lord Daventry used to be good friends, they were at school and then at the university together, but when Lord Daventry started courting me, my brother started to turn against him. He spoke to him and tried to persuade him to forget me. Lord Daventry said that he would, but I accepted him in secret. My brother said that if he persisted, he would fight a duel with him."
"What were your brother's objections to the match? Surely there could be none on the grounds of eligibility, as he is heir to an earl."
"Mr. brother objects to Lord Daventry's character," said Caroline bitterly. "A fine thing considering that they were such friends, and did everything together. I know full well that Lord Daventry has a fast reputation, but that is as the world judges him. And the world is false. I know the real, dear, sweet man himself, and he loves me devotedly, and I him."
Catriona sat dumbfounded for a few moments. Caroline was twisting her hands together. "But Caroline... we have this advantage over our English sisters—we do not need our guardians' permission to marry, even if we are not yet of age. Why do you not simply marry Lord Daventry? I can understand that you do not want to disobey your mother and brother, but in such a case—"
"Oh, I do not care about disobeying them!" Caroline cried. "I do not want Duncan to murder Lord Daventry in a duel."
"But surely he would not really do that."
"He is capable of any cruelty! You saw how he whipped me with that beastly razor strop of our father's, that he keeps for that very purpose! It is hanging up in his study, to taunt me whenever I am summoned there to be lectured and berated. Even if he does not use it, I see it there. And my mother had already walloped me black and blue with her hairbrush." She rolled back onto the chaise longue and rubbed at her thigh. "I am so sore this morning. I could scarcely sit at breakfast. And do you know why my brother is so insistent that we take the gig and not the coach into town?"
"I thought it because it needs only one horse, and therefore incurs less trouble and expense than the coach."
"He would tell you that was the reason if you asked him, but in fact it is because he knows that the gig is so very much more uncomfortable to ride in, after a hiding. Every rut in the road jolts so." She massaged her rear once more. "Shall I show you how bruised I am?"
"Oh no, I really do not need to—" Catriona began, but in vain. Caroline had already lifted her skirt, and rolled onto her side to display her injured bottom and thighs.
It was impossible not to look, little as Catriona wanted to. She had to admit that Caroline's very fair skin took a hiding badly, for her slender buttocks were mottled all over with bruises from the hairbrush, and each lash of the razor strop had left a dark red, black-edge stripe still clearly visible.
"It hurts so much," Caroline said. "The razor strop, beyond all. When my mother is giving me the hairbrush, I feel with every stroke that nothing could be worse—but then, when my brother uses the razor strop! Oh! And he hits so much harder. I am so afraid that if I refuse Mr. Ross again, he will punish me as he threatened to last night."
"Surely he would not really force you to marry someone against your will."
"Oh but he would!" She began to cry quietly. "You do not know him, cousin. He and my mother both. They do not want me to be happy. Mr. Ross comes next week, and Lord Daventry is far away, and I am not brave enough. What shall I do?"
Catriona thought. Her own feeling was that if it were herself, she would face down a mother and a brother's displeasure, and endure a beating for disobedience if she must, rather than marry a man she disliked. However painful such a punishment, surely it was better to have a sore backside for a few days, than to spend an entire lifetime shackled to the wrong man. But it was clear to her that Caroline did not have the same spirit. "Do you know what Lord Daventry thinks of your situation with regards to Mr. Ross?"
"Oh, Lord Daventry thinks we should elope. At least, that is what he thought the last time I saw him, before my brother drove him from the house."
"He did?" Catriona was shocked.
Caroline sighed. She eased her gown back down and sat round gingerly. "There was a perfectly stupid fuss about a wretched servant girl. There was a ball at Lochlannan, and I slipped away to meet with Lord Daventry in the summer house on the west lawn. Oh, it was quite all right, I was chaperoned—I took Mrs. Farquhar, the minister's wife, with me. Lord Daventry urged me to fly that very night and be wed, but I was afraid. I was afraid of what my brother might do. I heard footsteps on the path and I fled in a panic back into the house before I could be discovered with him. Then Mr. Ross, who was there at the ball, made his offer of marriage to me. I refused him, and my brother and my mother were very angry, and ordered me to my room, so I saw no-one after that. I learned next day that my brother had told Lord Daventry about Mr. Ross's offer to me and told him that I would be ma
rried to him. Poor Lord Daventry was heartbroken, for he thought I had spurned him after all. He went half mad with grief, he said, and—" she gave a little indulgent laugh— "he had already drunk well of my brother's good port, the wicked man. He sought solace with one of the housemaids."
Catriona stared.
Caroline said rapidly, "Oh, I know it was wrong of him, but he was out of his mind. He loves me so much, and he thought I had promised my hand to another. Men have appetites, you know. I am not saying he has always been very good. He is sorry for it now. My brother surprised them together, and the vile hussy tried to save her position by pretending he had forced himself on her, and it ended with my brother turning them both out of the house in the early dawn. There was a terrific row. He fired a shotgun into the air. I saw poor Lord Daventry from my window, running across the front courtyard with my brother chasing after him with his gun, and yelling and shouting."
"Gracious!"
"I thought he would shoot him. I wonder I didn't faint away where I stood. I ran downstairs even though I had been told to remain in my room, but he was gone. My brother was in a towering temper, I was afraid he would punish me, but he merely ordered me back upstairs. My mother came up later and gave me a terrific hiding though, I thought it would never end." She wriggled in her seat. "I have not seen Lord Daventry since that day, though we correspond in secret when we can." She heaved a sigh. "It is not often."
"What happened to the housemaid?"
Caroline frowned petulantly. "She was turned away, of course. I told you. But the minister took her in. She is at the manse. That is another reason I do not visit there, I cannot bear to risk setting eyes on that harlot. What the minister was thinking of, taking in a girl like that, I cannot imagine."
Catriona hesitated, then said, "Lord Daventry is now in Vienna, your brother said?"
"Yes." Caroline slumped further back onto the sofa. "At least, he was when he wrote to me last, six weeks ago. He is staying with friends, some Austrian prince and his wife. Lord Daventry has an extensive acquaintance amongst the European nobility."
"Indeed!" Including, she thought, a French countess, by Sir Duncan's account. But she could not ask Caroline about this.
"I know what you are thinking," said Caroline eagerly. "I am only the sister of a Scottish laird, locked away in a dismal old castle surrounded by hills and peasants, while he will be an earl, and is the guest of princes, and stays in palaces. But he does not consider me so very far beneath him. Love transcends everything, he says. Do you believe that?"
"I... do not believe it can transcend some things, such as a complete lack of fortune."
"I have fortune! I have thirty thousand pounds at my own disposal. My brother cannot touch it. And Lord Daventry will have the entire Steadly estate when his father dies, although he has nothing now."
"Has not he?"
"Oh, scarcely a penny, the old Earl is a miserable skinflint and grudges him every copper. But it will be of no matter once we are wed." Her shoulders sagged. "But Mr. Ross is coming in two weeks! What shall I do, cousin?"
Catriona realised that she was seriously expected to offer advice, so she put aside her misgivings about influencing anyone on so weighty a subject, and on such short acquaintance. "You must not agree to marry Mr. Ross if you truly love another, and do not feel that you could ever love him or make him happy," she said firmly. "But I think you ought to try once more to obtain your brother's permission for the match with Lord Daventry. In terms of eligibility, I see no reason why you should not marry him. You have a handsome fortune, and until he inherits you may live on that, whether his father will do anything for him or not—which surely he would, on his marriage to a respectable lady. There is some inequality of rank, but nothing to signify. You are a baronet's daughter, after all. I do not see that the Earl has any grounds to object to you, and if he does not, why should Sir Duncan?"
"I do not know whether the Earl objects or not," said Caroline. "It is enough that my brother does."
"Then I think you should talk to him again about it, humbly and respectfully, and try to change his mind."
"But you heard him! He is wild against it! He will make me marry Mr. Ross, he will beat me until I give in."
Catriona remembered how Sir Duncan had so carelessly spoken to Lady Buccleuch about marrying Caroline and Mr. Ross in the castle's chapel as soon as possible, and she shuddered. She did not repeat this to Caroline, however, not wanting to scare her, but she said, "Perhaps you are right. I think then you ought to write to Lord Daventry and inform him of your danger."
"A letter will take weeks to reach him in Vienna, if he is even still there!"
"Nonetheless, he ought to be told. And while you wait to hear from him, you must simply resist any attempt to force you to wed Mr. Ross. They cannot when it comes to the event oblige you to marry anyone against your will. There are laws against that. Your minister cannot conduct a ceremony unless he believes both parties to consent."
Caroline shook her head. "He will make me consent."
"You must not."
She gave a sudden incongruous laugh and grasped her hands once more. "Oh! You are so like your mother must have been. She did not give in. My father tried to stop her marrying the man she loved, and she defied him. She was bold. She escaped!"
"Indeed she did." But to what end, thought Catriona? Her mother had escaped, but to a life of poverty that she had not, as long as Catriona had been conscious of it, ever enjoyed. Perhaps she had been happier while her husband lived, yet she had buried five children before Catriona's late and unexpected arrival.
"And my brother is not half so cruel as my father could be at times," Caroline continued. "My father never disciplined me, that was always left to my mother, but he had terrible rages and sometimes whipped the servants with a riding crop. And—" She dropped her voice, "I have heard it said that—oh no, but I forgot." She clapped her hand over her mouth.
"Forgot... what?"
"I forgot that my father's first wife was your aunt. I should not say."
"My dear Caroline, I never knew my aunt. You need not scruple to say anything on account of wounding my feelings. Unless what you have to say is in some way improper."
"It is most improper! It is a terrible rumour."
"Then you had better not tell me," Catriona said, much against her own inclination.
Caroline opened her eyes wide. "We shall have no more secrets, dear cousin. See—have I not told you everything that is in my heart?" She demonstrated by pressing her hands to her bosom. "Well, the truth is my father was a wild, cruel man, and it is shocking, but I can well believe this of him. You know that your aunt died two years after your mother fled Lochlannan?"
"Yes... my mother never saw her nor heard from her again." She did not possess equal frankness with Miss Buccleuch. She had no intention of mentioning the letter.
"I have heard it said that my father killed her."
Caroline evidently intended her remark to have an effect.
"My mother always believed that Sir Wallace's treatment drove her sister to an early grave," said Catriona slowly.
"No! Killed her! Actually poisoned her. You know that she died of a sudden fever. Well, perhaps you did not, but she did. They say that she was a most robust young lady, full of health up until the day she came down with the malady that killed her, and that she declined very rapidly over two weeks, and that not anything that the apothecary from Lochlannan could do had any effect. And that my father would not send for a physician from Edinburgh, and that by the time there was talk of it, she was dead the next day."
"But... Caroline... people are struck down by fevers every day and die, despite an apothecary's care. Robust young ladies as much as anyone. It does not mean their friends are poisoning them. That is a very terrible accusation."
"My father is dead," said Caroline stubbornly. "I cannot accuse him."
"Why should he kill his wife?"
"I do not know. Perhaps he already wished to marry
my mother."
"Caroline!"
"I am only repeating a rumour." She was silent for a moment, then added, "I ought not to have said anything. Please do not tell this to anyone."
"Of course I will not. I do not think we should speak of it again."
"Very well," said Caroline, with a sulky air. She was quiet for a moment, then said, "At any rate—I will take heart and follow your mother's example. If Miss McLeod could defy my father, then I can defy my brother."
Catriona's conscience could not be easy at urging her to such a course of action, but she could see that it would be useless to suggest once more that Caroline tried to obtain her brother's consent by persuasion. She was too shaken by what Caroline had said about Sir Wallace and her aunt to care much, anyway. She watched as, with renewed nervous energy, Caroline jumped up from the chaise longue, raked about in a writing-desk, and produced pen and paper; all the time, casting nervous glances at the door. When she had finished some frantic scribbling, she pushed the paper into Catriona's most unwilling hands.
"Here! Read it, see if you think it suits."
"My dear Caroline, I cannot read your private love letter—"
"Oh, don't be a goose. Tell me what you think. Mackenzie will be back any moment now. Quick!"
With great reluctance, Caroline focused on the hastily scrawled words.
My dearest love, I write in the greatest agitation and fright. Yesterday my brother announced that Mr. Ross is to visit Lochlannan within the next two weeks, and told me that he will after all renew his proposals. When I protested, he beat me cruelly. I am black and blue and can scarce sit. He promises more if I do not obey him and marry Mr. Ross. I will endure any punishment for your sake, my love, but please do come and save me from my tormentors. There is not a day to lose. Your most affectionate and devoted Caroline.
"It is..." said Catriona, when she saw that Caroline expected her to say something, "Very dramatic." She folded the letter and returned it to her cousin.