“That sounds fun.”
“We pretended to be sailors. But whenever we capsized we were not so far out that we couldn’t swim ashore. My father wouldn’t let us take it out among the rocks or off the Scar Nose. I do have a boat now, though I rarely go out. What about you—did you grow up near the sea?”
“Oh, no,” I said. “I’m from Alberta—prairies, lots of high mountains… the Canadian Rockies, you know.”
“Ah, right.”
“I think that’s why I fell in love with it here—the rugged seacoast, it’s so different. I walked along the trail above the cliff between Port Scarnose and Findectifeld even before I had booked myself into Mrs. Gauld’s bed-and-breakfast. I was just driving along, stopping wherever I felt like it. When I stopped here and went for a walk on the trail, something drew me. That’s where I first played my harp in Scotland. After that, I knew I wanted to stay for a while.”
We reached the end of the village and the road that wound along the promontory. We began walking in the direction where, about a hundred yards away, a trail led out of town along the headland.
“Have you seen the dolphins?” asked the duke.
I shook my head. “Everyone talks about them, but I’ve seen nothing.”
“You have to be lucky. It’s unpredictable. I’ve lived my whole life here but have only seen them three times.”
“Maybe today will be my day.” I said.
“Where is it you played your harp?”
“Up there, on the trail along the cliff. It’s still my favorite place. Do you want to see it?”
“I would.”
We continued to chat. The duke seemed to be feeling more at ease, as was I. This was so much better than touring the castle and looking at old paintings of his dead ancestors! Ten minutes later we reached the bench. I still thought of it as mine.
“There it is,” I said. “That’s where I first brought my harp toplay.”
“Why here?”
“I don’t know. I liked the view. It just seemed right. And I think a seagull told me this was the right place.”
He glanced at me with a curious expression. But he did not ask, and I did not explain.
We sat down. The duke was breathing heavily. The climb out from the village, while not steep, had been steady. We sat for several minutes staring out at the expanse of blue ocean in front of us. With the sea to look at, with its ever-changing motion and colors and the rhythms of the waves and tide, you didn’t need to say anything. Just being there was enough.
Then I heard the last sound I would have expected. I glanced next to me and saw that the duke was chuckling.
“What is it?” I said, smiling.
“I was just thinking of something that happened a long time ago,” he said.
I waited, gazing at him, hoping he would explain. The look on his face caught me off guard. It was one I would hardly have thought him capable of—an expression of boyish delight.
“There are caves down there,” he said after a bit. “All along this coast there are dozens—hundreds of caves. Large, small, of every shape you can imagine, some harmless and some quite dangerous. Stories and legends about them abound, from pirates to the blind piper escaping from Culloden and hiding out in the caves with an infant son. But what happened to my friend and me, a couple of young scamps who couldn’t have been more than ten at the time, was enough to keep us out of the caves for a good long while.”
“What happened?”
“Do you really want to hear it?” he said, beginning to retreat back into his shell of seriousness.
“Yes, please!”
He smiled, kind of a sad and faraway smile, and drew in a deep breath as if thinking about many things. I was afraid the moment had passed and would not return. But then he spoke again.
“There was one cave in particular—just down there,” he said, pointing down over the edge. “We discovered it one day at very low tide. We used to roam all along the coast for miles. What adventures we had. On that particular day we found a cave we had never noticed before because when the tide is in it is impossible to get to. We did not even know it was accessible. On this day the tide was out and we walked around the rocks and inside on dry sand. We found a huge room in the cave that went farther back than we dared go. We ran to my friend’s house and got a torch and hurried back. Once we were able to see we explored as far back as we could go, so far inside we were out of sight of the mouth. It wound back in and made its way deep into the cliff, right here beneath us,” he said, looking about and gesturing with his hand.
“But as always happens with young nickums,” he went on, “the time got away from us. As we were looking about, we began to hear water sloshing behind us and we realized it was sloshing about inside against the walls of the cave! We scampered out through the tunnel, but already the mouth of the cave was underwater and we could not get anywhere near it. We didn’t know what to do. Had we just gone ahead immediately and forged out into it, it would not have come higher than our waists. We could have gotten out of the cave and easily have swum around to the shore where we had come from. But once the tide turns, it comes in rapidly. And we waited… and waited, not knowing what to do.
“Before another twenty minutes went by we knew that we had waited too long. The mouth was filling up and the waves were coming in harder and faster. To try to swim for it now could mean getting dashed against the rocks. We might easily have been knocked unconscious. It wasn’t a stormy sea, but neither was it a calm summer’s day. The water was rough and we knew we were in serious trouble. All we could do was back up farther in, and keep backing up inside the cave as the water crept higher and higher. The day was getting late, too. It was teatime and darkness was descending and we knew our parents would be frantic if we were not home by dark.
“The water came on, and we crept farther and farther back inside until we were all the way back in the tunnel we had explored earlier. Finally we could go back no farther. Had the tide come up another foot or two, we would have drowned right there. But though it was a high tide we managed to wait it out, terrified and freezing. Gradually darkness closed in and we knew we would have to spend the night where we were. We entertained ourselves by seeing who could think up the scariest ghost and pirate stories. A silly thing to do! We were already frightened out of our wits, so we did everything we could to add to our terror. I suppose that’s the way boys are.”
I laughed, and the duke began chuckling again.
“The wind came up and moaned through the rocks and into the cave,” he went on. “I knew we were going to die right there. At least Reddy had the sense to conserve the batteries of his torch. By the time we finally realized the tide had begun to turn again, and checked the water level with the torch, it was well on toward eleven o’clock at night. I suppose we dozed a little on and off, though we were wet and numb from the cold. Low tide didn’t come till four or five in the morning. It wasn’t light yet by then, but the instant the water was low enough that we could get out, we ran out and home. At first our parents were relieved, then furious. But we had learned our lesson.”
“That must have been terrifying!” I said. “Who told the scariest story, you or your friend?”
“Oh, Reddy, hands down! He always had a spirited imagination. He could spin a tale.”
He let out a long sigh as the memory faded and with it the happy expression that had prompted it. In its place, a look of pain, or it might have been anger, passed quickly across his features.
“Then I wouldn’t want to meet him along here on a dark night!” I said, laughing. “Actually, I’m not sure I would want to meet him anywhere if ghost stories and pirates were his stock in trade.”
“They aren’t anymore,” rejoined the duke. “He spins a different kind of tale now. Besides, it’s too late for you to wish for that.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.
“You already know him.”
“Huh?”
“It’s Reddy… Reddy Bar
clay, the curate.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Warnings
Cold, alter’d friendship’s cruel part,
To poison fortune’s ruthless dart –
Let me not break thy faithful heaert,
And say that fate is mine, love.
—Robert Burns, “Forlorn, My Love, No Comfort Near”
I did my best to hide my shock to find out that Iain and the duke had been boyhood friends. Wheels within wheels, just like Iain said!
The duke rose and walked to the edge of the cliff and peered down toward the water, as if looking for the exact spot he had been telling me about. When he returned to the bench a minute later, I rose to meet him and we began walking slowly back down the trail toward the village.
“Tell me about some of your other adventures,” I said.
“I doubt they are anything that would interest you,” he replied.
“What about the pirate stories? Were there really pirates around here?”
“That was a long time ago. To be honest, I’ve completely forgotten.”
He had retreated back into his subdued mode. Something strange was going on.
We passed several people walking their dogs. A few did double takes when they recognized the duke, but no one spoke to us other than a “Hi, ya” or a “Fine day.” A biker sped by in blue-and-yellow biking clothes, but seemed too absorbed in his ride to notice us.
“Would you like to come in for a cup of tea and a scone?” Iasked as we approached my cottage ten minutes later. Nicholls was still sitting there just as we had left him.
The question seemed to throw the duke.
“I don’t have maids and butlers to wait on us,” I said with a laugh, “but I am able to boil water. Who are all the people I see at your, uh, your house—the castle. They don’t all live there, do they?”
“Oh no, only four.”
“That man who served us lunch—he looked like something from an old movie. I didn’t know people still had butlers nowadays.”
The duke smiled. “That’s Campbell, Jean’s husband… Jean, my cook. He doubles as part-time butler and valet for me—a stuffed shirt, I’ll admit—never smiles, never shows the slightest expression, just Yes, sir… no, sir. But between he and his wife, and Alicia and Nicholls, the place is kept in tolerable order, and I am able to conduct my affairs unencumbered by the details of managing a house, much less a castle.”
“Do the Campbells live at the castle?”
He nodded. “Nicholls, Alicia, and Jean and Campbell, all have rooms and apartments on the grounds.”
“So, what do you say—would you like to come in?” I asked as we stopped on the walk in front of my house.
“I, uh… that is very kind of you,” he said hesitantly. “But I think I need to be getting back. Thank you for the walk.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I enjoyed it.”
He got in the car, Nicholls drove off, and that was that. An interesting encounter.
I went back inside and my thoughts drifted back into the channels they had been in before the duke’s unexpected visit.
I would go to Edinburgh.
I needed to get away and figure out some things, mainly what I felt about Iain. Also what to do with regard to Gwendolyn and the duke. I couldn’t keep seeing both of them without knowing what the situation was. It didn’t seem altogether honest. If the duke was Gwendolyn’s father, then I still had some pretty serious issues with that. But to be fair to him, I hadn’t heard his side of the story.
What about Gwendolyn’s mother? There were things I didn’t know. Who was she?
After meeting the duke, I had a hard time believing he was as bad as Mrs. Gauld said. But was I being duped? Maybe he was casting a spell over me. Somehow I doubted it. He was inward, withdrawn, I suppose you might even say a troubled man. He didn’t seem at ease with people or himself. But I sensed no dark powers emanating from him. He struck me as a man who was hurting.
There were certainly no dark powers in Gwendolyn!
She was a sweetheart. Who would spread such things about a child?
I decided to leave the next morning. I told Gwendolyn and Mrs. Urquhart that afternoon that I would be gone for a few days but would let them know the moment I got back. Gwendolyn started to cry and it broke my heart. I put my arms around her, the sweet thing, and stroked her hair.
“I will be back before you know it, Gwendolyn,” I said. “I will come visit you with my harp the moment I return. And do you know what will happen?”
“What?” she said, sniffling.
“After two or three days of not playing, you will enjoy the harp even more. You will be amazed at the music you will be able to make. Sometimes your fingers need a little rest. We will make some wonderful recordings when I get back.”
“But why do you have to go, Marie?”
“I just do, Gwendolyn. I’m sorry. Why don’t we promise to think about each other while I am gone? Would you like to do that? We will think good and happy thoughts about one another. It will make the time pass quickly.”
“All right, Marie. I will try. Will you think about me, too?”
“Of course I will, Gwendolyn.”
I said good-bye to Mrs. Urquhart, who seemed genuinely sorry that I wouldn’t be coming for a while. It surprised me, but I was glad.
On the way back to my cottage I went by to see Mrs. Gauld. She had invited me to visit her, after all, and we had been friendly when I had been with her. I had imagined so much ill will on account of the duke. Maybe I was just imagining it. She was the first friend I had made in Port Scarnose. I didn’t want to lose that.
She was surprised to see me, and invited me in with a friendly smile.
“Hoo are ye, dear?” she said.
“I am well, Mrs. Gauld,” I said. “And you? Have you been busy with guests?”
“An English family left this mornin’. I had a family o’ Americans for three days afore them. But I’ve no one tonight, least no yet.”
“Well, I have decided to drive down to Edinburgh for a day or two, perhaps even three. I wanted to tell you so you wouldn’t worry if you didn’t see me around.”
“’Tis very thoughtful o’ ye, dear. But I—”
She paused.
“You have been worried about me?” I said in a questioning tone. “Because of the duke?” I added.
“I canna weel help it, dear.”
“He asked me to play my harp for him,” I said in as kindly a tone as I could manage. “How could I turn down a chance to play in a Scottish castle? I wanted to do it. Everything was fine.”
“Ye dinna ken fit I ken, dear. Gien ye did, ye wad ken why I hae been worried for ye.”
“Then tell me what you know,” I said. “If there are reasons for me to avoid him, tell me what they are.”
Mrs. Gauld thought a minute.
“It all started wi’ the auld duke’s father,” she began after a long pause. “That’s the yoong duke wha’s there noo—his gran’father. He was forever travelin’ aboot, a’ roun’ the world, an’ whene’er he came back tae Port Scarnose he might hae wi’ him a Turk or a Chinese or a red Indian fae America. He was always bringin’ some strange ane or anither wi’ him, an’ women, too. He consorted wi’ strange fowk o’ all races. That’s hoo they say the place came tae be possessed o’ dark powers an’ secrets—fae the strange folk an’ their strange ways. An’ he was always havin’ tae do wi’ Gypsies an’ fortune-tellers an’ the like. He was aye drawn tae the dark side o’ things, bein’ a Celt like he was. An’ ane year he gaed off in the summer tae Skye whaur there was some gatherin’ o’ druids an’ the like—the summer solstice, it was. An’ fan he came back, he had wi’ him a woman fae the islands fit he’d married there. She was aye a Celt as well as he, wi’ powers o’ the second sicht, they said, an’ worse. That was the end o’ the comin’ an’ goin’ o’ fowk fae ither lands, but no the end o’ strange goin’s on at the castle.”
Footsteps sounded coming down the
stairs behind us. It was Tavia Maccallum who had been cleaning upstairs.
“No athegither the end o’ it, Isobel,” she said. “Dinna forgit the young doctor fae Germany wi’ his strange potions an’ the like.”
“He wasna sae lang there, Tavia.”
“Aye, but lang enouch ’tis said he brought the madness wi’ him, an’ it stayed ahind after he gaed awa’. Ye mind hoo auld Struana Grant fae the Seaton said Olivia hersel’ had insanity in her blude fae him, though he was gane lang afore she was born.”
“’Twas auld Struana that was insane,” rejoined Mrs. Gauld authoritatively. “It was jist on account o’ the curse Olivia said against her cat, ye mind.”
“Aye, an’ the cat was foun’ deid twa days later.”
“Oh, aye, an’ after that, auld Struana spread tales aboot Olivia bein’ mad tae git her revenge. But the way she deid hersel’, I’m thinkin’ she had the worst o’ that battle, as maist did wha crossed Olivia till her face.”
Tavia nodded, but said nothing more and returned upstairs with a load of fresh linens in her arms.
“How does everyone know so much about the castle?” I asked.
“Abody kens the goin’s-on at the castle,” Mrs. Gauld answered. “My husband, God rest his soul, worked as a lad for the gardener on the grounds, Farquharson, ye ken, whan he had jist begun an’ was a young man himsel’. An’ he heard things, my man said, strange chants an’ moanin’ an’ the like, comin’ fae the tower on the east side. He knew ’twas the duke’s wife, though he ne’er once laid eyes on the woman. She ne’er once set foot in the village. No one laid eyes on her. Then came word that she was wi’ child. An’ fan the auld duke was born, the duke’s father, ye ken, she didna last long after. Some say the life began tae go oot o’ her the day the auld duke’s father brought her fae Skye, an’ I dinna ken aboot that. But the auld duke was born, an’ a year or twa after that she was gone. Some say she went back tae Skye. Some say her ghost still roams the place dressed in green, seekin’ some kind o’ revenge on her husband for takin’ her fae Skye, but no one kens for what or why she deid. But mair nor ane’s heard strange noises, an’ moanin’ jist like my man heard fan she was alive. Ever syne there’s been a curse on the place. ’Course some say the green lady’s the auld coontess, nae the witch woman fae Skye. Ane thing’s for certain—’tis madness in the family an’ that’s God’s trowth, sae fan the auld Struana Grant laid sich a chairge at Olivia’s door, sma’ wunner Olivia put ane o’ her hexes on her.”
Angel Harp: A Novel Page 17