The Handfasters

by Helen Susan Swift

  “Of course you must, but have we not been working on just these matters these last seven days?”

  She had too, efficient old harridan that she was. Honestly, if they got rid of all these bumbling politicians and put Lady Elspeth and her ilk in charge of affairs, this country would run far better. It takes great skill and a lot of hard work to run a large household, my dears, and don't let anybody tell you different. What with the servants to manage, and the accounts, and ensuring that everything was up to what Lady Elspeth called Edinburgh standards, I had no idea how she found the time to arrange a wedding. But arranging it she was, and with utterly frustrating efficiency, so my days of freedom were fast slipping away frighteningly fast.

  “Take Louise with you,” Aunt Elspeth seemed to have a knack of simultaneously spoiling my plans and ruining my life. “The exercise will do her good. She has positively wilted since John Forres chose you over her.”

  I argued of course, but changing Aunt Elspeth's mind is as impossible as flying to the moon, so I was lumbered with my whining cousin as I promenaded along George Street. Despite her busy life, Aunt Elspeth took the time to escort us to the front door, and stood there to bid us a good walk. She even watched us until we reached the corner of Hanover Street, which was most irritating but strangely touching. I nearly felt a pang of guilt as I waved my handkerchief in farewell, for although I was not sure how to lose Louise, I had no intention of returning to George Street for quite some time. At least until John Forres was happily engaged to some other suitable woman.

  “Are the trees not pretty today?” I pointed to the stark branches of Queen Street Gardens, which Louise completely ignored. She had no time for anything of nature, except men.

  “How far do you intend to walk?” she asked, already pretending to limp. “For my feet hurt. A lady should never walk, not when there are carriages and sedan chairs. It is far beneath our dignity.”

  “What is dignity on such a fine day as this?” I deliberately hurried down the steep slope that leads to Princes Street, hoping to tire Louise out, or leave her trailing so far behind that she would not know what I was doing.

  “Dignity is everything,” Louise said. She clutched at my arm. “Oh do slow down Alison, you know how much I hate hurrying. It is so fatiguing.”

  I remembered her behaviour before we arrived at the Forres Residence on Hogmany, when she had left me to walk down that horrible wynd while she sat on comfort in the sedan chair. “Oh, Louise,” I said. “Don't dawdle so. Let us be on and doing. After all, I have my John to think of, and you have your most mysterious beau.” I teased her deliberately, but the results were not what I expected, as you will see by-and -by.

  Rather than turning around and storming home, as I had hoped, Louise took hold of my arm and gripped so tightly that I feared she may bruise me. “I think you are perfectly horrid, Alison Lamont,” she said, and she may well have been correct. “You know how much I admired John Forres, and you took him from me in front of everybody.”

  We had reached Princes Street now, where there were some splendid equipages slowly rolling past with the occupants admiring the view of the castle and the tumbled romance of the Old Town. Willie Kemp was not far away, sitting in his shed at the loch side, or tinkering with that foolish boat of his. I wished that I could get rid of Louise so I could run to him, for I had resolved to pour out all my feelings and chance his reaction. How could he refuse me? After all, I was a lady born and bred, and he was nothing, but very handsome with that enigmatic smile and that insufferable quiet confidence that was so unsuited to his station.

  He was an infuriating man, Willie Kemp, as well as a devious blackguard but I did love him so. But at that moment, I did not know all that and I wanted nothing more than to see him, and to lose the even more infuriating Louise Ballantyne.

  “I have walked far enough,” Louise announced, coming to a dead stop in the middle of the street and looking over toward the castle, where splashes of scarlet showed that sentinels were watching over us.

  “You go back then,” I said hopefully, “and I will continue. I have not nearly thought enough.”

  “Thought!” Louise's voice was scathing. “What is there to think about? You are just gloating because you stole my man from me!”

  The suggestion was so absurd that I laughed openly, which was not the best idea in the world. I knew that Louise was unhappy, and I knew that she resented my engagement to John Forres, but until that minute she had been unable to really voice her disquiet. Even in the privacy of our shared bedroom she could not tell me properly, in case some passing servant or even her mother was listening. But there were no servants here, and for once the street was clear of carriages.

  “I hate you!” Louise's sudden scream frightened the seagulls that overwintered in the Nor' Loch so that a great flock exploded into frantic flight around our ears. “I hate you for taking John from me!”

  I was so taken aback, for our family squabbles in Badenoch, although frequent, had not lasted so long or included so much vitriol as Louise could inject into only a few small words, I could only stare at her.

  “You came to my house and immediately caused trouble!” Louise had dropped her voice to a sibilant hiss that was even more poisonous, and I felt my ears and cheeks burn. “I've spent my life looking for a man like John Forres and it's me he should marry, not you!” She was gripping both my arms and leaning close to me so her mouth was inches from my face and I could not escape her words.

  “Louise,” I said, and tried to sound stern. “Consider your position! You are behaving in a most unladylike fashion!”

  Unfortunately Louise was really too passionate to care about her position, and rather than withdraw, she took hold of my cloak and began to pull me this way and that. Now, as I have already indicated, I was not one of these nymph-like girls with no figure. I was a young lady of plentiful curves and the comfortable weight that naturally accompanies them, and I was really quite irritated at her behaviour, so I took hold of her and pushed back.

  I realise, my dears, that you must be recoiling in horror at this disgraceful scene, but I feel that I must relate even the most shocking events in my young life, and wrestling with my cousin must rank high on that list. Louise was half a head taller than I, and two years older, but my centre of balance was lower so we were quite evenly matched, so within a few minutes we had crossed Princes Street, still struggling, and were tottering on the edge of the road. Now there were some people staring at us from their carriages, but we were too far gone in anger to take heed, and then one of us tripped, Louise screamed in my ear and we were both rolling hitherty-scitherty down the slope that led to the Nor' Loch.

  Can you imagine the scene we must have provided? And can you imagine the scandal to my aunt? Two young, well brought up and respectable ladies rolling down a slope with our legs kicking, our skirts and petticoats flying and portions of bare ankle and even bare leg exposed for public view? My goodness, I am now an old and done lady I still feel ashamed, albeit slightly exhilarated, when I relive that event.

  There were a few moments when the world seemed all topsy turvy, with one minute Louise on top, and then me, but when we reached the muddy ground at the bottom we were still holding each other. Now, you would think that such an excitement would have dampened our ardour but not a bit of us. We hated each other heartily that day, and no sooner had we risen than we were at it again, tongue lashing each other as we wrestled for supremacy.

  It was Louise who wrenched her arm free first, and swung a mighty slap that nearly took my head off. I screamed at the affront but retaliated with a slap of my own. I am still ashamed to admit, my dears, that there is little more satisfying in this world than landing an effective slap on somebody who richly deserves it. I can still feel the thrill of impact and see Louise stagger back, one hand to her face and her mouth working.

  I followed, intent on satisfying myself further.

  “You!” Louise screeched, much like a gutter-mouthed Newhaven fishwife, e
xcept without the propensity for hard work. “You…” she called me a few names that no lady should hear, yet alone know, and which I will refrain from writing down here. It's for your own good, my dears, so don't fret now. Perhaps your husbands will teach you these words, if you annoy them suitably. Try driving his latest coach and scratching the bodywork; that should do the trick.

  Of course I retaliated in kind, for I have heard the servants talk and I was aware of the words, even if I was sometimes unsure of their meaning, so we were going at it hammer and tongs and no doubt terrifying any passing horses, when Louise gave the choicest of insults.

  “You are just a lion hunter,” she said, inferring that I spent all my time chasing after men.

  “I am not,” I told her, “and you can keep your John Forres, and all the other Forreses. Indeed you can keep all the gentle born men in Edinburgh for I do not want them!”

  “Oh no?” Louise sneered, standing back slightly and nearly staggering on the edge of the loch. She did not fall in, unfortunately. Perhaps I should have pushed her. “If you don't want them, who do you want? Some Highland chief perhaps? Do you expect some great poetical Ossian to come bounding out of the heather and carry you away?”

  That slur on my Highland blood was too much. I finally lost all control, which is unusual for me. “Oh no,” I told her. “I have a better man than any that are bred in the Highlands. I want Willie Kemp!”

  As soon as the words were out of my mouth I regretted having said them, and the expression of mixed shock and triumph on Louse's face doubled my discomposure.

  “You want Willie Kemp!” Her laugh was more painful than a dozen slaps, and I did not know what to do. I remember that I stood with my mouth open, staring at her, and then I begged, literally begged, her not to say anything.

  “Oh Alison! Oh this is just priceless! Of course I will tell people. I will tell everybody about the proud Highland princess who came to the capital in search of a husband!” She was mocking, with that great mane of hair floating around her perfect doll face and her lovely mouth as full as spite as anything I have ever seen.

  “Please, Louise, please don't tell Aunt Elspeth!” I wondered if I should fall on my knees to plead. “Please don't.”

  “Oh but I will,” Louise stepped sideways, away from the loch. “I will tell everybody about your aspirations, my dear, darling cousin. I mean, you are hardly in the same class, are you?”

  “I know,” I admitted, more miserable than I had been for many years. “I am a gentlewoman and he is only a mechanic.”

  Louise stopped in mid sentence and stared at me. “My, my,” she said slowly and with exquisite relish. “You are indeed an ignorant little creature aren't you? You love him, don't you?”

  I nodded. I seemed to be nodding a lot these past few days, while a variety of people interrogated me. That's the trouble with youth, dears, everybody thinks they have a right to know all your business. Well, take a tip from me and only tell somebody you can really trust, like your great-grandmother, and keep most to yourself.

  “You really love Willie Kemp the mechanic; Willie Kemp!” She was laughing again, cutting cruelly at my fragmented pride. “Say it out loud and I might not tell anybody. Go on, shout it out.”

  I obeyed fool that I was, opening my mouth and shouting out the words that she fed me. “I love Willie Kemp!”

  “Shout louder, cousin dear. Scream it with all your might or I will tell mother.”

  “I love Willie Kemp!” I yelled.

  “Now shout that you love Willie Kemp even although he is only a mere artisan,” her voice was pure poison.

  “I love Willie Kemp, although he is only a mere artisan!” I yelled, hurting my throat with the effort.

  “No,” Louise shook her head so her blonde hair curled around her face. “I said 'even although' and you missed out the even.” She stepped away, heading for the banking that led to Princes Street. “So I will tell mama right away, and then you will really be in trouble.” She paused, one leg stretched before her as she spoke over her shoulder. “You've never seen mama in a real stinking temper. Oh, Alison, I would not like to be you when you get back, but I'm already looking forward to it!” Quite forgetting her sore feet, she scrambled up that bank, squared her shoulders and hurried off with her tale.

  I watched her go, quite deflated and with my eyes prickling, but worse was to come. I do not know how long I stood there; it might have been ten seconds or two minutes but to me it seemed like a lifetime. If I had known what was to come I might have stepped into the loch and bid a sad farewell to the world, but we cannot tell the future, you see. In the days to come I was to say “good day” to my husband and “adieu” to Willie Kemp, but fate had to use me ill first, as you will see.

  “So, Miss Lamont.” The voice was familiar but unwelcome at that time as I turned around to see Willie Kemp staring at me. “What was all that noise about?”

  I shook my head. “It doesn't matter,” I said, but already the tears were streaking my cheeks.

  “Come and talk to me,” he invited, and his hand was comforting around my shoulder as he escorted me around the loch. Only when I was back inside that familiar shed and sitting by the same old fire with a mug of hot soup in my hand, did he crouch at my side.

  “I heard what was said,” Mr Kemp told me, and my tears began in earnest.

  “I'm sorry,” I said, “but I did not know how to tell you.”

  “Ah,” Mr Kemp said, as calm and in control as ever. “So when you told me about this man that you love, that was me?”

  “Yes,” I said and looked at him in hope of a reciprocal announcement. Instead Mr Kemp shook his head sensibly.

  “But would it work out, Miss Lamont? I am very flattered of course, a good looking, no, a very good looking gentlewoman like you and me, a mere artisan?”

  For a moment I thought that he was laughing at me, but then his eyes returned to their normal solemn brown. “But you do like me,” I reminded him. “We have kissed…”

  “We have,” he admitted. “And very pleasant it was too. But I believe that you have also exchanged kisses with Mr John Forres?”

  “Only one kiss,” I denied that I would do such a thing more than once. “And it was not a very pleasant one.”

  “Apparently Mr Forres does not agree, if he wants to marry you.”

  “You kissed me more than once,” I pointed out, with my voice a trifle tart.

  “I am fully aware of that, but even a score of kisses is not a sound basis for a successful marriage,” Mr Kemp said, quietly. “And that is especially true for a marriage where the two participants are from such different backgrounds.”

  “I cannot go back now,” I said, suddenly sober, “Louise will tell Aunt Elspeth what I said.” I looked up as another thought struck me. “She will also inform John Forres.”

  “Surely that is no bad thing,” Mr Kemp remained crouched at my side. I saw the streak of black oil on his forearms and wondered if I could spend the rest of my life with an artisan who tinkered with machines. Strangely, the idea did not concern me in the slightest. “If Mr John Forres hears about your attraction to a mechanic, he might break off the engagement.”

  “No,” I shook my head once more. Really, I am surprised that my head was still attached to my neck, the number of times it was shaken back then. “They will lock me in my room to ensure that I am at the wedding. John Forres has announced that he will marry me, and what I have seen of the man assures me that he is too proud to go back on his word.”

  “I understand.” Mr Kemp stood up in a single swift movement. “Only one thing remains to be done, then.”

  “And what is that, pray?” I waited for Mr Kemp's pronouncement, fully expecting that he would take me back to my aunt. I had quite forgotten our earlier agreement. That is the consequence of arguing, you see, it drives away all sensible thoughts from your head. It is always best to keep clear thoughts, my dears, and avoid hot blood.

  “I must take you somewhere safe, as we
already decided.” His smile was as gentle as any doting father, and I would have loved to throw myself into his arms, despite the smears of oil. Instead I merely ducked my head.

  “Thank you, Mr Kemp,” I said, and I really meant it.

  When I look back on that day, I should remember that decision of Mr Kemp's, and the total change it made in my life, but I do not. Instead I remember that resounding slap that I landed on Louse's pretty face. Indeed, I must admit that it is one of my most treasured memories. I only wish that I had been able to land another.

  Chapter Eight

  I had expected that Mr Kemp would have to make a number of arrangements for our journey to God knew where, but instead he insisted that we leave virtually immediately.

  “But Mr Kemp,” I protested, for I was unused to such hurried departures. “Why the rush?”

  “Because, my dear, the second that your beloved cousin informs Lady Elspeth what you said, I suspect Her Ladyship will race here hot-foot.”

  I nodded. Aunt Elspeth could indeed be an impetuous woman, when she was not being infuriatingly efficient. I looked to the door, half expecting her to burst it open and thrust inside, brandishing her parasol and a certificate of marriage. “My goodness, Mr Kemp, let us be off indeed.”

  It was only when we had travelled a good quarter mile from the loch, in a direction opposite to Edinburgh, that I thought to enquire where we were going.

  “To a little place I know where you will be very snug and quite secure,” Mr Kemp told me, unsmiling. “And it is a place that I doubt that Mr John Forres would ever venture, although I am not so sure about your aunt.” He smiled to me again. “Lady Elspeth is quite a formidable woman.”

  We walked as far as the Village of Dean, by the Water of Leith, and here Mr Kemp hired a small horse for me. I did not hear the details of the transaction, for he asked me to wait in the lee of one of the mills, whose wheel churned the water white in a manner reminiscent of the steam boat on the Nor' Loch.