An older woman with a lilting Scots accent spoke from the doorway. “It appears my services as a chaperone are in greater demand than I expected.” A footman stood behind her, carrying a small harp.
Reluctantly Darcy released Elizabeth’s hand. At least she had not yanked it away.
“Apparently they are,” Elizabeth said ruefully. “Mrs. Graham, may I present Mr. Darcy? Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Graham is the sister of the local clan chieftain and has the misfortune of being my chaperone.”
“’Tis no misfortune, as I am not averse to a challenge!” she said with good humor. “I have been enjoying being waited upon hand and foot here.” She gestured to the footman. “Ye may put the harp over there.”
Darcy struggled to resurrect what remained of his manners. He did not want a chaperone watching him every minute, and he had already made a poor impression on her. “It is a pleasure, Mrs. Graham. You play the harp?”
“Aye, when I have the opportunity. My sons prefer the skirl of the bagpipes to the gentle tones of the harp, so I intend to take advantage of the opportunity to practice here where there is no one to complain of it.” She looked around with an air of satisfaction.
“I for one will be glad of it,” said Elizabeth. “I miss having a pianoforte to play, and will be happy to hear music again.”
“As will I,” said Darcy. “Especially as it appears I will not be doing much reading in the next few days. I thought to entertain myself with The Lady of the Lake, but the words keep swimming across the page.” Perhaps that would help her opinion of him; everyone seemed enamored of Walter Scott’s narrative poem.
“Ye have never read it?” Mrs. Graham asked. “Ye should, since ye must have seen some of the setting on your journey here.”
“Sadly, I remember little of that journey after leaving Stirling,” Darcy said. That reminded him; he needed to do something about his disloyal former valet. He intended to see the man punished for his crime. But even thinking of it made his head throb again.
“Perhaps we could read it to you,” said Elizabeth.
“Only if you would enjoy it.” Darcy suspected her sharp eyes had not missed his change of mood. He reached for the smaller decanter and carefully poured himself a glass of wine. A trace of laudanum suddenly sounded like a good idea.
“I always enjoy the story,” said Mrs. Graham. “And I will read it, since it would not sound right in an English accent.” She picked up the volume beside him and opened it. “‘Canto First. The Chase.’”
MORE SNOW FELL OVERNIGHT, dimming Elizabeth’s prospects of escape yet further. According to the housekeeper, it would take a substantial thaw to open the pass, so she resigned herself to a prolonged stay. At least there was less to worry about now that she had made her position clear to Darcy. Mrs. Graham’s constant presence, practicing her harp in the corner or reading aloud to them, eased the strain between them. Still, Elizabeth was aware of Darcy’s eyes on her, causing her skin to prickle and creating warmth deep inside her, but with the chaperone always within hearing distance, the tension did not rise to a breaking point.
By the third day, when it became obvious the enforced inactivity was starting to wear on Darcy’s nerves, Elizabeth sought new distractions for him. Asking him to assist her in going over the estate accounts led to an extended meeting where Darcy spent several hours convincing the Kinloch steward to consider utilizing new, scientific methods of farming and making better use of grazing land. His spirits seemed so much improved by being of some use that she asked him to help Timothy with his Latin lessons, the one part of his schoolwork she could not supervise.
She had some concerns about his patience for dealing with a young boy, but Darcy seemed cheerful enough when Timothy came for his first lesson that afternoon, clutching his Latin book and sitting stiffly in a chair next to Darcy’s chaise longue. Elizabeth left them alone together, lest her presence make both of them self-conscious. When she returned half an hour later, Timmy was curled up beside Darcy in the chaise, his head on Darcy’s shoulder. The three-legged collie lay sprawled on the floor beside them.
Darcy looked up at her with a wry smile. “Timothy has been advising me on how to entertain myself while I am unable to walk. Did you know that between Timothy, Bonnie Prince, and me, we have five good legs?”
Elizabeth tried to hide her smile. “That should work out to almost two good legs apiece. Bonnie Prince has more than his share.”
“An interesting mathematical problem, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said gravely. “We will have to consider that.”
“Tomorrow, perhaps,” said Elizabeth. “But here is Nurse to take Timothy for his walk now.”
“But I want to keep studying Latin,” Timmy whined.
Darcy said, “We were discussing toy soldiers, not Latin.”
Timmy gave him a guilty look. “Oh, very well. Can we do Latin again tomorrow?” he asked hopefully.
“If Miss Elizabeth and your nurse are agreeable,” Darcy said. “Now it is time for your walk.”
Timmy scrambled off the chaise and limped to the door. “Until tomorrow!”
Once he was out of sight, Elizabeth said, “You have a new admirer.”
“He is a pleasant boy. I was surprised he is doing so well in Latin given his poor health.”
“He takes his studies seriously, and there is little else he could do when confined to bed. I am glad to see he is showing a little rebelliousness. It means he is getting stronger.”
Darcy ran his finger along the spine of the book in his lap. “Is Timmy a connection of your aunt’s?”
“No. When Timmy’s mother died, a friend asked my aunt and uncle to care for him temporarily until he could make other arrangements. My cousin Imogen took a great liking to him and begged for him to remain. By the time she died, it was the only home he could remember, and my aunt did not have the heart to send him away.”
“He has no relatives?”
“Apparently not.” Elizabeth hesitated. “Even if he did, they likely could not care for him. I do not know the details, but his mother was very poor.”
Darcy raised his eyebrows. “It was good of your aunt and uncle to take him in and give him an education.”
“From all I have heard, my uncle was as kind and generous as my aunt is. Since Timothy could never manage as a laborer with his clubfoot, they hoped an education would allow him to work as a clerk or go into the church, but then he became consumptive.” She sighed deeply.
“You are attached to him.”
“Naturally. He is sweet and clever, and he never complains about his limitations.” She smiled suddenly. “And he loves the stories I tell him. How could I fail to admire a boy with such exquisite taste?”
THE FOLLOWING MORNING Darcy had almost found a comfortable position for his leg when the butler entered the drawing room and announced, “MacLaren the Younger wishes to know if Miss Merton is at home.”
Elizabeth looked up from her embroidery. “You may show him in.”
Mrs. Graham smiled broadly as she slipped a ribbon into the book to mark her place, apparently pleased at this new arrival.
The visitor proved to be a kilted ginger-haired young man who bowed to Elizabeth and kissed Mrs. Graham on the cheek. Darcy was immediately on his guard. Why would a young gentleman be calling on Elizabeth? The way the newcomer seemed perfectly at home in the house did not help his sentiments.
Elizabeth smiled at the visitor. “Welcome to Kinloch House. Mr. Darcy, may I present Mr. MacLaren, also called MacLaren the Younger? That means he is the son of the clan chieftain.”
“And my favorite nephew,” added Mrs. Graham.
“The last time I checked, I was your only nephew,” he said with a teasing smile.
“Aye, but ye would likely still be my favorite if I had half-a-dozen! Which, thankfully, I do not, since four sons and one nephew is quite enough!”
“As you have told me many times.” MacLaren approached Darcy confidently. “Do not try to stand. I have heard of your injuries.”
He held out his hand.
Darcy shook it. “A pleasure,” he said tersely.
“I am glad to meet you at last. I hope your journey down the mountain did not prove too difficult.”
“I survived it,” said Darcy. How did this young sprig know so much about him?
Elizabeth said, “Do sit down, Mr. MacLaren. Is the snow still covering the roads?”
“Aye, but my horse is accustomed to it. I hope I am not interrupting anything.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Only the second canto of The Lady of the Lake, and it will still be here later. Mrs. Graham has been reading it aloud to us.”
“Are you enjoying it?” MacLaren asked.
“Oh, yes,” said Elizabeth. “I have read it before, but I think I prefer hearing it. The rhythm comes through that way, and I notice things that I missed the first time.”
They continued to converse about Scott’s book until the refreshments arrived and Elizabeth poured out the tea.
After he took his first sip of tea, MacLaren said, “I do have a purpose for my visit today, and it is twofold. I promised to answer your questions about the mysterious ways of this household and the clan, and I also have an invitation to deliver. My father would like to meet you, but he is recovering from lung fever and is not yet strong enough to leave the castle. He begs you to do him the honor of calling at Castle Lochard at your convenience.”
“How kind of him,” Elizabeth said. “I will be happy to do so when the roads are clear.”
MacLaren bowed his head in acknowledgment. “I thank you. He will be very glad to see you. I have asked him not to bring out the thumbscrews on his favorite subject when you call, but I hope if he does, you will not permit him to make you uncomfortable.”
Elizabeth said dryly, “I thank you for the warning. I believe I will be able to defend myself adequately.”
“Thumbscrews?” Darcy did not like the sound of this, even if the torture was only metaphorical.
“Oh, yes,” said Elizabeth. “It is a somewhat embarrassing situation. You see, apart from you and me, everyone within miles of this place is anxious to see me marry Mr. MacLaren. The elder Mr. MacLaren is apparently one of those who feels it most strongly.”
His Elizabeth, to marry this young Scot? Never. “I see,” he said coldly.
“You need not worry, sir,” said MacLaren with a smile. “Miss Merton has told me she has no intention of marrying, and, unlike my father, I have accepted her refusal. No, Aunt, not a word! You promised me. I am here now only to answer Miss Merton’s questions because she expressed frustration that the staff had been keeping secrets from her.” He turned to Elizabeth. “I instructed your housekeeper to be frank with you, but she asked me to make the initial explanations.”
Darcy frowned. “May I ask what authority you have in this household?”
MacLaren looked perplexed. “I am my father’s representative.”
Elizabeth broke in. “Permit me to explain. Mr. MacLaren has no authority over the household, but the clan chieftain has certain responsibilities towards those of the staff who are members of his clan, which happens to be all of them, as near as I can tell. And, if I am not mistaken, some of the secrets have to do with clan business.”
“Thank you, Miss Merton. They do, but they were undertaken on your uncle’s orders when he purchased the estate. He was, of course, a clansman himself. Your aunt has never countermanded the orders, so they have continued.”
Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. “Am I to believe, then, that my uncle ordered elderly servants, instead of being pensioned off with thanks for their years of service, to be forced to live in the stables and continue to work?” Her voice rose with repressed outrage.
Mrs. Graham snorted. “Of course not! How could ye think such a thing?”
“No wonder you have been distressed!” exclaimed MacLaren. “The poor souls in the stable are not servants, but victims of the clearances, tenant farmers from neighboring clans whose houses were destroyed to make way for sheep farming. Those who were too weak to survive the long journey on foot to the coasts or to Glasgow were left by the roadside to die when they could go no further. Your uncle permitted such people to be brought here and allowed to live in the stables. Highlanders are proud people and dislike taking charity, so those who are able attempt to repay by helping out on the estate when they can.”
Elizabeth looked dubious. “That would certainly be a different situation, but if it is true, why did the staff not simply tell me so? Did they think I would be cruel enough to evict them to die?”
MacLaren winced. “In a word, yes,” he said heavily. “It is a regrettable assumption, but you are English and not part of the clan. Most English landlords and even some Scottish ones care only for how much money an estate can produce and nothing for their responsibility to their tenants or those in need.”
“Once again, all Englishmen are evil,” said Elizabeth resentfully.
Darcy did not like this intruder, but felt it only fair to say, “They do have some reason to believe that based on their experience. We have not treated them well, and absentee landlords who prefer to live in London are not likely to care about their tenants. That is true in England as well, but English tenants have more protection under the law.”
MacLaren steepled his fingers. “The tenants here have no protection. Kinloch was once part of my great-grandfather’s lands, but it was taken by the English after the rebellion. When the owner died, his son gave orders to clear the land. They were already evicting tenants when your uncle offered to buy the property. He paid rather more than it was worth.”
Elizabeth nodded slowly. “Did he say it would be left to someone in the clan?”
“No,” said MacLaren slowly. “It went to his daughter originally, of course. After her death, it reverted to your aunt. It was a general assumption that she would leave it to one of us, but she has the right to dispose of it however she pleases.” A trace of bitterness entered his voice.
Darcy eyed him distrustfully. “Your father’s motive for wanting a match with Miss Elizabeth is mercenary, then.”
“Purely,” said MacLaren good-naturedly. “Not, Miss Merton, that you are at all lacking in charm, but he would wish it in any case.”
Even if many marriages were made that way, Darcy still did not like it. Not when it involved Elizabeth.
“His reasons are irrelevant, since I have no intention of marrying,” Elizabeth said sharply. “Mr. MacLaren, I thank you for your helpful explanations. I have also wondered about Auld Jack’s relationship to Kinloch House.”
MacLaren hesitated. “Some of it is not my story to tell, but he is one of those who finds the poor souls left by the side of the road and brings them here.”
Elizabeth cocked an eyebrow at Darcy. “You are not the only person he has rescued.”
“Had I not been injured, he would have robbed me.” It had been no more than the highwayman’s whim that had saved him, and he had no intention of allowing it to be romanticized.
“Even if it is not your story to tell, Mr. MacLaren, is it typical for the son of the clan chieftain to have a highwayman under his protection?” asked Elizabeth pointedly. “I would have thought it would be your duty to keep the roads safe.”
The Scotsman’s eyebrows shot up. “Jack told you he was a highwayman?” His voice rose in surprise.
“Yes,” Elizabeth said firmly. “Or at the very least, he did not contradict me when I suggested it. But I saw it with my own eyes. He stopped my carriage and held it at gunpoint, even if he did let us go when he learned who I was. He planned to hold Mr. Darcy for ransom. And he threatened to kill me.”
MacLaren rubbed his eyes with one hand and muttered something under his breath. Finally he said wearily, “He has a gift for making enemies, and he should not have said or done those things. Auld Jack was the name of a local highwayman who died some years ago, and Jack adopted it when he moved to the hill fort, but he is not a thief.”
Elizabeth’s lip curled. “Am I to b
elieve he is just someone who puts on a mask and stops carriages with a gun for his own amusement?”
He set down his tea cup. “I canna explain any of this, nor why I help him, but it is not what you think.” He sounded defeated.
Darcy said sharply, “There is only one reason other than robbery that a man would stop unknown carriages with a gun. What is he guarding?”
Mrs. Graham said irritably, “Tell them the truth, Duncan, or they will suspect something worse than what it is.”
MacLaren stared silently at the floor for a long moment. “He is a free-trader, a smuggler, if you will, for a farm called the Wee Bruach. Their still produces whisky which is sold in the Lowlands. It was very popular until the Excise Act closed all small stills twenty years ago, leaving only illegal ones. When our need for money became urgent two years ago, Jack decided that re-opening the still was the best way to raise money quickly. But there are still excise officers prowling about, and the hill fort is part of a smuggler’s signaling network to warn of their approach. Jack scares them off. If he robs the officers on occasion, I am happier not knowing it.”
Darcy said suspiciously, “So the proceeds from an illegal still on Kinloch land go to the clan?”
MacLaren inclined his head. “The Wee Bruach pays its rent to Kinloch in full. Like any tenant, they can use the profit from what they produce as they choose.”
“But their profits have not been enough to save your lands,” Elizabeth guessed.
MacLaren shook his head. “Good, but not enough. If we had another three years, it would likely save us. When you arrived here, I was in Glasgow, begging the bank for more time, but they refused to oblige me. Now the money the still has made will pay for our clansmen’s passage to America.”
“What would happen if the excise officers found the still?”
A Matter of Honor Page 19