Blazing Glen

by Oliver, Marina

  'I will pack my bundle and slip away as soon as possible,' she said hurriedly to Margaret. 'I don't want to speak to Alastair. He'd only try to persuade me not to go, and I won't be beholden to him any more, either. Will you tell him I shall be all right? And please don't tell him where to find me!'

  Margaret made no move to alight from the carriage. 'What about your pony?'

  Janet had forgotten that. 'Is he in your stables? I never gave him a thought! How remiss of me.'

  'You have had rather a lot of other things to think about,' Margaret said comfortingly. 'Shall I keep him for you?'

  'That would put you to trouble and expense. Oh dear, please will you sell him for me?'

  'I will, and get the money to you somehow. It will be a start towards your Canada fund.'

  Impulsively Janet hugged her. 'You have been a real friend, and I do thank you so much.'

  'I wonder if you will when you have been slaving away for a month or two cleaning rooms and making beds, and carrying coals and slops up endless stairs?' she asked, and Janet laughed a little ruefully.

  'I'm strong, I worked hard from morn to night in Strathnaver. I'm no weakling, and I have an important reason for doing it. Next summer, I hope, I'll be off to Nova Scotia.'

  'Come and see me occasionally, please, and don't dare leave without telling me.'

  'I won't, I promise.'

  ***

  Chapter 7

  For the first few days Janet was too weary to do more than fall into bed at night and go straight to sleep. She had no time or energy to mourn for Mary, or think of Alastair. On her first half day off, when she wanted nothing better than to crawl into her bed and rest, she found Murdo waiting for her at the foot of the stairs to the attics.

  'I arranged to have the same time off as you,' he said, and Janet thought he had an intolerably smug look in his eyes. How could she ever have imagined she liked him, she asked herself.

  'Yes?' was all she could manage.

  'We can go out, see a bit of Glasgow together,' he suggested.

  'I'm too tired,' she replied, beginning to climb the stairs. 'All I need is my bed.'

  For one appalled moment, as he placed a foot on the step behind her, she thought he was about to suggest that he kept her company in bed, but then he laughed.

  'It's too hard work for you, is it? You'd prefer to be a lady of leisure, kept by that strutting Englishman? Are you going out with him, is that why you don't want me? Well, I've had enough, Janet Mackay! Don't come crawling back to me for comfort when he's left you. You have to choose, me or him, and this is the last chance I'm giving you.'

  'I've never wanted either of you,' Janet flared, 'and it's about time you accepted it, Murdo!'

  She stared at him until his own gaze dropped, and he turned away. 'Janet, you've been bewitched!' she heard him mutter.

  Wearily she climbed the stairs and sank onto her lumpy straw pallet. Normally the lumps did not keep her awake, she was too exhausted and would have slept happily on the bare wooden floor. Perhaps it was because it was the middle of the day that she could not settle, and felt every unevenness, sticking into her ribs and hips and legs, making it impossible to sleep as she'd hoped.

  When another of the maids came upstairs and seemed eager to talk, Janet welcomed the distraction. Betty was a cheerful, uncomplicated girl who had done her best to be friendly and show Janet how she could do things properly but with the least effort.

  'He's here again,' she said, 'asking for you.'

  'Murdo?' Janet asked, surprised. She'd thought he had at last accepted her rejection.

  'No, not him! I know he's been making sheep's eyes at you all the time you've worked here, but he doesn't drive a smart phaeton, with high-bred horses and a groom in livery! Not unless he's stolen them!' she giggled.

  'Then who do you mean?' Janet demanded.

  'Some Englishman. He's been asking about you for days, and someone told him you have this afternoon off. He's sent a note. Here it is.'

  She handed over a sheet of paper, sealed, Janet saw, with a brief moment of thankfulness. Many of the maids had been to school for at least a year or two, and could read a little. If, as she feared, this was from Alastair, for what other Englishman did she know, she did not want the other maids to gossip about her more than they already would.

  She opened it slowly, and read the short message inside.

  'I have a letter for you, from your brother. Please will you come down and speak with me for a few minutes. I will wait at the back of the hotel. Alastair Fenton.'

  Janet's weariness vanished, and she sprang up and began to change into her best gown, and brush her hair.

  Betty chuckled. 'I've heard he's a right handsome fellow,' she said with a wink.

  'He has a letter from my brother, my brother who's gone to Canada,' Janet explained.

  'Then why has he been here several times this week? He could have left the letter for you. My Duncan would have given it to you.'

  Janet scarcely listened, though she wondered the same. Duncan was one of the porters, and Betty learned all sorts of gossip from him.

  'Well, I'd best be getting back or the old hag will be after me,' Betty said with a sigh.

  Janet chuckled. The housekeeper was a handsome, middle aged woman, but she was stern, and the maids all called her the old hag. Janet suspected she knew this, but didn't care so long as they did their work satisfactorily.

  She was ready moments later, and went down the stairs, not aware that her step was now sprightly, and her eyes bright with eagerness. All trace of weariness had gone, and she could hardly wait, eager to read what her brother had written.

  At the back of the hotel she found Alastair sitting in a phaeton. It probably belonged to Gordon, she thought, as would the horses and the tiny groom who was standing at the heads of the horses. Alastair leapt down, smiling at her in a way that made her blush with embarrassment in case any of the other maids saw her, and handed her up into the vehicle. He climbed back into it, and nodded to the groom, who turned and walked away as Alastair shook the reins and put the horses to a trot.

  'My letter? It's true, isn't it? How did you get it?' Janet demanded breathlessly.

  'It's true, but let's go somewhere quieter before you read it. I was worried that Iain might have written to you in Strathnaver, so I asked one of the Ministers to send it on to me if a letter came. I didn't expect it to be so soon, though.'

  'How did you know where I was working?'

  'Margaret told me when she knew about the letter. She hopes you'll forgive her for breaking her promise.'

  He guided the horse through the traffic and Janet had to contain her impatience until he drew to a halt on Glasgow Green, the vast open space beside the River Clyde which was a pleasure ground for the whole of the citizenry.

  Janet almost snatched the letter when he held it out to her, and tore off the covering impatiently. She began to read, pausing occasionally to reread some of Iain's cramped handwriting. Then, looking blank, she raised her head and stared in front of her, not speaking.

  Alastair, with a murmured word of comfort, put his hand on top of hers, and she turned to him.

  'He's married,' she said. 'He's married a girl he met on the ship.'

  'It's to be expected, a young man facing a new life in a strange country, he wouldn't wish to be alone. Do you mind?'

  Janet shook her head fiercely. 'No, of course not, if he's happy. But he was so in love with Elizabeth Ross, and devastated when she was killed. Her family had a town house near ours in Edinburgh, they'd known one another for years, and it had never been anyone else for Iain. How could he change his affections so suddenly?'

  'He and this girl would have been together for six weeks or more on the ship, remember. That's plenty of time to come to know someone. And perhaps he had to decide quickly, before they lost sight of one another if her family were going to a different place.'

  'But he loved Elizabeth so much.'

  'She was lost to him, Janet. I'
m not saying this girl is second best. I believe it's possible to love more than once, and what's more, to know in an instant whether someone is the right person for you. What does he say about her?'

  'She came from somewhere near Oban, and her parents and small brother died on the voyage.'

  'What is it you're afraid of? That he won't want you now? Being married doesn't cut men off from other family ties.'

  'No, but things are bound to be different. They have to be. There were only the two of us left. And - oh Alastair, Her name's Mary. I would have to call her, think of her, as Mary!'

  'That would hurt, being your grandmother's name?'

  Janet took a deep, shuddering breath. 'I'll get used to it, in time. I expect I'll be used to it before I even leave Glasgow. It will be strange, but lots of girls have the same name. Mary is a very common name, after all.'

  'You don't have to go,' he said gently.

  'Marry Murdo, you mean?' Janet laughed. 'I never would, and I think I have convinced him at last. No, I still mean to go, and I'll have time to get used to the idea of Iain being wed. I should have thought of it months ago, he was bound to marry eventually, but somehow I never thought of it. Not so soon after Elizabeth.'

  'Not Murdo,' Alastair said quietly. 'He would never do for you. I'm asking you to marry me.'

  Janet turned and stared at him in amazement. 'Marry? You? But I thought - ' she broke off. It was too embarrassing to tell him that she had imagined, should he ever want her, it would not be through marriage.

  'You thought?' he prompted.

  She shook her head. Neither could she tell him she thought he would marry Sophia, now his brother was dead. If it had been a suitable match for his brother, for reasons of uniting their estates, it would be a suitable one now for him.

  'I didn't think you could want to marry me. I don't have big estates, or any sort of fortune.'

  'I see. Are those really important, the only reasons you can think of for marriage?'

  Janet flushed painfully. 'I think you have offered out of pity, and that I could not endure. Please will you take me back now? I am vey tired, and was hoping to rest this afternoon.'

  'Very well, but only if you promise to come out with me again, and tell me how things go with you, and whether you wish to go to Canada immediately,' he said. 'I will lend you the money in that case.'

  He refused to start the carriage until she reluctantly agreed, and they arranged to meet at the same time the following week. 'By then you will have been able to absorb the news,' he said lightly, 'and know better what you wish to do.'

  Janet spent the rest of the day lying on her bed, unable to sleep, trying to decide what Alastair had meant. The news he'd referred to must be Iain's marriage, but did he mean this when he talked about her decisions? Had he, could he have meant that astounding offer of marriage?

  She admitted to herself, reluctantly, that she was tempted by the notion, now that it had been suggested. From their first meeting he had made such an impact on her that he was rarely out of her thoughts. He was exciting, his kisses made her tremble. Was that love? She wasn't sure she knew what love was. She'd believed it was because he was so different from the clansmen, or any of the men she'd met in Edinburgh in her previous life, that she thought so much about him. Did she, incredible though it might seem, love him, a wealthy Englishman? Even more unbelievable was the possibility that he might love her.

  Yet love was no basis for marriage, not for people like Alastair Fenton. From the little she had seen and heard while staying with the MacBeiths, she had understood Alastair's estates were extensive and profitable. He had to marry someone who could bring him more wealth, or land, or influence, or social elevation. Men like him never married penniless girls from Highland crofts.

  She hadn't always been penniless, she reminded herself. She had been born to moderate affluence, even if it was nowhere near what she suspected Alastair's fortune to be. Her father had been a respected businessman, her mother from a good Edinburgh family. If they had not died she could have expected, in time, to marry well, even if she would not have considered looking as high as Alastair.

  Janet sighed and tried to forget it all and think about Iain. She hoped he would be happy, and tried to be thankful that he would have the comfort of a wife in his new, probably harsh and difficult life. Ought she to travel to Canada now? He had been insistent in his letter that he and Mary were eagerly awaiting her coming, though of course they did not know of her grandmother's death. But they had all known Mary could not live for much longer, so it was natural Iain should refer to the time when she would be free.

  She could be an embarrassment if she went too soon. How could any newly-wed couple welcome a third person into what might of necessity be a very primitive existence? She'd heard tales of how the new settlers had built small, one-room log cabins, even less spacious than the Highland crofts. Iain and his bride might be confined to one room to begin with, and that would never do. Even if she went next summer, it would be too soon. But she doubted her ability to survive more than a year of the already excruciating boredom of this job.

  It would have made life so much simpler if she could have believed Alastair really wanted her. She admitted that the thought of marriage to him, never before dreamt of, because it would have seemed too impossible, was tempting.

  Did she love him? Her thoughts went round and round, and she tossed restlessly. Even if she did love him, and he felt more than pity for her, it would be wrong to give in to the temptation. There was Sophia. In every way she would be the ideal wife for him. If she had been unpleasant Janet could have persuaded herself she would have made Alastair miserable, and she might have been prepared to save him from such a fate.

  At the thought she laughed out loud. Such a sacrifice was ludicrous. Besides, Sophia was pretty, a delightful companion, anxious to please and friendly. She would make Alastair happy as well as bring him lands to add to his own. Janet sat up and punched her lumpy pillow. She ought to be pleased for him. The fact was she was horribly confused, and didn't know what she wanted. Was it to be Canada and becoming an unwelcome third in Iain's household? Or ignoring all common sense considerations and accepting Alastair's proposal?

  No, she could tolerate neither situation. There had to be a third way out of this dilemma. For a brief, very brief second she thought of Murdo, but as hurriedly dismissed him. She could never marry him.

  Her problems unresolved, she eventually fell asleep, to wake heavy-eyed and drag herself about her duties the following day.

  Matters were not helped when Murdo cornered her in the stableyard when she was sent on an errand to one of the visiting grooms.

  'I saw you yesterday, riding with that damned Englishman when you'd told me you were too weary to go out with me!' he stormed at her, pinning her against the wall with his hands placed either side of her head, and leaning so close that his spittle flecked her face.

  'I had a message - ' she began, but he interrupted furiously.

  'A message from him sends you hurrying to his side, whereas I have to plead for you to even give me the time of day! Janet, I love you, I want to marry you, I'll do anything for you!'

  She felt trapped. How could she keep on disappointing him when he was so obviously unhappy at her continued rejection? Unlike Alastair, she thought. He accepted her refusal calmly, and did not appear too downcast about it, even offering to help her get to Canada. He couldn't feel anything for her, not like poor Murdo did.

  'I might consider it,' she said at last. Perhaps that would satisfy him, and prevent this constant pleading. She might be able to bargain with him, and gradually make him realise that it would not do.

  'Janet? Ye mean it?'

  To her annoyance he lifted her off her feet and swung her round in an excess of joy, and then pulled her to him and gave her a long kiss. She submitted for a moment, and then pulled away. It wasn't like Alastair's kisses. And this was no way to deter him, and she must have been mad to give him any encouragement.
r />   Murdo was still talking, and she forced herself to listen. 'What did you say?' she asked. 'What's that about rooms to live in?'

  'Well, we couldn't live here, they don't have places for married couples, but one of us could get a job at another hotel, and if we lived out they would pay us more. And I have already spoken for some rooms, and paid rent for a year. Janet, it would be wonderful!'

  'Where did you find money for a year's rent?' she asked. The clansmen never had much to spare, and Murdo had been trying to run his family's holding alone for the past two years.

  He grinned in triumph. 'Your passage money,' he said. 'I took it while you were by the river, the night Mary died. I decided it was safer for me to look after it than leave it in an unlocked box anyone could have opened. I thought you'd discover it was gone earlier.'

  Janet felt as though she'd been kicked in the stomach. She felt sick, with an anger more cold and deadly than she had ever felt before.

  'You stole my money?' she breathed at last. 'And you let me think it had gone for ever?'

  'I had to stop you going to Canada,' he explained, without any apparent realisation of the enormity of what he'd done.

  'When you knew how desperate I was to get there? You stole it, and you've condemned me to slave away in this place for a pittance when I could have been on the sea by now, on my way to Iain?'

  'But I don't want you to leave me! I want us to get married, and I have a home ready for us.'

  Janet suddenly exploded with anger. 'You don't love me, Murdo Mackay! All you care about is what you want! This finishes us. I'll never marry you, and if you don't somehow get that money back for me I'll charge you with theft, and you'll be put in prison, and I hope you'll rot there!

  ***

  Chapter 8

  Janet, exhausted by the strength of her fury, slept not at all that night. Her first instinct, when she had pushed the bewildered, protesting Murdo away from her and flown up the stairs to her room, had been to find Alastair and beg him to help. Then calmer thoughts prevailed. How could she demand his help? This was something she had to deal with herself.