‘You sound as if you know something about her.’
‘I do, worse luck. She wouldnae meet Rab Mossgiel there because she was in the habit of meeting another body there.’
‘Are you talking about Jamie Montgomerie?’
‘Aye, I am.’
‘Is that still going on?’
‘I’ve no notion. I’ve not seen much of May Campbell since she went back to work at Coilsfield, and that’s the truth. But she was fond of Rab Mossgiel. Very fond of him. And Rab was sorry for her.’
‘He has a warm heart where the lassies are concerned.’
‘That’s what you could call it, for sure.’
It hurt the heart of her. Here she was, in Paisley, carrying his child, the subject of so much gossip and censure, while he was in Mauchline carrying on with May Campbell of all people. It was like a deliberate slight, as though he knew what would be most calculated to injure her. It was cruel, and she hadn’t thought it of him. But perhaps she hadn’t realised the depths of his hurt either. She wanted to cry, but thought that crying would do no good at all.
Rab Wilson took her hand, his face raw with concern.
‘Jeany – are you all right?’
‘I will be. I’m just disappointed in him.’
‘Well, it pains me to admit it, but it seems to me that he is hitting upon precisely the worst thing he can do to you. I don’t like it, but I do understand it. And you know May Campbell. She has this air of…’
‘Helplessness. Aye. She has. Men like that kind of thing. Especially men like Rab Mossgiel.’
‘He doesn’t ken what’s good for him. Has no idea how fine you are. What a treasure he has in you.’
She took a great sobbing breath, controlling herself with an effort. ‘You’re so kind to me. But you’d best go, or they’ll be thinking I’ve agreed to marry you.’ She smiled, tremulously. She saw that she could marry him, live here in Paisley, bear her child and then his children. He was not a man to bear grudges, a good man, kind, generous, a little solemn to be sure. It would not be a bad life. The temptation was very great, when she was so alone here, so very much without resources. But she couldn’t do it. Somewhere deep inside her, a voice was telling her that she mustn’t do it. It was not destined to be.
‘Jean!’ He had stood up and was preparing to take his leave. ‘Do you have any money?’
‘Nothing. They let me bring my clothes but that’s all. They feed me here, and I help with the weans. They’re not unkind, but I have nothing.’
He pulled a handful of silver coins out of his pocket. She would have refused them, backing away from him, but he seized her hand and folded her fingers over the money.
‘Jeany, this is as much for me as for you. I should feel very sorry to think of you without the wherewithal to buy anything. Hide these away somewhere, or they may take them off you. At least it means that if the opportunity arises, or if you really can’t bear to be here any longer, you’ll have some means to go home without recourse to any of your relatives.’
‘You’re so kind to me.’
‘I’m very fond of you. As who wouldnae be? And if you’re agreeable, I’ll come and visit you again.’
‘I’ll be glad to see you.’
‘Listen – I won’t speak to your aunt and uncle about what we’ve said today. Well, I won’t speak in any great detail. This isn’t because I’m trying to persuade you. But if they think…’
‘That there is a chance … aye … they’ll allow you to keep on visiting me.’
‘Exactly.’
‘And you’ll bring me what news you can from Mauchline?’
He looked at her in some dismay. ‘Do you want news from Mauchline?’
‘I may not want it, but I surely need it.’
‘Will you write to him, Jean? D’you think it would help?’
‘I would have. I might even have asked you to take a letter for me if you would do it.’
‘I’ll do it if you want me to.’
She thought of pretty May Campbell with her fair hair and her sweet face. She thought of May and Rab, walking on the banks of the river Ayr, with spring coming on fast, the buds on all the trees, the bluebells scenting the woods. She thought of all the places where they had lain together, kissing and conversing, murmuring of love and liking, and kissing again.
‘No. I won’t write to him. I won’t lower myself to plead with him. If he can forget me so soon, so quickly, then perhaps my mother and father are right. Perhaps I should try to forget him as well. Although I’m living with a constant reminder.’ She patted her belly. ‘But bring me what news you can from Mauchline, even if you think it’ll hurt me to hear it. I can at least trust you not to make more of it than it is.’
‘You can. And I will. Take care, Jean. And don’t be too downhearted. Maybe it’ll all come right in the end.’
He took his leave of her, and she saw that her aunt and uncle were smiling as he left, thinking that the meeting had gone as well as could be expected, thinking that if there was any young man who could put Rab the poet out of their niece’s mind, it would surely be Rab the weaver.
The next time he came, Rab Wilson brought another bundle of news from Mauchline. Her parents were trying hard to pretend that she was not with child, although since James was consulting lawyers and the holy beagles of the kirk were in full cry after Rab Mossgiel, this was getting harder by the day. The book of his poetry was going to be published in Kilmarnock, and there were already plenty of subscribers, including Mr Aiken himself, so the venture was likely to be a success. Nevertheless, he was still making plans to go to the Indies. Probably in October of that year. He had asked May Campbell to go with him, although that was only a rumour. Perhaps he had asked May Campbell if – were he to send for her – she would join him there. That was another rumour. Her friends at Coilsfield and in Mauchline were tight lipped about it all, Rab’s friends less so. They said that one John Lees was acting as black fit between the two of them.
‘Not Katy Govan, then?’ asked Jean.
‘No, not Katy Govan. Why?’
‘Ach never mind. Don’t mind me.’
‘Well, there’s more if you want to hear it.’
‘I do want to hear it. I want to ken all about it.’
In an effort to convince Rab Mossgiel that May was not all she should be, some of his cronies had arranged to meet him in the wee tavern near the bleach green, the one they called The Elbow because of where it sat on a bend in the lane and the consequent shape of it. It was owned by a seaman who had given up the sea and, as so many of them did, had taken to selling drink to make a reasonably honest shilling. Old Tar, they called him. Rab, all unsuspecting, had joined the other lads there one light spring evening, in the middle room that was kitchen and snug in one, only to see a blushing May Campbell emerge from an inner room, where there was a convenient bed, in the very act of adjusting her gown. May had passed Rab by without a second glance, blushing at the jeers and catcalls of the other lads. There was a pause, and then James Montgomerie himself strode out, all unabashed. The door was open, the bed rumpled.
‘But none of this seemed to persuade him,’ said Rab Wilson, frowning. ‘Your Robert, I mean. He just would not have it. I think she cannot be faithful to him, but it seems he doesn’t care. Not where Montgomerie is concerned, anyway.’
Jean shook her head, sorry for May, sorry for her man too, in spite of herself. She thought of Rab Mossgiel arranging for a bedroom at the Whitefoord Arms, much as James must have arranged for the use of a room at the Elbow Tavern.
‘The thing is, he kens fine that she loves Jamie.’
‘He does?’
‘Oh, aye, he does.’
She remembered that day last year, down by the banks of the Ayr, poor May Campbell rushing through the shrubs and bushes, her sad, tearstained face, Rab’s concern for her. Nothing if not sof
t hearted.
‘He kens all about it, and so do I for that matter. She’s been in love with Jamie Montgomerie for years. Since ever she first went to work at Coilsfield, I fancy, and that was a few years ago now.’
She almost told him about the lost baby, almost told him the truth about May Campbell’s summer spent working for Gavin Hamilton and the real reason for it, but she stopped herself just in time, biting her tongue. It was not her secret to tell and, much as she trusted Rab Wilson to keep his own counsel, these things had a habit of slipping out. It would never do.
‘Then why is she planning to go away with Rab Burns?’
‘Desperation? Resignation? She likes him well enough. There’ll never be anything but the occasional snatched moment for her with Jamie Montgomerie and she knows it, but I think she cannot say no to him while they are living in the same house.’
Just as I couldn’t say no to Rab Mossgiel, she thought, feeling again that suffocating sensation that she might die for lack of him. That perhaps she would rather die. How strong the desires of the body were, overriding all considerations of morality and propriety. And how very unwise. No wonder the Saviour had said, ‘let him who is without sin cast the first stone.’
‘You think they are both trying to make the best of it?’
‘I think maybe they are.’
‘Well, as far as I know, she has left Coilsfield now.’
‘She has left?’ Jean was very surprised. Leaving Coilsfield meant leaving Jamie Montgomerie.
‘Aye. She left on Whitsunday, as was her right. Her friends seem to think that she is going home to Campbeltown to make whatever arrangements are needed with her family, and to wait for him, for Rab, to summon her. If he ever does.’
‘You think it unlikely?’ There was a certain amount of comfort in talking about it with somebody who knew and sympathised.
He shook his head. She thought how easy she was in his company these days. Like a brother. Like one of her grown up brothers. ‘Not so much unlikely as – ach, I don’t know. It’s all hearsay and rumour, Jean. But if his book of poems is published and it is a success, as does seem likely from what I’m hearing, then…’
‘Then poor May Campbell may wait a very long time for him to make up his mind about her and the Indies and all.’
‘I think so.’
‘Maybe my mother is right. Maybe he is a knotless thread!’
He smiled ruefully in her direction. ‘And yet, you seem to love him still.’
‘I do. I can’t deny it. I can’t help myself. He may change, but I will not.’
‘They say he gave her a bible. They say he made her swear an oath to wait for him, some terrible and blasphemous oath, with quotes from here, there and everywhere within the holy book, to bind her. That’s what one of the other dairymaids at Coilsfield said. My sister is friendly with the lass. She saw the bible afterwards. May was displaying it like a talisman. A piece of magic.’
It was clear to Jean that Rab Wilson did not approve of such treatment of any bible. He gazed at her with something like anguish in his candid eyes.
‘So perhaps he is serious after all,’ she said, slowly.
‘But it seems a very odd thing to do. Don’t you think so, Jean? The oaths, I mean. The other lass thought it looked like the work of a madman, a lunatic, and said that she would not have put her name to it at any price.’
‘Maybe he wants to be sure of her. Maybe he’s still smarting from thinking that I broke my vows to him when I have done no such thing.’
‘Aye, legally you’re still his wife. Whatever your father may say or do to persuade you and the kirk otherwise. And I think Rab knows that in his heart, knows it full well, and is reluctant to commit himself completely to another woman. And he protests too much, protests to anyone who will listen that he has been wronged.’
‘He has been wronged?’
‘That’s the way he sees it. But he seems so crazed about it that I fancy his affections may still lie with you.’
‘Do you think that can be true?’
‘Maybe so.’
‘While poor May places all her trust in him.’
‘I’m not sure she’s even doing that. Last time I was home in Mauchline, my sister said May Campbell had asked her brother in Greenock to find out about respectable situations in Glasgow, to make enquiries about the prospects of working there as a nursemaid.’
‘Glasgow?’
‘Aye. Not so very far from here. I think she still doesn’t know what she’s going to do, doesn’t know what might happen. If your Rab asks her to go with him to the Indies, for sure she will. Or maybe she’ll just wait for him to send for her. If he doesn’t, I don’t think it’ll be any great tragedy for her.’
‘You mean her heart isn’t set on it?’
‘I think I mean that she has no great passion for him.’ He blushed, even as he said the word. ‘It seems to me that they are like two injured people, leaning on each other for support. Both with the means of healing themselves in their own hands should they choose to do it. Neither of them strong enough to see it through to the end. If I were advising her, I think I would tell her she should either stay in Campbeltown or go to Greenock if her brother is there, or even to Glasgow. She should make a new life for herself while she can. But whatever she does, she should not waste her life hankering after another woman’s man with such foolish fondness.’
‘But is that other woman’s man Rab or Jamie?’
‘Oh, Jamie for sure. I do not think that she loves your man at all, Jean! Not truly. Not the way you love him. Although I’m sure she cares for him very much, and is willing to seek such shelter as he can offer her.’
‘I’m not so sure.’
‘She would not last two weeks in the Indies.’
‘Maybe not. And maybe neither would I. But she might be foolish enough to go with him, to try the experiment, if he asks her.’
The next time he came, Rab Wilson brought a parcel for her, a gift, he said. It was a shawl in fine silk, printed with flowers in vivid shades of pink and red, green and gold: roses, tulips, carnations, auriculas. Never had she been given such a gift. Not once in her life. Rab Mossgiel had certainly not thought to present her with such a luxury, although the practicalities of concealing it from her parents would have made it inadvisable anyway. She had given him the paper valentine back in February, and he had presented her with posies of wild flowers, sweetmeats sometimes, favours bought for a few pennies from a passing peddler. But that was all. This was handsome indeed. In fact, she blushed to realise that her family would almost certainly see it as the gift of a lover to his lass.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ he said. ‘But take it as a gift of friendship. From one very old and good friend to another. I know that’s all we’ll ever be. I’m not heartbroken, Jeany, and I know fine you’re not either. So can we not be the best of friends? Take it. I found it on a visit to Glasgow and thought of you. The flowers on it put me in mind of you, running about the bleach green in summer, when you were just a wee lass, with your curls flying out behind you.’
It would have been ungracious to refuse it, and she took it with thanks, kissing his cheek, folding it away, doubting if she would ever wear it in Paisley. Too many questions would be asked, too many of the wrong conclusions would be drawn.
Chapter Fifteen
Going Home
O had ye been a wooer leal,
We would hae met wi’ hearts mair keen:
Hey how my Johnny lad,
Ye’re no’ sae kind’s ye should hae been.
In the second week of June, Jean came back to Mauchline. She had grown quite fond of her uncle and aunt and her cousins in the weeks she had been staying in the house in Back Sneddon Street, and they seemed genuinely sad to see her go, but they had also accepted, reluctantly, that she and Rab Wilson were never going to make a match of i
t. That being the case, she had better go home to Mauchline and face the consequences of her unwise behaviour with Rab Mossgiel, letting the kirk in the person of the Reverend William Auld do whatever was needed to resolve the situation. Rab Wilson had escorted her part of the way, made sure she was safely on the coach from Kilmarnock to Mauchline, kissed her gently on both cheeks and bade her a safe journey and a good outcome to all her troubles.
‘Have courage, Jeany,’ he said. ‘You never know. It may all come right in the end.’
She smiled at him and waved till he was out of sight, feeling forlorn. There were so few people wholly on her side. Not even Rab Mossgiel. Certainly not Rab Mossgiel from what she had heard. His resentment at what he saw as her faithlessness seemed to have grown with the baby inside her.
Her belly was swelling by the day. It was alarming how large it was growing. Was it going to be a boy, she wondered? A big boy who looked like his father? However it was, her condition was unmistakable and there was no denying it now. The kirk session already knew, she would be compeared to appear before them, would be asked about the father of her child, and there was nothing to be done but tell the truth. She saw all this in her mother’s face when she met her from the coach and hurried her into the house in the Cowgate, bag and baggage.
For the first few weeks, they kept her quietly in the house. Jean found herself wondering if anyone knew of her arrival, surprised that the news had not filtered through the town. She would have no peace when word got out. The full might of the Kirk would be down on her and her condition. But to her astonishment, her first visitor was not the Reverend Auld, nor even James Lamie, come on the session’s business, but Rab Mossgiel himself, hammering at the door, demanding to see her, as though all these weeks had not passed, as though he thought she would have heard nothing about his affair with May Campbell. She was upstairs, hearing Nelly read, using the family bible, when he came to the door. When she heard his voice, she flushed, crimson to the very roots of her hair.
‘Is that Rab Burns?’ whispered Nelly, seizing the chance to escape from the loathed lessons. ‘He sounds awfy angry, Jean.’
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