by Alisa Adams
However, now he had more important matters on his hands. The father he loved was dying and it was heartbreaking to see the once strong, seemingly invincible frame shrinking to a skeleton under the onslaught of a disease so voracious that it was eating him alive. Breathing was now almost impossible and he continually coughed up blood. When Nevin saw this, it almost broke his heart.
His father had always been the epitome of a man to Nevin. He was tall, strong, brave, and resourceful. As a little boy, Nevin had worshiped him. His mother, Gwenda, adored him and now spent most of her time by his bedside, already a widow in her heart. His younger sisters could no longer bear to look at him. They were already broken hearted and would weep at the slightest excuse. An atmosphere of doom pervaded the castle.
Nevin could even now feel the weight of his responsibilities begin to settle on his shoulders and it was a deeply unpleasant feeling since he was terrified of failure. If he did anything less than his best dozens of people could lose their livelihood.
Now, after a hard day's work, Nevin flopped into a chair by the fire in the parlor and tossed down a full tumbler of whiskey. He had made up his mind to go and tell his father, Laird David Kirk, what he wanted from the marriage settlement with Allana so that things could proceed more quickly. It seemed that his father had only a matter of days left. He knew the terms of his father's will, and how much each of his sisters and his mother would be receiving. However, even if they had been bequeathed nothing, Nevin would have shared whatever he had with them and made sure that they were comfortable for the rest of their lives.
He did not know how much his father would be giving Laird Dundas, however, and that was the sticking point. That was the last item to be ironed out before the betrothal could be announced. He poured himself another glass of whiskey and it was then that Annie, the housekeeper, came hurrying into the room. Nevin knew that something was wrong straight away by the fact that his normally dignified and solemn servant was running and her face was flushed and anguished.
"Sir!" she cried breathlessly. "It is your father. Please come quickly!"
Nevin dashed past her to sprint up the stairs two at a time. Laird Kirk's room was lit with dozens of candles and beside the bed were his mother, his two sisters, Margaret and Lucy, and the priest, Father Stephen. They all looked up when he came in, and everyone's eyes were glistening with tears.
When David saw his son, he made a feeble attempt to sit up but was unable even to raise his head off the bed. He lifted his hand to beckon his son to his side. "Nevin," he said, in a croaking whisper. "Come near, my son." Then he made a motion to shoo everyone else out of the room.
"Do not tire him," Gwenda whispered, "he has not got much time left."
Nevin nodded and kneeled down by the living skeleton that was all that was left of his father. David’s breathing was ragged and labored as if each inhalation was being torn from him by a heroic effort, which it was. Nevin felt tears pricking his eyes.
"Son," he wheezed weakly, "Allana Dundas…" he paused for another breath, swallowed, and went on. "Do not… Do not… marry her."
Nevin frowned, mystified. "Father, why not? She means everything to me."
David took another few agonized breaths then spoke again. "She… will never… make you… h-happy."
"But I love her and she loves me, Father," he protested. "Why should I not marry her?"
His father's weak grip on Nevin's hand tightened for a moment and he shook his head. "No, son… she does not…" He began to become agitated and Nevin lifted his father's head and held it against himself.
"Shh…" he whispered gently. "I promise, Father. I promise."
"Thank God," David said, closing his eyes. For a moment, Nevin thought that he had gone, but he opened his eyes again. "Gwenda… Girls…"
Nevin admitted them and then Father Stephen. For an hour, the family sat around the bedside of the dying man, listening to the quiet voice of the priest intoning the last rites and encouraging them all to pray in their own words until finally, no-one felt able to speak anymore. Now, it was only a matter of waiting. Finally, David took his last breath and let it out in what sounded like a sigh of relief. Father Stephen composed David's body and drew a sheet over his face then quietly left the family to mourn in peace and privacy.
No-one said anything. Nevin gathered them all into a hug and they stood, weeping quietly.
"I had better get the ladies to come and see to him," Gwenda said quietly. She made no move to stand up, however, and Nevin pressed her shoulders to indicate that she should stay seated.
"I will do it," he said gently, "you sit here as long as you need to, Mother, and all of you. I have things to see to." Then he pulled the sheet back a little to kiss David's forehead. "Goodbye, Father," he whispered. He went slowly downstairs where Annie was waiting. There was a question in her eyes as she looked at him, but she stayed silent as if afraid to speak.
Nevin swallowed and cleared his throat. "My father has passed on, Annie." His voice was a husky croak. "Please see to the arrangements for the laying out."
"Yes, m’laird," she replied sadly, "he was a good man, and I am very sorry for your loss."
Nevin nodded and turned away, suddenly conscious of what Annie had called him: 'm’laird’. The title had passed to him with his father's last breath. Now there was much thinking to do, but as yet he was in no state to do it. Once again, Nevin sought solace in the whiskey bottle. He was not usually a heavy drinker, but this day had been the worst of his life so far and all he wanted to do was to render himself insensible to any more pain.
When he woke up after passing out for six hours, Nevin had the most savage headache he had ever experienced. At some point, he had been put to bed, probably by one or two of the heftiest manservants in the castle. He had also been undressed and a hot stone was placed at his feet. He lay for a long time thinking about the promise he had made to his father: Do not marry Allana Dundas—she will never make you happy. But he believed he loved her and he knew he could be happy with her or at least he thought he could.
He remembered the few times when he had seen her being serious about anything. She was like a different person. That Allana was deeply thoughtful, considerate, and intelligent. It was not that he disliked the carefree, happy Allana, but he preferred the quieter one. However, they were all part of the same madly fascinating woman that he loved. So, why had his father told him not to marry her? Nevin knew that Allana could satisfy him as a wife, so what was it that David had seen in her that would make him think otherwise? Nevin was baffled. He tried to conjure up in his mind a picture of Allana with a solemn face but found it impossible.
Nevin had promised his father on his deathbed that he would not marry her. Should he honor that promise? There lay more worry, more choices, and possibly more heartache, and the only person in whom he could confide was dead. He went through his family members to see if there was even one who could help him, but no-one sprang to mind. It seemed that for the moment he was on his own.
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Alisa Adams
About the Author
Alisa was born and raised in Austin, Texas and from early on identified her two passions, kids and writing.
Starting her career as a teacher, after a life-changing trip in Scottish Highlands, she decided to commit to her writing career.
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DISCLAIMER:
This book is a work of fiction. Some of the characters are real historical figures, but the others exist only in the imagination of the author. All events in this book are fictional and for entertainment purposes only.