Beattie smiled. She knew her title meant a lot to him but she didn’t mind. He was her husband for better or worse, and for that she was now enormously thankful.
Dalkeith House, four months later
‘You need a rest, sweetheart,’ Walter told Caroline as she yawned and stretched her arms above her head. The show had come to an end and this was the first weekend they’d been free to visit her father.
‘I’ve got to get another job,’ she pointed out. Her tone was martyred.
‘That’s what I want to discuss with you both,’ Laura said.
They looked at her and Caroline retorted, ‘What is there to discuss? Neither of you know what it means to be a ballerina.’
‘There’s no need to be rude,’ Walter said, but his tone was hopelessly indulgent.
Laura took a deep breath. ‘I shall be coming into quite a bit of money in a few months’ time. And you and I,’ she added, looking at her daughter, ‘are going to leave Scotland. To begin with we’ll be staying with Aunt Lizzie, who has very kindly said she’ll have us to stay while I look for a flat. There’s one thing I know about being a great ballerina, Caroline, and that is that London is the place to be. There’s Saddler’s Wells, Covent Garden and a wealth of theatres. Perhaps Madame Espinosa could recommend a good London agent to find work for you.’
Caroline flung her arms around her mother and her face was radiant.
‘That’s perfect! It’s just what I need, isn’t it, Dada? To live in London! I can hardly believe it! It’s like a dream come true! Where is the money coming from?’
Laura could see that Walter was pleased for Caroline’s sake but it was obvious that he was going to miss her.
‘You must come and stay with us, Walter,’ Laura said, smiling at him. ‘The money is from what your grandmama left to me. The manse has also been sold and the money is to be split three ways between Aunt Catriona, Aunt Flora and me so that we can buy homes of our own. Nothing grand, mind you. I’d like a flat but I expect my sisters will get cottages.’
Rowena entered the room and Caroline made her mother repeat her wonderful news.
‘Isn’t it exciting?’ Caroline kept saying. ‘When are we going to London?’
‘These things take time,’ Laura explained, ‘but Mr McTavish is seeing to all the arrangements.’
‘Why just the three of you? What about the rest of your sisters?’ Rowena enquired.
Laura hesitated slightly, and then spoke with care because she knew Walter was listening. ‘My other sisters have no need for money so Mama felt Catriona, Flora and I needed to be looked after. I think Mama decided that as the three of us have to earn our own living, we should get a helping hand. Everyone has been left something in the way of antiques, silver, paintings and jewellery so everyone is happy.’
‘That’s very fair,’ Rowena remarked.
Walter nodded. ‘Extremely fair. I’m so happy for you, Laura. God knows you deserve it.’
‘Will you give up dressmaking?’ Rowena asked.
Laura shrugged. ‘I don’t know. We’ll have to see. Living in London will be a lot more expensive than Edinburgh.’
Walter suddenly rose and walked out of the room. Rowena and Laura exchanged looks and Caroline was now immersed in the theatre reviews of The Scotsman. If Rowena’s expression showed that she considered Laura’s treatment of Walter was ruthless, Laura felt no embarrassment. Instead of sponging on her rich sisters she’d worked night and day to provide a home, food on the table and even ballet lessons for Caroline.
The Manse, a month later
With every passing hour Catriona’s feelings of anguish and anxiety increased. Bit by bit the house was being stripped of its paintings and antique furniture that had been a part of her life since she’d been born.
The family portraits in heavy gilt frames no longer gazed down at her, the landscape of the Isle of Mull which had hung over the study fireplace, the exquisite painting of a Madonna and Child; all gone to hang in the homes of Diana, Beattie, Lizzie and Georgie. Catriona wondered if they would love them as she had loved them. She was filled with sorrow for the loss of this dear old house that had sheltered Mama and her for so long.
The now-blank walls had grubby marks where the paintings had previously hung, giving the whole house an air of forlorn abandonment that broke her heart.
The once-cosy study and the elegant drawing room were cold and half-empty now. The exquisite French marquetry cabinets with shelves displaying Dresden china figurines had gone, and so had the side tables on which had stood priceless objets d’art of great value and beauty. Mr McTavish had been right when he’d insisted the manse should be sold in all its glory.
The new owner, a businessman from Glasgow, had offered to purchase what was left in the way of furniture, including the four-poster bed, because they were ‘classy’.
‘Before I agree, do you or your sisters want to keep anything special?’ Mr McTavish had asked Catriona. She’d wanted to scream, ‘It was all special! Every stick and stone of it!’ But she’d bitten her bottom lip and shaken her head in silence.
‘I suppose most of it is too big for a country cottage or a London flat,’ he said, trying to lighten the desolate atmosphere that now pervaded the manse. ‘Have you found a smaller house for yourself?’ he added.
‘I’ve looked at a few,’ she replied vaguely.
‘Time for a new start!’ he continued bracingly. ‘The staff here seem to be very happy that the MacAndrew family have asked them to stay on. Very happy indeed.’
She had avoided talking to them about the drastic changes that were underway, knowing she would break down, and Mama had always told her never to let a servant see you cry because it was inappropriate.
‘Yes,’ she whispered, knowing she would never be happy again. She’d lost her mother, her home and everything in it. The future was a blank page. Taking a deep breath, she said, ‘Thank you, Mr McTavish, for all your help, your thoughtfulness and your kindness.’
He blinked in surprise. ‘Thank you, Lady Catriona. It has been a very difficult time for you and your family and I’m sure you’re glad that we have carried out the wishes of the late Lady Rothbury.’
Catriona reached out to shake his hand. ‘Can you do one last thing for me?’ she asked unexpectedly.
He raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise. ‘Certainly. What would you like me to do?’
‘Can you tell all the servants that they can take today off? They needn’t return until late. Tell them I’d like to be alone to say goodbye to the house.’
He bowed to her in an old-fashioned way. ‘Your wish is my command, Lady Catriona,’ he said, smiling. ‘I’ll go and tell them right away. I’m sure they will be delighted.’
As soon as he’d left the room, Catriona clutched her chest, and, staggering towards the window, buried her face in the dusty silk of the curtains, stuffing the fabric into her mouth and biting down hard so her sobs wouldn’t be heard. The despair was unbearable. ‘Mama, how could you do this to me?’ she moaned. The house seemed very quiet now so she hurried into the hall and climbed the stairs to what had been her mother’s bedroom. There was her four-poster bed, which now belonged to Mr and Mrs MacAndrew.
Flinging herself down on the counterpane, she lay there for a long time, hoping for solace and comfort as her mother had shown her when she’d been a child, but now there was only coldness and terrifying loneliness.
There was no consolation. As she lay there, she realized the pain would never go away.
Struggling to her feet, she left the room and climbed to the floor above where the spare rooms were, and then up another flight to the attic where the servants slept. Breathless and aching with tiredness, she managed to unlock a hatch that led on to the flat, lead-lined roof.
The sun was shining and there was a warm breeze that ruffled her hair and chilled her face and hands. Surrounded by mountains of purple heather, her eyes were stinging as she gazed at the magnificent view for the last time. This was the
only way to stop the pain.
Stepping forward, her fists clenched in determination and her mouth set in an expression of grim resolve, she jumped.
Cranley Court, the next morning
News of the tragedy reached Diana and Robert first when Mrs Durrant, the housekeeper at the manse, phoned them at dawn to say the staff had all returned to the house after dark and had presumed Lady Catriona had gone to bed. She paused as if she didn’t know what to say next.
‘Right,’ Robert said uncertainly. He was standing in the hall wearing a silk dressing gown over his pyjamas, having been woken up by the butler. ‘What can I do for you, Mrs Durrant?’
Her words came out in a hysterical rush. ‘I’ve just found her body on the terrace. Frozen stiff, she is.’
It took a moment before Robert understood what she was telling him. ‘Mrs Durrant … Please … please explain what you are trying to say.’
‘She’s gone, sir. Dead. What – what shall I do?’
‘Phone the police immediately. Don’t touch the body and don’t let anyone touch anything else either. That’s very important.’
‘I ken the poor wee bairn has done away with herself, milord,’ she stammered tearfully. ‘She gave us all the day off yesterday and told Mr McTavish that she wanted to be alone to say goodbye to the house. I ken she planned what she was going to do.’
‘I’m afraid it sounds like that. My God, this is terrible. You must try to keep calm, Mrs Durrant. Get on to Mr McTavish and ask him to come to the manse. He can deal with the police. My wife and I will drive over as quickly as we can but it will take several hours.’
‘Thank you, milord. Will you tell Lady Laura? I ken they were close.’
‘I’ll inform them all. Don’t worry.’ Robert replaced the telephone earpiece on its hook and raced up the staircase to where Diana was still asleep.
‘Di?’ he said softly as he entered the room. ‘Wake up, dearest.’
‘What is it?’ she asked dozily.
‘Bad news, I’m afraid, my darling.’ He sat on the edge of the bed and reached for her hand, hating every moment of what he was about to do. ‘Terrible news and you’re going to have to be very brave.’
‘The children …?’ she asked fearfully, instantly alert.
Robert shook his head. ‘It’s about Catriona.’ He watched a shadow cross her face but forced himself to continue. ‘They found her lying on the terrace this morning.’
‘Oh, God, not again,’ she cried out.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Our younger sister, Eleanor. She had a terrible accident when we lived in Lochlee Castle. She fell out of her bedroom window while trying to lift a curse that had been put on our family.’ Diana wept.
Robert had heard about the accident, or suicide, as it was widely thought to be by the public, before he’d met the Fairbairn family.
‘I’ll never forget seeing her poor little broken body on the terrace. And now Catriona. It’s like we’re still cursed.’ She covered her face with her hands in a gesture of utter despair and began to cry softly into her hands.
‘I don’t think this was an accident,’ Robert said carefully, trying to prepare her for the worst.
Diana dropped her hands and looked at him. ‘What? You think Catriona committed suicide?’
‘It looks like it. I’ve told Mrs Durrant to tell the police and Mr McTavish. I’m so sorry, my darling. I told her we’d drive over right away, but I’ve promised to tell the others so I’ll do that while you get dressed.’
Diana had gone white as a sheet and she struggled to speak. The tears silently ran down her face as she thought of her sweet, quiet little sister who had only wanted to be left alone in the manse. ‘I’ll … I’ll phone my sisters. I should do it.’ She shuddered at the prospect.
He put his arms around her and held her close. ‘I’ll do it, sweetheart. You’ve got enough on your plate and it’s going to be a very long day.’
Diana nodded, unable to speak. Robert was always so good in emergencies and a tower of strength that she could fall back on at a time like this.
One by one he relayed the shocking news to Lizzie, Beattie and Georgie, discovering when he got through to Alice and Flora that they had already heard about the tragedy as they lived in the same village as the manse. He had left Laura last, terrified to bring her such terrible grief. He knew how close she had been to Catriona, and she would have no one to comfort her except her selfish and unpleasant daughter.
‘I have some terrible news to tell you, Laura,’ he began.
‘I know,’ she said furiously. ‘Lizzie has just told me.’ Her voice was rough and croaky, as if she’d been crying, but her tone now was sharp and full of bitterness. ‘We should never have done what Mama wanted. That will betrayed Catriona. She’d forced my sister to be dependent on her and she was treated like a lap dog. Then when Mama doesn’t need her any more she leaves instructions for the manse to be sold, kicking Catriona out of her home. You and Humphrey should have thrown that bloody will on the fire and let my sister stay there for the rest of her life if that is what she wanted.’
‘Laura, we don’t know at this stage if leaving the manse had anything to do with her wanting to end her life. I fear it was the loss of her mother that tipped her over the edge. Maybe she has left a note. It’s too soon to speculate, my dear.’
‘I can tell you, Robert, I don’t want a single penny from Mama’s estate now,’ she said fiercely. ‘If it has cost my sister her life to make the sacrifice of selling the manse which she loved then I don’t want a farthing,’ she cried passionately. ‘I knew what Mama and the house meant to Catriona and I can only blame myself for being too selfish to realize how that will would destroy her.’ She began to sob uncontrollably.
Robert spoke firmly. ‘Laura, you must not blame yourself. Catriona was thirty-two. She had a mind of her own. She wasn’t a child.’
‘That’s just what she was,’ Laura retorted. ‘A sheltered, over-protected girl who wasn’t allowed to have friends of her own age because Mama feared she’d get married and leave home.’
‘But Catriona was as much of a beneficiary of this will as you and Flora. Your mama wanted the three of you to be able to have your own homes with enough money to keep you comfortably off for the rest of your lives.’
Laura was trying to control her emotions and get Robert to see her point of view. ‘Flora and I are different to Catriona. We don’t need looking after. We earn a living for ourselves. Catriona was different. Mama purposely made her different. I can’t bear to think how desperate she must have felt and not one of us was there to comfort her.’
‘Will you come now, Laura?’ he asked gently. ‘Diana and I are setting off in a few minutes. Like you, she’s terribly upset.’
‘I’ll be getting on the next train,’ Laura replied, ‘but it’s too late, isn’t it? It’s too late.’
The Manse, the next day
‘This is like a weird re-enactment of Mama’s death, isn’t it?’ Humphrey observed in a low voice as he shook hands with an exhausted Robert as they stood in the drive. He and Lizzie, with Beattie and Andrew, had travelled overnight by train and they were being welcomed with tearful hugs by Diana, Flora and Alice, whose clergyman husband, Colin Maitland, was bracing himself to impart further bad news to the family.
‘This is going to be a hundred times worse than their mother’s funeral,’ Robert whispered. ‘All the sisters are utterly inconsolable, and Laura is as angry as hell that we didn’t burn her mother’s will in the first place.’
Humphrey blew his nose into a large handkerchief. ‘Let’s hope Mama kept a well-stocked wine cellar to help us all get through this ghastly business. Have they ascertained that it was definitely suicide?’
Robert nodded. ‘A trapdoor that leads on to the roof had been forced open.’
Humphrey immediately looked up at the chimneystacks. ‘God, it’s a hell of a drop.’
Lizzie had seen him looking up and she came over to him wit
h tears in her eyes.
‘I’m so sorry, darling,’ he murmured, putting his arms around her.
‘How brave she must have been,’ Lizzie said, looking up at the roof too, ‘to do this. But not brave enough to face the future.’
‘That was Mama’s fault,’ Laura pointed out as she overheard Lizzie’s remark. ‘We all knew she had a hold over Catriona. But none of us did anything to get her away from it all.’
‘I think she’d have fiercely resisted leaving here or getting a job. She looked upon Mama and this house as her raison d’être,’ said Humphrey.
‘That’s exactly what it was,’ Laura declared, ‘and she should have been allowed to do exactly that without interference,’ she added angrily.
Flora came over to her and said, ‘I hear you are refusing to accept Mama’s wishes regarding the money.’
‘That’s right. You can have the whole of it including Catriona’s share now, but I can’t take a penny. I should have seen this coming but instead I sailed back to Edinburgh planning a whole new life in London, particularly for Caroline’s sake.’
Flora stared at her. ‘So you’re going to be as selfish as our mother? If someone wants to end their life nothing will stop them. Your guilt is groundless and will cause Caroline to be denied the chance of a good career – all because of your selfishness. Like mother like daughter. Catriona didn’t want a career or a job teaching French. She didn’t want friends. I tried everything to get her interested but she absolutely refused. So stop playing the martyr and think what opportunities you can offer your own daughter now.’ With that she turned away and marched off to talk to Lizzie and Beattie.
Mr McTavish and the Reverend Colin Maitland were huddled in a corner of the study, deep in conversation.
‘Would you like me to tell the family?’ the lawyer asked.
Colin looked strained. ‘That’s very kind of you but I think it’s my job as the village parson and a member of the family.’
‘Does your wife know?’
‘No. She’s got no idea.’ His pale face looked worried at the prospect and his hands trembled.
The Fairbairn Fortunes Page 10