Elusive

by Linda Rae Blair

  “Aye, you’re right, I suppose. It doesn’t make me feel any better that they almost succeeded in killing her…” looking up at Alexandre, he added, “or you. Then there’s poor Roddy. The man was like my own brother. And our girl needs you. Blair needs you. She’s been so alone since she was just a wee bairn. First her parents, then Roddy.” Angus saw the distance grow in Alexandre’s eyes. He wondered what torture the young man was putting himself through while standing here trying to help him.

  “She’ll be fine, Angus. She’ll have the estate and the peace of mind she deserves. I’ll leave it all behind and go back to Bretagne as soon as we can close out these affairs in court.” Angus watched the torment on Alexandre’s face and just sat quietly letting him have his say.

  “I have to go, Angus. Our train to Donnach leaves in an hour. My attorneys will be in touch with you soon. Rest assured, Angus, Blair will have everything to which she is entitled. I’ll see to it before I return to France.” Alexandre shook his hand with his own left, due to the sling, and then walked out the door.

  “Oh, laddie!” Angus smiled sadly. “You are a wise young man, but you’ve got many surprises coming to you yet. I doubt you’ll be going anywhere—not for long.”

  ***

  Taog was located in Glasgow. While it was unknown why he had sought cover there specifically, it was suspected he may have been attempting to obtain assistance from Alexandre’s cousin, Iseabail. The police had Taog in custody a week after the attack and brought him back to Edinburgh. Angus finally had the opportunity of telling him, in no uncertain terms, just what he thought of his behavior.

  Taog had had a friend with him when he was picked up. It was Aiden’s brother-in-law. He was the man with the knife in Edinburgh. After interrogating the pair, Inspector Innis phoned Lord McDonnough with the information he had obtained.

  Alexandre took the call in the Laird’s Parlor. As he listened to the story unfold, he realized he had met Aiden’s brother-in-law once at a party given by his cousin. That explained why he had seemed so familiar during the attack.

  Taog had gotten involved due to the promise of money and position once the cousins had taken over the estate, which, of course, would have necessitated their killing Alexandre. They had planned for him to have an accident the next time he was in France visiting his mother. Dear God, he thought, they might have killed her as well. There didn’t seem to be any limit to what they were willing to do to get their hands on the estate.

  The police had picked up his cousin, Iseabail, and she was being detained until her involvement in all the scheming could be determined. Alexandre had no doubt he would never have to deal with her again, and neither would Blair.

  Hugh finally confessed to the killing of Mssr. LeGard and he was immediately turned over to the French police. He was put in a French prison where he would spend the rest of his life.

  Aiden was buried in a pauper’s grave in unconsecrated ground. Despite Iseabail’s pleading, Alexandre refused to pay for the man’s funeral. He had gotten all he was going to get from the McDonnoughs.

  **************************

  Chapter 29: The Castle Holds More Surprises

  Donnach, Scotland – July 1912

  Now that the legalities were underway and the threat to Blair had been eliminated, Alexandre knew the time was right. There was one last piece of information he had neglected to tell her. He hoped she would understand his reasons. It had had to be done.

  Alex asked Blair to come to the castle the next day for lunch. As the car pulled up in front of the castle, she found her nerves tied up in knots. There had been a tension in his manner when he asked her to join him. She was also aware that he had not come to pick her up himself. Something wasn’t right.

  What could be worrying him, she wondered? It wasn’t the inheritance. He had assured her time and again that he was glad it would be hers. Why then? Was he still hiding something? She hoped not. They had shared so much with each other; surely he hadn’t still held back anything of great importance. Well, there is no sense sitting here driving myself crazy, she thought, as she reached for her coat and handbag and exited the car. I’ll soon find out.

  Alexandre was waiting for her at the door, dressed in European trousers with a pale blue silk shirt opened to the third button. “Blair,” he said, kissing her hand. “Thank you for coming.”

  He was so handsome; she found it difficult to speak. As they walked toward the Laird’s Parlor, he stopped, and turning to her he said, “Blair, there was one part of my story that I didn’t tell you.” He saw her tense up ever so slightly. God, he didn’t want to blow this.

  “It had nothing to do with my trust in you, Blair. It was just something so important—so personal—that I wanted to wait until we knew each other better. There is someone I would very much like you to meet.” He took her hand in his and led her into the room.

  As she glanced around the room, she spotted the woman sitting on a deep-cushioned chair near a reading lamp and table that she thought must be Louis XIV. It should have seemed out of place in this place, but it was just right for the woman sitting near it. She was a slight woman of about sixty years, with black hair laced with just enough silver that it caught the light. Her face—well, it was a very female version of Alex’s face. On him it was strikingly handsome; on this lovely woman it was almost breathtakingly beautiful—she must have been even more breathtaking in her younger years.

  “Blair, let me introduce you. Mairi (mah REE) Fiona McDonnough, this is Blair Delamare. Blair, this beautiful creature before you is my mother,” he said, as he bent over to kiss his mother’s cheek while still holding onto Blair’s hand.

  “Blair, my dear. Please call me Mairi. I’ve heard so many lovely things about you,” she smiled up at the young woman who had her son quite tied up in knots. Yes, she thought. The resemblance is there, even after all these years and the many generations between. She is Caena’s.

  Alexandre had moved to a larger table where the wine and flutes were ready for use. He poured three flutes of the frothy champagne and moved to the ladies with two of them.

  “It’s so nice to meet you, Madame…Mairi,” she answered, as Alex handed his mother the first glass of wine. Then he led Blair to a seat near his mother.

  “Alexandre, my dear, have you told Blair about your more recent family yet?” she asked.

  “No, Mère. I thought I would save some of our history for you to share. After all, it involves you, no?” He had slipped into flowing French without even realizing he was doing so. Blair now recognized that he did so when his deepest emotions were involved.

  “Oui,” his mother answered. “That it does. Would you like to hear it now before lunch, or should we dine first?” she asked Blair.

  “Oh, tell me now, please, Mairi,” Blair replied enthusiastically.

  “Alright, my dear. Let’s see…where shall I begin?”

  Blair could all but feel the woman slip into the past. Then the story began.

  “Many years ago, I met a handsome young man, not at all unlike this scamp sitting beside you.” She grinned broadly at her son whose face was just ever so slightly showing a degree of embarrassment. “His name was Charles Eduard Maigny. He was bright, accomplished in business, as well as a lover of history and books…as is this one,” she looked again at her son.

  “We met in Paris, he was in university. I was on vacation with a dear friend…” She shared their beginnings, their courtship and subsequent marriage. She shared the birth of their son of whom she was then—as now—very proud. Finally, she touched upon being told that, “…the Laird of the McDonnough estate had died of a sudden illness, and that my dear Charles was now to become the Earl of Donnach.”

  “Imagine what it was like for a family that had always lived in France to suddenly be uprooted and deposited in a drafty old castle across the sea!” She laughed when she saw the expression on Blair’s face. “It was magnifique!” Her laugh reminded Blair of Alexandre’s. Bold, open, nothing he
ld back.

  “Charles loved this country and its people. Like those before him who had lived through the bad times in France, he had used the Maigny name, passed on to him by his parents and theirs. Charles great-great-grandfather had escaped the family machinations in Scotland by going to France. His grandfather, Eduard, had been brought back to Scotland to take over the estates early in the 1870s. He died just a few years later.”

  “Charles’s parents had stayed behind in France, aware that someday it would be their duty to take over for Eduard, and someday Charles’s to take over for his father.” She sighed and continued.

  “Eduard was simply not very good at running things here. The previous lairds had dealt poorly with their people. They had been selfish and cruel, and he was much hated as the people didn’t trust him. It would take time for them to learn to trust again. The villagers had yet to believe that it would be any different under the new Laird.”

  “When Charles’s father, also named Alexandre, finally took over, he instituted as many changes as he could and gradually the trust began to return. The politicians here made it difficult. Change is not something that comes easily to Scotts, my dear,” she smiled at Blair.

  “Once it was Charles’s turn to become Earl, we moved here gladly. We were very proud of his heritage and had only the best wishes for his people. We had known it was coming. His father had never been a strong man.”

  “Unfortunately for a mother’s heart,” she raised her flute to him, “Alexandre, had decided, and quite firmly I must add, that he would continue his education in France. My family was in shipping and Charles had been running the business since my own dear papa’s death. Once Alexandre was ready, he took over that responsibility for Charles and freed us to take care of our responsibilities here.”

  “What with one thing and another, over the years he has spent much time with us here, learned the language, as we all did—there are still a very few of our people who are diehards and still speak the old Gaelic—some speak the modern Scottish language which the English have always disparaged. I fear that will also fade into the past, eventually,” she sighed, “but our people still honor their roots.”

  “Alexandre met the people, learned about their traditions, their likes and dislikes. He too learned to love the history of our country and has spent much of his spare time researching the family.”

  “He tells me you have shared some fascinating letters with him recently, much to his delight,” she smiled at her son before continuing. “I would very much like to read them sometime—but I have gotten sidetracked.”

  “As you must know by now, Blair, Scottish history comes mostly from an oral tradition. Only most recently have writers shown any concern for putting these stories in writing. Much of that is because of the man who sits beside you. It has been a hobby for him since he was a young man in his early university days.”

  “Alexandre knew from an early age that the responsibility of being Laird of Donnach would someday fall on his shoulders. Now it seems we were all incorrect, and that this responsibility is to be taken on by a mere slip of a girl. A beautiful girl, I see.” Once again Lady McDonnough’s eyes brightened as she smiled at Blair and then her son.

  “I just want you to know that we, Alexandre and I both, are at your service, whether from here or from France. Once the estate is settled upon you, which will be very soon, we will remove ourselves from the castle immediately and support you in any way we can, my dear. If you feel we interfere, please just say so. We offer this assistance with open and willing hearts.”

  Blair was so touched that she hardly knew how to begin. “Madame—Mairi— that is the kindest, most generous offer ever made. I assure you that I have no intention of throwing you out of your own home!”

  “Ah, my dear, please do not concern yourself with that at all. It has been, and still is, my intention to return to France where I shall catch up on my reading, do some painting, visit museums, and enjoy my retirement from being the Countess of Donnach.”

  “No…” she said, as she recognized that Blair was going to argue with her on this point. “Please be assured that this is not a hardship, but a blessing, my dear. I have had my turn. This is your time, Blair. Enjoy all life here has to offer. Be kind to your people and they will return that kindness many times over.”

  “Now, since we have had our story-telling for today, let’s have some lunch, shall we?”

  Lady McDonnough rose from her chair, Alexandre took his mother’s arm with his left, nodded to Blair, and he led two remarkable women to dine.

  ***

  As he rode with her back to her hotel later that afternoon, Blair sighed, “Oh, Alexandre, she is wonderful!”

  “Yes, I’ve always thought so,” he smiled. “She and father were very much in love—very much a pair in the truest sense of the word. She’s doing her best to move on without him. Like you, she is a very determined woman when she sets her mind to something. She’ll do fine in Paris again.”

  “Are you very certain that she does not wish to stay here, Alex?”

  “Oui. Absolutement!” he said, slipping into French. “She’s been adrift here without father. Everything reminds her of him every day. She is strong, but even the strongest needs time to heal from such a loss. Surely you know this? The new surroundings will be very good for her. And she and father maintained a small circle of close friends there over the years.”

  “Oui, I am sure you are right. I like her a lot, Alex.” Her heart was tied up in knots. She sensed they would both go back to France and she would remain here without them—without him.

  “She likes you too, Blair. Not everyone receives a gift of one of father’s gargoyles,” he said, grimacing as he looked down at the jewel box topped with what he thought was the ugliest gargoyle he had ever seen.

  Blair looked down at the box on her lap. “I think he is quite lovely. I think I shall call him Pierre.”

  “Lovely? You, Chéri, have either a very generous mind or very poor eyesight!” They were still laughing together when the car pulled up in front of her hotel.

  ***

  Once again, he found himself pacing—he’d done quite a lot of pacing since he met Blair, he realized! What in God’s name was he doing?

  He had taken an innocent young woman to his bed. His family had tried to kill her time and time again. How could he ever expect to have a life with her? No, he had to give her time to heal, time to realize that his own family had caused the death of her dear uncle, her close friend and landlord, and had put her in the hospital.

  Oh, no doubt he recognized the irony, having assured Angus that he should feel no guilt over Taog’s involvement, but this was different. He could live with their guilt…but Blair had no experience with the world. How would she be able to come to grips with his family’s involvement? They had caused her such pain and heartbreak. Surely, she would eventually put the blame for all she had lost right where it belonged—with his family.

  Then there was also the fact that she really didn’t know him very well. His past had been filled with newspaper accounts of his affairs and womanizing for the last ten years. He had ignored them, really. He hadn’t felt them worth denying. In fact, he had spent so much time building his father’s business that he really hadn’t had much of a social life. Oh, there had been a few sweet, young women over those years, but nothing even closely resembling the rumors and stories that went around.

  Now he realized that he should have taken some kind of action against these lies. How could he possibly connect himself to someone as innocent as Blair and expect her to live in the shadow of such rumors and innuendos?

  He never should have kissed her, loved her—he had done her no favors, and he didn’t know what to do now.

  He paced his rooms until three the next morning and then only slept fitfully for a couple of hours. Finally, he stumbled bleary-eyed downstairs to breakfast with his mother at six, as was their habit.

  “Good morning, dear,” Lady McDonnough sai
d, as she saw him come into the breakfast room. Under his eyes he had the dark bruises of a sleepless night. My, he’s had a rough night, she thought. I wonder what set this in motion?

  “Morning, Mère,” he mumbled, as he dropped a kiss on her cheek. Then he quickly turned to grab a cup and as much black coffee as it would hold.

  “Did we have a bad night, my dear?” she smiled sweetly at her son.

  “I didn’t sleep well.” Looking up he saw the soppy sweet smile on her face and, if she had not been his dear, beloved mother, he would gladly have snarled at her. What was she up to, he wondered? “What?”

  “Well, I don’t know why you would not sleep well,” she said, as she forked a nice tender potato. “We had such a lovely time yesterday. Blair is an absolutely lovely girl, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, lovely.” He found himself snarling anyway. Maybe if he got up to get some meat and potatoes, she would leave him alone. He rose and turned his back to her while piling food onto his plate. He really didn’t want to hear about Blair this morning. He’d made a firm decision at 3:00 a.m. and he didn’t want anything or anyone making him waiver.

  “I’ve decided it’s time for us to return to France,” he said, as casually as he could manage. “I thought we would take the evening train to Edinburgh. You can stay with me in Bretagne until you find what you are looking for in the way of living accommodations, or you can use the Paris apartment if you wish. The servants can pack up the rest of our belongings and ship them to me. Any furnishing belonging to you can be brought to you once you are settled.”

  Well, she thought, my son is not usually a coward. He’s fighting his feeling for this young woman harder than she would have thought. Men can be so foolish sometimes. Especially, she sighed again, in matters of the heart. She had thought that living in France all those years would have taught him more about romance, about love. Oh my, there is some real work to be done here.