by Janie Brians
"Well, my uncle had some property, most of which had to be sold to pay for his medical debts. But once everything was paid off, what remained was a tiny parcel of land that had a small cottage on it. I inherited it and that's where I went to live. I had already inherited the dubious legacy of McFallen House and was on the verge of putting it up for sale to get rid of that burden of debt, when one of my school chums who was visiting at the time, suggested I write a book. 'After all,' said he, 'that's what you just spent the last four years in university for.' So, I took his advice and, while I still had a little savings left, I worked day and night writing about something I had always found fascinating."
"What was that?"
"Pirates and privateers of the Elizabethan era."
She looked at him in surprise. The more she got to know of him, the more she found they
had in common. "Can he be for real?" she asked herself.
"And was it published?" she asked out loud.
"Yes. I was elated, of course. To be honest, it wasn't an overwhelming success, but from it I was able to pay off a large portion of the debt on McFallen House and start some renovations. By that time, I was determined not to give it up. It had been in the family since 1615, and I didn't want to be the McFallen that allowed it to slip away from the family."
"So now you're writing this second book in hopes of having it published so that you can pay off the rest of the debt and continue the renovations," she completed for him.
"That's about the size of it. Actually, this book is the third one. I wrote a second one but no one would publish it so I finally gave up on it and decided to try something different. Mysteries have always been interesting to me, and the mystery surrounding the murder of Lord Darnley is what I'm working on now."
"I remember that story from history class. Mary was beheaded for his murder, but it was never proved that she had had any part in it."
"Right. The evidence that convicted her was the supposed translation of some personal letters she'd written to Lord Bothwell, who had become her third husband after Darnley. Bothwell fled to Denmark after Mary was imprisoned in Loch Leven Castle. She had written him several letters in French and some of them were supposedly found in a small silver casket before they were sent to Denmark. The story goes that they were translated into English and found to contain evidence that she had conspired to have Darnley killed. However, the original letters in French disappeared while Mary was still alive. There was so much controversy over the validity of the English translation, that even after her execution many Scotsmen still didn't believe she was guilty. The mystery was never solved. I guess the answers were in those original letters which are long gone by now. Still, it's a very interesting subject and I think it'll make something worth reading."
“ I'd love to read it," Lizzie said with enthusiasm. He stopped under the canopy of an immense oak and facing her, he lightly touched her cheek.
"You're a little prejudiced...! hope," he smiled.
She smiled up at him, "I guess maybe I am."
He kissed her tenderly under the twinkling stars. Her mind and heart were in a whirl. Never had she felt so happy, so ecstatic and yet, deep down inside, so tranquil and at peace, as if she'd come home after twenty-three years of wandering. As they walked back to the hotel, she rested her head on his arm. "I could really get used to this," she thought.
He walked her to her room. At the door they kissed good-night. Then he whispered in her ear, "Good-night, sweet Lizzie," and he was gone.
Slowly, she unlocked her door and entered her room. She was there less than five minutes when she heard a gentle knock on the door adjoining her room to Malcolm's. She slipped her robe on over her nightgown and said impishly, "Go away!"
"Now lass, don't ya be treatin' yer uncle so meanly," he countered. "After all, whom should ya be thankin' for puttin' ya in this city to meet the wonderful Mr. McFallen, eh?"
She was at the door with a smile as he opened it. As he stepped into her room, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him heartily on the cheek. He put his hands on her shoulders and stood looking into her face.
"Well, if you don't have that same look of ecstacy in your face as you did the day you found your gold bar," he smiled.
"Uncle, he's... he's... I think I'm in love with him. Is that crazy? After only two dates?" she asked him.
"Some fall in love after only two minutes, or two seconds. There's just no telling with love," he replied seriously.
She looked at him thoughtfully and asked, "Why have you never married, Uncle?"
"Child, there are the marrying types and there are the types like yours truly, who will probably never marry. It's not the life I want."
"But surely you've been in love," she said.
"Once, many years ago when I still lived here. I was but seventeen."
"What was she like? What happened?" she asked, curious that she had never thought of
this before. |
"She was a bonny lass. She loved to laugh, and when we were together there was always something to laugh about. She made living a joy," he said softly.
"What happened? Why did you never marry her?"
"Ah! To put it bluntly, her family didn't think me worthy. In other words, I didn't have the money they thought a daughter of theirs was entitled to and therefore was not of an adequate social level to be acceptable," he said with bitterness in his voice.
"How awful, Uncle! But what about now? They couldn't deny that you've done pretty well for yourself since."
"But, my dear, the lady in question married many years ago. Not long after I left and moved to Freeport, she married a very fine and worthy gentleman. One who has been able to give her the life her family felt she deserved."
"How could she marry someone she didn't love?!" Lizzie said in disgust.
"Everyone sets their priorities in life. She evidently had hers," he said dryly. "Now, enough of such talk. I just came in to ask you what your plans are for tomorrow."
"Oh, I nearly forgot. We've been invited to Liam's estate near Crief. Have you ever heard of McFallen House?"
"Yes. A dilapidated monstrosity, I don't think I want to see it."
"But from what Liam has told me, part of it is quite nice. He's been able to restore it and wants us to come and spend the week-end there with him."
"Well... I don't know if I should tag along."
"Uncle, you know I'd rather you did come. I'd really like for the two of you to meet one another," and then she remembered something else, "Besides, he has a neighbor that is quite a
collector of art and she's anxious to meet the great Malcolm McAllistair himself," she teased.
"Flattery, child. Flattery will get you ...everywhere," he laughed.
Evidently she has quite a houseful of beautiful art and artifacts she's collected over the years. Liam says her home is quite a showpiece . Come on, Uncle, you know you don't want to miss that!" she urged.
Just as the little clock on the mantlepiece chimed the noon hour, there was a knock on her door. She ran to open it.
"Hello love," Liam said as he walked in and kissed her cheek, " all ready? Can I help with your bags?"
"Yes, please. Malcolm is coming too. He's looking forward to meeting you Liam."
"The great Malcolm McAllistair. I think I'm going to feel intimidated.
" She laughed as she remembered calling Malcolm the same thing last night. "You've heard of him?"
"Anybody who's ever had anything to do with British history and the like has heard of Malcolm McAllistair. I read his book on undersea treasures too. It was fascinating. Madelaine Thomas, my neighbor, has also told me about him. She's never met him, but has visited several museums and historical societies that he has helped set up around the world. She's going to be so thrilled to have him in her home."
At that moment, as if on queue, Malcolm walked in, Lizzie introduced them and rather than seeming the least bit nervous in his company, Liam chatted amiably with him. Both were com
fortable with one another from the beginning.
"This is going to be a terrific week-end," thought Lizzie.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"CHRIS?!" LIZZIE SAID, stunned to see him across the street. "Chris!" she yelled again, but if he heard her he ignored her and turned and walked quickly down the street. She tried to go after him but lost him on the crowded street.
"That couldn't have been Chris," she told herself. Still, she had gotten a fairly good look at him before he'd gone out of sight. If it was him, what in the world was he doing here in Scotland? And more to the point, what was he doing in the same town as she was? Following her? Chris? It didn't make sense to her. One thing was for sure, if he had seen her it was obvious that he didn't want to have anything to do with her.
"What's going on? What are you up to, Chris Dean?" she said under her breath. She went to Liam's car, unlocked the door, and retrieved her camera. She locked the car and headed back to the cafe. The ride from Edinburgh to Grief had been quite pleasant. The countryside was breathtaking. Crossing the Firth of Fourth, they'd entered into the beautiful land of the Trossachs, or gently rolling hills. Several places along the way, they'd stopped so that she could take a picture. Once they reached Grief, Liam suggested stopping for a bite at a little cafe called simply "Gwen's", after the owner. Hearty food and lots of it, was the motto at Gwen's, and she served it with a smile and cheery disposition. A woman in her early fifties, she practically doted on Liam.
"The son I never had," she said with a twinkle in her eye.
The restaurant was comfortable, inviting and very Scottish. The curtains at each of the windows were of a bright plaid, or tartan, material with green, gold and navy stripes. The cushions on each chair were also of plaid as were the tablecloths. Two oil paintings of country scenes hung on two of the walls, while the third wall was almost completely covered by an immense tapestry depicting the arrival of Mary Stuart to Edinburgh Castle in royal procession up the Royal Mile from Holyrood House. The colors were vivid and the needle-work meticulously done. Lizzie decided she wanted a photo of Liam, Malcolm, and herself next to the tapestry. That was what had sent her to the car for her camera. It was when she'd stepped out of the cafe into the sunlight that she'd seen Chris across the street. He'd never even mentioned he was going to be in Scotland the same time that she would be. Back in Freeport at her apartment when they'd been talking about her trip here, he hadn't said a word about it. It made her feel uneasy the more she thought about it.
After enjoying a delicious meal, the three companions returned to Liam's car and drove the twenty minutes more to McFallen House. She hadn't any idea what to expect and was amazed at its imposing size. It was a grand building, square in shape and three storeys high including the servants' floor on the top. The recently restored east wing was to the right as they entered through the gate and drove around the circular drive, parking beyond the front entrance. It stood out in sharp contrast to the center and west wing of the place. The two-thirds of the house that Liam had yet to restore had walls darkened with centuries of onslaughts from wind, rain, and fire. There were vacant cavities in the walls where windows should have been reflecting the golden light of a late afternoon sun. The east wing however, had freshly painted walls and window panes that sparkled in the sunlight. Liam stopped the car near a side door that he said entered into the east wing.
"I cordoned off the whole of the east wing since it is essentially finished. I'll take down the barriers as I'm able to continue to restore the other parts. Hopefully, that will be within my lifetime," he joked. "I've found drawings similar to architectural plans up in the attic and I'm trying to use them as much as is practical. Of course, I’ve added the necessary modern conveniences too."
"Sounds like a lot of money is what ya need, lad," Malcolm commented.
"Nearly a million pounds before it's all over with, according to my calculations."
"Well, your next book will put a big hole in that, I'll bet," Lizzie added confidently. Liam looked at her and smiled, "My little messenger of optimism," he said. They unloaded their luggage and went to the side of the house. Liam unlocked the heavy wooden door and stepped aside for his guests to precede him. Lizzie entered first with Malcolm right behind her.
"No wonder it's taking you so long to complete this. Not only is it a huge undertaking, but you're obviously doing a first rate job of it," Malcolm complimented him.
"What a perfectly lovely room!" was all Lizzie could say.
On their left as they entered, was an enormous window that faced the front of the building. The room itself was very large, running the whole width of the building. The window at the back of the room was of equal size and shape as the one in front and both were draped with curtains of a soft gold and cream-colored waterprint. A fireplace of huge proportions took nearly a third of the wall space on the east wall, the outer wall. On either side of it stood a column about three feet in height. Placed on top of each column was a beautifully painted porcelain flowerpot each containing an abundance of fresh spring flowers. Situated at the best angle and distance from the far window, was a grand piano with its ebony wood polished to a high sheen. In front of the fireplace was an arrangement of two winged-back chairs in a gentle sky-blue fabric and three luxuriously comfortable looking couches. The couches were upholstered in the same eye-pleasing material as the drapes. Two were positioned at right-angles to the fireplace and facing one another, while the third couch faced the fireplace. A large, oval-shaped coffee-table of rich mahogany sat in front of the couches. Hanging over the mantle of the fireplace was a watercolor painting of a highland scene in summertime. The wall opposite the fireplace also had a collection of portraits and landscapes of varying shapes and sizes that accentuated the comfortable elegance of the room. Rich hardwood floors were left uncovered except for the area under the couches and chairs. There, a sumptuous area rug lay in front of the fireplace. Two cut-crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling and reflected the fiery rays of the setting sun. Despite the grand proportions of the room, everything about it exuded a peaceful, welcoming mood that was very inviting.
As they crossed the length of the room, Lizzie noticed several pictures in gilded frames sitting on top of the piano. One picture featured a couple with a young boy.
"My parents," Liam said when he saw what she looked at. "This picture next to it is of my uncle George and his wife Daisy."
Other pictures were obviously from his college days and chums. Another one was a small oil painting of McFallen House as it could be someday.
"My life's goal," he said as he gently touched the frame. "I only need a minor miracle to accomplish it," and he smiled ruefully.
He took them through another door that led to a carpeted stairway. They followed him up to the second floor. Lizzie felt that the more she saw of what he was trying to do there, the more she was learning about him. Their first stop was at the room he said she would be using. As she walked in, she smiled with delight.
"Oh Liam, what a charming room!" she exclaimed.
"I hope you'll be comfortable, Lizzie."
"How can I help it in a room like this.
"If you'd like to freshen up or unpack your things, I'll show Malcolm to his room and the three of us can meet back down in the living room in say, half an hour. I have a few phone calls to make. Okay with you?"
"Perfect," she said.
"Good enough, lad. See you in a bit, dearie," Malcolm said as he followed Liam farther down the hallway.
She closed her door and walking over to the four-poster bed, she let herself fall backwards onto the creamy, lush comforter and plump pillows. She lay there looking around the room. It , too, was exquisitely decorated and had its own bathroom to complete the comfort and privacy. She got up and walked over to the windowseat across the room. It looked out over the grounds at the back of the house. It was certain that the grounds were in need of a lot of attention. Although the grass immediately around the house was mowed, the garden beyond was overgrown and th
e fountain at its center needed repairing.
"He has so much work ahead of him here," she thought. Then with a smile she added, "I think he needs a partner to help him."
Half an hour later, she made her way down to the living room. Malcolm hadn't come down yet, so she and Liam had a few minutes to themselves. He offered her a brandy and invited her to sit down. She chose one of the couches and slipping off her shoes, she curled up in one corner of it. Liam already had a boisterous fire popping and crackling in the large fireplace. He sat down next to her and began to tell her all of his plans for the rest of McFallen House. As he spoke, she could feel the intense pride he had in the place. She saw in his animated explanations just how driven he was to complete it. She could empathize with him. As soon as she had seen the place, she too had felt a sense of sadness to see how this once grand house had been so neglected. She hoped, though, that Liam wasn't becoming obsessed by it. Just then Malcolm arrived and Liam poured him a drink. The three of them sat talking for a good while and then Malcolm asked, "When will we have the pleasure of meeting your neighbor?"
"I called her after I had you settled in your rooms. She's looking forward to us having lunch with her tomorrow, if you're both agreeable to it."
"Looking forward to it aren't we Lizzie girl?" Malcolm said.
"Definitely. Hope she can tell us something about that crest too."
"I mentioned to her what your particular interest was, Lizzie, and she said she has something that you may find interesting. It's the same thing she's so excited about showing you, Malcolm. Something she found on one of her latest trips."
"Sounds interesting," Malcolm answered.
After another hour of conversation, the fire was beginning to die down. Liam got up and stoked it and laid another log on it. Lizzie was feeling very sleepy from the warmth of the fire and the effect of the brandy, so she said her good-nights to the men and went to her room where she fell fast asleep.