The Fairbairn Girls

by Una-Mary Parker

  The ceremony was simple and straightforward and when Henry had said ‘I do’ and given Diana’s hand to Robert Kelso, he stepped back and stood beside his mother.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered gratefully. ‘Your father would have been so proud of you today.’

  Back at the castle the reception was in full swing as the three hundred guests waited in line to be received and McEwan did his best to announce each person correctly. The champagne flowed as waiters skimmed around refilling glasses and offering tiny sandwiches filled with salmon and other sweetmeats.

  While Lady Rothbury, Henry and the new Lady Diana Kelso and Lord Kelso shook hands with all the arrivals, the other sisters mingled with the guests.

  ‘Let’s see if we can find any husband material!’ Beattie whispered to Laura with a mischievous smile.

  ‘Now, which sister are you?’ asked a warm male voice behind Laura. She turned and found herself looking up into the strong-featured face of a tall man in his late forties with a military bearing and dark twinkling eyes.

  ‘I’m Laura,’ she replied, laughing. ‘I’m the second daughter.’

  ‘Out of . . .?’

  ‘Nine girls, but now I’m afraid there are only eight of us.’

  His brow puckered in sympathy. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ He looked around the magnificent room. ‘You were born here, I imagine?’

  Laura nodded. ‘We all were. The local doctor and midwife practically lived with us for a few years.’

  He burst out laughing. ‘Let me introduce myself. I’m Walter Leighton-Harvey. I live in Lasswade, near Edinburgh, and I’m ashamed to say this is the first time I’ve visited Argyllshire. I was in the Scots Guards until I retired so I had to be wherever I was posted.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ she replied stupidly. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she was having difficulty breathing as she continued to look into his eyes. There was something about this man that she found deeply attractive in a way she hadn’t found any man since Rory.

  ‘Are you staying up here for long?’ she asked awkwardly, and to her own surprise realized she was hoping he’d say yes.

  ‘I’d like to go to Mull. There’s a ferry from Oban, isn’t there?’

  She nodded. ‘Mull’s very beautiful.’ Why can’t I say somethingwitty and intelligent? she thought frantically. I can’t let this marvellousman slip through my fingers before I’ve even got to know him.

  Lizzie passed behind him and gave Laura a knowing nod of approval.

  ‘How long do you plan to stay on Mull?’ she asked. ‘Perhaps you’d care to stay with us for a few days on your way back? Friends are always dropping in for a night here or there and Mama loves to entertain,’ she added, astonished at her own boldness. Her cheeks were quite pink now and she could see the admiration in his eyes as he gazed back at her.

  He seemed to hesitate before answering and Laura held her breath. ‘That’s really sweet of you,’ he began in his warm, rich voice, ‘and I’d have loved to stay with you all, but the thing is my wife and I have to get back to Lasswade for our son’s birthday at the end of the week, so alas! I’ll have to refuse your lovely invitation.’

  ‘Oh, of course,’ she replied, a shade too quickly. ‘Maybe another time,’ she added with forced gaiety while her heart plummeted with disappointment.

  ‘There you are, Walter!’ exclaimed a sweet-looking woman in a large hat covered in silk roses. ‘I think they’re going to cut the cake in a minute.’ She turned to Laura. ‘You look so lovely, my dear. I hear you made Diana’s wedding dress and all the bridesmaid dresses, too?’

  Laura nodded, hating this woman for being so nice and so charming. ‘How incredibly clever of you,’ Mrs Leighton-Harvey continued in her sugary voice. ‘Wherever did you learn such a skill?’

  Laura shrugged as if it was nothing. ‘I picked up a few tips from the person Mama used to employ as a resident dressmaker,’ she replied casually.

  ‘Well, I’m full of admiration, my dear,’ said Mrs Leighton-Harvey, patting her arm. ‘Isn’t she a clever girl, Walter?’

  ‘Very clever,’ he replied, his eyes never leaving Laura’s face as he smiled down at her.

  ‘Come along, Walter. Let’s find a good place to watch them cutting the cake.’

  Walter gave Laura a little bow. ‘Will you excuse us?’

  As they moved away Laura saw the reluctance in his eyes. ‘Goodbye,’ she replied, determined to hide her disappointment.

  Nearly all the guests had been received now and McEwan had put the number one footman in charge of announcing any latecomers while he gathered together those who were to make speeches by the three-tier cake that Cook had spent weeks baking and icing.

  ‘Mr and Mrs George Thornby,’ shouted the footman as an elderly couple stepped forward to be received by Lady Rothbury and Henry. ‘Lord and Lady Ellison,’ came a minute later. They too stepped forward.

  There was a slight pause and then the footman cleared his throat to make another announcement. ‘The Earl of Rothbury,’ he boomed.

  Lady Rothbury turned white and gripped Henry’s arm. ‘It can’t be,’ she whispered aghast. ‘Has Freddie returned?’

  The room fell silent, the guests not sure what was going on but sensing something momentous was happening.

  Everyone looked towards the doorway, their expressions expectant. Many were asking themselves if it was possible that Freddie had really had the nerve to come back to Scotland, knowing he’d face charges of murder and robbery?

  When a tall, thin man in his early twenties with a black moustache and sideburns strolled arrogantly into the room as if he owned the place, confusion broke out. Whispering swept through the guests like incoming waves on a beach. This certainly wasn’t Freddie. Whoever he was he couldn’t be the Earl of Rothbury. Unless a previously unknown cousin had succeeded to the title?

  ‘The footman must have got the name muddled,’ an elderly lady presumed.

  Everyone stood watching as the young man stepped up to Lady Rothbury with his hand held out. ‘I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting until now,’ he said with a strong Scottish accent.

  She shrank back from him, a look of fear and horror in her eyes.

  ‘Who are you?’ demanded Henry angrily. ‘Did Freddie send you here?’

  ‘I’ve no idea where Frederick is,’ the man replied loftily. ‘All I know is he’s not going to return so it’s time I made an appearance. I am and always have been the rightful heir of Lochlee anyway.’

  For a moment Lady Rothbury had to be supported by Henry and Robert Kelso as she staggered and nearly fell.

  ‘Get out of here,’ Henry said roughly. ‘You’ve no right to adopt my late father’s title. Who do you think you are?’

  The man looked at him with sardonic amusement. ‘I’m your late father’s eldest son. This is where I belong. Where I’ve always belonged.’

  Lizzie and Laura had gathered around their mother in bewilderment.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Laura asked.

  Lady Rothbury rallied. ‘Let us talk about this in private. Robert, you and Diana stay here and talk to the guests.’ Then she turned to McEwan. ‘Take this . . . this person to the morning room and I will follow.’

  McEwan looked stricken. ‘Yes, M’Lady. I’m sorry, M’Lady, he would never have been allowed across the threshold if I’d been on the door when he arrived.’

  Glowering angrily, he grabbed the young man’s arm. ‘This way, laddie,’ he said roughly.

  There was a scuffle as he protested and swore at the butler to ‘Keep your filthy hands off me,’ but as quick as a dart Henry bent down, whipped his skean-dhu from his sock and held the blade, unsheathed, towards the interloper’s throat.

  ‘Do as my mother says,’ he growled.

  The whispering had spread across the room and spilled into the great hall as two strong footmen frogmarched the man along the corridor followed by Henry, his mother, Laura and Lizzie.

  ‘Get someone to fetch the po
lice,’ Lady Rothbury instructed McEwan, ‘and we don’t want to be disturbed. See that one of the footmen stays outside the morning-room door.’

  ‘Yes, M’Lady.’ For the first time in his long years of employment at Lochlee he looked flustered and apologetic.

  There was a round table in the middle of the rather drab room and Lady Rothbury seated herself at it, indicating that the young man should sit opposite. Henry stood protectively by her side, his dirk still held firmly in his right hand while the sisters sat on their mother’s other side.

  Lady Rothbury looked stern and composed as she faced the interloper. When she spoke her voice was sharp and angry. ‘I know all about you, Douglas Kirkbride – you have the blood of my family on your hands.’

  ‘You know this man?’ Henry exclaimed in a shocked voice.

  ‘I know all about him and the misery he has caused us all,’ his mother replied bitterly.

  Kirkbride shrugged and his manner was insolent. ‘I’m the eldest son of William Earl of Rothbury and that’s an indisputable fact. Therefore I’m his rightful heir.’

  Laura rose angrily. ‘That’s rubbish! Freddie is his eldest son. I was four when he was born and I remember everyone saying he was Papa’s first son.’

  He smirked. ‘You were also four when I was born three months before Frederick. Therefore I’m the eldest son. Frederick, who is no longer around, is the second son, and this young bully brandishing his skean-dhu is the third son. I am merely doing my duty in claiming my inheritance because Frederick is probably dead, and this whippersnapper is never going to amount to much,’ he added, giving Henry a disdainful look.

  Infuriated, Henry sprang forward, throwing his arm out and gripping the man in a headlock. ‘Who the hell do you think you are?’ he shouted, resting the tip of his dirk against the man’s throat. The two men struggled and Lizzie’s scream of alarm caused the footman waiting outside the door to rush in.

  He managed to separate them with the help of another footman, but Douglas had to be held back to prevent him charging at Henry again.

  ‘Get him out of here,’ Henry raged. ‘The man’s an imposter and he should never have been allowed in.’

  Lady Rothbury had risen imperiously to her feet. Her eyes flashed with fury and she spoke harshly. ‘My husband told me everything about you, Douglas Kirkbride, because that is who you really are. Before he died he warned me about you. Your mother was the village trollop, Dolly Kirkbride, who seduced him one night when he was drunk. He gave her money to move away when you were born but he carried the shame of what he’d done to the end of his life. My husband also told me you kept coming on to our land, threatening him unless he made you his legal heir, and when he finally thought he’d got rid of you for ever,’ she paused, shaking now with extraordinary passion, ‘you came back in the dead of night and cursed us all by the Rowan tree. My daughter Eleanor lost her life trying to undo that curse. You’re rotten to the core, Douglas Kirkbride, and you’re no doubt satisfied that the curse haunts us still and there have been a series of tragedies in the family. Let me tell you something: I hope you rot in hell and eternal damnation for the havoc you have wreaked on the Fairbairn family. Now throw him out or we’ll set the dogs on you.’

  ‘The police are here, M’Lady,’ McEwan replied.

  Henry tucked his dirk back into his sock. ‘Good. Show them in.’

  Then he turned with a look of disgust at Kirkbride. ‘I’ll make sure you’re charged with trespass and intent to cause a disturbance, and if you ever come here again you’ll have me to answer to,’ he added hotly.

  Kirkbride looked evenly at Henry, his shifty dark eyes glittering with malice. ‘I swear you’ll never become the next Earl of Rothbury.’

  A cold shiver ran through those in the room and Henry turned pale. ‘Neither will you,’ he retorted.

  A moment later Diana came rushing in, looking flustered. ‘What’s happening? We’ve got to have the speeches now. Everyone is waiting.’

  ‘Yes. We’ll all come now.’ It was obvious Lady Rothbury was deeply shaken.

  Diana hurried off and her mother turned to the others. ‘As far as your younger sisters and the guests are concerned, that creature was a drunken lunatic. He didn’t know what he was saying. Do you understand? Not a word of what you heard just now must ever be repeated.’

  They all nodded, taken aback by her commanding manner and the incredible strength she’d shown in dealing with what had just happened. It was the first time they’d ever seen her like this; a lioness protecting her cubs. And the reputation of the family.

  Diana and Robert had left in a flurry of rose petals and cheering guests as they set off in an open carriage drawn by two grey horses who had garlands of flowers hung round their necks.

  ‘What a splendid wedding, my dear Margaret,’ the Duke of Argyll told Lady Rothbury as he took his leave. Everyone was brimming with enthusiasm and champagne as they waved to the young couple who were going to Paris for their honeymoon.

  ‘Imagine, Paris!’ said Georgie enviously. ‘I’d give my right arm to go to Paris.’

  Laura, standing on the front steps of the castle, was scanning the crowds for a final look at Walter Leighton-Harvey. Then she caught sight of him, head and shoulders above the melee, talking to another couple, his wife by his side. He was laughing good-humouredly and Laura felt a pang of sadness that it was not her who stood beside him at this moment. If only he wasn’t married, she reflected regretfully. As if he was aware of her gaze, he suddenly turned and, seeing her, raised his top hat and waved it. She waved back and smiled, and he smiled too. Then his wife tugged his arm as if she wanted to leave and, almost reluctantly, he gave Laura a little nod before replacing his hat and turning away.

  Feeling suddenly deflated, Laura turned and went back into the castle where the servants were frantically clearing up and trying to restore the pristine tidiness of the reception rooms in readiness for a dinner party that night.

  Beattie came up behind her and slid her arm around Laura’s waist. ‘Wasn’t Di’s dress a triumph! Everyone was saying how gifted and clever you are. Are you pleased with the way it all went? Our dresses are beautiful, too. I’m longing for another occasion to wear mine.’

  ‘Thank you, Beattie.’ Laura led the way up to her bedroom. ‘Yes, I think it all went very well and Di certainly looked beautiful, but it’s been one of the strangest days of my life.’

  ‘How so? Because of that strange man gatecrashing the reception? What was that about? Someone asked me if Freddie had returned.’

  ‘Come into my room and I’ll tell you,’ Laura replied in a low voice. ‘Mama made us promise not to tell the young ones.’

  Beattie’s eyes widened. ‘What is it?’

  Laura told her about Douglas Kirkbride being Papa’s illegitimate son. ‘He was apparently born three months before Freddie,’ she added grimly.

  Beattie looked shocked. ‘Then Papa must have . . . you know . . . after he was married to Mama?’

  Laura nodded. ‘Six years after he married Mama.’

  Beattie gave a little snort of disgust. ‘What’s the matter with men? And Mama knew about it?’

  ‘Apparently Papa told her just before he died. You know what this means, don’t you?’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Remember how we heard Papa yelling at a man to stay away from us? Papa seemed in a state and then Eleanor heard a man cursing us by the Rowan tree one night?’

  Beattie gave a sharp intake of breath. ‘Of course. That explains everything. And Eleanor thought she could . . .’ she began and her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, this is terrible.’

  ‘Now I think Papa may have had reason to say we were all cursed.’

  ‘What a dreadful thing to say, Laura.’ Beattie looked near to tears. ‘You can’t really believe that, surely?’

  ‘Sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t,’ Laura replied with honesty. ‘I don’t want to believe it; Mama used to tell us only uneducated people were superstitious an
d all that nonsense was just an old wives’ tale, but you have to admit that everything has gone wrong since this man laid a curse on us. I believe Mama thinks so too, now.’

  ‘Who knows about this man beside you?’

  ‘Only Henry and Lizzie.’

  Beattie sighed. ‘You certainly have had a strange day.’

  ‘I also fell in love,’ Laura said in a small voice.

  Beattie’s face lit up and she clapped her hands with delight. ‘Oh, Laura. How wonderful. Who is he?’

  ‘Don’t get excited,’ Laura warned in a dry voice. ‘He is absolutely perfect but he’s a married man.’

  Her sister’s face fell. ‘What a shame! Oh, what bad luck! Never mind – you’ll meet someone one day who will be just right for you. You mustn’t give up.’

  Laura rose and went over to her hanging cupboard. ‘I can’t decide what to wear for dinner tonight.’

  Her eye caught a midnight-blue chiffon dress she’d made which was very becoming. If Walter Leighton-Harvey had been single and dining with them it was the dress she’d have chosen. ‘I’ll wear this,’ she announced, taking a pale pink dress from the cupboard. ‘It’s a bit insipid, but who cares?’

  That evening Lady Rothbury hosted a large dinner party for people who had travelled from afar to attend the wedding. Beattie looked delighted when she discovered her mother had placed her next to a good-looking man in his early thirties whom she had never met before.

  His placement card said his name was Andrew Drinkwater.

  ‘I’m afraid I’m a poor substitute for my brother-in-law,’ he told Beattie self-deprecatingly after he’d introduced himself. ‘I’m here to escort my sister, Amelia Watson-Brown, as her husband was unfortunately detained in London. He’s a barrister and is now a member of parliament. He’s a jolly clever chap. I’m just a rather boring business man.’ He added, grinning, ‘And I’m sorry you’ve been done out of a fascinating man to talk to.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re just as clever as him,’ Beattie quipped flirtatiously. ‘Where are you and your sister staying?’

  ‘We’re at the Craigan Hotel, not far from here.’ He leaned closer and lowered his voice. ‘I must say it was most awfully kind of your mother to invite us tonight as well as to your sister and Robert’s wedding this afternoon. We were bracing ourselves for a dinner of Haggis with Neeps and Tatties.’