By Eastern windows

by Gretta Curran Browne

  The success of the evening, and its enjoyment, surpassed all of Elizabeth’s expectations. Between the dances with her various partners, Lachlan had escorted her to the dining room to find them refreshment, and on their return they had sat at one of the small tables drinking wine and watching the dancers, exchanging humorous comments, until another gallant arrived to claim a dance from her. It had been a wonderful evening, glittering and glamorous, and she had enjoyed every minute of it.

  The lamps suddenly flared up, brightening the ballroom. It was late, and the tired and happy crowd began saying their farewells, dispersing to brave the coldness of the night.

  ‘Time to go, Macquarie!’ General Balfour called from the doorway. ‘Time to return to our hammocks!’

  *

  The night was cold and clear and the stars gleamed like diamonds. At Wigmore Street, Lachlan sprang out of the carriage and escorted Elizabeth to her door. As soon as the maid opened it, he again pressed her fingers affectionately and wished her a ‘Happy New Year,’ and then he turned down the steps and was gone.

  Elizabeth stood watching the carriage as it slowly moved off, but it was only the old general who poked his head through the window and looked back, as if suddenly remembering he had not said farewell, calling back to her: ‘Happy New Year, Miss um, um ... what?’ His head disappeared for a second then re-emerged. ‘Oh yes – Campbell! Happy New Year, Miss Campbell! Cheerio!’

  *

  On the journey home General Balfour became talkative. ‘Frankly, Macquarie, I am inclined to agree with my friend General Stuart, it's high time you married again.’

  Lachlan glanced at Balfour who smiled and cocked a twinkling blue eye ‘Miss Campbell looks quite suitable, what? She’s a nice-looking young woman.’

  ‘She is, sir.’

  ‘And she appears quite sound and reliable as well as charming. That’s the kind of woman you want, sound and reliable.’ Balfour pulled a face. ‘Not like that Italian Countess who had her eye on me tonight! She may have been a lady, but I got the distinct impression she was going to ask me for a loan.’

  Lachlan smiled disbelievingly.

  ‘Not that I have anything against Italian Countesses,’ Balfour explained, ‘but three dead husbands hardly makes her trustworthy, eh what?’

  The carriage slowed to a stop. Lachlan sprang out and held the door for Balfour. `Here we are, sir.’

  Balfour remained seated, his face thoughtful. ‘She gave me her card and invited me to call on her at home tomorrow, for afternoon tea … but no, I’m sure it’s for a loan.’

  ‘And what makes you think that, sir?’

  ‘Her non-stop talk about rubies and emeralds and all the other fine jewels we officers can pick up so cheaply in India, not to mention the handfuls we receive in prize money. Oh, she knew all about it. And you must remember, such things can make a man very attractive to a woman. ’

  ‘Then maybe it’s more than just a loan she is looking for,’ Lachlan grinned. ‘Maybe it’s you that should give some consideration to the subject of marriage.’

  ‘God forbid,’ Balfour said as he climbed out. ‘I’m off to Perth first thing in the morning. The carriage is arriving at six. Hardly worth my while going to bed, eh what?’

  ‘Goodnight, sir.’

  ‘Goodnight, dear boy.’

  Later, upon entering his own quarters, Lachlan was surprised to find his manservant still up, waiting for him. ‘What is it, Joseph?’ he asked.

  ‘This dispatch, sir. It came just after you left this evening. It’s marked urgent.’

  Lachlan threw down his cape and ripped open the dispatch. He read the contents quickly, and then read them again more slowly, a frown on his face. He looked around, nodding to his servant. ‘You may go to bed now, Joseph.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. Goodnight.’

  Lachlan poured himself a glass of brandy, and sat down in an armchair thinking about the content of the dispatch, hardly able to believe it. That old humbug Balfour – the man was incapable of talking straight about anything! All the time they had spent in each other’s company tonight at the Ball, and then during the carriage journey home – all that nonsense about the Italian Countess looking for a loan. Yet not a word about this!

  Lachlan read the dispatch again, informing him of his immediate posting to Perth in Scotland – and to ensure that the arrival of himself and his commanding officer in Perth could be effected as speedily as possible, a carriage to convey them to Scotland would arrive the following morning at six.

  ‘Hardly worth my while going to bed, eh what?’ he mimicked Balfour as he pulled out his portmanteau and began to pack.

  When the carriage arrived just after six, General Balfour was already seated comfortably inside. Lachlan climbed into the carriage, sat on the seat opposite and glared at him. ‘Why did you not give me any warning of this last night? And why does it have to be me?’

  ‘You? I had no idea it would be you accompanying me to Perth.’ Balfour gave him a wonderfully innocent stare. ‘No idea at all.’

  ‘Come, sir, the command would not assign you without informing you of the name of your staff officer. They would have told you that days ago.’

  ‘No … well, perhaps they might have suggested a few names … but none that I can recall.’

  None that Balfour would accept, Lachlan thought. None that he was sure he could persecute with his favouritism. ‘Did you request me, sir?’

  ‘Request you?’ Balfour smiled with withering suavity. ‘My dear boy, of course I did not presume to request you.’ He shifted into a more comfortable position on his seat. ‘But, um … well … now that you mention it, I do seem to recall my pointing out your years of experience in India. So it must have been the Commander-in-Chief who decided that you would be a most suitable candidate for the job in hand.’

  ‘My experience in India? Are we being posted back there?’

  ‘Unfortunately not – well, not immediately.’ Balfour relaxed back on his pillow, ‘But our knowledge of India is urgently needed now, because the soldiers stationed in Perthshire are about to embark on some extensive training, and their officers need our wise and experienced guidance … before they all depart for Bombay.’

  *

  There had been no time to write a letter, so when Lachlan’s manservant called at the house in Wigmore Street later that day, the message he verbally conveyed to Henrietta Campbell was that Colonel Macquarie had left London due to his urgent posting elsewhere.

  ‘Where elsewhere?’ Henrietta asked.

  Joseph had no idea, other than Colonel Macquarie had received an urgent dispatch, which required him to leave before dawn.

  Elizabeth was so dumbfounded when Henrietta told her, she remained speechless for many long minutes as she tried to take it in. The `elsewhere’ was India, she concluded. It had to be India. Didn’t he say General Balfour was already pining to go back there.

  ‘Oh dear, I shall miss his visits,’ Henrietta said sadly. ‘And you, Elizabeth, have lost your escort.’

  When Elizabeth made no reply, Henrietta said gently, `Elizabeth, you are a very lovely young woman, so I’m sure we will get you a suitable man very soon, one that will make you a very good husband.’

  ‘But I don’t want a husband,’ Elizabeth responded angrily. ‘To be honest, I have always been more interested in finding suitable and fulfilling employment.’

  ‘Employment?’ Henrietta almost sprang out of her chair. ‘Elizabeth, are you forgetting that you are a first cousin to my son, the Earl of Breadlebane. What will people think if they hear that his young female cousin had to resort to seeking employment? And he’ll be coming home in a few months, you know that.’

  Elizabeth nodded, but she was suddenly determined. ‘Then I will have to ensure that whatever employment I secure will not in any way disgrace him.’

  TWENTY-TWO

  Two months passed before Lachlan was granted any leave from his duties in Perth. During that time he had managed to get away and spend a d
ay with George Jarvis in Edinburgh, but now that he had been granted seven days leave, he had decided to return to Mull to visit his mother.

  Heavy rain poured down as his carriage rolled west, splattering against the windows. The journey was only seventy-five miles to Oban, yet the hours dragged dismally for Lachlan, unable to write a letter or read a book due to the furious jolting of the carriage. He was sure the axle on one of the wheels must be loose, but if he made the driver halt to check each wheel in the pouring rain, the delay could take hours and he wanted to reach Oban in time to catch the evening ferry.

  He sat watching the rain batter against the windows, obscuring any view. Hours of silent thought was not his choice, he preferred his mind to be active and occupied. He made a fresh attempt to read his book, but it was simply impossible.

  For a time he allowed himself to worry about George Jarvis and what George’s future should hold. Marianne was now a teacher of mixed-race children at Bombay’s English school and she wrote to him often in perfect English … which reminded him of the two letters he had written to Elizabeth Campbell since his departure from London, but so far she had not replied. He stopped thinking and let his gaze travel into the distance. The rain had eased and he could see the wetness of the hills.

  When they reached Oban he warned the driver, ‘You should check those wheels. I think the axle is loose on at least one of them.’

  The ferry crossing was smooth, the rain had stopped. He finally reached Lochbuy and ran up the steps, feeling so hungry now that all he could think about was the enjoyment of a good supper.

  Murdoch greeted him with a woeful face. ‘Margaret is up in her bed,’ he said. ‘She’s been up there all day, crying herself sick, and who can blame her? I always said that young sister of hers was a strange one.’

  ‘Who, Elizabeth?’

  ‘Aye, Miss Elizabeth, who else? Margaret feared that all Elizabeth’s gallivanting down in that sinful London might turn her into some Englishman’s trollop, but this – this is a hundred times worse in Maggie’s opinion.’

  ‘Worse? What is?’ Lachlan asked, perplexed. ‘Murdoch, what are you talking about?’

  ‘Let’s eat,’ said Murdoch, leading the way into the dining room. ‘I canna get my poor Maggie to eat a thing, so there’s plenty.’

  Lachlan took his seat, watching silently as two maids carried dishes to the table and began to serve. When they had left the room he looked questioningly at Murdoch. `So? What’s all the distress about Elizabeth?’

  Murdoch took a mouthful of food, and then shrugged with some annoyance. ‘Miss Elizabeth has decided to become a Missionary teacher. Oh aye, it’s all signed up and sealed. She’s been learning and preparing for over a month, and now her passage is already booked and stamped to sail away next week.’

  Lachlan stared at his uncle in astonishment.

  ‘Aye, that was my reaction too, same as yours, dumbfounded!’ Murdoch lifted his glass. ‘But, I tell ye, it’s nearly killed my poor Maggie. She sent a letter over to Airds to her brother John asking him to try and stop Elizabeth, but I don’t think he will be able to stop her either. No, from as far back as I can remember, Miss Elizabeth’s behaviour has always been ill-judged and obstinate.’

  ‘Where is she sailing to?’

  ‘China.’

  Lachlan slowly put down his knife. ‘China?’

  ‘Aye, China, as God is above us, China – to the very end of the earth she’s going. So mebbe now you’ll understand why her poor sister is crying herself into a sickness upstairs. Their father would never have allowed this to happen, never. Especially as it’s not even to a Presbyterian Mission she’s going, but one run by a group of them English Evangelists.’

  Lachlan did not answer, hardly knowing what to say. If Elizabeth was determined to do this, then Murdoch was right, nobody could stop her. The depth of his own shock and disappointment surprised him. He looked down at his plate and realised he had not eaten a thing, nor did he feel like doing so, his appetite completely vanished.

  ‘China …’ he finally murmured. ‘Why?’

  Murdoch shrugged. ‘Why anything with Elizabeth? I’ve never understood the girl myself.’

  ‘But why China of all places?’ Lachlan persisted. ‘The Chinese offer no welcome to Westerners, missionaries or otherwise, as the Jesuits have already found.’

  Murdoch sighed, and gave up on his food, rising from his chair. ‘I’d better go up to see how my poor Maggie is doing. This business has knocked her down flat.’

  Lachlan was glad when Murdoch left him to join Margaret. It gave him time alone, quiet and solitary, to try and give his thoughts some semblance of order. Elizabeth’s decision was not the only surprise tonight, but also Murdoch’s genuine concern for his wife.

  In theory, he reflected, the union of Murdoch and Margaret should have been doomed from the start, based as it was on convenience. But reality had proved the marriage a great success, with husband and wife appearing to grow fonder of each other with every passing year, not to mention their production to date of eleven children.

  And then he thought of Elizabeth. She was nice and she was fun, especially during their time together in London, but in truth he had always liked her. Yet he knew she was tired of the life she had been living and constantly yearned for new places and fresh experiences … but if she believed that China was the solution, then she had been very ill advised.

  China … the place of his torment … his thoughts went back to his own past for some long minutes, until the memories and the feelings within him made him feel physically sick

  Later, in the darkness of his bedroom, he slept badly, dreaming of cold-eyed Chinese Mandarins who despised the British, their nightmarish images distorted beyond all reality.

  He was glad to wake up, glad to see the morning light. He sprang out of bed, all his actions hurried. The previous night he had not known what to think or to do, but now he did know. Despite all his own persuasions to the contrary, he knew that one other solution was possible. At least it was worth a try.

  The sound of his boots running down the stairs must have awakened Murdoch. He had reached the front door of the house when Murdoch came lolloping down the stairs and into the hall calling after him, oddly comical-looking in his nightshirt.

  `Where are you off to at this hour?’ Murdoch asked.

  ‘To London.’

  ‘London?’

  ‘I can’t let her go to China, Murdoch. I have to try and stop her.’

  ‘So why are ye going to London then?’

  ‘Because that’s where she’s living, isn’t it? At Wigmore Street.’

  ‘Och no! She’s been here in Mull for the last two days, saying her farewells to all of us. Didn’t I tell ye how she left poor Maggie in such a bad state.’

  ‘Yes, but you didn’t tell me she was here on the island!’ Lachlan snapped impatiently. ‘So where is she now?’

  ‘She left here yesterday to go over to say farewell to your mother. If you leave now you’ll likely catch her before she leaves to come back here. But mind, she’s planning to catch the evening ferry.’

  Moments later Murdoch was back in his bedroom, standing by the window and watching Lachlan ride away at speed in the direction of Rossall. Margaret had clambered out of bed to stand and watch also.

  Murdoch murmured, ‘Do you think he’ll be able to stop her, Maggie, when we couldna?’

  Margaret’s hand wiped at the tears on her red-blotched face. ‘I couldna say, dear, but one thing I do know. Mebbe no one else in this world is capable of stopping Elizabeth, but he might. She was madly in love with him once, when she was about thirteen or so.’

  *

  The journey through the woods and tracks of Rossall to Oskamull took him longer than he had expected, due to the wetness of the ground from the rain the day before. Finally he reached the road leading down to the farm, his heart beating faster as he approached his old home.

  His mother and Elizabeth were in the kitchen when he entered,
seated at the table, their breakfast over.

  ‘Lachlan!’ His mother’s smile was delighted. ‘I’d no word ye were coming!’

  He walked over to kiss his mother’s cheek. ‘Are you well?’

  ‘Aye, I’m well. A trifle under the weather mebbe … and so sad to hear Elizabeth is leaving us.’

  Elizabeth had risen from her seat. Lachlan was alarmed to see the change in her. Her lustrous hair was severely scraped back into a knot and she wore a black dress of the kind worn by servants.

  ‘My God, you even look like a Missionary,’ he said. ‘What’s happened to you, Elizabeth? What’s making you do this fanatical thing?’

  Elizabeth turned to leave the room, but he caught her arm. ‘I can’t let you go,’ he insisted, ‘not to China.’

  She wrenched away from him and put her hand to her head, as if trying to think. ‘This is unfair,’ she said. ‘And this is certainly none of your business.’

  ‘I’ve been to China. I know what it’s like there. And it’s definitely not a place for you.’

  Mrs Macquarie rose to support him. ‘Oh, I agree, verra likely it’s no’ the place for ye, Elizabeth.’

  ‘So where is the place for me, in your opinions?’ Elizabeth demanded angrily. She turned furious blue eyes on Lachlan. ‘And is that why you came rushing over here at this early hour, to convey to me your downright disapproval of my journey to China?’

  ‘No, not entirely, but can you please calm yourself down and allow us to talk about this. You’re not catching the ferry until this evening, so you do have some time to spare, if you’re willing to grant it.’

  ‘It would be poor of you not to – spare him some of your time, I mean,’ Mrs Macquarie said quickly. ‘Maybe just a wee bit, Elizabeth hennie?’

  Elizabeth sighed. ‘Oh, very well. ’

  ‘So, now,’ said Mrs Macquarie, moving towards the door. ‘I think I’ll take a wee stroll down to the shore and see how the kelpers are doing.’