Cauldstane

by Gillard, Linda

  We grew apart. Sholto was insensitive to my needs as a woman and as a creative artist. Things came to a head when he summoned me to the library – as if I were a naughty schoolgirl! – to tell me he was prepared to turn a blind eye to my infidelities if I would be more discreet and refrain from cuckolding him with men he was likely to bump into at his club.

  That made my blood boil. I wasn’t going to be spoken to like that, so I summoned the decorators and created a new bedroom for myself, one Sholto would never be allowed to enter. Not that he ever tried.

  My marriage was over, but I still had my career, so I spent very little time at Cauldstane. I only returned when I ran out of money, but eventually I was spending more and more time at home because work was simply drying up. I’d made enemies, admittedly. Some philistine directors thought I was demanding. “Temperamental”, they said. Designers got on my wrong side, expecting me to wear unflattering outfits on stage. I explained patiently that my fans didn’t want to see me dressed up like a bag lady. But tempers got so frayed on a few occasions, I walked out of rehearsals. I also pulled out of one production at the last minute. (Actually, it might have been two.) I was traumatized by the barbaric treatment I received at the hands of whizz-kid directors who seemed bent on humiliating me. They clearly had no idea who they were dealing with. So I walked.

  You can play that card a few times, but it appeared there was a limit to what some opera houses would tolerate. Possibly I misjudged it. Doors started to close quietly. Eventually they were slammed in my face. Oh, it was all so petty!

  So my agent booked me for more song recitals and oratorios, but they weren’t really my style and didn’t pay nearly so well. In the end I tired of playing to half-empty houses, singing to an audience of bronchitic geriatrics for a mere pittance. I went home to Cauldstane to wait for the operatic tide to turn. But I knew my career might be over. As was my marriage in all but name. So I had to find other ways to amuse myself.

  I didn’t have to look far. Alec had some sort of breakdown in 1992. He dropped out of university and came home to Cauldstane.

  I’d just turned forty. Alec was twenty. And quite delicious.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I was sitting up, leaning against the bed head, trying to assimilate what Alec had told me. He’d been still and silent for so long, I felt sure he must have fallen asleep, but then he moved, suddenly and decisively, and got out of bed. Taking his sword with him, he walked over to the writing desk and shut the laptop.

  I don’t think I imagined it. The temperature in the room really did drop a few degrees. I was staring at Alec’s bare forearms, noting the muscle required to wield the heavy tools of his trade, when he shivered convulsively. I drew the bedclothes up around me and decided I’d felt a lot safer when Alec was in the bed.

  He continued to watch the laptop, as if it might suddenly levitate. When he finally spoke, I thought he was addressing Meredith.

  ‘You can’t sleep in here.’

  Belatedly, I realised he was referring to me. ‘Oh, I don’t think I’m in any danger. If Meredith’s out to get anyone, it’s you, isn’t it?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘What do you mean? Why would she hold a grudge against me? I’m not even family.’

  ‘Two reasons. Of one I’m certain. The other’s a guess.’

  I began to feel afraid again. Cold, exhaustion and shock were starting to take their toll. ‘How can you be certain Meredith means me harm?’

  He glanced around the room, paying particular attention to the remaining china figurines on the chest of drawers. Having checked their position, he said, ‘I’d rather deal with the guess first.’

  ‘Oh, what difference does it make?’ I said irritably. ‘Please explain, Alec. I’m very tired and I admit, I’m scared. I just want to crawl under the duvet.’

  ‘With me?’

  I blinked several times and regarded him with dismay. He stood at the end of the bed, waiting, his face completely impassive, except for something in his eyes, something eager. Anxious, even. He wanted to know. My answer mattered to him. Before I could absorb the implications, it dawned on me that if Alec knew, why wouldn’t Meredith? And if she knew… Maybe Alec was right. I could be in for a bumpy night.

  I cleared my throat noisily. ‘Well, this is embarrassing. I won’t insult your intelligence by pretending I don’t understand you, but I’d like to know how I gave myself away. Am I really that transparent?’

  ‘I didn’t know for sure until I kissed you. Up till then, I thought it could just be wishful thinking on my part.’

  It was 2.00 a.m. and I was thinking very slowly, but eventually I realised there was only one possible interpretation of Alec’s words. I was too astonished to feel pleased.

  ‘Are you saying that when you kissed me… you weren’t just trying to make a point?’

  ‘Did it feel like I was trying to make a point?’

  ‘No. It felt wonderful.’ He smiled. That was also wonderful. ‘So that’s how you knew? Because I responded?’

  ‘You behaved as if it was the most natural thing in the world – until Meredith started hurling stuff around the room. Had my attentions been unwelcome, you’d have fended me off. But you didn’t.’

  ‘Oh… I see.’ There was a long, rather smug silence, then I’m sorry to say a girlish little laugh escaped my lips. I looked up at Alec apologetically.

  ‘Jenny, I think Meredith knows what’s going on. Between us. And I think she’s up to her old tricks.’

  ‘You’ve seen this before?’

  ‘Maybe. Meredith bullied Coral when she was alive. Now I’m beginning to wonder if she bullied her from beyond the grave.’ I didn’t reply and silence hung between us. Two women – both dead – also stood between us. ‘But,’ Alec resumed, ‘I’m not leaving you in here on your own. I don’t know yet what game she’s playing, but Meredith obviously sees you as some sort of captive audience.’

  ‘You think she wants to tell me her story?’

  ‘Her version of her story. Aye, I think maybe she does.’

  ‘And you think she also knows… how I feel about you?’

  Alec’s level gaze held mine. ‘Even if she doesn’t, she knows how I feel about you. I showed her. So that’s put you at risk.’

  ‘Oh, hell’s bells, Alec, this is really crap timing! Not to mention unprofessional on my part. I assure you, I’ve never got involved with clients before.’

  ‘I’m not your client. And we’re not involved. Yet. In fact, I strongly suggest you maintain a professional distance. That’s your best chance of avoiding the attentions of Meredith. In fact, Jenny… I think you have to go back to London.’

  ‘I can’t! I have to finish Sholto’s book.’

  ‘You can interview him on the phone, surely? Do your research from a distance. He can travel down to London or meet you in Edinburgh. You can discuss the draft on neutral territory.’

  ‘But I love it here! Even leaving you out of it, I love being at Cauldstane.’

  His stern expression softened. ‘Och, Jenny, don’t fall for the castle as well. It’s just a heap of old stones.’

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ I said, indignant now. ‘And you of all people know that. Anyway, what possible reason could I give for leaving?’

  ‘I don’t suppose you’d consider lying? Invent some sort of domestic crisis?’

  ‘I have no family. No attachments of any kind. My affairs are in good order. Even my houseplants are being looked after by a conscientious clergyman. In any case, I could no more lie to Sholto than – well, than I would lie to you.’

  ‘So you insist on staying?’ he said wearily

  ‘I do. You don’t think that bloody woman,’ I said, pointing to the laptop, ‘is going to drive me away, do you? Not now you’ve told me that… well, that my feelings are reciprocated. I don’t scare so easily!’ I folded my arms across my chest and sank back against the bed head. ‘Well, actually I do, but I’m also very stubborn.’

  Ale
c was round the bed in two strides and had taken me in his arms before I realised what had hit me. I’d enjoyed our first kiss hugely. The second was even more satisfying now I knew what it signified.

  ‘Jenny, I want you to come and sleep in my room.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not sure I—’

  ‘No, you misunderstand me. I know this woman. Or at least, I knew her and it doesn’t sound as if a sojourn in hell has mellowed her. I want you to sleep in my room and I’ll sleep in here.’

  ‘But supposing she tries to harm you? You said it’s you she wants. Presumably she just wants to scare me off. I’m sure I’ll be fine in here. Really, Alec.’

  He shook his head. ‘I want to get some sleep tonight and the only way that’s going to happen is if you’re in my room. There’s a sofa. I’ll take that and you can have the bed. No more arguments.’ I opened my mouth to speak, but he kissed me again, effectively stifling further discussion. When I surfaced, Alec’s face was very close to mine. ‘And if you think you’re stubborn, you should try crossing a MacNab.’

  ~

  Alec had been an unprepossessing teenager. I’d barely registered either of the boys before their mother died, but I’d noticed Alec bore a pleasing resemblance to Sholto. Fergus was the more striking child – dark and sturdy, full of mischief, appealing if you liked small boys, which I didn’t. It was just my luck to become stepmother to two boys. At least with girls one could have talked about hair or clothes.

  Fergus, being younger, bounced back after Liz’s death, but Alec – wracked with guilt, I suppose – remained a subdued child, frightened of animals, loud noises, just about anything in fact. Sholto said it was some long medical term I no longer remember – something to do with stress and trauma – and that Alec would suffer from it for years, possibly for ever. There had been nightmares and bed wetting, all sorts of horrors, which fortunately were past by the time I moved in. Both boys had been sent back to boarding school where it was assumed routine and the company of their friends would sort them out.

  Sholto got rid of the horses, which was a crying shame as I loved to ride, but he claimed he couldn’t afford the vet’s bills. Since neither boy showed any interest in riding – Alec was now terrified of horses – Sholto said they had to go. Well, is it any wonder I put on weight when I was deprived of one of my healthy outdoor pursuits?

  In their teens, Alec shot up and Fergus didn’t. Alec was very quiet and appeared to be good at making things with his hands. He was always taking things apart and putting them back together again, or he’d be carving some piece of wood. I hardly ever saw him without a knife in his hands. It was quite unnerving, especially as I wasn’t at all convinced he was right in the head.

  Alec’s favourite activity was fencing and he used to compete nationally even as a teenager, so I suppose he must have been good. He went to Edinburgh University to read law, but he couldn’t settle. He changed to History but according to Sholto, he spent all his time researching historical swordsmanship and competing in tournaments. There was an accident of some sort and Alec’s opponent was injured. I don’t remember the details, but Alec’s sword broke and the man he was duelling with got hurt. It wasn’t Alec’s fault, but he blamed himself and the quality of his sword. That was when he made his extraordinary decision – and Sholto encouraged him! – that he was going to become a swordsmith.

  Sholto let him set up shop in the empty stables. I thought it would be a five-minute wonder, but Alec took it all very seriously, working with a local blacksmith, learning the basics and then travelling abroad to observe other swordsmiths at work.

  When he came back from a stint of working in Germany he was a changed man. Literally. He’d gone away a slender, athletic boy with rather nice curly hair and worried eyes. He came back a man – no longer worried and no longer quite so slender. He’d put on a lot of muscle – wielding all those heavy hammers and swords, I suppose.

  Alec came home confident and enthusiastic. He’d started smiling, which transformed his face and made him look much more attractive. As a boy he always looked as if someone had just died, or was about to, so I’d tried to ignore him.

  But I couldn’t ignore the man.

  To begin with, it was nothing more than something to pass the time. To begin with. I was so bored at Cauldstane and Sholto ignored me completely. So I just used to flirt a little, as I always did with young men. Alec seemed a bit fazed by it, but I suppose that was the stepmother thing. Or maybe he was still a virgin. But I thought that unlikely. He was now quite attractive in a scruffy sort of way. He was always grubby and frequently unshaven, but there was something about the way he carried himself, the way he moved. I used to like looking at him. Eventually I took to watching him. I got the feeling he didn’t really like that, so then it became a kind of game.

  It was such fun.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  In the morning I was woken by the sound of rain drumming on the windows, beating a frantic tattoo. When I opened my eyes, I had no idea where I was. I thought at first I must still be asleep and dreaming, then I turned my head towards the light and saw a sword propped up against the window like a crucifix and I remembered…

  I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I avoided the sword and looked round for Alec. He was still fast asleep on the sofa. I’d relinquished his dressing gown the night before and he’d wrapped himself in that and a tartan rug that had been covering the battered leather sofa. I suspected his night had been restless and uncomfortable, but he looked peaceful enough now. The worried frown was gone and his hands lay relaxed and long-fingered on the rough woollen blanket. One bare foot protruded at the other end, pale and elegant, like something on a statue.

  I dragged my eyes away and studied the objects on Alec’s bedside table. There was a photo of him with Coral, an informal shot taken outdoors, somewhere in the hills. They were dressed for walking, the sky was blue and they were both laughing. Alec’s arm curved round Coral’s shoulders and she leaned in towards him, resting her head on his chest. They looked young and happy and very much in love. I felt suddenly guilty occupying Alec’s bed, then remembered Coral had been dead for seven years.

  I averted my eyes from the photo and studied the spines of his bedside reading matter. There were a couple of historical tomes and one of my novels in hardback. It must have belonged to Coral. I reached out and lifted the book off the pile.

  Alec had used the dust jacket as a bookmark and appeared to be about halfway through. I turned the book over and looked at the enigmatic, long-haired blonde my publisher had sold to readers as Imogen Ryan. She looked like my glamorous, younger sister. I struggled to remember details of the novel’s plot – something to do with a childless woman and an abandoned baby – then, randomly, I recalled the dedication. Keeping Alec’s place, I removed the flap of the dust jacket and turned to the front of the book where I read, For R. With love and thanks. By the time the book was published, we were no longer a couple, but Rupert was pleased and proud to have had a book dedicated to him.

  I set the novel down and went back to staring at Alec. I wanted to recall what he’d said last night and our first kiss (and subsequent kisses), but I couldn’t think about any of it without recalling why he’d kissed me.

  To prove the ghost of Meredith MacNab was in the room and watching us.

  Despite the warm duvet, I shivered. Much as I’d enjoyed the luxury of looking at Alec unobserved, I found myself wishing he’d wake up. His discarded watch lay on the polished oak floorboards and I sat up, anxious to know the time. As I reached down, the bed creaked. Alec was awake, upright and grabbing his sword before I could speak. When his eyes finally settled on me, I watched him blink as memory returned.

  ‘I was just trying to get your watch,’ I said sheepishly. ‘I wanted to know the time.’

  He bent down, picked up the watch and slid it over his wrist. ‘Just gone eight.’

  ‘Sorry I woke you.’

  He shook his head and a tangle of curls fell forward on to
his forehead. ‘No bother. The slightest thing wakes me. Did you manage to sleep?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I haven’t been awake long. Was the sofa very uncomfortable?’

  He ignored the question and said, ‘Would you like me to accompany you back to your room? To check everything’s… in order?’

  ‘No, I’d rather you sat on the bed and talked to me.’ His smile was hesitant but he obeyed without speaking. I sat up and threaded a finger through a corkscrew curl that hung above his brows. I tugged it gently and watched it spring back. ‘You look quite different with your hair tousled.’

  ‘So do you,’ he said, running his fingers along my bare, outstretched arm.

  ‘Last night… Did I dream all that?’

  ‘No, you did not. Cauldstane has a resident ghost – though as far as I know, I’m the only one who’s aware of the fact.’

  ‘Alec… do you really believe Meredith wants to kill you?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s all mind games with her. It always was.’

  ‘Last night you said she wanted revenge.’

  ‘Aye, I think she does.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘In addition to rejecting her advances, I told Sholto what sort of a woman he was married to. And I told him he should throw her out.’

  ‘Good grief! When did you tell him that?’

  ‘The week before my wedding. I was to move out after our honeymoon. Coral and I were going to have one of the wee houses on the estate. Sholto had wanted us to live at Cauldstane. There was plenty of room and that would have been much more economical, but I wanted to move out.’

  ‘Because of Meredith?’

  He nodded. ‘Sholto didn’t understand and I wasn’t telling him the whole story, so it probably didn’t make much sense. He kept pressing me to explain and asking what was wrong. I couldn’t tell him. I just couldn’t do that to him. In the end he saved me the trouble. He said, “Is it Meredith?” I was stunned that he knew. Or had guessed. He asked me what had been going on and I didn’t know what to say, whether I should tell him the truth… But he made it easy for me. He said, “If you don’t tell me the truth – the whole truth, Alexander – then, by God, I’ll knock you to the ground. I demand to know what sort of a woman I’m married to.” So I told him.’