74. Love Lifts The Curse

by Barbara Cartland

  “Aye, it is that and I miss not being able to walk aboot The Castle at night,” the butler said, “to make sure all’s in order for his Lordship. But my wife is comfortable and the bairns like havin’ a garden of their ain to play in.”

  The butler, whose name was Ross, told Jacoba a great deal about The Castle and he detailed to her how beautiful many of the rooms were.

  “I wish I could see them!” she sighed wistfully.

  When he did not reply, she knew that was impossible because the Earl would forbid it immediately.

  She changed the subject because she did not wish to embarrass the man.

  ‘I must get well,’ she told herself after the doctor’s visit on the third day. ‘I cannot stay in this room being a nuisance to the Earl and I must start thinking what I must do when I go South.’

  She thought that the only thing she could possibly do was to go back to the village and then she would ask Mr. Brownlow, the Solicitor, if he would help her find some other kind of employment.

  She felt that she could never aspire to being a companion again after this engagement had been such a failure.

  ‘I must think of something,’ she thought desperately. ‘Otherwise I shall have to sell my investments in order to stay alive.’

  She knew that Mr. Brownlow would most definitely disapprove of that idea, but she could hardly impose upon the villagers.

  When she thought it over, she could not think of one cottage that was large enough to provide her with a room to sleep in.

  ‘What shall I do?’ she asked herself again desperately.

  It was a cry for help and her mother and father, wherever they were, must hear her.

  *

  If Jacoba was aware of the Earl, he was no less aware of her.

  He felt as if the idea of her haunted him and it annoyed him a great deal to find himself thinking about her.

  Not only during the day when the doctor came, but also at night when he found it difficult to sleep.

  He kept hearing again her cry as she slipped and fell down and the spaniel bit her ankle.

  He knew that it was his own fault that the dogs had attacked her.

  The two dogs went everywhere with him and they responded to every tone in his voice.

  They knew whom he liked personally and greeted them with pleasure and they knew too when he was rebuking a servant or one of the Clan for some misdemeanour.

  He could quite understand that the fury of his voice and the way he had pointed at Jacoba had aroused them and they had thought that they were defending him from her.

  ‘She must have known what she was doing when she came here,’ he tried to excuse himself.

  Doctor Faulkner, however, had made it very clear that Jacoba had answered Hamish’s advertisement in The Morning Post.

  Hamish had deceived her into believing she was to be companion to an old man who was growing both deaf and blind and he had made this clear in his letter.

  The Earl thought furiously that his nephew had certainly taken his revenge.

  He realised that he had made himself extremely abrupt and disagreeable about the young man’s scheme for selling crabs, lobsters and salmon from the river and had resented Hamish’s impertinence in suggesting it.

  Yet he could have been more pleasant about it than he had been.

  But, he told himself, there was no excuse for his nephew’s response and he hoped never to see him again.

  When the doctor returned that evening to see Jacoba. he was late, in fact it was after dinner.

  The Earl was coming from the dining room as he was leaving.

  “Hello, doctor!” he exclaimed. “I did not expect to see you here at this hour of the night!”

  “I had an urgent call which I want to tell you about,” Doctor Faulkner replied.

  “Come into the study,” the Earl proposed.

  A footman opened the door and the two men went into the large room which held an enormous collection of books and there was a very fine picture of the Earl’s father in Chieftain dress over the mantelpiece.

  As the Earl poured out a glass of whisky and soda for the doctor, he looked up at the picture.

  “Your father was a fine man,” the doctor said, as if he was speaking to himself, “and deeply respected by every member of the Clan.”

  As the Earl handed him his whisky, he asked,

  “Are you suggesting that I am not?”

  “I am suggesting nothing except that your Clansmen do not see enough of you,” the doctor replied, “and they feel somewhat bereft.”

  “What you are saying,” the Earl replied harshly, “is that they would like me to be giving fishing and shooting parties and arranging games that they can all take part in.”

  “Of course they would like that,” the doctor agreed, “and they don’t understand why you are shutting yourself away in this dismal fashion.”

  He drank a little whisky before he added,

  “What is more, the women are perturbed because they think that you are putting a curse on them because of their sex.”

  The Earl stiffened as he exploded,

  “I have never heard such nonsense!”

  “You know how superstitious our people are,” the doctor went on. “When one of the women had a miscarriage and one of your farmers lost a valuable cow, they were certain that the origin of their misfortune came from within The Castle.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake!” the Earl said testily. “I cannot listen to such rubbish! If I wish to lead my own life in my own way, that is my decision, and it has nothing to do with the Clansmen or anybody I employ!”

  The doctor finished his whisky and rose to his feet.

  “Well, think over what I have just told you,” he said quietly. “By the way, the reason why I was so late is that old Andrew, who had been keeping watch on the river, is showing his age. He is stricken with rheumatism and it is really impossible for him to carry on. But he asked me to tell you that he thinks there are poachers in the vicinity and that somebody should be on the lookout for them.”

  “What sort of poachers?” the Earl asked.

  “Apparently there is a gang of them working their way up the coast,” the doctor said, “and fresh salmon commands a high price in Glasgow and Edinburgh.”

  There was a frown between the Earl’s eyes and his mouth was set in a hard line.

  “If Andrew is unable to keep watch on the river,” he said, “I shall have to find somebody else.”

  “His rheumatism is very bad, my Lord, and I think you would be wise to give him an assistant, perhaps two. He does his best, but I have told him he is not to go out at night until I have seen him again in a day or two.”

  “I will certainly bear in mind what you have told me,” the Earl said.

  “I shall be coming again tomorrow morning, my Lord, and thank you for the whisky. I needed it!”

  The doctor left the room before the Earl could say anything.

  After the doctor had gone, the Earl stood staring into the fire.

  He was wondering who he could appoint in the place of Andrew.

  The man had looked after the river ever since the Earl could remember and had made an excellent job of it and there had never been any serious poaching as far as he knew.

  The salmon were plentiful this year and there was enough water for them to come up the river easily from the sea.

  He knew that further down the coast the rivers were low and this meant that a gang of poachers might indeed choose to visit the Tavor, as his river was called.

  He glanced at the clock and saw that it was growing late.

  He then thought that it would be a good idea if he went and made an inspection of the river himself.

  He went down the stairs followed by his spaniels and found a footman on duty.

  “I am going for a walk, Alistair,” he said, “to look at the river. I shall not be long, so don’t lock the door on me!”

  “I’ll no do that, my Lord,” the footman answered.


  The Earl walked out onto the drive and, turning to his left, he moved through a clump of trees that led to some rough ground and then down to the mouth of the River Tavor.

  It was a mild night with no wind and the sky overhead was clear with a half moon creeping slowly up the sky.

  It was easy for the Earl to find his way.

  He had known every inch of it since he was a boy.

  He thought as he walked towards the river how much he loved it and how many happy hours he had spent fishing in its sparkling waters.

  He was nine when his father had given him a trout rod as a present and he had caught both big and small fish.

  The sport had never failed to thrill him and so the mere idea of anyone poaching his salmon made him exceedingly angry.

  He knew if Andrew was not well enough to carry on as river watcher, he would certainly have to appoint somebody trustworthy in his place.

  He reached the mouth of the river and started to walk along the bank.

  The stars were reflected in the water and it was very beautiful and he felt himself responding, as he always did, to the enchantment of his own land.

  He walked on, feeling, as many Scotsmen have before him, that he would die to preserve Scotland and prevent it from being overrun by the English.

  He walked upstream for quite a long way before he suddenly became aware of a sound ahead.

  He stopped and listened and the dogs started to growl.

  Then he could see in the moonlight that something was going on.

  He moved forward again and saw the outline of a boat and a man standing up in it and a moment later he heard another man further up the river threshing about in the water.

  He knew exactly what was happening.

  The man in the boat had a net stretched across the river and it was attached to a post he had driven into the bank on the opposite side.

  The man upstream was disturbing the water, driving the salmon down river and then they would swim into the net and be caught.

  These were the poachers that Andrew had warned about and the Earl walked forward angrily.

  The man in the boat was intent on pulling the salmon caught in the net out of the water and was throwing them into the boat.

  In a voice of thunder the Earl demanded,

  “What the devil do you think you are doing? Stop that immediately!”

  His voice rang out and the man in the boat turned round.

  He had a sharpened boathook in his hand and he stared at the Earl.

  “Stop that at once!” the Earl commanded. “You are poaching my river and I will have you taken before the Sheriffs for stealing my salmon!”

  As he spoke, a man lurking in the shadows of the high bank behind him hit him violently on the head with an oar.

  The man with the boathook rammed it hard into his shoulder.

  The last thing the Earl remembered was hearing his dogs barking.

  *

  Jacoba awoke to the sound of the pipes.

  She recognised the tune that was being played as The Skye Boat Song.

  ‘That is somewhere I would like to go,’ she mused.

  And, because her ankle was hurting her a little, she did not get up and go to the window. Instead she lay in bed listening.

  The tune gradually died away in the distance as the piper rounded the corner of The Castle.

  The next moment there was a knock on the door.

  Before she could answer it was opened and to her surprise it was the doctor.

  “You are very early!” she exclaimed.

  He walked across to the bed and, looking down at her, said,

  “I want your help.”

  “My – help?” Jacoba asked.

  She had moved as she spoke so that she was now sitting up.

  “Last night,” the doctor began, “after I had seen the Earl and warned him that there might be salmon poachers in the vicinity, he went out alone except for his two dogs to inspect the river.”

  “What happened?” Jacoba asked.

  “Apparently he must have encountered the poachers and, I imagine, accused them of stealing.”

  “Did he catch them?”

  “We don’t know exactly what happened,” the doctor replied, “but the dogs saved his life.”

  “Saved his – life?” Jacoba repeated, “What – happened?”

  The doctor’s voice was grim as he continued,

  “The poachers bashed him on the head with something heavy and he was also stabbed in the shoulder with a sharp boathook.”

  Jacoba gave a cry.

  “How – terrible!”

  “They then, before they left, threw him into the river!”

  It seemed so frightening that Jacoba could say nothing.

  The doctor carried on with the story,

  “Fortunately his spaniels had the sense to bark and bark. They were heard by one of the shepherds who came to investigate and found the Earl. He was able to pull him out of the water before he was drowned.”

  “How could – people do anything so – horrible?” Jacoba asked.

  “The poachers have a bad name,” the doctor said, “and they have certainly left his Lordship in a bad shape.”

  “I am sorry – I am really – sorry for – him.”

  It flashed through Jacoba’s mind that what the doctor was going to tell her was that she would have to go away at once.

  However, what he said was,

  “I need somebody to nurse his Lordship and there is no need for me to tell you that there is nobody suitable nearer than Glasgow or Edinburgh.”

  Jacoba’s eyes opened wide.

  “Are you asking – me to do – it?” she asked him hesitatingly.

  “I am begging you to do so. The servants will, of course, do everything they can for him, but it’s not the same as having a woman. So I am suggesting that you do what you came here to do, look after a man who has been stricken down and is unconscious.”

  “Of course I will,” Jacoba replied, “if you are – quite certain that his Lordship will not be so angry when he – realises what I am – doing that it – makes him – worse than he is – already.”

  “We will cross that bridge when we come to it,” the doctor answered. “In the meantime, can you manage to get dressed and come to his Lordship’s room where you will find me?”

  “Yes – of course.”

  Jacoba climbed slowly out of bed thinking that it was an extraordinary thing to have happened.

  But, of course, if the doctor really wanted her, she must try to help him in every way she could.

  As it happened, because she had looked after so many old people in the village, she was quite proficient at nursing.

  Her father on one occasion had broken his collarbone out riding and she had looked after him.

  It was impossible to find a trained nurse anywhere near their isolated village in Worcestershire and she had therefore nursed her mother before she died.

  Since in the Crimean War Florence Nightingale had made nursing a respectable career for women, it was possible in big towns to obtain the services of a nurse who had been properly trained.

  But in the country the only woman who had any medical knowledge was the midwife and she was usually an elderly woman who kept herself awake with sips of hard liquor. She was generally quite useless at anything that did not concern a baby.

  Jacoba dressed herself as quickly as she could.

  Limping a little, she walked along the passage from her bedroom.

  It was the first time that she had been out of the bedroom and she was impressed, as she had been when she had first arrived, at the height of the ceilings and the pictures on the walls.

  She had not gone far before she encountered a footman.

  “Will you show me the way to his Lordship’s bedroom?” she asked him.

  She thought that he looked astonished and added quickly,

  “Doctor Faulkner asked me to join him there.”

  “I’ll show you,” th
e footman said rather reluctantly.

  He took her back the way she had come and, passing her own bedroom, they walked a long way further down the corridor.

  He knocked on a door and Jacoba heard Doctor Faulkner’s voice say,

  “Come in!”

  She walked into one of the most magnificent bedrooms she had ever seen.

  She realised that it was in one of the towers, the outside wall being curved and containing six windows and there was a huge stone mantelpiece beneath which a fire was burning in the grate.

  The bed that faced it was exactly, Jacoba thought, the sort of bed a Chieftain should have.

  The posts, which were of oak, were heavily carved and the canopy was of the same wood and surmounted by the Earl’s crest.

  Red velvet curtains fell on either side of the headboard on which was embroidered the Earl’s coat-of-arms.

  Jacoba only had a quick impression of everything before the doctor came to her side and took her towards the bed.

  The Earl’s head was resting on a pillow and his eyes were closed.

  To her surprise, instead of looking fierce and terrifying, he was young and very handsome.

  His face was very pale beneath a slight sunburn and she thought that there was an expression of pain in the droop of his mouth.

  Very gently the doctor moved back the sheets that covered him and she could see that his shoulder and arm were covered with bandages.

  “He has lost a lot of blood,” Doctor Faulkner said in a low voice, “and it is very important that he should not move about and start the wound bleeding again.”

  Jacoba nodded to show that she understood and the doctor went on,

  “He has had a nasty blow on the head, but fortunately they hit him not on the top but on the back.”

  Jacoba drew in her breath.

  She knew that if the Earl had been hit on the very top of his head his brain could have been damaged.

  “The skin was not broken,” the doctor said. “At the same time it is a very ugly bruise, which will be painful for a long time.”

  He replaced the sheets over the Earl’s chest.

  And then, taking Jacoba by the hand, he drew her to the window.

  “You will understand,” he whispered, “that I cannot stay here all day. I have several other patients who are very ill and it is my duty to attend to them.”

  “Yes – of course,” Jacoba murmured.