Chapter Three
Fiona had finished putting Mary-Rose to bed when Mrs. Meredith came into the room.
“Jeannie asked, miss, if you’d wish a bath before dinner.”
Fiona smiled and replied,
“I would like one very much. What time will I be dining?”
As she spoke, she wondered if she would dine with the Duke or whether he would expect her, in her position as Governess, to dine alone.
“His Grace dines at eight of the clock,” Mrs. Meredith replied, “and you’ll be expected in the drawin’ room at a quarter to the hour.”
Fiona looked at the clock on the mantelpiece and saw that it was now seven o’clock.
“In which case I had better hurry.”
She bent down and kissed Mary-Rose, adding,
“Good-night, my sweet. Sleep well and, if you want me, I am next door.”
“I shall have lovely dreams in this big bed,” Mary-Rose said, “and I expect Dadda is looking down at me and will watch over me with the angels.”
“I am sure he will,” Fiona answered.
She knew that her sister had taught Mary-Rose the prayer, Four Angels Guard My Bed and she thought whimsically as she went to her own room that the angels would certainly guard one of their own.
She wondered which dress she should wear for her first night at The Castle.
Because she felt defiant and because she had a feeling that the Duke would expect her to be crushed and subservient, she chose one of her more elaborate gowns and one with the largest bustle.
It was in fact very attractive and, although the material was not expensive, it matched the blue of her eyes and the frills that formed the bustle looked like small waves following in her wake as she walked down the passage towards the drawing room.
She thought it would be exciting tomorrow to explore The Castle with Mary-Rose.
Then as she reached the drawing room door she was sure that sooner or later the Duke would wish to speak to her about her future plans and how long she intended to stay.
‘It will be a battle,’ she told herself.
As a servant opened the door for her, she lifted her chin defiantly.
She somehow had expected to find the Duke alone or perhaps with Mr. McKeith, but beside him in front of a huge marble chimney piece stood a woman and another man.
They were talking as Fiona entered the room, but she was conscious of a sudden silence as she moved towards them.
As she reached the group she made a small curtsey to the Duke, saying as she did so,
“Good evening, Your Grace. I hope I am not late.”
“No, Miss Windham, it is not yet eight o’clock,” the Duke said, “and let me introduce you to my cousin, Lady Morag Rannock.”
Fiona found herself facing a woman who was taller than herself with dark hair and distinctive features.
At first the expression in her eyes was critical and then she smiled and appeared to be friendly.
“I have just been hearing of your arrival, Miss Windham,” she said, “and the Duke tells me that poor Ian’s daughter is a very attractive child.”
“I am sure you will think so when you meet her,” Fiona replied.
“Let me introduce my other guest,” the Duke interposed. “The Earl of Selway, known to me and all his friends as ‘Torquil’.”
The Earl, Fiona saw, was a man who, although not exactly good-looking, had a charm which she felt was somehow characteristic of the Scots – with the exception of the Duke.
At the same time she could not help feeling that the Duke not only outshone his guest but would have managed to do so however many other men were present.
He had looked resplendent when they had arrived, but in his dress kilt he was even more so, while the traditional lace cravat at his throat made him seem a little less formidable if more elegant.
His sporran was much more elaborate and in his diced hose was a jewelled skean-dhu, which was like the one his brother had always treasured and which at The Manor had always been laid on the table by his bed.
“I keep it near me while I sleep,” he told his wife once, “so if we are attacked in the night, my darling, I will be able to defend you.”
Rosemary had laughed at him for taking quite unnecessary precautions for her safety, but Fiona had guessed the real reason was that he liked looking at the memento of his Highland ancestry.
Sometimes at Christmas or on other festive occasions Ian would dress up in his kilt to please his wife and daughter.
He would tell them the history of the tartan and explain to them that it was unusual for the Lowland Scots to have a tartan or to wear the kilt.
“But the Rannocks,” he explained, “were originally a Clan from the North, who fought their way to the South and settled where they are now. Their first act was to build a castle so that they could defend themselves.”
He had smiled as he continued,
“They were welcome in the Lowlands because they were ferocious fighters and the Border Lairds, who were more educated and more genteel, were content to use them almost as mercenaries, to fight their battles for them.”
“Surely the Rannocks were too proud to do that?” Rosemary had asked.
“The Highlanders are a warrior Society, tribal at the bottom and feudal at the top, inspired by a thousand years of legend and mythology!”
“I have always heard,” Rosemary said, “and I think my father told me, that the Chieftain is the father of the Clan and there is no appeal of any sort against his authority.”
“That was true,” Ian had answered, “and this rule could be both tyrannous and benevolent in a minor way and, because we come from the North, my father carried on the same tradition.”
There was silence as he spoke and both his wife and his sister-in-law were thinking that there had been no appeal against his father’s decision to exile his recalcitrant son.
As if he knew what they were thinking, Ian went on,
“Perhaps I am fortunate. A Clanranald chief will still punish a thief by tying his hair to the seaweed on the coast, leaving him to die in the Atlantic tide and a McDonald of Sleat and a Macleod of Dunvegan would drive a hundred of their disobedient people aboard a transport ship for America.”
“It sounds barbarous!” Rosemary exclaimed.
Ian smiled.
“There was also love and sacrifice in the Clan. A Highlander will cry, ‘may your Chief have the ascendancy!’ as a way of wishing another good fortune. By that he means that the Chieftain gives all, defends all and is all.”
He went on to relate how when the Rannocks came to live in the Lowlands, although they kept their Highland traditions, they became very much more civilised.
Ian’s grandfather, who had travelled abroad, spoke French and Latin as well as Gaelic and English.
“He also,” Ian had added, “made a great many alterations to The Castle, making it much more comfortable.”
There was a wistful expression in his eyes as he thought of his home.
Then he said,
“My father is a throwback to the Rannocks who fought the English with a fanaticism that came from the very depths of their souls. He might be forced to live on the border, but his heart remained in the original Rannock land beyond Perth. I think he missed more than anything else the wildness of the snow-capped mountains and the bleak winters that took their toll of both man and beast.”
Rosemary had shivered.
“When you talk like that, darling,” she said, “I am glad that I am a Sassenach and we live in England.”
For once her husband did not respond and Fiona had thought that the softness of the South would never really attract him.
In some ways he was like his father and hundreds of years of Lowland life would never completely eliminate the wildness of his Northern blood.
She noticed that the Earl of Selway was wearing ordinary evening dress and she was sure that he was a Lowland Laird. She learnt at dinner that his land marched with the Duke�
��s land on the West.
“Once my people fought the Rannocks ferociously,” he said to Fiona, “but now we live at peace with each other – at least outwardly, although I admit to often feeling an intense jealousy of my host’s possessions, especially his silver.”
Fiona looked at the silver ornamenting the dining room table and understood what he meant.
There were ancient goblets and cups, which she knew must have been won and treasured by the Clan for hundreds of years.
Some of them were ornamented with pale amethysts, which she knew were hewn from the mountains in some parts of Scotland, and others had garnets set in them and other semi-precious stones to which she could not put a name.
It was all very fascinating and, because she had lived a quiet, not very social life at The Manor, it was an excitement in itself to be waited on by the kilted servants and be offered delicious food served on silver dishes bearing the Rannock crest.
There was salmon, which she knew came from one of the rivers near The Castle and she wondered if the Duke was a fisherman as his brother had been.
Ian adored fishing, but because where they lived in England there were no salmon rivers, he had to content himself with catching the small speckled brown trout that Betsy would cook and which they had all enjoyed.
Sometimes Ian would talk of the salmon he had caught in his own rivers and streams and he made it sound such a thrilling pastime that Fiona could understand how much he missed it as he must miss so much of his previous life.
But his love for Rosemary had been a compensation for everything and Fiona knew that he really had no regrets, although sometimes he felt an unavoidable homesickness.
As course succeeded course, she found her hatred for the Duke rising within her until it was difficult, as she watched him sitting supreme at the head of the table, not to tell him what she thought of him.
How could he take everything for himself and never even give a thought to his brother struggling to keep his wife and child on what he was well aware was a mere pittance?
‘I doubt if Ian possessed as much as he would spend in a year on the food for his dogs!’ Fiona thought to herself and felt her lips tighten.
“What are you thinking about, Miss Windham?” the Earl of Selway enquired, seated beside her.
“Rather rebellious thoughts, I am afraid,” Fiona answered honestly.
She was not concerned that the Duke would overhear what she was saying, because Lady Morag, who sat on his right, was making every effort to hold his attention and speaking in an intimate manner that excluded the others from joining in the conversation.
“Rebellious?” the Earl questioned. “Then be careful! The Rannocks are still very primitive and you may find yourself incarcerated in one of the dungeons or shut up at the top of a Tower from which it would be impossible for anybody to rescue you!”
“You are frightening me!” Fiona protested. “But I did feel when I arrived here that I had stepped into another world.”
“I always feel the same when I come here,” the Earl replied. “My castle, which I admit is very inferior to this, was only built at the beginning of the century and my father added to it in the way Prince Albert has added to Balmoral.”
Fiona laughed.
“I read that His Highness had ordered a prefabricated iron ballroom which had caught his eye at the Great Exhibition.”
“That is true and the grand new Baronial Hall is very impressive, but in the words of one of Her Majesty’s guests – it ‘still smells of paint’.”
Fiona laughed again.
“The Queen really ought to live in a castle like this one.”
“I can assure you that not only would the Duke not hand it over even if he was commanded to do so but he has refused several invitations to visit Balmoral.”
“Why?” Fiona asked.
“He thinks the English should keep on the South side of the border!”
“Now you are really frightening me!”
She was speaking lightly. At the same time what the Earl had told her made her feel apprehensive.
‘I will not leave Mary-Rose, whatever he may say,’ she thought firmly.
The Earl set himself out to entertain her and he succeeded, but she would have found it difficult to talk so lightly with the Duke.
Fortunately Lady Morag made certain there was no chance of that. It was obvious that she had a very proprietary interest in her cousin.
Fiona wondered what relation she was to Mary-Rose and discovered when the ladies withdrew to the drawing room, leaving the Duke and the Earl to their port, that she was none.
Speaking in a slightly condescending manner, although Fiona thought she meant to be friendly, Lady Morag explained that she belonged to the Highland family of MacDonald, but had married a Rannock who had died.
“I had no wish to go home to my own family,” she said, “so the Duke’s father was kind enough to offer me accommodation in the Gate House, which has been converted into a small but charming residence.”
“So you live here,” Fiona said.
“It is my home,” Lady Morag corrected, “and I feel now as if I was more of a Rannock than a MacDonald!”
Fiona sensed that this had something to do with her feelings for the Duke and Lady Morag continued,
“You can understand therefore how interested I shall be to meet little Mary-Rose. I have heard so much over the years of the trouble between the old Duke and his second son. Of course I knew Lord Ian when he was a boy.”
“He was charming and also kind and considerate,” Fiona said. “He and my sister were exceedingly happy.”
“It must have been very sad for you to lose your sister in such tragic circumstances,” Lady Morag remarked. “How long will you be staying here?”
“I imagine indefinitely,” Fiona replied.
“Indefinitely?”
There was no mistaking the astonishment in Lady Morag’s voice.
“Mary-Rose is my niece,” Fiona said, “and I am all the real family she has left. As I expect you are aware, Lady Morag, the Rannocks have taken no interest in her until this particular moment”
For a moment Lady Morag did not reply.
Then she said,
“I think the Duke and most of the elderly members of the Clan will expect Mary-Rose to have a Scottish Governess, which would surely be sensible as she is to live in Scotland.”
“I think as Mary-Rose grows older,” Fiona said quietly, “she should have not one but several teachers. I know that many people in the Social world think that the education of women is unimportant, but my father, who was a very intelligent man, insisted that my sister, Rosemary, and I should have an extensive education equal to that of any son he might have had!”
“That sounds very advanced, Miss Windham,” Lady Morag replied and Fiona suspected it was not particularly a compliment.
They were joined by the gentlemen and, as the Duke took a seat next to Lady Morag, she said,
“Miss Windham tells me, Aiden, that she expects to stay here indefinitely. I find that rather surprising.”
“The length of Miss Windham’s stay is something I intend to discuss with her on another occasion,” the Duke answered.
Because in a way it was a snub, Fiona saw the flush that came into Lady Morag’s cheeks and the manner in which she pressed her lips together.
‘I must be careful,’ she thought, ‘I don’t want to antagonise anyone, least of all a woman!’
She suddenly felt alone and rather helpless.
There was something grim and menacing about the size of The Castle and the way it seemed in her own words, ‘like another world’.
It was quite a relief to see the unmistakable admiration in the Earl’s eyes and to know that, because he sat as near to her as possible, he was eager to continue the conversation they had had at dinner.
“I hope it will be possible one day for you to bring Mary-Rose to see my house,” he said. “I think she would be interested in my mother’s a
viary, which holds a great number of rare birds.”
“I am sure Mary-Rose would be fascinated to see it,” Fiona said enthusiastically.
“The Duke was telling me before dinner how Rollo took to her. It certainly surprises me. I had always thought him a dangerous dog to be avoided. In fact I understand he bit one of the stable boys yesterday and he now has a bad hand.”
“If it is inflamed,” Fiona said, “then I can do something about it.”
“What do you mean by that?” the Earl enquired.
“I have quite a knowledge of herbs which I learnt from my sister and because I have found them so useful in my own life, I have brought with me to The Castle quite a number which I have picked and dried.”
“That is most interesting,” the Earl remarked.
He turned to the Duke, who was talking to Lady Morag, and said,
“Did you hear that, Aiden? Miss Windham has a knowledge of herbs and she says that for the wounds your ferocious animal inflicted yesterday on that wretched boy, she has something to heal them.”
The Duke did not look particularly interested.
“I have sent for the local physician,” he said. “Unfortunately he is away, but they expect him home the day after tomorrow.”
Fiona gave a little cry.
“You should not leave a dog bite for as long as that without treatment! It can be dangerous!”
“I believe the boy is being looked after,” the Duke countered.
“I assure you, unless there is somebody here who knows what he is doing, it would be easy for the boy to become seriously ill!” Fiona insisted.
The Duke looked at her with what she knew was an expression of dislike and impatience.
Then he rose from his chair and pulled at the bell that hung beside the chimney piece.
Still standing, he waited until the door opened and a servant stood awaiting his instructions,
“Fetch Mr. McKeith!” he ordered.
The servant went from the room and the Duke seated himself again.
“I have a horror of quackery of any sort,” he announced, not looking at Fiona as he spoke.
“I agree with you,” she said coolly. “At the same time herbs have proved efficacious all through history and the art of using them is still known to country folk not only in England but all over the world.”
60 The Duchess Disappeared Page 5