“Do you believe her grief was genuine?” Fiona asked quietly.
“She certainly made a tremendous demonstration of it and, of course, she clung to Aiden, making their joint loss an excuse to be constantly with him.”
Fiona looked at him sharply.
“She was in love with the Duke even then?”
“I suppose so,” the Earl replied. “I must say I did not take much notice of her before the Duchess’s death. I have always found her a very unattractive woman.”
“Think back,” Fiona suggested. “Try to remember if she appeared to want to be with the Duke as much as she wanted to be with her sister.”
There was silence for a minute.
“I am trying to recall what happened when they were together,” the Earl said after a little while. “I know I used to think it must be a nuisance for Aiden to have his sister-in-law always with them. Then I thought perhaps it was a relief as he did not get on with his wife.”
“Was that obvious?”
“It was obvious to me,” the Earl replied. “Of course, having been such a close friend of Aiden’s for so long, I knew that at first he did not wish to marry Janet and then, when he did, they quarrelled continually – ”
“Why did they?” Fiona asked.
“I told you that I did not think she was entirely normal and Lady Morag admitted to me once that she used to have such uncontrollable tantrums when she was a child that they had to give her special medicines to calm her down.”
“In which case,” Fiona said, “do you think that when she was in a rage or a tantrum or whatever you like to call it, she did away with herself?”
“It’s a possibility,” the Earl admitted.
“And if she did – how?”
“Aiden had every river and every loch within walking distance of The Castle dredged.”
“It seems extraordinary, but somehow we have to find an explanation.”
She looked at the Earl as she spoke and, after a moment, he said,
“I know what you are asking me. I will help you, but I must say I think it is extremely generous of me in the circumstances.”
“I think it is very wonderful of you,” Fiona replied quietly. “But I would not expect you to do anything different.”
“That’s not fair!” he protested. “What I want to do, as you well know, is to pick you up in my arms, carry you away and make you forget Aiden and his disappearing wife and the gloom of The Castle, which becomes more like a tomb every time I visit it.”
“As it is, because you are you,” Fiona said, “you will help me and the Duke to find happiness.”
For a moment the Earl did not speak, then he gave a deep sigh before he admitted,
“All right! You win! It is just my accursed luck to play the supporting role instead of the lead!”
“Thank you,” Fiona said simply.
Then she looked at the clock.
“It is time for me to waken Mary-Rose after her rest.”
“Which I suppose is a gentle hint that I can get myself lost,” the Earl sighed. “What are you going to do?”
“We are going fishing.”
“Can I come with you?”
“I would like you to, but I think it would be a mistake. I am quite sure that, when the Duke has finished with the Clansmen, he will want you with him.”
“If you go on at me like this,” the Earl threatened, “I shall return to my own castle and the gaieties that are waiting for me there!”
Fiona knew that it was an idle threat and she merely smiled at him.
“You are needed here,” she said, “and so I feel in my bones that you will stay.”
She saw the rueful expression on the Earl’s face as she left the room.
*
That evening the three of them were alone at dinner and, because the Earl set himself out to be amusing and make the Duke laugh, it was the gayest meal Fiona had enjoyed since she had come to The Castle.
The Earl told stories of various escapades when they were boys and, as she watched the Duke laughing, she thought how different everything would be if he was not oppressed by the shadow a woman had cast over him and his life.
‘If anything can be a witch’s spell, it is that menacing evil, like a fog, from which it is impossible for him to escape,’ she told herself.
They were still joking after dinner was finished and the two men joined Fiona in the drawing room.
“Shall I be tactful and leave you two alone?” the Earl enquired.
Before Fiona could speak, the Duke said,
“No. It would be a mistake.”
They both looked at him in surprise at his positiveness and he explained,
“I learnt only today that the third footman who was engaged about two months ago is the son of Morag’s cook and I have a feeling that anything that is said or done will be repeated in Battlement House.”
“I am quite certain it will be!” the Earl remarked. “How did you learn this?”
“Morag said something to me the other evening,” the Duke answered, “which I knew I had discussed only with you at breakfast and had in fact not mentioned it to anyone else, not even McKeith. It did not strike me at the time as being peculiar.”
He paused before he continued,
“But today, as I was thinking how important it was that there should be no gossip attached to Fiona, I asked Mr. McKeith about the new servants in The Castle and he told me that Morag had asked him particularly to engage her cook’s son.”
“An unfortunate situation,” the Earl remarked, “for you can hardly sack him.”
“No, of course not,” the Duke agreed, “but it means that we shall have to be particularly careful. For you to leave Fiona and me alone at this moment would therefore be a mistake.”
“I can see that,” Fiona said, “and actually I think it would be best for me to retire to bed. I have a feeling that, although she thinks of me as a Governess, Lady Morag also feels that I should be chaperoned.”
“I have thought that too,” the Duke said, “and it is something I intend to discuss with you when we have the opportunity.”
“Have you no relative, preferably old and rather blind, who could come and stay for a little while?” Fiona suggested.
“I shall have to think about it,” the Duke said with a smile. “I cannot remember one offhand.”
He spoke lightly, but his eyes met Fiona’s as he did so and she knew that he was saying to her without words that what he wanted more than anything in the world was for them to be alone.
He made no movement, but she felt as if he was reaching out towards her and she knew that it was only by an effort of willpower that she stopped her feet from carrying her swiftly into his arms.
For a moment she had forgotten the Earl and even where they were.
She just felt as if the room vanished and she had only to lift her lips to the Duke for him to hold her captive.
Her love welled up inside her almost like a tidal wave and she knew that the Duke felt the same and that even though they were not touching each other they were close spiritually, mentally and physically in a way that was impossible to define.
‘I love you!’ Fiona felt the words tremble on her lips.
Then she forced herself to curtsey to smile at the Earl, and to begin to walk across the room.
Before she could reach the door, the Duke was there and they both put out their hands towards the handle at the same moment.
As their fingers touched, Fiona felt not only a streak of lightning sweep through her, as it always did when she touched him, but she sensed that the same feeling brought him an agony that she could see in his eyes and a sudden tightening of his lips.
She knew that the control he imposed on himself was strained until one day it would reach the breaking point.
‘I must be careful,’ she thought.
Then, when she reached her bedroom, she thought that perhaps she should go away.
‘How can we go on forever as we ar
e?’ she asked herself.
She wondered if it would be kinder to the Duke and more sensible to accept his first suggestion to move to Edinburgh with Mary-Rose.
Everything in her body cried out at the thought of being separated from him and yet everything that was human and passionate in her nature warned her that she was playing with fire.
*
The following morning Fiona learnt from Mrs. Meredith that the Duke and the Earl were leaving early for a long ride, which meant that she and Mary-Hose had The Castle to themselves for the day.
Looking out the window, Fiona saw that it was bright with sunshine and she decided that they must be out of doors as much as possible.
“Excuse me askin’, miss,” Mrs. Meredith said, breaking in on her thoughts, “but when you have the time, it would be real kind of you if you would call on old Granny.”
“Who is she?” Fiona asked.
“That’s what we always call her, miss, because she’s the oldest woman in the Clan. She used to look after His Grace and Lord Ian when they were small and she loves to talk of the old days.”
“Of course I will go and see her.”
“She’s nearly blind now, miss, and her mind wanders a bit, but I was told yesterday that she were askin’ to see you. It’d be a real kindness if you would call on her.”
“Of course I will,” Fiona said. “Where does she live?
“Next to the East Gate, miss. It’ll only take you about five minutes to walk there.”
“Then I will call on her when Mary-Rose has her rest,” Fiona promised.
“I’ll send one of the men to tell her you’ll be a-callin’,” Mrs. Meredith said. “I know Granny’ll be lookin’ forward to it.”
The sunshine, which had seemed so bright early in the morning, turned to rain and Mary-Rose could therefore not go for a walk as she usually did after her lessons.
Instead they played the piano, after which the child concentrated on making a drawing of Rollo, which she was doing as a surprise for the Duke.
“It’s difficult to get his fur right, Aunt Fiona,” she said after she had been drawing for a little while. “Let’s go to the kennels so that I can look at Rollo and see what I am doing wrong.”
“I expect Rollo will have gone with your uncle,” Fiona replied. “Stay here. I will enquire.”
She walked to the landing to look down to where there were two footmen on duty.
She called one, who ran up towards her, his kilt swinging as he did so and Fiona thought that no elaborate English livery could be as smart or as becoming.
“Has Rollo gone with His Grace?” she asked.
“Aye, miss,” the footman replied. “I sees him runnin’ behind the horses when his Lordship rode off.”
“Thank you,” Fiona said. “That is all I wanted to know.”
She went back to Mary-Rose, who threw down her pencil, saying,
“I shall have to wait until tomorrow. I cannot do any more without seeing Rollo.”
“Shall I read to you, dearest?” Fiona suggested. “Or shall we go and explore the library?”
Mary-Rose brightened.
“That would be fun! Uncle Aiden has lots and lots of books and some of them have pictures in them.”
“Then let’s go and see what we can find,” Fiona proposed.
They found a book that contained drawings of dogs, which amused Mary-Rose. She talked about it all through luncheon and took it to bed with her when she went to lie down.
“I want you to try to sleep,” Fiona urged, “so we will put the book beside you and it will be there when you wake up.”
“I want to find if there is a picture in it where the dog looks as beautiful as Rollo.”
“I am sure that would be impossible,” Fiona smiled.
She tucked the little girl in comfortably, kissed her and pulled the curtains over the window.
“Don’t be longer than an hour, Aunt Fiona,” Mary-Rose begged.
“No, of course not,” Fiona agreed. “I promise you I will come back exactly at half-past two.”
“I will be very good,” Mary-Rose promised.
As she closed the door, Fiona hurried to her own bedroom and picked up a light shawl to put round her shoulders.
It was no longer raining, but the sky was overcast and, instead of going bare-headed as she would have done on a sunny day, she pinned on a small straw hat that went with her gown of blue cotton trimmed with little frills of broderie anglaise.
It had taken Fiona many hours of work, but she knew that although the gown had cost her very little, it was exceedingly becoming and she hoped that the Duke would see her in it later when he returned from his ride.
Carrying an umbrella, she went down the wide marble staircase that led to the front door and walked away in the direction of the East Gate.
There was a good deal of ground for her to cover because this part of The Castle walls stretched out a long way to the East and she passed both the Falconer’s Tower and the Abbott’s Tower, which she and Mary-Rose had explored together.
She found the little lodge and the door was ajar.
“Come in,” a quavering old voice called when she knocked and she found a very small white-haired old woman seated in a chair by the fireside.
“You must excuse me not getting’ up, Miss,” Granny said, “but I canna manage to stand on my own two legs by myself these days.”
“Please don’t move,” Fiona said. “I will sit beside you.”
She found a chair and sat down, noting as she did so that the room was spotlessly clean and was filled with little pieces of china, most of which contained bunches of faded white heather and small mementoes, which she was sure were part of the old woman’s youth.
They talked for some time and then Fiona said,
“I am very sorry to learn of how His Grace lost his wife. It must be very sad for everyone to know that the mystery has never been solved.”
“That’s true enough,” Granny said in her quavering voice. “But ’twas not a happy marriage. I knew that as soon as his Lordship, as he was then, brings home his bride.”
“How did you know that?” Fiona enquired and realised as she spoke that it was a stupid question.
She was quite certain that Granny was what the Scots call ‘fey’. There was something about her that Fiona instinctively recognised.
Perhaps it was the way she spoke or perhaps it was that the perceptiveness which was so much a part of her was there for anyone to see if they looked for it.
“Her Ladyship was not the right person to be the wife of the chief of the Clan,” Granny persisted.
There was silence for a moment nand then Fiona asked,
“I feel that you can see things that other people cannot. Have you any idea where the Duchess can be?”
“Many have asked me that,” Granny replied, “but the pain and anguish of her passin’ blinds my eye.”
“Pain and anguish?” Fiona questioned.
The old woman did not speak and she asked after a moment in a voice that trembled,
“Are you saying that – she met her death – violently?”
Again there was silence.
Then at last Granny said,
“Her spirit cries out for vengeance!”
Fiona drew in her breath.
She was afraid of her own thoughts and now she wished that she had not asked questions.
The old woman seemed to sink into her chair. Her eyes were closed, almost as if she had fallen asleep.
“I think I must go now,” Fiona said.
She felt, when Granny opened her eyes, as if the old woman had come back to her from a very long way away, from another world that she could not enter.
“I was listenin’, as I’ve listened afore, to her Ladyship cryin’ for mercy,” she said. “She received none and ‘vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord’.”
“Goodbye,” Fiona said a little breathlessly. “Goodbye and I will come and see you again one day soon.�
��
She moved towards the door, but the old woman did not speak or seem to notice that she was leaving.
Outside in the fresh air, Fiona felt as if she was coming out of a trance. She wanted to shake herself as if to be free of what she had just heard.
‘The old woman’s mind is wandering,’ she said to herself, but she knew that she was upset and frightened by what she had just heard.
If Granny believed that the Duchess had been murdered, which indeed was what Fiona already half-suspected, it immediately evoked the question of who had murdered her – and why.
She began to walk very quickly back towards The Castle.
‘I will not think about it,’ she mused.
She tried to tell herself that the old woman had been influenced by the gossip she had heard, which must have been repeated by those who visited her.
“It’s not true! It’s not true!” Fiona cried in her heart.
But insidiously the question was there – who else but her husband had any reason for disposing of the Duchess? Who else found her impossible to live with?
Fighting her thoughts, Fiona hurried on, holding her shawl tightly about her as if in some way it protected her, although it was no longer cold.
She glanced up at the sky and saw that, although the wind had dropped, there was undoubtedly rain in the clouds above The Castle.
She felt as if the greyness of it was echoed in her heart and she recognised that old Granny’s words had made everything seem dark and menacing.
‘I am too sensible, too intelligent to listen to the meanderings of an old woman!’ Fiona thought.
And yet she could hear the quavering old voice saying,
“Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord.”
She had almost reached The Castle when she saw someone walking towards her and realised that it was Lady Morag.
She was the last person Fiona wished to see at this moment and she had the idea that Lady Morag must have seen her from her house, moving across the ground towards the East Gate and was curious as to why she had gone in that direction.
‘She behaves as if she owns the place!’ Fiona told herself angrily.
She wondered if in fact it was Lady Morag who had put the idea of the Duchess being murdered into old Granny’s mind.
‘She is a mischief-maker, that is one thing for certain!’ Fiona thought. ‘I must be very careful what I say to her.’
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