The tree-lined dirt road snaked up the hill and eventually we pulled up to the crumbling castle wall. Danny parked the car and we got out. I stood staring up at the massive iron gates as Danny unlocked the padlock and swung them open for us to pass. I walked through the gates looking up in awe at the imposing structure in front of me. In its heyday, the castle must have been particularly large with many outbuildings surrounding it including kitchens, stables, a smithy, a dairy shed, and many more. Most of the outbuildings had been destroyed, and only parts of walls remained here and there. The roofs had long ago rotted or caved in.
“The first floor of the castle was originally used for storage and the living quarters began on the second floor. There was a Great Hall where gatherings were held and clansmen gathered for daily meals and feasts. The laird had his library and his office in that part of the building, as well as a large parlor to entertain his guests. The rest of the castle was used to house the various people who lived within the castle walls. The laird’s private chamber was in the west tower looking out over the North Sea and the room above it was that of his wife.
That room had been empty since Alan’s wife died, and Isobel occupied it after her and the new laird moved into the tower quarters. Until then, they shared a chamber somewhere on the third floor. Angus lived in the laird’s bedroom and had Isobel’s room restored. Would you like to see them?” Danny was already pulling out keys to open the arched wooden door at the base of the tower.
As I walked through the door after Danny, it took me a moment to adjust to the dim light inside. The only illumination came in through the arrow slits in the tower walls, and their narrow shafts of light left large chunks of the spiral staircase immersed in gloom. We walked up to the first landing which had a wooden door on the left.
“That door leads to the main part of the castle and to the Great Hall and library. There’s another door on the other side leading into the other tower.” We continued up the worn stone steps to the next landing. There was another door leading to the main part and to the parlor and bedrooms situated there.
The main body of the castle didn’t go past the third floor, and the next two levels of the tower held the private bedchambers of the laird and his lady. The laird’s room, which had belonged to Angus, had an old, heavily carved four-poster bed with a canopy and matching carved pieces consisting of a chest of drawers, a wardrobe and a writing desk facing the window. It was a very masculine room and I felt like an intruder walking through a room of a man so recently dead. His things were still strewn around the circular chamber. A dressing gown was lying across the blue coverlet and his pipe was on the desk waiting to be smoked. Several books were lying on the bedside table as well as a couple of bottles of medicine of some kind. Dust covered the surface of the furniture and the place had a sad, forlorn look about it. I was eager to leave and headed for the stairs leading to the uppermost chamber. I followed Danny up the stairs, and he opened an old wooden door punctuated by iron studs, to reveal the room behind it.
This room was the complete opposite of the room below. It was airy and light. The walls were hung in peach silk, and the bed hangings and the drapes were all in shades of peach and cream. The wooden furniture was made of either mahogany or cherry, and the style was a much more feminine one. The carvings were of flowers and vines that curved delicately around the posts of the bed and legs of chairs and writing desk. I walked over to the window and pulled aside the silk curtain to look out.
The view was breathtaking. This side of the tower was on the side of the cliff, and I couldn’t see any land below. It felt as if the wall dropped directly into the sea. On this June morning, the North Sea was spread before me, sunlight glinting on the water. It looked peaceful and calm, but I could imagine how it must have looked during a winter squall when the waves would have been crashing against the cliff, and the bitter north wind would be howling outside the tower walls. I wondered if the fireplace built into the wall opposite the bed was enough to keep the winter chill at bay.
There was an old tapestry hanging over the chest of drawers and I walked over to examine it. The once vibrant colors were now faded, but I could still make out the picture. There was a fair-headed maiden in a white gown handing a sword to a knight who was kneeling before her, holding his helmet in his hands. His horse was behind him, and he seemed to be heading off to battle. I wondered if Isobel had worked on that tapestry, or if it had belonged to her mother-in-law who occupied this room before her.
We left the room and went back down the spiral staircase. On the second floor Danny opened one of the connecting doors and we were in the main part of the castle. Most of the furniture was gone, but some pieces remained, and we wandered through the ruined rooms trying to imagine their purpose and who might have visited them. The Great Hall still had a few trestle tables and carved wooden chairs, and there was a monstrous fireplace, large enough to roast an ox on one side of the room. Some old banners hung around the huge room and sad-looking eyes of deer heads stared at us from their place on the walls. Anything of value had been looted a long time ago, and most of the rooms were bare and dusty.
“Can we go outside?” I asked feeling uneasy.
“This place gives me the creeps.”
“There is one more thing I want to show you before we go,” said Danny leading me back through the side door and down the stairs of the tower. We stepped out into the summer sunshine and I took a deep breath of relief. I was glad to escape that lonely castle. It seemed full of ghosts, especially the ghost of Angus McBride, who was the last one to live among them.
Danny led me around the side of the castle and opened a door built into a stone wall. Inside was what must have been a walled garden. It was neglected, but I could see how beautiful it must have been in its day. The garden was overgrown, and multicolored roses burst from unpruned bushes, their fragrant heads turned up to the warm sun above. The walls were covered in lichen and crumbling in some places, but the garden was full of color and the heady scent of flowers and I wanted to linger. We made our way down a gravel walkway until we found an old wrought iron bench, and sat down among the profusion of flowers growing all around us.
“This must have been beautiful once,” I said, trying to envision what the garden looked like when the castle gardener had lovingly tended it. Did Isobel walk here and dream of the children that she would one day have, or pine for her husband when he left the castle to join the young king?
“Danny, did Isobel have children before she disappeared?” My curiosity about her was peaked, and I wanted to know more about her life.
“No, there were no bairns. John was desperate for an heir since he was the only son, but they never had children. After his death, the estate passed on to a cousin. John was arrested and tried for treason and died without leaving a legitimate heir.”
“What about an illegitimate one?”
“There was some talk of him having a bastard or two, but no one knows the truth.”
A sudden thought stuck me. “Am I the last of the line?”
“No, there are plenty of McBrides left in these parts, but you are the last of your branch of the family. Does that make you sad?” He looked kind of sad himself at the thought. I suppose it did make me sad. I also felt a little ashamed at living all this time and having no knowledge of my family history, which seemed as exciting as some of the works of literature I’d read.
We sat in companionable silence in that forgotten garden until it was time to lock up the place and head back.
October 1744
Chapter 7
Hot tears of rage stung Isobel’s eyes as she ran out of the dim passage into the light of the courtyard. She just wanted to be alone, so she made her way down to her special place by the stream. There was a small fissure in the rocks right above the stream which was hidden from view, and she liked to escape there from time to time when life at the castle became too much.
Isobel enjoyed her solitude. It gave her time to think and to plan, althou
gh in this case, the plans had already been made for her and she had no say in them whatsoever. She had always known that she wouldn’t be allowed to choose her own husband. Her father was too sly by far not to use her marriage to form an alliance of some sort, but this even she didn’t expect. When her father called her into his study today, she knew exactly what it pertained to. She’d been expecting his summons for the past year since she turned sixteen. She knew he was looking for a husband for her, and had several offers of marriage from neighboring lairds and men within the clan. He was waiting for something more useful, and it came in the form of an offer from McBride. Their families had been at odds for the past fifty years, so that was the last bridegroom she expected to be presented with.
Her father had informed her that the marriage would take place in a fortnight, and Isobel would be expected to leave the only home she’d ever known and go live at Kilmaron Castle among the people she was taught to hate since birth. Her only consolation was that her maid Mary would come with her. Mary was only fourteen and quite devoted to Isobel. The sweet lass actually volunteered to come with her. She would take Matty too, her King Charles spaniel that her brother had given her for her birthday. She loved that puppy like a child, and Matty had slept in the basket by her bed since the day they met.
Isobel sat down and leaned against the smooth rock. The day was sunny and pleasant, but the approach of winter could be felt in the crisp October air. The leaves had already begun to change, and everything around her was painted in shades of red and gold by the paintbrush of Mother Nature. She had been told that Kilmaron Castle was by the sea, and she was intrigued. She’d never seen the sea and tried to imagine what it would be like to live so close to the water. She had heard the stories of selkies who lived in the North Sea and turned into beautiful maidens when they shed their skin, and she was hoping to catch sight of one.
Isobel was an optimist by nature and her grief at the news was already beginning to wear off. She would miss her family, but she knew she would have to make the best of the situation and was beginning to wonder what her future husband looked like, and if he might be handsome. Her mother had been there when her father told her the news, and she bade her to honor her father’s wishes. That’s what she would do. After all, she would be the wife of the future chieftain of clan McBride. She would be the lady of the house, which is something she would never be here since her brother, Robert, would be laird some day and his wife would be the lady.
Her spirits somewhat restored Isobel stood up, brushed the leaves off her skirt and headed home to talk to Mary and start making plans for their departure.
Chapter 8
It was agreed that the wedding would take place at Kilmaron, so a party consisting of Isobel, her father, brother and four well-armed clansmen, set out from Castle Grant on a misty October morning. The sky was the color of dirty linen, and her cloak was getting damp from the steady drizzle that made the world around her look as if it were crying. Isobel’s stomach was all in knots. Now that the day was upon her she was nervous and scared, and all her bravado seemed to have vanished at the thought of her marriage tomorrow. She asked her father about John, but he seemed to know very little, having only met him once as a lad. She was surprised that Alan McBride didn’t bring his son with him when contracting the marriage. It would have been a good opportunity for them to meet and take each other’s measure, but the men usually had their reasons for what they did and she didn’t question it further.
Castle Grant was a day’s ride from Kilmaron and was located inland. Isobel began to smell the salty air of the North Sea as they drew closer and the chill wind blew through her cloak like an icy breath that left her frozen with fear. Her mother didn’t make the trip with them because of her ill health and she was accompanied mostly by men, who paid her little mind. She was just a pawn in this scheme, and they looked forward to the feast and then their imminent departure once their mission was complete and they had handed her over and shook hands with the enemy.
The Grant party arrived at Kilmaron well after dark and Isobel was shown to a small chamber that she was to share with Mary. The wedding would take place in the morning, and she was sent a tray of food and hot water to wash. The men sat in the Hall with the McBrides drinking and telling stories, but she was expected to rest and prepare for the nuptials.
Mary didn’t help matters. The little maid was white as a sheet and kept looking out of the window at the stormy sea, crossing herself, her wispy blonde hair tucked into her cap, and her face the color of whey.
“All will be well, Mary. Go to bed,” Isobel tried to comfort the girl, despite her own fears. She lay awake long after she heard Mary’s soft snores, worrying about her wedding night and all that it entailed.
The milky light of morning began to fill the small chamber, as a serving girl came to wake them and bring them some ale and bread for breakfast. She bade Isobel dress and be ready to go to church, but it was another two hours by the time the men had finally roused themselves after a night of drinking, and made ready.
The small stone church sat on a lonely hill about a mile from the castle. It was built of the same gray granite as the castle, its one truncated tower appearing as if it were holding up the leaden sky. They passed through a lichen covered gate, and walked down the dirt path that led past the weathered headstones of the not so recently departed.
The bridegroom was already there, standing with his back to the studded wooden door. He was looking up at the single stained glass window, showing no interest in his future wife. He finally turned around, and Isobel got a glimpse of her intended. John McBride was an ox of a man with unusually light blue eyes and thin lips. His thinning brown hair and full beard made him look older than his twenty-six years, and even his wedding finery did little to make him look appealing to a seventeen-year-old girl. He gave her a brief nod, not bothering to smile, and turned toward the altar.
Isobel took her place beside him and the ceremony began. She hardly paid any heed to the words of the service intoned by the elderly priest, and was shocked when someone cut her wrist and brought it against the cut wrist of her new husband to symbolize that they now shared the same blood. Everyone seemed in excellent spirits, and went back to Kilmaron to enjoy the wedding feast being prepared by numerous servants at the castle.
Isobel’s heart felt like a stone in her chest as she mounted her dappled mare and set off towards Kilmaron to start her new life. Her groom barely looked at her as he galloped away with the men. Mary silently rode by her side, sensing that her mistress didn’t want to talk. After all, what was there to say?
Chapter 9
Rory had fully intended to go to the wedding, if only to see the poor girl who was being sacrificed in the name of peace between the clans, but days in the saddle and several nights sleeping rough had left him tired and saddle sore. He stretched, enjoying the feel of a soft bed and clean linen and decided to go to the feast instead. He’d spent the past two weeks surrounded by men around the clock, and he was relishing a little time alone. He reached over and plucked a book of poems from the nightstand and began reading, losing himself in the romance and anguish invoked by the passionate words of the poet.
By the time he got to the Hall, the bridal party had already returned from church, and John was sitting in the place of honor next to his bride, whom he completely ignored. Rory made his way to his seat accepting the handshakes, slaps on the shoulder, and greetings welcoming him back to the castle. A server poured him a cup of wine, and he looked over at the wedded couple. John was drinking and exchanging crude jokes with the men sitting closest to him, while his bride sat staring straight ahead, her hands folded in her lap, her lips quivering with an effort not to cry. Her coppery curls shone in the light of the torches and tumbled down her shoulders unchecked save for the two thin braids that circled her crown. Rory couldn’t see the color of her eyes, but they appeared to be light and they were large and frightened in her pale face. Malcolm Grant sat in a place of honor next to t
he Laird, and the only people who paid any attention to the bride were the women who exchanged spiteful comments about her too small bosom or the degenerate color of her hair.
Rory felt a strange desire to go up and bid her welcome. He wanted to sit next to her, pour her a cup of wine and tell her amusing stories until she’d smile and her carefree laughter would put some color into those pale cheeks. Of course, to do that would be entirely inappropriate under the circumstances and he contented himself with watching her, hoping to catch her eye. He saw her gaze wander over the assembled company and eventually she looked straight at him. Their eyes met for a moment and he saw that they were the color of newly unfurled spring leaves. He smiled, and saw her lips curve slightly as she acknowledged him and looked away.
Rory felt an irrational desire to teach John a lesson in manners as he continued drinking heavily and paying no mind to his young bride. The girl looked scared out of her wits, and the knowledge of what she was to endure later made Rory push his plate away and leave the Hall. He didn’t know what came over him, this was none of his business, but he felt a strange need to comfort her and protect her from his oafish cousin.
Rory made his way to the stables where he spent a pleasant hour playing dice with the stable lads, and then returned to his room feeling more at peace with the world.
Chapter 10
The first time Isobel saw him was at the wedding feast. She sat next to John in their place of honor next to Auld Alan, watching the merry people around her eating and drinking. Sounds of laughter and snatches of song echoed all around her, but she could neither eat nor laugh. Her mouth was dry and her head ached.
The Inheritance Page 3