The Inheritance

Home > Other > The Inheritance > Page 10
The Inheritance Page 10

by Irina Shapiro


  Rory managed to close the shutters, and moved an old bedstead into the corner where the roof was still intact. He went outside to see to the horses, stabling them in the wooden structure that must have been a barn at one time. He came back in shaking off the drops of water running down his face. Rory beat the old mattress against the wall to get rid of some of the dust, then spread his plaid over it on the bed. Isobel had taken off her dress, and hung it to dry by the fire. She was shivering in her shift, and Rory led her to the bed and covered her with his coat, which was still relatively dry having been in his saddlebag. She sat there in silence staring into the flames.

  “What happened back there?” he asked softly. Isobel began to cry. Tears were streaming down her face and she wasn’t even sure if she were crying for Mary or herself — a little of both, if she were honest.

  “Mary refused to come back. She is with child. She was repeatedly raped by my husband, who also threatened her life if she told anyone, and bade her to turn evidence on us; so that he could have a witness to his claim of adultery, and marry Joan.”

  “Is that all?” Rory sat down and wrapped his arms around the weeping girl. “I shoulda told ye.”

  “Ye knew?” She turned to him in astonishment.

  “I suspected. I noticed how jumpy Mary was around him, and I heard a snippet of her prayer at the kirk. She was asking God to let her die and spare ye this terrible knowledge.”

  “How could I have been so blind? She was always so happy and full of life. How could I ignore that she was scared? She’s just a child and looked to me for protection and I let her down. I failed her.” Isobel cried even harder as Rory stroked her hair and let her get it out.

  “There’s nothing that ye could have done. If ye tried to stop him, he would have taken even greater pleasure in it. Dinnae blame yerself,” Rory kissed the top of her head and held her close. He smelled of sweat and wet wool, and his body felt warm and solid against hers.

  “What about Joan?” Isobel was horrified that John would do that to Mary while trying to court Joan again. What a swine.

  “Joan is a clever girl. She’s had her sights on John for a long time, and has given him just enough to keep him wanting more. He doesn’t love her. He lusts after her because he cannae have her without marrying her first.”

  “Doesn’t she care that he’s married? Do ye think she kens about Mary?” Isobel could not comprehend such cold calculation, especially in a young woman.

  “I suspect she doesn’t ken about Mary yet, but even if she did, she wouldna be put off by it. She would just say that it happened afore they were married, and that Mary probably asked for it. Joan doesn’t care for John, so she won’t be hurt by it. She just wants ye out of the way, so they could marry and she can be the Laird’s wife.”

  Isobel stared into the leaping flames. She knew her marriage wasn’t a happy one, but these revelations left her stunned. John hadn’t been the husband that she’d hoped for, but she never imagined him to be such a villain. He was plotting to get rid of her, while still trying to get her with child in case his scheme didn’t work, and forcing himself on a young girl while romancing someone else. She now also knew that he was trying to put Rory in danger, by sending him to speak to other lairds in trying to solicit their support for Prince Charles. Should anyone report Rory to the British authorities for his activities, he would be tried for treason and executed; while John would remain safe by claiming ignorance and saying that Rory acted on his own without his blessing.

  Isobel no longer cared about her marriage vows or her future with John. No matter what happened she couldn’t continue to live with him. She would go back to her parents in the morning, and ask them to act on her behalf to dissolve the marriage. She turned to Rory, her face illuminated by firelight.

  “I nay longer have any reason to honor my marriage vows,” Isobel whispered and caressed his face.

  “Isobel, I would like nothing more than to take ye right here, but I willna have ye doing it for revenge. I want ye to want me for me, not because ye want to avenge Mary.”

  “I’ve wanted ye since the moment I saw ye. Not a night has gone by that I dinna fall asleep dreaming of yer face. I tried to cut ye out of my heart because I wanted to honor the vows I made afore God, but now I nay longer wish to honor them. Now, I will honor myself. There is no need to deny myself any longer. I love ye, Rory McBride, and I am yers if ye still want me.” She looked up at him, daring him to refuse her, and Rory crushed her to him. His mouth came down on hers with a fierceness he could barely control, and he pushed her down on the bed. He tore his mouth away from hers and looked down at her flushed face.

  “I want to do this right,” he breathed. “I want us to remember this night for as long as we live.”

  He got up and pulled off his boots and unbuckled his kilt. It fell to the floor at his feet leaving him in his shirt. Rory pulled Isobel to her feet and took his jacket from her shoulders. He kissed her tenderly, whispering words of love, and she felt herself grow weak in the knees as his lips moved to her neck. She threw her head back, hoping he wouldn’t stop.

  She hardly noticed when her shift fell on the floor next to his kilt, and she stood naked before him. Rory’s hands gently cupped her breasts, making her gasp as his mouth closed around her nipple. She felt a strange wetness between her legs as he sucked and teased her nipple with his tongue. Isobel buried her fingers in his hair as his head moved down and he left a trail of kisses down her belly. Rory laid her on the bed and moved down, pushing her legs apart with his hands. Isobel tried to squeeze her legs together in embarrassment, but Rory wouldn’t let her. He kissed the inside of her thighs, and had her trembling with desire by the time his tongue slid inside her. He took his time exploring and tasting her, and then when she thought she couldn’t take it any longer, he moved up and slid inside her.

  She felt no pain or sense of being violated, like she did with her husband. She just felt an overwhelming desire, and moved her hips to take him in deeper as he moved inside her, watching her pleasure with those dark eyes. Isobel felt something building up within her, then her insides seemed to ripple with unbearable pleasure as Rory let out a moan and collapsed on top of her.

  Isobel ran her fingers through his hair dreamily. “So, that’s what it’s supposed to be like,” she mused.

  Rory wrapped his plaid around them as they lay in their cocoon listening to the wind howling outside, and the rain beating against the shutters. The fire in the hearth bathed everything in golden glow, and she watched the light shifting on Rory’s face. Isobel closed her eyes and felt like she was floating on a cloud of joy as she fell asleep.

  Eventually, the rain stopped and the sky began to return to its normal color. It would be dark in a few hours, so there was no rush to start for home. They could spend the night together, and then resume their journey in the morning. Isobel wished they had taken some food, but she never took the pack Mary prepared. She looked at Rory. He was still asleep, his sooty lashes fanned against his cheeks. She caressed his stubbly jaw. Isobel was glad he didn’t wear a beard; she liked seeing his face. Rory opened his eyes and smiled at her.

  “I’m starving,” he said, “Do we have any food?”

  “No, I stormed out afore I thought to take the pack.”

  “Hmm, we’ll have to think of something,” Rory stretched and rolled back on top of Isobel.

  “What, again?” she asked in amazement.

  “Aye, again, and then we search for sustenance.”

  Chapter 30

  “I believe you’re drunk,” Danny observed as I collapsed into the front seat of his Mercedes.

  “I believe you’re right. I don’t normally drink whiskey.” My head was spinning, and my vision was kind of blurred around the edges. I was annoyed by Danny’s amusement. He was the one who insisted that I keep tasting the whiskey at the distillery.

  “You’re cute when you’re drunk,” he teased.

  “You know, you’re actually better looking when I�
�m drunk too.” Ha, payback! Danny burst out laughing and started the car.

  “I can’t take you to my grannie like this; she’ll think all my clients are inebriated Americans. We have to sober you up.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him and closed my eyes. I needed the world to stop spinning. From what I could recall, the distillery was a large scientific-looking place that smelled of fermenting hops. The rest was a blur. Apparently, if I remembered what Danny said correctly, I could live comfortably on the income from the whiskey for the rest of my life, and never have to work again. I liked whiskey better and better.

  Danny made a quick stop, but I didn’t bother to open my eyes. I was still queasy, and my head was starting to ache. He came back and started the car again. I didn’t care where we were going as long as I didn’t have to walk straight when we got there.

  Daniel parked the car and opened the passenger door. We were by the sea, and he led me to a bench and handed me a cup of coffee. “Breathe and drink,” he instructed. “You’ll be fine in a few minutes.”

  I inhaled the salty breeze from the sea. It did make me feel better, and the coffee wasn’t too bad either. I took a peek at Danny from under my lashes. His dark hair was ruffled by the wind and he looked relaxed and happy as he sipped his own coffee. I wondered if he minded spending time with me. After all, I was only a client, not a friend. I was enjoying spending time with him. He was fun and easygoing, and I felt at ease with him. I suddenly wondered what it would be like to kiss him. I am drunk, I thought as I took another sip of my coffee.

  We sat by the water in comfortable silence for a half hour, and then it was time to go to tea with Danny’s grandmother. She lived outside of the town of Kilmaron, and I saw the castle high on its cliff as we drove past it. As we neared the town, I began to get nervous. I was about to find out something that might change my life, or at least my history. This man obviously had a good reason to think that he was my grandfather, and I was a little apprehensive about digging up family secrets. However, the plan was set into action the minute that Will was signed, and now I had no choice but to follow through and find out what I needed to know. I’d spoken to my parents the night before, and I could hear the anxiety in my mother’s voice. She was nervous too. I knew she was waiting with anticipation to hear from me once I got back to the inn.

  Chapter 31

  Daniel’s grandmother lived in a two-storey cottage on the outskirts of town. It was built of beige stone that served as a neutral background for the multicolored roses that tried to smother the first floor. I took a deep breath inhaling the sweet scent as Daniel rang the bell.

  Janet Wilson had to be close to ninety. She was small and thin with rosy cheeks, and an old-fashioned bob that was entirely gray. She must have been pretty once, I thought. She welcomed me warmly, and then told us to go into the parlor while she got the tea. Danny escorted me into a room that could have been straight out of a period movie.

  The wallpaper was covered in little bouquets of flowers, and the lace curtains and old-fashioned furniture were relics of another time. There were many black-and-white pictures in heavy silver frames, several color photos of a smiling bride and groom, and of a little boy at various ages. The boy had dark hair and gray eyes and looked very seriously into the camera.

  “Is that you?” I asked.

  “Cute, wasn’t I?” he smiled. “I’m the only grandchild.”

  “Modest, too.”

  Danny went to the kitchen to help his grandmother while I sat down on the sofa. My palms were sweaty, all the effects of the whisky having worn off as soon as we got to the cottage.

  Daniel brought in the tea tray with a silver teapot and pretty china cups, and his gran followed with a plate of sandwiches and a cake. They sat everything on the low table in front of the sofa, and sat across from me. Mrs. Wilson looked at me for a moment and nodded, as if I’d confirmed her worst suspicions.

  “I remember Claire well. You have the look of her.” She seemed to be studying my face, maybe looking for traces of Angus as well.

  “Did you know Angus well?” I began.

  “I knew Angus since he was a lad, as well as James and your grandmother. She was a feisty little thing. My husband was the only doctor hereabouts, so we knew everybody.” She poured out the tea and settled more comfortably in her chair. I didn’t want to rush her, but I was dying to find out what I came for.

  “I can see you’re fit to burst with curiosity, so I’ll tell you everything from the beginning.

  My husband and I came here in the early ‘30s because the old doctor had died and there was a position. It was a good opportunity for a young doctor, so we settled here. We used to live in town; Angus and James were teenagers then. Did you know they were identical twins? No? Well, you couldn’t tell them apart until they started speaking. Angus was older by 12 minutes, and very proud of the fact. He considered himself James’s older brother. Angus was cocky and outgoing. He played sports and was popular with the other boys, as well as with the girls. James was the quiet one. He was shy and bookish and worshipped his brother. They were the best of friends, those two.

  It was in 1935 when the new headmaster, your great grandfather, came to town. The old one had retired and the new family moved in. That’s when they met Claire. She looked a lot like you, with honey-colored hair and those amber eyes. All the boys were in love with her, including Angus and James. They all made a play for her sooner or later, but to everyone’s astonishment she chose James.

  They completed each other. He was quiet and reserved, and she was fun-loving, the life of the party. James wanted to be a teacher, so Claire asked her father to give him a job at the school. He began to teach history to the younger children, and they were married in 1937, I believe. Angus was a little resentful, but he adored his brother and wished him well. He went off to Inverness, where he got a job at a distillery outside of town.

  Not long after Claire and James were married, there was an epidemic of chicken pox at the school. James had never had them in his childhood and they didn’t have vaccines back then. His case was bad, and chicken pox can be dangerous for adults. He had a very high fever for several days, and by the time he’d improved, he was left sterile. He refused to believe my husband when he told him that it was a possibility, and had him do a test to make sure. He was heartbroken, poor lad. Claire assured him that it was all right, but he grieved. They wanted a house full of bairns and now they would have none. Their marriage became strained and they were both grieving their loss separately.

  We don’t know who came up with the idea, James or Angus, most likely Angus, but they cooked up a plan. Angus would come home from Inverness and stay with them for a while. A few months later, Claire was expecting. My husband knew it couldn’t be James’s child, but he wasn’t sure if Claire had agreed to something or was tricked, so he never said anything to her. She had her baby girl, your mother, and everyone was happy. Angus was back in Inverness learning the whiskey business, and came home from time to time to visit his beautiful niece.

  Eventually, war broke out and both Angus and James joined up. They were in different units. James wound up in Malaysia where he died in prison — a prisoner of war. Angus survived and came home. Angus had always loved Claire and might have had a chance of winning her had he waited, but he wasn’t one for the waiting. He told her that James couldn’t have fathered Ellen and that the child was really his, and now that James was gone, they could be a family. Claire was gone by the following week. She took her daughter, and left for America to start a new life. Angus tried writing and phoning, he even went there to try to win her back, but she wouldn’t have him. She felt that he had betrayed her and James, and cut him dead. James was her love and to her he was the father of their child no matter what.

  Angus eventually married, but it wasn’t a happy marriage and broke up very quickly. He had bought his own distillery by that time, and started to become more of a recluse. He always had a fascination with that castle. They played there a
s children and it held happy memories for him, not to mention that it had belonged to the family. He inherited it when their parents died and eventually restored a part of it and moved in. He lived there alone until his death. There was a woman from the village who came in to clean and cook for him. She was the one who found him.”

  I put down my teacup, not trusting my shaking hand. How did one react to such revelations? My sweet, prim gran, who loved to bake scones and knit me sweaters, had either agreed to sleep with her husband’s brother to get pregnant, or was tricked by a pair of identical twins who, although with the best of intentions, pulled one over on her. I’m not sure which scenario I liked less.

  Danny and Mrs. Wilson busied themselves with the tea things to give me a few moments to compose myself. What was I supposed to tell my mother? How would she feel knowing that the man she believed all her life to be her father, was actually her uncle? I felt an overwhelming need to speak to Sophia. She would help me put this in perspective.

  I noticed Mrs. Wilson watching me with kindly eyes. “I’m sorry, my dear, I know it’s a strange tale, but they’re all gone now and there’s nothing to be done. Accept your rightful inheritance and make the best of it.” I nodded in agreement. She was right. They were all gone and their sins were gone with them. I still felt a little stunned, and needed to divert my attention to something else until I was ready to think about this again.

  “Mrs. Wilson, can you tell me about Isobel?” I asked.

  Janet sat back down and poured herself another cup of tea. “What would you like to know?”

  “Just anything you can tell me. I saw her bedroom at the castle and it left an impression on me. I’d like to know more.”

  “Isobel is a bit of a local mystery. She wasn’t from around here — she was a Grant by birth. They had their lands further inland, a few hours’ drive from here. Back then it was a day’s ride or more. The castle ruin is still there if you care to see it.

 

‹ Prev