“I am as much a guest in this house as ye are,” Feargan said, raising his glass of sherry to Philip. “Perhaps we should all just learn to get along with each other. Or are ye always such a bampot?”
At this, Catherine burst out laughing and Amelia tried to disguise her smile, as Philip turned red and clenched his fists. It was then that the Earl stepped forward and announced that now the party would go through to dinner and that if the Laird of Loch Beira would like to seat himself on the left of the table, the two could continue their most interesting conversation.
With order restored, the party made their way through, into the dining room where a most elegant arrangement was presented. The table was covered in a white cloth and the cutlery was of silver, whilst in the middle stood golden candelabra and a great dish of candied fruits which sparkled in the candlelight.
Feargan took his place next to the Earl and after grace was said they sat down to dinner, Lord Torbay casting the occasional seething glance over Feargan, who simply smiled and nodded back at him.
The first course was soup, ladled from a great steaming tureen on the sideboard and which Feargan ate hungrily. They had not stopped that day upon the road and he was grateful for sustenance lest the sherry and excellent claret have the effect of further loosening his tongue.
“Tell me then, my lad, what are the prospects for the Highland clans? Will the Bonnie Prince be victorious, or am I to live out my days under Hanoverian rule? Paris is my only refuge when my own country is so torn apart by change and decay,” the Earl asked Feargan, who paused for a moment before answering.
“The Highland clans are loyal to the Stuart cause, but whether now is the right time for an invasion or not, I am unsure,” Feargan said.
“Traitor,” Philip cried from across the table. “What treason is this? You see, this is why he has come here. To dissuade the Regent from his plans. The man is nothing but a Hanoverian puppet, a spy in our midst.”
“Calm down, Philip,” Amelia said, catching hold of his arm for the second time that evening.
“And as for you and your sister, bringing this man into our midst without so much as a thought for who he might be. These are dangerous times, what are these man’s credentials? I shall have nothing further to do with him,” Philip said, throwing aside his napkin and rising from the table.
“Peace, Philip,” the Earl said, tapping a knife against his glass. “We shall have no further outbursts, it does me no good whatsoever. If this man were a spy, I doubt he would choose to infiltrate the home of a man of such insignificance. And if the simple invitation of two young ladies is enough to detract him from whatever elaborate mission your mind created for him at Saint-Germain-en-Laye, then it seems the Hanoverian cause is already lost.”
“I am nay spy and neither am I interested in debating me purposes with ye, Philip. If ye daenae like my company then so be it, but daenae blame yer dear betrothed and her sister for bringing me here. I shall not stay long amongst ye,” Feargan said, giving Lord Torbay a withering look, the informal nature of Feargan’s address causing the Marquess to grimace.
He was a detestable man, and Feargan had little time for his outburst of temper. Perhaps coming here had been a mistake after all and he secretly resolved to leave just as soon as possible. If the likes of Lord Torbay wished to encourage the Regent in his foolish plans then so be it, but Feargan wished nothing to do with it.
The meal continued in silence, broken only by the scraping of cutlery on plates. The main course was mutton, boiled and served with vegetables, and for dessert, a creation of one of the Parisian bakeries presented on a spectacular golden dish.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Catherine said, breaking the silence as the maid sliced into the delicate pastry, revealing a mass of fruit and cream within. “I doubt you eat anything as fine as this in Scotland.”
“I am sure the Laird eats very well in his own way, Catherine, let us not bandy around our airs and graces,” the Earl said, shaking his head at his daughter, who blushed.
“We eat well in our own manner, aye,” Feargan said, smiling, as Catherine blushed again.
“Well, I should very much like to see your castle one day and to eat at your table,” Catherine continued.
“Then I am sure ye will, lass,” Feargan replied. “I would be delighted to show ye both the Highlands,” and he smiled at Amelia, causing Philip to grimace.
* * *
With the dinner concluded, they retired once again to the drawing room, where Amelia played the pianoforte and the gathered assembly agreed that she was by far the most excellent player they had heard.
“A superb talent which my daughter possesses, do you not agree, Galbreth?” the Earl said, as Amelia concluded a particularly fine piece in the latest Parisian style.
“Indeed, she is a most talented lass,” Feargan said, causing Amelia to blush, and Philip to once again cast a look of anger towards him.
The party broke up around midnight, Catherine assuring Feargan that tomorrow she would show him the sights of Paris. Philip took a carriage to the Regent’s lodgings, where he was staying for the duration of their time in Paris, insisting upon Amelia bidding him farewell from the hallway. The Earl also took his leave, assuring Feargan once again that he was welcome in his Parisian home, the elder man having now consumed several glasses of brandy.
Feargan was left alone in the drawing room and he sat down at the pianoforte, running his fingers over the keys of the instrument and imagining Amelia’s hands upon them. She had looked more beautiful than ever that night, dressed in a fine silk gown of yellow, with a blue sash about her waist, and her hair tied back revealing her pretty face.
It was just as he was musing upon her that a gentle cough came from the doorway and turning, he found himself face to face with the young lady in question. It was Feargan’s turn to blush and he closed the lid of the pianoforte, draining the last of his glass of brandy.
“It is time for bed now, I think. Yer sister has a day of frantic activity planned for us tomorrow,” he said, setting aside his glass.
“I was going to play one more song if you wish me to,” Amelia said, crossing the room and seating herself next to Feargan on the bench before he had time to get up.
She opened the keyboard and from memory began to play the most exquisite tune that Feargan had ever heard. Back home in Scotland the only music he heard was that of the pipers and the occasional travelling chorus who would play merry jigs for the villagers, but this was something quite different. It had a beauty and an elegance Feargan had never heard before and he could have listened to it all night long, the music enchanting him just as Amelia herself had done so.
“Such wonderful playing,” he said, as Amelia finally took her hands from the keys and turned to smile at him.
“It is a song my mother taught me to play when first I learned the instrument,” she said. “I do not like to play it before a crowd but there is something special about performing just for one other person, do you not think?” she said.
“Aye, thank ye,” he replied, as Amelia rose from the bench and bid him good night.
Feargan sat for a moment, pondering what had just occurred. He wondered if Amelia had played that piece for Lord Torbay or whether she had meant it only for him. Perhaps he had been too hasty in his resolve to leave so quickly, the delights of Paris having only just begun.
7
Paris at any time of the year is a delight and Feargan awoke the next morning to a scene from his window that would make even the coldest of hearts glad.
During the night fresh snow had fallen, so that the carriage tracks of yesterday were covered and the scene one of bright white splendor. Across the roof tops he could see the grand and majestic towers of Notre Dame, its bells tolling across the city as down below the first signs of life began to emerge.
Merchants were wheeling their goods along the street and the cries of the bakers and candle sellers could be heard in the distance. Feargan watched as a group of religi
ous sisters ushered children to their schooling and a man roasting chestnuts on the corner of the street opposite plied his trade.
It was like looking into an ever-changing painting and Feargan was mesmerized by the scene, failing to heed the knocking at his door which signaled the arrival of the maid. It was only when the footman entered, clearly concerned for their guest’s wellbeing, that Feargan turned with a look of surprise across his face.
“I was just watchin’ the scene below. Yer master is very lucky,” he said, as the servants busied themselves in preparing the room for his ablutions.
Once he was properly dressed, Feargan made his way downstairs where Amelia and Catherine were breakfasting with their father, an impressive spread of dishes laid out upon the sideboard.
“Thank ye again for playing for me last night,” he said, seating himself opposite Amelia, who smiled.
“You said you would not play again, Amelia,” her sister said indignantly, and the Earl looked up from his Parisian periodical pages.
“I played once more for Galbreth, a song which mother used to play for us. I assure you it was no slight on my part,” Amelia said, laughing a little. “And if you want to hear the pianoforte played at a time of your choosing then I suggest you learn to play yourself, Catherine.”
Catherine shook her head, catching Feargan’s eye and causing him to blush.
“Well, today I am taking Galbreth to Notre Dame, and you may accompany us if you so wish, otherwise we shall tell you all about it over dinner, shan’t we Galbreth?” Catherine said, as if reasserting her right to company with the Laird.
“We shall all go. I have much more that I should like to discuss with Galbreth of Beira. The poor man does not wish to be stuck with two silly girls all day,” the Earl said, folding up his periodical and laying it at his side. “Besides, you know nothing of Notre Dame, Catherine.”
And so it was decided. After breakfast the party gathered in the hallway of the grand house, ready to depart for the cathedral. The Regent was about his business with Lord Torbay but Feargan had given up on any chance of speaking to him, besides, he rather favored the company of Amelia and Catherine, hoping once again to find a moment alone with the elder of the two sisters, his feelings for her growing by the hour.
* * *
The carriage ride through Paris was even more spectacular than the evening before and Feargan found himself in awe again of that beautiful capital city. They passed along the Rue di Rivoli, and then crossed the Pont Neuf once again, onto the Île de la Cité upon which lay the magnificent cathedral of Notre Dame.
“Quite spectacular, isn’t it? And to think that if this were England, they would have turned it into a den of Protestantism,” the Earl said, shaking his head, as they drew up outside.
Around the entrance many people were milling in and out of the great church, the bells overheard still sounding and filling the air with a sweet sound. Feargan helped the ladies down from the carriage and stood back admiring the edifice, its gothic towers reaching up as if to heaven itself.
“I have nae seen a finer cathedral in all me life,” he said, as Catherine took his arm and led him towards the entrance.
“Catherine, I am sure Feargan can walk unaided into the church,” Amelia called from behind and Feargan looked back at her, catching her eye and causing her to blush.
“I shan’t let you and Father overtake my attempts at being a tour guide, Amelia,” Catherine called back to her sister. “Come now, Galbreth, you must see the rose window, it is just astonishing.”
Inside the church the bells above became muffled and there was a reverent silence, permeated by the sounds of sanctuary bells and the whisperings of a dozen private masses, celebrated on altars to the sides of the knave. Feargan reverenced the high altar and gazed around him at the gothic splendor of Paris’ cathedral, named in honor of the Blessed Virgin, to whom he so often had recourse to pray.
Feargan would not have described himself as particularly pious, though he had always found a healthy trust in God and his Church to serve him well. Taking leave of Catherine’s arm, he knelt for a moment before an image of the crucified Lord, praying not only for himself but for the people of his estates, the good folk whose lives would be so devastated by a Jacobite invasion.
He prayed, too, for his Godfather and uncle, Alexander, a twinge of guilt going through him at the thought he had left so much behind on this foolhardy quest. As he crossed himself, he found Amelia at his side and she patted his arm.
“May your prayers be answered,” she said, crossing herself, too, as Feargan stood up and looked around the church once again.
“If mine are answered then others’ will go unanswered,” he replied, and now she offered him her arm, the two of them following the Earl, who had now begun pontificating upon Paris’ most famous landmark.
They spent an hour or so in the church, the Earl describing the details of the stained glass and the architecture of the building, Catherine interjecting as though the presence of Amelia and their father had rather spoiled her fun.
“Originally, there were one hundred and two gargoyles on the outside of the building,” he said, as they emerged into the weak winter light. “They keep falling off, though, which is rather a shame, especially for anyone underneath them,” he laughed, signaling for the carriage driver to bring the horses over.
“What do you think of Notre Dame?” Amelia asked Feargan, as he helped her up into the carriage a few moments later.
“Nay cathedral in England or Scotland matches its grandeur, nae even Durham, and I was most impressed by that,” he replied, taking a final look up at the church, as the carriage drove towards the Rue di Rivoli.
“I think our Scottish visitor is warming to Paris, don’t you, girls?” the Earl said.
“It has its charms, aye,” Feargan replied, but his heart would ever be in the Highlands and even amidst the splendor and beauty of Paris he thought longingly of the heather and moorland of home.
But Paris contained one attraction that could not be found in the entirety of Scotland and that was Amelia. Feargan had delighted in keeping her company that day and though he knew her to be forbidden, he could not help but find her irresistible.
That night, at dinner, Lord Torbay failed to join them, sending on a message which spoke of important business with the Regent. It was a most jolly gathering which dined that evening, the absence of Lord Torbay lightening the mood no end. The Earl spoke of his business dealings in Paris and his desire to remain there for as long as possible, whilst Catherine and Amelia extolled the virtues which life in the French capital afforded them.
“We attend no end of parties and the soirees in the fashionable salons are quite exquisite, aren’t they Amelia?” Catherine said, as the final course was served, another magnificent creation from the kitchens.
“The Laird dreams of the Highlands, I can see it in his face,” Amelia replied, looking at Feargan and smiling.
“What fun is there to be had there, though?” Catherine asked. “As much as I should love to see it, I could not spend my life there. It is bad enough to know we must soon return to Cumberland, a wild and desolate place itself, though tempered by the presence of good people.”
“Perhaps we have different ideas as to what is fun, Lady Catherine,” Feargan said, laughing. “I admit that in Scotland there is nae the excitement of a Parisian ball, or soiree. But when ye are alone in the heather, lookin’ out across the hills, and a mist lies upon the moorlands, when ye breathe in that sweet pure air and ken yerself in a land which only God could have made, that is worth more than all the gold in this fair city.”
“Hear, hear,” the Earl said, raising his glass in a toast. “I should send you off there this moment, Catherine, no more of these silly parties amongst Parisian high society. It is to Scotland you should go.”
“And when do you plan on returning there?” Amelia said, the faintest hint of sadness in her eyes, as though she knew the answer before asking the question.
“I should dae so soon, as it will take me several weeks to make the journey, longer perhaps, and my folk are waiting back there. I have an uncle, Alexander, my Godfather, who is minding the estates whilst I am gone but he is growing ever older and I worry in case all is not well,” he replied.
Amelia looked sad and she cast her eyes down as Catherine began to talk again about the Parisian social scene. For a moment Feargan fancied he saw a tear in her eye but when she looked up again it was gone, and she smiled a faint smile.
“You will have to come and visit us in Cumberland then, Galbreth of Beira. It is certainly easier to get to from Scotland than Paris is. Galbreth is welcome at Workington Hall, is he not, Father?” she asked.
Highlander's Hidden Destiny (Steamy Scottish Historical) Page 6