“Ye can trust me, and I pledge that I shall always honor ye, Amelia, have nae fear of that,” Feargan replied. “Come now, we should get going. The road is long and if we take these back routes it shall take longer to arrive at Loch Beira than if we take a more direct approach. It is safer this way, though.”
He helped her back onto the horse and casting a glance back along the road, he mounted himself and geed along the animal, urging it on as they made their way along the track, every step taking them towards safety and away from Lord Torbay
* * *
The journey to Loch Beira took eight days in total and was far more difficult than that which Feargan had enjoyed as he came south. They stayed in remote inns and taverns and one night even slept upon the floor of a crofter’s barn, Feargan telling the man that they were recently married at Gretna and were travelling north to see his parents.
Mercifully, they met no one on the road who posed a threat and whilst Feargan was cautious he soon lost his sense of fear that they were being pursued. North of the border things were different and the further they travelled into Scotland the more confident Feargan become that he and Amelia had made their escape.
On the eighth day since they had fled from the ruined house, they came in sight of Loch Beira and Feargan reined in the horse, jumped down from the saddle and pointed enthusiastically to the landscape ahead.
“Ye see all of this ahead? This is me estate, the Laird’s of Loch Beira have long been masters of this domain. Our lands stretch as far as ye can see from here, right along the glen, and there in the distance ye will see the castle which shall now be yer home for a while,” Feargan said proudly, as he picked out the landmarks they could see from the ridge above.
“It is beautiful,” she replied, drinking in the sight, as Feargan enthused about the beauty of his lands and began regaling her with stories of his childhood spent amongst the misty mountains and deep lochs of this part of Scotland.
“Ye see there, atop the crags? That is the eagle’s eyrie, there they return each year to nest. Ye will see them flying high above at certain times of the year. The most magnificent bird ye shall ever set eyes upon,” he said, pointing to a far-off crag above the castle.
“I can’t wait to explore it all,” she replied, turning to him. “You will have to show me everything but right now I am eager to arrive at the castle. I am tired, Feargan, not just from the journey but from everything, and I need to rest.”
“And rest ye shall. Come now, let me help ye up onto the horse,” he said, taking her hand.
She smiled at him, and their hands lingered together as she sat upon the horse and he stood next to her, the pair looking out across the landscape as little white clouds scudded across the sky above and a gentle breeze blew through the heather.
It took another hour or so before they arrived at the gates of the castle, which today were flung wide open, several of the local peasants passing as Feargan and Amelia rode through.
There was a murmur of excitement about the place, the approach of the Laird having been spotted by the guards on the battlements above and relayed to Feargan’s Godfather, who emerged from the doors of the keep to greet them.
“An early return, lad, and nae alone I see,” he said, smiling at Feargan as he jumped down from his horse and helped Amelia down beside him.
“Aye, Uncle, and pleased I am to be here. I should like for ye to meet Lady Amelia Barton, daughter of the Earl of Workington, and our guest for however long she wishes to remain with us,” Feargan said, as his uncle extended his hand and smiled at the curtseying Amelia.
“A pleasure to meet ye. I have heard much of ye from Feargan, all in the very best of terms, I might add,” Alexander Galbreth said, bowing a little to Amelia as he stepped aside and bid them come in.
Inside a fire was kindled in the Laird’s hall, a welcome sight for despite the brightness of the day it was cold, and wisps of snow still lay upon the high mountains above the loch. The three settled themselves before the fire and Feargan recounted the tale of what had transpired to his uncle, who shook his head in disbelief at the wickedness of Lord Torbay.
“Treacherous fiend, to see his own betrothed kidnapped and treated in such a terrible manner. It is wickedness beyond belief,” Alexander said, shaking his head as Feargan concluded his tale.
“And daenae know why anyone should wish to treat Amelia in such a way. What does he have to gain from it?” Feargan said.
“Forgive me for sayin’ this lass, but it seems the answer is obvious. Feargan and ye have played right into his hands by bringin’ Amelia to Loch Beira,” Alexander said, after sitting ponderously for some moments.
“Well, what dae ye mean, Uncle?” Feargan said, looking puzzled.
“He is jealous of ye and jealousy can drive a man to wicked things, Feargan. To stage a kidnap and for it to appear that it is ye and not he who has spirited away the lass, which in a manner of speaking it is, well, that has played right into his hands,” Alexander replied.
“How horrible,” Amelia cried. “I must write to my father at once and tell him the truth.”
“It is only my supposition, but remember, if it is true then he may still not believe ye. This Lord Torbay could simply say that ye have been forced to write such a letter, that ye are a prisoner here at our mercy,” Alexander continued.
“Treacherous fiend,” Feargan said. “It matters nae though, we ken the truth, and we shall both write to yer father and tell him what has happened. We will make him believe. And ye must write to Catherine, too, she will believe us and she will tell us just what Lord Torbay has to say for himself.”
As the afternoon turned into evening, they sat beside the fire in the Great Hall, listening to the counsel of Alexander Galbreth. It was decided that both Feargan and Amelia would write to the Earl of Workington, but that Amelia would also write to Catherine. Their letters would tell of Philip’s betrayal and explain that Amelia has come to Loch Beira to ensure her safety. Amelia had no wish to cause worry to her family, but neither did she wish to face Lord Torbay again, and it was her wish that she remain there with Feargan until this whole sorry business could be resolved.
That evening she went to sleep in a chamber where a roaring fire burned in the hearth, looking out over the loch, and she could rest after her ordeal. Feargan toured the castle personally, checking that every window and door was locked tightly, and posted guards outside the keep, lest any unwelcome visitors appear in the night.
But all was quiet at the castle and the household slept peacefully. There was no sign of Lord Torbay or any of his spies, and as Amelia went to sleep that night, she found herself feeling far happier than she had in a very long time, a sense of peace and calm coming over her, thankful she had Feargan to protect her.
* * *
The letters to the Earl of Workington and Catherine were dispatched the next morning. Feargan instructed one of his best riders to take them and by noon they were making their way south.
In his letter to the Earl, Feargan had stated that Amelia was no prisoner and that far from being her kidnapper, it was he who had rescued her. A fact which Amelia also reiterated in her own letter, imploring her father to believe her, despite Alexander Galbreth’s warning that he may not. She wrote, too, to Catherine, telling her sister that Feargan had behaved with nothing but honor and that it was Lord Torbay who should be punished for his wicked schemes.
Amelia missed her sister desperately and she wrote of her desire to see her as soon as possible. Inviting her to stay—with Feargan’s consent—she wrote of how beautiful the Scottish countryside was and that it had that romantic sense to it that Catherine seemed to long for.
“I am safe and I am happy,” she wrote, as she signed the letter and handed it to Feargan.
“That is all we can dae, lass, ye are safe here and we must hope that we are believed by yer father,” Feargan said, as he handed the letters to his clansman. “Take good care of these and be sure to deliver them personally to the Earl.
”
“Aye, Galbreth, I shall nae fail ye,” the man replied, and bowing, he left the Laird’s hall for the journey south.
“I have told yer father to be careful with Philip though whether he heeds my warning I will not know, of course,” Feargan said, as he seated himself next to the fire.
“Only time will tell,” Amelia said, sighing and going to the window. “This is such a beautiful landscape, will you show it me?”
“Aye, of course I shall, ye are my guest now, lass,” he replied.
“I was hardly an excellent hostess at Workington Hall. We saw hardly anything of the countryside and the company outside the house was hardly stimulating,” Amelia said, laughing.
“If ‘tis stimulatin’ company ye be seekin’ then Loch Beira will nae provide much of that,” Feargan replied, laughing. “But ye and I shall find ourselves happy in one another’s company, shall we nae?”
“We shall,” she said, nodding her head. “I am certain we shall.”
* * *
“A letter? From where?” the Earl of Workington said, as the maid entered his rooms a few days later.
“The man has a Scottish accent, My Lord, but he says the letter is for you only,” the maid replied, curtseying and handing the letter to the Earl, who took up his letter opener and sliced through the seal.
“There is another one, too, and one for you, Lady Catherine,” the maid continued.
“For me? Thank you, Lucy, pass it here please,” Catherine said, rising from her place by the fire and taking the letter from the maid, who curtsied and stood to the side.
“By Jove, it’s from Amelia,” the Earl said, and he began to read out loud. “My dear Father, You must have worried terribly about me these past days and I am so sorry to have put you through such a terrible ordeal. I must let you know that I am safe and that at this moment I am with Feargan in Scotland, at his castle by Loch Beira.”
“The circumstances of my finding myself here are almost too terrible to relate but I do so in order that you may know the truth, rather than believe the speculations which are no doubt rife as to what occurred on that terrible night. As we rode home from Cockermouth that evening, I was set upon by three men and dragged into the undergrowth, they bound me and despite my screams no one came to my aid, they had forced a foul-smelling rag into my mouth. They took me to the ruined house at Camerton and there I was a prisoner until Feargan came to rescue me.”
“It was then that I learned a most horrible truth as to who my captor was. These men were not simply thugs who sought to kidnap for extortion but rather they were working for Phi—”
At this, the Earl stopped reading out loud and looked with incredulity at his daughter, as though to continue would be to ignite a spark which could bring them all to ruin. He turned to the maid and shooed her out, signaling to Catherine to close the door and bolt it from the inside before he continued to read.
“But rather they were working for Lord Torbay who had me kidnapped, for what reason I do not know. Both Feargan and I heard them talking and they spoke of being in his pay and that I was to be held against my will, for just as long as he should deem necessary.”
“It is my belief that he has done this to discredit Feargan and to make you believe that it is he and not the man to whom I remain betrothed, who has treated me in such a manner. I beg you to believe me…”
The letter continued in a similar vein for some time and the Earl then read out Feargan’s letter, which expressed in similar sentiments what his daughter had so eloquently written. Catherine, too, read out her letter from Amelia and announced that she could not help but believe it, so worthy were the sentiments that it expressed. For a moment the Earl and his daughter stared at one another in disbelief, uncertain what to now do, faced with Lord Torbay still at large under their roof.
“We must pretend we have no suspicions of him, Father,” Catherine said. “He is clearly a dangerous man. We must wait until he leaves. Can no business be concocted for him in London? Anything to draw him away from here? I shall go to Scotland and see Amelia.”
“But what if it is a trap?” the Earl said, “A ruse to draw you there as well?”
“I shall be happy to be with my sister then, either way, I intend to go,” Catherine replied.
“We must be very careful, very careful indeed. Burn these letters now, Catherine, and ensure our response is kept secret. You may go to Amelia but promise me you shall be careful, and trust no one,” the Earl said.
Catherine nodded and threw the letters into the fire, watching as her sister’s words disappeared up the chimney, the two sitting once again in silence, the welcome news of Amelia’s safety still tinged with worry at the danger they all now faced.
* * *
“Well, girl?” Philip said, as Lucy the maid returned to the kitchens.
“Oh, My Lord, you startled me,” she replied, recoiling a little as he stood before her.
“What was said?” he hissed at her.
“The letters are from Miss Amelia, My Lord, she… she blames you for her kidnap,” Lucy replied.
Philip’s face twisted into a foul grimace and he cursed openly as the maid explained what she had heard from the other side of the door.
“Well, if that is what they wish to believe, then so be it, the girl is nothing but a whore,” he said, handing her a shilling and disappearing down the corridor.
16
It was a bright and pleasant spring morning, a gentle breeze blowing across the heather, the sky blue and flecked with wisps of white cloud above. Feargan and Amelia were out riding, having left the castle early to enjoy the early morning with the last of the dawn mist still hanging over the loch.
“Do you think that my father and Catherine have received their letters yet, Feargan?” Amelia said.
“Aye, well, the lad I sent them with is a swift rider, a good lad, and I am sure he will have delivered them. Perhaps he has waited there for a response, as well,” Feargan replied, as he pulled up his horse and turned to take in the view.
“The estate here is quite remarkable,” Amelia said, bringing her horse alongside him. “I could stay here forever amongst the Scottish hills.”
“Are the hills of Cumberland nae good enough for ye, lass?” Feargan said, laughing at her wistful tone.
“There is something about Scotland, though, something so very beautiful. It has a romance to it that nowhere else I have ever been seems to,” she replied.
“Not even Paris?” he asked.
“One can grow tired of Paris, though I surprise myself at saying that. The people can be so very… so very false. Out here one is simply able to be oneself, there is no one to impress, no one to speak to in a certain manner, or behave in a certain way, there are no expectations. You are ever so lucky to have been raised here,” she said.
“It was not always a happy time and there is hardship here at times. We have gone short of food and we have seen many harsh winters, when the snow lay thick and the castle was cut off,” he replied.
“Tell me about your childhood, were you happy? And why do you have no brothers or sisters? I thought families such as yours would have many children to call their own,” she said, dismounting from her horse and leading it across the heather towards a rocky outcrop beyond.
“It was happy, aye, though my mother died when I was very young. I daenae remember much of her but by all accounts, she was a good woman. She died when I was very young, that is why I have nay brothers or sisters, just me, for my stepmother was barren,” he replied, seating himself next to her.
“I am sorry,” she said, “I should not ask so many questions of you, but I just want to know you better.”
“Oh, daenae worry, lass, ye ask as many questions as ye like. I am glad to have ye here, though the circumstances are not ideal,” he replied. They sat in silence for a few moments, looking out across the moorlands towards the mountains beyond.
“What is that?” she asked a few moments later, pointing towards a stone both
y about a mile away across the heather.
“That is a bothy used for huntin’ and the gillies would sleep there overnight when they were out stalking the stags. I am nay great hunter, but my father and uncle would often come up onto the moorlands and follow the stags for miles before they made their kill,” Feargan replied.
“I should like to see it,” she said, standing up.
“It is just a wee house, that’s all nothin’ of much interest,” he replied.
“Still, I should like to see it,” she replied. “I’ll race you there,” and she set off across the heather, leaping onto the back of her horse and galloping off as Feargan leapt onto his and chased after her.
“You won’t catch me,” she called back, as she urged the horse on.
Highlander's Hidden Destiny (Steamy Scottish Historical) Page 13