Darcy's Highland Fling

by M. A. Sandiford

The lumpy feather mattress bounced as Margaret slid in beside her.

  ‘Move over, Georgie. Did you see that warthog on the next table gawping at us over supper?’

  ‘You complain whenever the gentlemen don’t look, so there’s no pleasing you.’

  ‘I complain because they look at you and not me.’

  ‘Nonsense! Anyway, if you’re so unsightly, you’d make a fine match for the warthog.’

  Margaret giggled, then said seriously, ‘I’m not accepting second best. I’d rather not marry at all.’

  ‘Sir Edwin Liddell’s son was interested, and he’s handsome as well as inheriting a baronetcy.’

  ‘But hardly England’s keenest brain.’ Margaret sighed. ‘Sometimes I fear I am looking for a copy of my brother. James, not Alistair. I measure men against him and find them wanting.’

  Georgiana frowned. ‘I used to do that with William. He seemed so perfect. But having met James, I realise that perfection of that kind is not what I seek. It doesn’t worry me that James lacks the classical profile and imposing figure of the conventional ideal. I see humour, kindness and intelligence in his features, as in yours, and that is what matters.’

  ‘I don’t claim kindness,’ Margaret said. ‘Mother says I scare everyone off with my sharp tongue.’

  ‘Warthog!’ Georgiana laughed. ‘I wonder what you say of me, behind my back.’

  ‘I complain you are too angelic, of course. I doubt you did a foolish or unkind thing in your entire life.’

  Georgiana coloured. ‘How wrong can you be?’ For a moment she hesitated. She had never mentioned her indiscretion with Wickham to anyone. ‘I haven’t your courage, for one thing. I’m happy to be joining William again, for example, but …’

  ‘You’re daunted at meeting my father?’

  ‘Yes, but even more, Mrs Bailey.’

  ‘You say your brother is in love with her, but I don’t understand why. Did you not see those belles making eyes at him in Almack’s? He could take his pick from the highest-born ladies in the land. Why a widow whose family has no connections and no money?’

  Georgiana sighed. ‘It’s how he’s changed. Once confident and proud, now melancholy—yet more approachable. I don’t know what happened, but I sense she was the reason.’ She looked away, dreamily. ‘I imagine her sometimes. Beautiful, sophisticated, bewitching. But it’s all in my head. I don’t know what she’s like really.’

  ‘Perhaps you’ll find out tomorrow.’

  Perhaps I will, Georgiana thought. Which is why I will not sleep …

  ‘Charlotte Square!’ Margaret pointed to a beautifully kept central garden. ‘The daffodils are in bloom!’

  Georgiana shivered as the carriages stopped outside a grand terraced house. They were expected—a servant had ridden ahead—and she scanned the group on the steps for familiar faces.

  ‘Do you see William?’ she asked Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  ‘He’ll be along later I expect.’

  ‘Father!’ Margaret waved to a distinguished gentleman on the top step. ‘And cousin Janet. Lady Colquhoun.’

  Georgiana observed the imposing figure in an austere navy gown and high bonnet. She had heard stories of Sir John Sinclair’s daughter, who hailed from Thurso Castle in the Highlands. She squinted again at the doorway. Could that be William at the back? No. A fair young man joined Lord Dunbar, drawing himself up as if to exaggerate his height. Alistair, Georgiana guessed. The heir.

  She remained with Colonel Fitzwilliam until Margaret returned to perform the introductions. Lord Dunbar was gracious, Lady Colquhoun aloof. As she curtsied to these grand personages she was uncomfortably aware of Alistair Inglis’s gaze, which had scarcely left her since she descended.

  He bowed deeply, meeting her eye.

  ‘Miss Darcy, what a pleasure. Margaret has told us of your exquisite performance on the pianoforte, and I look forward to enjoying it at first hand.’

  She coloured, embarrassed by his manner, but civility demanded a reply. ‘The pleasure is mine. I am most grateful for your family’s hospitality.’

  Lord Dunbar shepherded her away and they passed to the morning room, where pre-prandial drinks had been laid. Georgiana noticed that James and Margaret greeted their older brother politely, but without the affection she might have expected. Margaret remained at her side, while James went off alone. She saw Lord Dunbar and Alistair Inglis join Colonel Fitzwilliam for a glass of claret, while Lady Dunbar talked with Lady Colquhoun. Why had James gone away? He had been attentive during the journey, why not now?

  ‘Come and see the music room,’ Margaret whispered.

  The instrument was a good one, and Georgiana was enjoying the familiarity of a duet when her brother appeared in the doorway.

  ‘William!’ She ran to greet him, then froze on realising he was not alone.

  ‘Georgiana, may I present Mrs Elizabeth Bailey.’

  The woman stepped forward with a relaxed smile, and Georgiana breathed more easily. This was not the grand lady she had feared; indeed, on first impression, she was refreshingly unpretentious. Of middle height, she wore a simple grey dress with black brooch; her face was pleasant rather than strikingly beautiful, but animated by an expressive mouth and dark brown eyes that suggested intelligence and humour. Shockingly her cheek sported a yellowing bruise, covered only lightly in powder. Unsure whether it would be polite to ask about it, Georgiana reddened; but Mrs Bailey gave no sign of noticing.

  ‘A pleasure to meet you, Miss Darcy, and pardon us for interrupting your playing. May I be introduced also to your friend?’

  Relieved, Georgiana led her to Margaret before rejoining her brother. In a room with others she could not talk of what was really on her mind: his opinion of James; the nature of his relationship with Mrs Bailey. But he did offer an explanation of Mrs Bailey’s injury, and advised her to avoid the Old Town except as part of a large group.

  Georgiana calmed down. They could talk in privacy later. Mrs Bailey appeared friendly and unassuming. Only James gave her cause to worry. Was it her imagination, or was he avoiding her?

  16

  At a soirée to celebrate the Inglis reunion, the guests included Sinclair relatives as well as Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam. During dinner Darcy sat next to Lady Janet Colquhoun, who spoke of her childhood at Thurso Castle in the care of her grandmother; her father, Sir John Sinclair, had been away for long periods at the London parliament. Lady Janet, like her father, had hobby-horses that she rode given the least encouragement. In her youth she had been inspired by abolitionist William Wilberforce to take up evangelism: her mission was to educate girls in skills like needlework and cookery, and to teach bible stories to her servants.

  As he listened politely, Darcy kept half an eye on the other end of the table, where Alistair Inglis had occupied the place next to Georgiana and was sharing his views on art. Like Darcy himself, Georgiana was given little opportunity to reply. Opposite, James sat beside his father looking irritable; on one occasion he caught Georgiana’s eye, blushed deeply, and turned away.

  After dinner the company moved to the music room where Georgiana and Margaret Inglis played a duet.

  ‘Now Margaret,’ Alistair Inglis cried, ‘give us a reel, so that we may dance! James will accompany you on the fiddle.’

  Darcy observed as James, with a petulant shrug, went along with this suggestion, while his elder brother walked up to Georgiana with a bow. ‘Miss Darcy, may I have the pleasure?’

  As the evening wore on, Darcy sought in vain any sign of particular regard between Georgiana and James Inglis. At one point they played a piece for violin and piano, but more in embarrassment than delight. The attentive brother was Alistair, whose overtures Georgiana received graciously, although her smiles were forced. Having expected to find her excited and happy, he was perplexed.

  Next morning Elizabeth received two messages: a letter, postmarked Thurso, and a note from Darcy inviting her to join a tour round Holyrood Park. She was concerned at the prominence Darcy
was assuming in her life, fearing that their meetings could be misinterpreted. Plainly Major Mackay perceived Darcy as a rival. How was she regarded by the Napiers or the Inglises, or indeed Georgiana? Elizabeth recalled Miss Darcy’s expression when they were introduced, an amalgam of extreme curiosity, eagerness to please, and fear—as if meeting a person of vital significance in her brother’s life. Perhaps it would have been better to stay away, yet Elizabeth had so wanted to meet her …

  At least she had found an excuse to skip the soirée.

  The letter was from Mr Gibson, the schoolteacher at Laramore. It contained worrying news of her factor Mr Kirdy, who had been taken ill again, so seriously that the physician feared for his life. The villagers were alarmed: they knew the laird of Strathmaran was returning, and feared that with Elizabeth away, and Kirdy incapacitated, control would pass to Hector Mackay and his factor Brodie.

  Elizabeth picked up Darcy’s note again. Accepting the invitation would provide an occasion to ask his advice …

  Since the day was fair, Darcy had hired a barouche, open except for a hood providing shade. Their party included Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had brought Captain Ferguson, an officer he had met in the New Club. A hamper at the back held a picnic; at the front, Burgess guided two bay horses as they skirted Carlton Hill. The men were discussing peace talks in Paris following the abdication of Napoleon; Elizabeth made no pretence of following, preferring to enjoy the view.

  A right turn brought them to Holyrood Park, where a crowd had formed on the flat pasture behind the palace. Colonel Fitzwilliam pointed.

  ‘What can that be, Darce?’

  Darcy squinted. ‘Looks like a balloon. Shall we investigate?’ He shouted an order to Burgess.

  As they approached, Elizabeth saw some five hundred people circling a hot-air balloon, teetering as if about to take off. She examined the contraption as it inched into the air. A gigantic mesh enfolded the top half like a hairnet; from its lower edge, a dozen ropes met at either end of a basket, adorned with colourful flags, from which two men waved. The balloon, an upside-down gourd decorated with crimson-and-white vertical stripes, was as high as a two-storey house.

  Elizabeth clapped her hands. ‘What brave men!’

  ‘Brave, or foolhardy?’ Darcy said.

  ‘But how wonderful to fly…’ The crowd gasped as the balloon hovered, then descended.

  ‘Aha!’ Darcy said. ‘Discretion is the better part of valour.’

  ‘Merely a setback,’ Elizabeth said.

  As they walked towards the ancient volcano known as Arthur’s Seat, she renewed her acquaintance with Darcy’s cousin, who had proved such a spirited companion at Rosings. He looked leaner, a result perhaps of campaigning on low provisions. A family resemblance with Darcy was clear, but his features were craggier, less finely crafted, giving an impression of strength and resilience.

  She tried asking about the Peninsular war, but he gave little away.

  ‘Of what can we speak, then?’ she said with mock disappointment. ‘Your duties as co-guardian? Your cousin?’

  ‘Better not.’ He glanced back at Darcy, still discussing the Paris peace talks. ‘I might betray a secret and get into hot water again.’

  ‘Aha, so there is further dirty linen in the Darcy wash! Then what of your own prospects? Are you any nearer resolving the riddle of the younger son?’

  ‘I fear not. A charming heiress would do very well, but I am accustomed to having a vocation. I crave activity, excitement.’

  ‘You could keep your commission and await the next campaign.’

  ‘Yes.’ He paused. ‘But seriously, warfare is a dashed unpleasant business. One can push one’s luck too far.’

  She let this drop, and they talked instead of their travels in Scotland.

  The party returned to the shade of a tree where Burgess had set up a picnic. After eating, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Captain Ferguson took a closer look at the balloon, where repairs were still in progress, leaving Elizabeth tête-à-tête with Darcy.

  ‘I’ve received troubling news from Laramore.’ Elizabeth related the substance of Gibson’s letter. ‘I will need a new factor.’

  ‘How about Mr Kirdy’s sons?’

  She shook her head. ‘Lachlan is in training for the regiment. Iain likes working with livestock, especially sheep. He’s skilled at droving, lambing, shearing. Neither has any interest in book-keeping.’

  ‘What is your plan?’

  ‘I will ask Mr Dalglish’s recommendation. I’m hoping for an outsider who can assess objectively the potential of the estate. I could then accompany this man to Strathmaran and confer with Mr Kirdy, Mr Gibson, and the villagers.’

  After a pause he shook his head.

  ‘Mr Bailey’s death was never explained. Now we have been attacked. I admire your sense of duty, but by going back to Strathmaran you place yourself entirely in the power of the Mackays. Reluctantly, I concur with Mr Dalglish. I believe you should sell.’

  ‘And leave the tenants to their fate?’

  ‘My paramount concern is your safety.’

  ‘Surely you exaggerate. The Mackays of Strathmaran were my husband’s kin. They can offer not only hospitality but protection.’

  ‘That would be reassuring if we knew that Major Mackay was trustworthy. But suppose he is not. It seems that above all he wants Laramore, and as laird, and an officer, he has the means to get what he wants—by force, if necessary.’

  Elizabeth tried to stay calm, recalling that in their disputes he had often been right. Her mind went back to the dreadful months following Thomas’s death. At the time she had never met Hector Mackay, but yes, she had entertained suspicions similar to Darcy’s. Had Hector sent orders to his minions in Strathmaran? Had he seized an opportunity to fulfil his father’s goal and remove the Baileys from Laramore? It was possible, she had to concede. Yet having met Hector Mackay, she did not believe it.

  She sighed. ‘I have never had reason to doubt the major’s sincerity. His manner may be imposing, but from the first he has treated me respectfully.’

  ‘Your instincts may be right. Yet as we know, it is not always simple to recognise a blackguard.’

  She winced at this reference to Wickham. ‘Am I to be tainted by that error for the rest of my days?’

  He looked into the distance, where Colonel Fitzwilliam and his friend were making their way back. Urgently he said, ‘I beg you Eliz…, ah, Mrs Bailey. Please take this very seriously. Caithness is a remote community where a laird like Major Mackay is in complete control. We know his designs on you, as well as his obsession with unifying the estate. Forced marriages in such circumstances are not uncommon. If you feel you must go, allow me to accompany you. I cannot do so immediately, since I should remain with my sister until she is settled. Meanwhile I beg you not to act in haste. Yes, find a new factor. But stay in Edinburgh, at least for now.’

  Elizabeth fell silent, shaken by his intensity, and irritated that he mistrusted her judgement. Her eye was caught by the scene over at the crag, where the balloon was rising again. She was reminded of Darcy’s scepticism. Bravery, or folly?

  While feeling the force of his opinion, her instinct was to resist, not give in …

  She would act as she thought best.

  17

  After a day spent at Portobello Sands, Darcy sat beside his sister as their carriage climbed the road from Leith. They had enjoyed viewing troops drilling on the beach, and the new salt-water baths—unfortunately still too cold for comfort. For Georgiana it was a relief to escape the fraught atmosphere at Charlotte Square; Darcy too had welcomed a distraction after his argument with Elizabeth. Meanwhile, the balloonists had survived a bumpy landing in the sludge of the Nor’ Loch after a change in the wind had blown them off-course.

  ‘Will you be dining at Lord Dunbar’s,’ he asked Georgiana.

  She woke from a daydream, looking pale. ‘I’d prefer to stay with you.’

  ‘Come to our rooms, then. Shall I invite Mrs Bailey to join us
?’

  She brightened. ‘Mrs Bailey is so charming, she always cheers me up.’

  Darcy smiled, warmed that Elizabeth had won his sister’s approval. ‘Ride on, while I check she has no other engagements.’

  At Heriot Row the maid called Mrs Napier, who received him in the drawing room.

  ‘Mr Darcy! A pleasure to see you, as always, but I was hardly expecting you to call now.’

  ‘Is Mrs Bailey out?’

  ‘Were you not informed?’

  He recoiled. ‘Informed of what?’

  She smiled reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, all is well. Elizabeth had to leave suddenly. Major Mackay brought forward the date of his departure, and she thought it best to join his party.’

  ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘The major called here at ten o’clock and was most insistent. We sent a servant to St Andrew’s Square, but you had already gone out for the day. Then she wrote a note for Mr Dalglish while Isla prepared her trunk. It was such a rush. They were on the road just after midday.’

  Darcy felt sick with apprehension. Had Mackay outwitted him? Had the major seized his chance to remove Elizabeth to Strathmaran, where he could press his claims undisturbed? But how could the Mackays know that on that very day, Darcy’s party would conveniently quit Edinburgh for Portobello? In all probability there was an innocent explanation …

  Darcy exhaled with exasperation. He had been taking Elizabeth’s company for granted; before long they would be separated by hundreds of miles of difficult terrain.

  At his rooms a note awaited, written obviously in haste:

  Dear Mr Darcy,

  Forgive my sudden disappearance, and please do not be alarmed. I will be travelling with a group of friends, including Captain Robert and Morag Mackay as well as the major. A Mr MacFarlane, recommended by Mr Dalglish, has agreed to serve as my factor in Laramore. I was hoping he could join us on the trip north, but the Mackays are in haste after hearing that their mother is abed with the shakes. I will write to tell you how matters proceed. Please convey my best regards to Miss Darcy and the colonel. With sincere gratitude for your help, EB.