And if my guess was right, Fiona meant to marry Craig, despite him being her first cousin. It looked as if they might all Iive as one big happy family after all.
There must have been a trace of bitterness in my voice as I said, “Maybe you’ll find that, in spite of everything, Mr. McKinross will decide to settle here with his son.”
“I wish I could believe that, miss,” said MacRae, pursing his lips doubtfully. “Fine I should like it. He takes after his father, does young Mr. Craig. Glengarron would indeed prosper under his direction.”
I sensed his immediate withdrawal. Obviously he regretted the criticism of Alistair Lennox implicit in his words.
I eased his embarrassment by pretending not to notice, saying lightly, “I think I envy your outdoor life.”
He grinned in grateful relief. “Yes, miss, I expect you do—on a grand day like this.”
“I take your point,” I said, returning his grin. “Well, I suppose I’d better be getting along.”
“The track is fairly dry underfoot from here on,” he said. “I hope you find enjoyment in your walking.”
Before I’d gone fifty yards, I heard the thud of his hatchet as he marked a tree. His voice was raised in song again—a sad little ballad about a lovesick maiden.
Suddenly there was a lump in my throat. Was it the poignant melody, so sweetly sung, that made me want to cry? Was it the thought of leaving this lovely countryside?
Whatever the reason, it was getting harder and harder to convince myself that I would be glad to leave Glengarron Castle.
* * * *
Only Jamie seemed unaware of the strained atmosphere at the luncheon table. I had little appetite for the over-elaborate dishes, and made my escape as soon as I decently could. I had decided I would while away the afternoon reading in the sanctuary of my bedroom.
As I started up the stairs I heard Craig’s voice calling: “Lucy—just a moment.”
Now what, I thought bitterly. Had they wangled a seat on today’s plane, after all? Why wouldn’t they leave me in peace? It was only for another twenty-four hours. I’d be gone tomorrow, and they could all forget I’d ever existed.
I stopped where I was, with a hand on the bannister rail. I didn’t turn around.
“Yes? What is it?”
He ran up the three or four stairs and gripped me by the arm. He looked anxiously into my face.
“You seem to be upset, Lucy. What’s the matter?”
So now he wanted to gloat over my misery. It wasn’t enough for him that I was going away. He wanted the satisfaction of seeing how miserable it made me. The man was a sadist. Was this how he had treated Margo?
I returned his gaze coldly. “Don’t be silly. Why should I be upset? I’m just a bit tired, that’s all.”
“You shouldn’t have gone so far this morning.”
“Really?” I gave a small, improbable laugh. “Do I have to ask your permission before I go for a walk? Anyway, you won’t have to put up with me for much longer.”
Craig looked uncomfortable. “Well, let’s not talk about that—not yet.” He looked down at his hands, studying his fingernails. “I ... I was wondering if you’d care to come out with me for the day, tomorrow? Nowhere special—just driving around the district. The weather was so wretched when we arrived, you couldn’t have got a very good impression.”
I certainly wasn’t getting a particularly good impression of Craig just now. I stared at him.
“Are you trying to make a monkey out of me? You know perfectly well that I’m going back to London tomorrow afternoon.”
Now it was Craig who did the staring. His hand was still on my arm, and he gripped tight, hurting me. “For God’s sake—what are you talking about, Lucy?”
Angrily, I dragged my arm away from him. “Can’t you just let me go, without all this ... this tormenting?”
I regretted my uncontrolled outburst immediately. I’d given the man the triumph he so obviously wanted. Now he knew just how much my banishment from Glengarron had hurt me.
But there was no self-satisfaction in his face. He looked astonished, completely taken aback.
“Why this sudden change of plan?” he demanded. “What have I done ... ?”
“I’d have been gone already if you hadn’t asked me to stay on for a bit. I just don’t understand....”
“Neither do I,” he said. His eyes were heavy with reproach. “You agree to stay on here, and now you suddenly announce that you’re leaving, after all. Why, Lucy? Why?”
I stormed at him. “Because I’ve been pretty well ordered out of the place, that’s why. I’d have been pushed on today’s plane if there’d been a vacant seat—don’t think I haven’t realized that.”
“This is absolutely crazy. Are you suggesting you’ve been told to go?”
“You know perfectly well I have.”
Craig was gaping at me, incredulous. I began to wonder if after all there hadn’t been some idiotic misunderstanding. It really did look as if he were genuinely in the dark about what had occurred.
He came to suddenly. “Who dared to tell you to leave Glengarron?”
“Your aunt,” I stammered. “She spoke to me this morning.”
Never had I seen a man as angry as Craig was at that moment. His face flushed deep red, his smoky eyes igniting. For several seconds he stood quite still beside me on the stairs. Then without another word he charged down to the hall and disappeared into the small sitting room, slamming the door behind him. But even through the thick oak panels I could hear his voice raised in a storm of anger.
I didn’t wait. I turned and ran upstairs, hurrying to the sanctuary of my room where I flopped onto my bed. It was some little while before I recognized my new mood. In the last few minutes with Craig I’d been through a whole range of emotions. I still felt in a turmoil, yet in an odd way, deep down, there was a kind of beautiful tranquility.
It was happiness.
Craig wanted me to stay, and that made me happy. Craig hadn’t known I’d been asked to leave. He’d been furious when he found out.
I stretched out on the bed, wondering. I was no longer angry, no longer shaking with fury. I lay there calmly, waiting for the next thing to happen. Events were taking place beyond my control. I had no hand in them. My role at the moment was wholly passive.
Clouds had blown up outside. A sudden squall spattered heavy raindrops through the open window and I got up slowly to close it. I stood there, looking out across Loch Ghorm. The distant hills had vanished in cloud, and a curtain of rain hid the far shore. I could see only the choppy gray surface of the water, and a small stretch of bank where fir trees came down to the very edge of the loch.
The Scottish Highlands. How softly beautiful they were.
Chapter 9
At first the tap on the door slotted into my consciousness like an extraneous noise fits into a dream. My mind made room without recognizing what it was.
The tap came again, louder. “Lucy, are you there?”
Craig. His voice was gentle, filled with concern, all the fury spent.
I scarcely stopped by the dressing table to flick a comb through my hair and smooth my skirt. I almost ran across the room to open the door.
He was waiting with his hands hanging limp at his sides. “Lucy, I’m sorry. I’m so terribly sorry....”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t answer.
“You will stay, won’t you?” he whispered. “Please say you’ll stay.”
I still couldn’t speak because now I was almost crying. I didn’t know why. I was only conscious of trying to keep tears from escaping and running down my cheeks.
Craig threw the door wide open, coming into the room. He put his hands on my shoulders—strong, tender hands.
“Lucy, please, say you forgive us for treating you so ... so shamefully.”
I nodded dumbly.
“And you will stay, won’t you? Don’t go away tomorrow.”
I managed to find my voice. “Yes, Craig, I’l
l stay. Of course I’ll stay.”
Past Craig, through the doorway, the corridor was in semi-darkness. For a second I saw a movement, a flash of something white. And then it was gone.
Irrelevantly, I wondered why anybody should be going to one of the empty rooms beyond mine. But my eyes were still prickling with tears. Maybe what I’d seen was an odd trick of light, a reflection glinting.
“What is it, Lucy?” Craig asked.
“Nothing. It’s nothing....”
He went on standing there with his hands on my shoulders. He came a little closer and I felt his fingers curl, gripping hard. Then suddenly he released me and stood back in the doorway.
“We’ll talk later,” he said quietly. “For the moment, though, it’s good enough that you’ll stay. Thank you, Lucy.”
His gaze lingered on me. He seemed reluctant to go. Then in a swift movement he turned and strode away. I listened to the soft sound of his receding footsteps on the thick carpet.
Slowly, dreamily, I closed the door. Yes, I thought happily, for the moment it is enough that I’ll be staying. Quite enough.
At about four o’clock Mrs. Lennox knocked at my door. When I opened it she stepped inside.
“I want to apologize, my dear,” she began. She was trying, I think, to be carefully precise, but vagueness got the better of her. “What I said must have ... well, perhaps you got the impression ...”
“It’s all right, Mrs. Lennox,” I said quietly.
But she persisted. “What I wanted to say ... I do hope you didn’t get the idea that we ... I ... wanted you to go. It was just—” She was waving her hands helplessly, quite unable to bring her apology to a conclusion.
“I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding,” I said steadily. “I suggest we forget all about it.”
“You are so very ...” I was left to imagine the particular adjective, she had in mind. “Won’t you ... ? Tea is just ...”
So I went downstairs, and everything reverted to normal.
Or almost to normal. Craig’s aunt was perhaps a mite more distractedly vague, and her husband a shade more hearty. Fiona, playing a rather ostentatious game of hide and seek with an impatient Jamie, savaged me from time to time with smiling eyes.
Craig was smiling too.
++++
Isabel and Alistair Lennox were breakfasting in their rooms again. Stifling a yawn, Fiona looked as if a tray in bed would have suited her better, too. She regarded me sulkily as I helped myself to scrambled eggs from the hotplate.
Craig looked up from reading a letter.
“I’m sorry, Lucy, but something unexpected has come up. Would you mind if we postponed our outing until this afternoon?”
I’d been refusing to tempt fate by taking that outing with Craig for granted. After yesterday’s almighty row I could almost have forgiven him if he’d forgotten all about it.
Half a day with Craig was a whole lot better than none. “Oh—that’s all right,” I assured him. “This afternoon will be fine.”
Jamie piped up. “Where are we going, Daddy?”
“Sorry, old chap. You’re not coming this time.” Craig spoke very definitely, and the boy had learned already that his father meant what he said.
Fiona cut in quickly: “It’s no good expecting me to look after him. I ... I’ve got an appointment myself.”
Her sulkiness had gone, at any rate. She was obviously enraged to learn that Craig planned to take me out.
“Don’t worry, Fiona,” Craig said mildly. “Aunt Isabel is going to keep an eye on Jamie for me.”
This was something new. Mrs. Lennox had not volunteered to take charge of Jamie before. Maybe her conscience was troubling her, and she was exerting herself to placate Craig.
After breakfast Craig followed me out of the room. “I’m sorry about this change of plan,” he said awkwardly. “I had wanted to make it a nice long day, but I’ve got to go and see the lawyer about ... something to do with the estate. I’m afraid it will be about three o’clock before I’m back here.”
“Please don’t worry,” I said, smiling. “It doesn’t matter a scrap,”
He was thoughtful. “Look—I know you’re fond of walking. If you feel like it you could come to meet me. Do you know the track that runs above the far side of the loch?”
It was the path I’d been on when I’d encountered Lambert Nairn.
“Yes, I know it.”
“If you follow the track for about a mile and a half, it joins up with the road I’ll be taking. It would save quite a bit of time, because otherwise, to get back here I’d have to drive right around Ben Liath Mohr.”
I didn’t much enjoy the risk of meeting up with Lambert Nairn again. I probed cautiously, knowing the answer already. “Does your estate extend all that way?”
“No. You’ll be going through land owned by a neighbor of ours. But that doesn’t matter, of course.”
It was, after all, a pretty remote possibility that Nairn would come along that particular bit of his land just at the time I happened to be there. I told myself I was worrying unnecessarily.
We fixed the time. “If you can start out at two o’clock, Lucy, we’ll meet up at two-thirty. I promise you I won’t be late.” We fixed the place. “Just where the track meets the road. There’s a whitewashed barn on the corner.”
Craig went off at ten-thirty. I spent the morning playing with Jamie. I was having fun with him, but I knew in the back of my mind that I was really only killing time, waiting for the afternoon.
Fiona was particularly bitchy to me at lunch. Her mother wouldn’t notice a thing like that, but I intercepted a warning frown from Mr. Lennox. He brought his big bushy eyebrows together and looked quite fierce.
I skipped coffee to give myself more time to get ready.
It was another glorious day. Yesterday’s showers had given everything an extra sparkle. As the track rose higher, Loch Ghorm shone with unbelievable color—purple and turquoise in patches, dark blue-black where Ben Liath Mohr overhung the water, and a delicate whitish-green in the shallows.
Perched on its rocky promontory, Glengarron Castle slumbered in the afternoon sunshine. I marveled that I had ever thought of it as gaunt and ugly, even sinister.
As I stood gazing down I saw a tiny figure start out across the causeway, walking briskly. Fiona setting off. I recognized her blue coat.
I was surprised, though, that Fiona should be going anywhere on foot. I wondered whether in fact her “appointment” was merely a fiction, and she was going out now to give it a shred of substance. She’d obviously been astonished and livid that Craig wanted to take me out.
I myself found his sudden interest in me almost incredible. But since our candid talk about Margo there had been a new sympathy between us, a new understanding. I wasn’t going to analyze it. I didn’t dare consider where it might lead. I just clung to the memory of Craig’s dismay at the prospect of my going home, his anger at my peremptory dismissal from Glengarron.
Fiona had reached the end of the causeway and disappeared from my view. I turned and began to climb again. After a few minutes I came to the spot where I’d met Lambert Nairn the other day. I continued to climb until I reached the crest of the hill and then started descending the other side.
Here a great many trees had been felled recently. I marveled at this achievement on such a precipitous slope. At intervals down the track, wherever a level platform could be found, there were high stacks of logs awaiting transport.
The ground was thick with celandines, golden flowerlets brilliant against the lush green foliage. I spotted a paler yellow, shyly hiding at the foot of one of the stacks of timber. I crouched down and gently parted the long grass. Why did a small wild flower fill me with such joy? It was as if I had never seen a primrose before.
Quite nearby I heard a noise. Not a natural sound of wind or birds or some small animal. This was like a soft footfall, a twig snapped beneath a shoe.
I glanced around, but there was no sign of life any
where. Everything was still, except for the very tips of the pine trees.
It was the deceptive moment of calm before the storm.
Suddenly the quiet was broken by a curious squealing, a protesting noise. In a horrifying split second I realized that the great pile of logs was falling, coming down on top of me.
I had no time to jump clear. Instinct flung up my hands to protect my head. Taut, trembling with fear, I crouched lower.
The sliding timber seemed to hesitate, silent for an instant. Then with a thunderous roar it was upon me.
I was being crushed. Surely I would be smashed to pulp by those massive logs. Nothing could survive such a murderous pounding.
But by some miracle I wasn’t crushed. Incredibly I was scarcely more than bruised. It was probably some moments, a full minute perhaps, before my battered senses grasped the astonishing fact that my body was still whole.
I was trapped within a cage, a lattice-work cage of logs. In falling, the great tree trunks had somehow locked themselves and interlocked. They were arched around me, each one a keystone that held all the rest.
Light came filtering through to me. There was even a needle shaft or two from the sun where it could find a direct path. I tried to push fear away and concentrate my thoughts on getting free.
Just ahead of me I could see a space where there was a little more room, and I decided to try to wriggle my way into it. Very carefully I edged forward, bringing up one knee.
Immediately, the logs above me shifted. It was only the smallest movement, but enough to terrify me. Next time I might not be so lucky.
I crouched, utterly still, sweating. I wasn’t thinking how the accident had happened. I wasn’t any longer thinking how I could get out. All my attention was focused upon keeping utterly still, controlling every breath with infinite measured care.
But at last I collected the courage to think again about escape. The answer, when it came, was a huge relief, because it absolved me from taking any action myself.
What I had to do was to go on staying quite still, to keep perfectly calm, to suppress my frenzied longing to get free. To wait.
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