But the man they had called the laird of Aviemere was content. He had everything he wanted within arm’s reach. What faded in the distance behind the jostling coach represented only a shallow imitation of the happiness he now knew was real in his heart.
48
Family Secrets
It had been difficult to leave Jamie in Aberdeen.
Edward loathed to be separated from her even for a moment, but he had business to complete in Edinburgh. And Andrew, who had been spirited from his sickbed prematurely, needed her now more than he did.
Edward was on his way by train to Edinburgh to consult with the family lawyer, Jacob Beasely. With his fortunes so abruptly changed and the prospect of marriage before him, Edward felt it his responsibility to set a solid course for his life and his family’s future security. He still had, of course, the allowance from his father’s inheritance, which amounted to four hundred pounds a year. That alone, along with what he had saved and invested during his tenure at Aviemere when he had been paid double that amount, would have provided a modest but comfortable life for him and Jamie and Andrew. But he could not picture himself spending the rest of his days in idleness. Thus, with these things on his mind, he hoped Mr. Beasely could offer him some direction.
Jacob Beasely, an elderly man just a few months short of seventy, was semiretired and kept his office in his home. It was a house befitting his respected station in a row of very similar residences along Queensferry Road, all neat, trim, affluent two-story stone homes. Edward walked up the steps to the front door with some misgivings. After all, this family lawyer was by rights and custom Derek’s counselor, not his. But over the years Edward, not Derek, had dealt with Beasely, and the older man had developed a fatherly attachment toward him. In fact, he often sensed that Beasely, who was well acquainted with the situation between the brothers, felt rather sympathetic toward Edward.
Edward’s knock on the door was answered by a maid who knew Edward and led him immediately to the lawyer’s study.
Beasely rose when Edward entered and extended his hand to his visitor. “Edward,” he said. He did not exactly smile, for he was much too businesslike for that, but he did give him a friendly nod.
“I hope my coming unannounced like this is no great intrusion,” Edward said, returning the handshake and gratified by the warm intensity he felt in the lawyer’s hand.
“Sit down, lad.” Beasely motioned Edward to a nearby chair and then returned to his own behind the mahogany desk. “Actually, I expected you would be here sooner or later.”
“Then you’ve seen my brother?”
“I have. And I’m terribly sorry things could not have turned out—well, differently.”
“It turned out only as I should have expected. And to tell the truth, Mr. Beasely, I feel almost relieved it’s over.”
At that moment the maid poked her head into the office.
“Sir,” she said to Mr. Beasely, “would ye be wantin’ some tea?”
“Yes, Molly, that would be most welcome. We will be here for some time.”
The maid left, and Beasely returned his attention to Edward. “It is most comforting to hear you are taking it so well. Have you made any plans as to your future?”
“I plan to be married soon,” replied Edward; the lawyer’s stately features nearly broke into a smile—at least his eyes.
“Well, well,” he said. “That’s grand news!” But he quickly turned serious once more. “And will the turn in your fortunes—forgive me if I am becoming too personal—but does your intended—?”
“She knows,” Edward finished for him. “We have no qualms about living modestly. But I do feel inclined to make some sort of living over and above my inheritance. That is why I have come to you—to seek your counsel.”
Beasely appeared genuinely pleased by the confidence Edward seemed to place in him.
“You studied law at Cambridge, did you not?” he asked.
Edward nodded.
“I would be pleased to make inquiries on your behalf. I have several friends who would be gratified to have one with your qualifications employed in their firms.”
“Thank you, Mr. Beasely.”
The conversation waned for a few moments as Molly returned with the tea cart and served the two gentlemen. They occupied themselves in this manner for several minutes after the maid bustled from the room. Then Beasely dabbed his mouth with a linen towel and cleared his throat to resume again in a professional manner.
“There is another matter I wish to take up with you,” he said.
He shuffled through a small stack of papers until he found one in particular, then spoke again. “Actually, this matter has been sitting on my desk for some two days now as I have unsuccessfully deliberated a course of action. I fully realize affairs of the estate—perhaps even the whole family, to a degree—now rest with Derek, yet he has been far removed these many years. Moreover, I felt I would rather place it under your scrutiny first. I do not know at this point whether there may be delicacies in the situation. I received this—” he held up what appeared to be a letter, written in fine script—“two days ago. It is from a Monsieur Louis Diderot, an advocate from Marseille.”
As he spoke Edward looked more closely at the letter.
“The whole thing is of such an odd nature, I should have perhaps dismissed it entirely. But there remained a grain of believability in the fabric of the story that I had to give it my attention.”
Beasely went on to explain that Diderot was representing a woman accused of killing a man during a row in one of Marseille’s waterfront bistros. The woman claimed self-defense, but witnesses, of whom there were several, were divided as to the truth of her story. It seemed the woman had been intimate with the man for years and had been the object of frequent abuse. The prosecutor claimed premeditation, and it appeared a lengthy trial was in the offing. Diderot was writing on behalf of the woman who was in desperate need of funds for the defense of her life. It appeared the woman, whose name was Linette D’Aulnais, avowed a relationship with the Graystones of Aberdeenshire, and was appealing to them for money.
“I’ve never heard of her.”
“Neither had I, as such.”
“Does she have any possible ground for her claim?” asked Edward.
“Ah . . . yes,” returned Beasely, obviously choosing his words with care. “The letter goes on to explain that. And herein lies my hesitancy, and yet . . .”
“Mr. Beasely, you may as well come right out with it and tell me. I doubt that I can hear much these days about my family that would surprise me.”
“Madame D’Aulnais says she is, well—that she is the mother of your brother, Derek!” Beasely finished, leaning back heavily in his chair as if the weight of his statement had physically fatigued him.
Edward stood suddenly and paced the floor for a moment.
He had been wrong about nothing surprising him. At first he did not even question the credibility of the woman’s statement, though of course he would have to do so eventually, for such claims were constantly being leveled at the families of noblemen in the Graystones’ position.
He stopped his pacing and turned toward Beasely. “You believe her?”
“Before I can exactly answer that I have to reveal to you another extremely confidential matter,” said the lawyer. “Thirty-four years ago—which cannot escape you as coincidental, that being your brother’s age!—your father initiated what he deemed ‘a business venture.’ Only he and I were to be privy to it. He ‘invested’—and I used the word loosely, but that was how he always insisted that I refer to the matter—two hundred pounds annually in the enterprises of one M. L. D’Aulnais. He never enlightened me as to the exact nature of these enterprises and would never give me a straight answer when I made inquiry about the lack of any visible return on his investment. There was a confidential clause in his will which stipulated that upon his death a lump sum of 2,000 pounds was to be paid to M. D’Aulnais.”
Edward stared, i
ncredulous. At length he spoke. “Did you suspect?”
“I must say I had my suspicions,” replied the lawyer. “But I never dreamed your father would try to pass off an illegitimate child as his heir. All those years I believed—as his wife must have—that he had been married before but that first wife died in childbirth. He made me swear, which I did, never to tell you that you and Derek were not both sons of the same mother. But the woman, knowing that Mackenzie would never marry her, must have simply left the child with him. So to save face, he returned to Scotland and began his fabrication of a continental marriage ending in tragedy.”
Edward was dumbstruck.
“Perhaps he had his reasons for his silence, but it was unconscionable, in my opinion, to treat you as he did. And as an aside, the ‘liaison’ did not end with your father’s death. That is to say, some five years ago the name D’Aulnais came to my attention again. This time it was your brother who requested a sum of one thousand pounds to be diverted to an account in D’Aulnais’s name. To my knowledge that was the last mention of the name until now.”
“Then my brother must have known.”
“It would seem so.”
Now Derek’s statement about survival came unmistakably clear. The suave, confident, swaggering elder brother was also grasping for dear life to the dream of Aviemere. To keep it he had to pay extortion to his own mother. A single misplaced word, the mere loss of good faith, could have robbed him of it all. And it was not difficult to see how another blackmailer could have incited him to murder.
The most painful blow to Edward about the whole startling revelation however, was that his father had all along chosen the illegitimate child over himself. It was possible he loved Derek’s mother, for Edward well knew there had never been any love between his own mother and Mackenzie Graystone. So the child of love was therefore the favored child. He wondered why his mother tolerated the sham. But propriety was everything thirty years ago, and marrying Mackenzie Graystone, laird of Aviemere, had given her a name and an estate to be proud of. It must have been enough to compensate her for her lasting silence.
“You see why,” Beasely continued, “I was reluctant in presenting this matter to your brother. He has been keeping up the duplicity since your father’s death, and I saw no reason why he would not continue to do so. But my conscience is still alive, Edward, and I could no longer keep you from what I had kept hidden from you all these years.”
“Thank you, Mr. Beasely. I appreciate your forthrightness.”
“As far as your right to the inheritance, I doubt that this woman’s claim would be legally acceptable, especially should your brother deny it. Of course we could initiate legal proceedings in the court of chancery. But that would take time and would prove very costly. The thing would not only be highly disagreeable, but it would undoubtedly take more money than you have at your disposal, as, unfortunately, your brother Derek does control the purse strings. Of course, my knowledge of the former association of your father to M. L. D’Aulnais might interest the court, and even substantiate a relationship. But it would not prove that the woman was Derek’s mother. Yet if we fight it, I think in the end we would win and the court would restore you to your rightful position.”
Edward was silent.
For a brief instant his old longing returned. Aviemere was his! Everything was his! He was Lord Graystone, earl of Aviemere!
All these years Derek had known and yet had made him suffer—even gloating in his suffering. Now he could at last seek retribution. He would walk hotly to the very doors of the mansion and dispossess the baseborn snake! His pulse was racing, perspiration beaded on his forehead. His body tensed as if he would right then spring upon the invisible form of his enemy.
Then Edward sank back and slumped in his seat. The momentary frenzy of renewed turmoil within himself at last convinced him of what must be done.
“Send the woman her money,” Edward said. “And burn the letter.”
“What!” exclaimed the lawyer in disbelief.
“Do it—now!”
“Edward, you can fight this—and win!”
“What would I win?” Edward sighed.
“The estate, Edward! Aviemere!”
“I laid down my desire for the estate when I left it.”
“Think of how he and your father have treated you!”
“I have no taste for revenge.”
“Then think of your son!”
“I am thinking of him, Mr. Beasely,” said Edward, his determination more firm than ever. “I am trying to protect him from the misery I knew all my life. I cannot but believe he will be happier as a simple man without the temptations of wealth and power.”
“You would leave the title in the hands of the undeserving?”
“Derek has paid dearly for what he has, and I cannot believe he will ever be happy with it. The grasping hands of greed are never able to find contentment in the empty riches they seek. If he must be punished, let that be his judgment, and let it come from God’s hands, not mine. I have all I want, Mr. Beasely.”
With that Jacob Beasely rose from his chair, took Diderot’s letter, and, with a final glance back at Edward who merely nodded decisive consent, dropped it into the hearth, where a warm blaze quickly lapped up around the sheet, curling it into a momentary red-orange flame before it darkened, shriveled, and disintegrated into ashes.
49
Derek Graystone
Thus the murderer retained his place in society, and justice was not to be had in the account of Derek Graystone.
As Edward predicted, he was neither happy nor content. Perhaps his one act of contrition—though he would never have seen it as such—was that he neither married nor produced heirs as he had once threatened. The more correct assumption behind his decision was, no doubt, simply that Derek was entirely a self-centered man. He cared nothing for insuring the propagation of his existence after he was gone, especially when to do so involved the extremely dissatisfying prospect of marriage. Even for the sake of goading his brother he could not accept the idea of being tied hopelessly to one woman.
In fact, Derek was able to tolerate the life of a country squire for only one year before he applied for the reactivation of his commission and was sent abroad.
Edward did not resume his place at Aviemere even then, but left it in the hands of George Ellice, who ran the estate, if not with the love and expertise of Edward, at least with a fairer hand than the pseudo earl.
A sort of justice was ultimately laid at the doorstep of Derek Graystone five years later when certain wild Arab dervishes led by a holy man they called the Mahdi revolted against their Egyptian Khedive in the province of the Sudan. In Kordofan the so-called Mahdi’s forces annihilated an Egyptian force. Before reinforcements could arrive under General Gordon, thousands of Egyptians and their British officers were massacred—among them, Derek Graystone. His life, as he had lived it, tragically came to a violent, bitter and unhappy end.
50
The Final Return
The road had changed little since that day eight years ago when Jamie had first traveled it.
As the couple rode through the fields where in the distance the rich golden heads of oats and barley bent gently in the soft autumn breeze, it seemed as if their hearts would burst with happiness and wonder.
The carriage slowed to a stop, and Jamie turned to Edward—for he himself was driving on this most special day. But he was already engaged in conversation with a farmer along the other edge of the roadside.
“You’re looking well, MacRae,” he said.
“Aye, sir. Nice t’ see ye again!”
“I hear good reports from Mr. Ellice about your progress. He tells me you’ve begun to turn a nice profit.”
“Aye. An’ I hae ye yersel’ t’ thank fer it, sir.”
“If you’re making a go of it, Jimmy, it’s from hard work!”
“Aye, ye’re right there. But ’twas you that made me git oot o’ the pub an’ t’ work.”
“Well, I’m glad it has all worked out for you, Jimmy. We’ll see you again soon.”
And with those words the carriage again jerked into motion.
No, the countryside hadn’t changed much. Perhaps the greatest change had been in Jamie herself. She sat in the carriage now as it clattered along the road, stately and lovely, with a glow and an air of confidence that had not been present on that first day. She spoke with grace and her movements were assured and genteel. There could no longer be any doubt: here sat a lady.
But one thing had not changed, and that was the spirit of love and caring which lived in her heart. Within the stately lady, there still dwelt the heart of the shepherd girl with all her exuberance and laughter.
“Look, Dora!” she exclaimed as the carriage turned from the road and passed through the great iron gate, “there is the Ellice cottage. See, children, through the trees!”
She looked at Edward as they made their way up the estate drive through the long row of birch trees. His face held an expression of nostalgia, and she knew why. It was a time of great joy. How they had longed for the rich land of Aviemere during their years in Aberdeen! But now that the day of their return had finally come, Edward had not been able to hide the subtle reminders of the years of suffering he had spent here.
Jamie reached out her hand to him. “It will be different for us now,” she encouraged.
“I know,” he replied. “God would not have led us back here if it were not to be so. Yet I am thinking, too, of those who will come after us. We must prepare them for the life they will someday face.”
“Then we must never cease praying for them, now perhaps more than ever,” said Jamie. “They are in God’s loving hands.”
“Oh, Jamie, I love you so! I could not have come back here without you at my side. For I am certain it is you who will make it different—as you did when you came before!”
The carriage began to slow and finally pulled to a stop in front of the great mansion. Andrew jumped out first, a slender, handsome lad of almost ten now. He reached up and took the hand of his mother, for Jamie was that and more to him. As he helped her alight from the carriage, she smiled at him and held his hand a moment longer than was necessary, giving it an affectionate and knowing squeeze.
Jamie MacLeod Page 36