You do know that had it been in my power to legally make you my heir, I would have done so a thousand times over. You would have made a wonderful Duchess of Kinross. But I am of the opinion your husband would have found it difficult to reconcile his revolutionary principles and hold his head as high as he does amongst his colonial brethren, had he married the heir to a Scottish dukedom. His fellows would have scoffed at his ideals. That his father-in-law is a duke is hardly his fault, is it?
We are both destined to live forever with the consequences of my running off with your mother, a married woman. But I don’t regret it. I cannot. She was never likely to be divorced from her husband, an abusive oaf, and I had to rescue her from him as soon as possible. To that end, and because we fell in love, we were prepared to spend the rest of our lives in sin. Fleeing to the subcontinent and a life there, where I knew I could make a life for us and the people would welcome us with open arms, was our only recourse. And it was not one either of us regretted. We looked to it with optimism, as a grand adventure. As long as we could be together, nothing else mattered. It never occurred to either of us that your mother would fall pregnant, and so quickly. Her marriage was barren. And did we care our child would be born out of wedlock? Did we think of the long term consequences for such a child? Of course not! We were in love, and we welcomed you into our lives and loved you with all our being. When your mother told me the news of her pregnancy I was so happy, we were so happy, to think we were to have a child together. All your mother ever wanted was to be a good wife and mother, and with me she was both. She loved you so very much. So you see, my darling dear, you are so loved and were so wanted and celebrated, that the disadvantage of your birth was and is a very minor detail.
I am needed elsewhere now, and as my time is not my own, and I must try and accomplish as much as I can before returning south, I will leave off now and write to you again very soon.
Your papa loves you and misses you, and sends you a thousand kisses.
Give my regards to Charles. I will reply to his letter in the next day or two and answer all his questions.
K
You see how self-important I have become. Now your Baboo Papa is a duke, he signs with a flourish and only with his initial. xo
5. Major Lord Fitzstuart to Lady Fitzstuart
Major Lord Fitzstuart, H.M.S. Reliant, Barbados, to Lady Fitzstuart, Fitzstuart Hall, Buckinghamshire, England.
H.M.S. Reliant
September, 1777
* * *
My dearest darling wife,
Wife! The best word in the world. For you are the best thing that has ever happened to me, my dearest darling Delight. Forgive me if this letter drips sentiment, but when I take the time to be still, to sit and think, or when I am in my bunk falling asleep to the motion of the waves, my thoughts are all of you. I think of our time on Swan Island and wish I were back there with you. I think of the future we will have together when I return. I even dare to imagine our children and what they will look like. Ha! I do have too much time on my hands, don’t I?
I started this letter then put it aside. I may do this several times before it is done. I know you will forgive me if it is not the masterpiece it should be. In truth it may be the longest piece of writing I have ever undertaken, and that includes any reports I sent your grandfather over the years detailing my activities. I always preferred to speak with our Spymaster General in person.
Delight, know that your dearest husband (the second best word in the world) is in his customary robust health. So is his batman. Mr. Farrier sends his regards, and says to assure Her Ladyship that he is keeping His Lordship out of trouble as best he can. But what trouble can I get myself in confined to a ship out in the Atlantic? You may well ask! But I am glad I have Farrier with me and I know you are, too.
I am not idle. I spend my days ‘learning the ropes’, to be a sailor! I can now ‘work the ropes’ and tie all manner of knots. The men were at first wary of my inquisitiveness and my willingness to work alongside them. For what gentleman, and most definitely not a nobleman, stands shoulder to shoulder with the common sailor. The officers tried to dissuade me from fraternizing, but as the captain sees no harm in it he does not stop me. And his men are happy to have me, for I amuse them with my questions. Captain Willis also knows I’d rather throw myself overboard than be confined to a cabin playing at chess, reading, or writing letters home (except to you, Delight), which is what gentile passengers are supposed to do while aboard. They also avoid the sea air and the blistering heat. I’m having none of that, and as far as I am concerned, it is better to be out on deck smelling the salt air and turning brown than being stuck in cramped quarters, pacing back and forth and breathing the smoke from my cheroot!
Which reminds me to warn you that when next you see me you will find my hands calloused and my arms and face a nice shade of nut brown. But you will be pleased that I am cultivating a pirate beard, just for you. It is coming along nicely despite Mr. Farrier’s disapproval and objections to it. He sharpens my razor daily in expectation of me coming to my senses before we make land, and before I return to you. Pirate Dair won’t fail you!
I have just had the most bracing, nay, breath-stopping adventure! And I survived to tell the tale, so you must not worry needlessly, Delight. Though I know you would never deny me a little amusement to counter the boredom of long days at sea. So let me tell you about it.
It was as thrilling as the heart-pounding anticipation of charging at full gallop at the enemy. That much I can say without hesitation. And it was just as satisfactory because it took me several attempts, and I had to muster all my courage. But I finally managed to climb all the way up to the topsail yard! What’s that you ask? A yard is the cross beam of a mast to which the sails are lashed, and the topsail yard is the second sail, not the first, high above the deck, so your dear husband was extra courageous to go one better than the one he was dared to reach.
And once I had climbed to such dizzying heights, I ventured to inch myself along the rigging to sit halfway across, and there admire the view, which is afforded only to sailors and seagulls! The ocean stretches on endlessly to the horizon, the aspect only broken by the occasion wave. Though I did manage to catch sight of a mermaid! Or so I thought when her tail flicked up out of the water into the air. But I believe what I truly glimpsed was a different sea creature entirely. Most probably a whale. And when I chanced to glance below me, I discovered a crowd of upturned grinning faces. Every sailor who was not at his post had gathered to watch my attempt, no doubt in anticipation of my failure or falling to my death! And when I dared to get to my bare feet and stand tall, holding on and swaying with the ropes, I made my audience a sweeping bow as best I could from such a precarious position. A rousing cheer went up in response, to which I laughed and made a second bow. You would have enjoyed my performance, Delight. That was not the end of my escapade, for when I was once more safely on deck several of the men so far forgot themselves as to consider me one of their own, and they rushed forward, hoisted me up high and to more rousing cheers. Our carousing would have continued had not their master come to break up the revels and order his men back to their chores.
But please, my darling, do not fear I was in harm’s way or that I was cavalier with my mortality. My life is now bound to yours, so I would never attempt anything that put my life in jeopardy. My honor on it. I love you too much to ever risk life and limb again. You are now what I live for, and you, and returning to you, are all I think about.
I will admit I was dared to do it. I said so earlier. But know that I would never have attempted the adventure had I not been confident of the outcome. I waited for a day when the seas were calm, so the ship was not rolling, which made the climb so much the easier. And you know I am an expert climber of trees, and my superior strength stood me in good stead for I was able to shimmy up the mast and along the ropes with surprising ease. I may be twice the width of these sailors who scurry all over the ship as monkeys do up a tree, but I am j
ust as agile and more powerful in my wrists than they. Still, I am all admiration for their ability to go up and down the masts and along the topsails sorting the rigging and the sails and acting as lookouts, for it is a hazardous occupation and not for the faint of heart.
We have made land. It is five days since I last took up my quill and I am glad I wrote you of happier, more carefree times aboard ship, because I cannot do that now. We have dropped anchor in the harbor in what can only be described as hell on earth. I am assured by those who have been here before that Barbados was a paradise. No such place exists now. There are no people, no buildings, no vegetation, only destruction and wasteland. It is beyond my descriptive powers to do justice to the devastation and the suffering caused by the hurricane that visited this island. The winds were so severe trees have been stripped of their bark. The armory is no more. Stone buildings are reduced to rubble. A twelve-pound gun was carried a distance of 140 yards by the surge of the sea. It will take many years, if ever, before this place is habitable again.
It must have been a terrifying experience for all concerned, and my thoughts turn to my father and his young family. What torments and terror must he and they have suffered before their deaths? And not only he and his children, but all the poor souls living on this island? We are told that thousands lost their lives, and many more thousands on the surrounding islands. The British and French fleets are decimated. No fort, no house, nothing was left standing. Forgive me if I am repeating myself, but the carnage is beyond belief, and this from your husband who has been on a battlefield and witnessed carnage first hand.
I am back aboard ship to eat and sleep, and to write you the rest of this letter so I may send it on one of two ships which survived on the edge of the storm and which came into harbor to offer assistance, and now return to England for supplies, and with correspondence. I return to land tomorrow morning, and again to what is left of my father’s house, for the official exhumation of his body. God knows what condition it is in, or if I will be able to stomach peering at it, but I have the ship’s surgeon with me, to whom I can relay the information given me by Cousin Duchess of the healed fracture to my father’s left arm. Mr. Plume, who I have found to be a fine fellow and very direct, has also offered his own recollections, for he remembers my father having several teeth drawn over the years.
As you can imagine, I just want the ghastly business over with so I can get on with my life. But I realize how necessary this is for my inheritance and our future, for while there is a scintilla of doubt as to whether my father is alive or dead, I cannot claim my birthright with confidence.
We discussed this before my departure, and I will remain true to my word to do all I can to find my father’s children, dead or alive. Mr. Plume, and several of my father’s slaves, are adamant that they could not have survived, but until their bodies are recovered how can we know this for certain? Mayhap we will never know. But if they are found alive, I will offer them safe passage to England, ensure they receive their inheritance, and see them settled as befits my father’s love and care for them. If their bodies are recovered I will have them given a proper burial and beside my father’s grave. It is the least I can do. As for the men he owned, I hate the very idea of human enslavement, as you know, and so they shall have their freedom and what compensation I can offer them to begin their lives anew. I know these are also your sentiments, and Charles and Mary both agreed, though I would have done it anyway.
Mr. Farrier says I must rest, and he is right. And so I am signing off and sealing this letter with a kiss, and all my love. I cannot wait to return home to the comfort and warmth to be found in your arms. Do not think me selfish for not asking how goes the alterations to the hall, or how you are adjusting to life as its mistress, or if my mother has made herself agreeable if not pleasant. She will remain objectionable to the last about her move to the Dower House, and that has nothing to do with you and everything to do with the sort of woman she is. I have every faith in you handling her with the diplomatic dexterity you no doubt inherited from your grandfather.
I think of little else but you and our life at the hall, and it is a comfort to know you are there, safe, and waiting for me, and for me to know I have in you a helpmate whose sweet-natured serenity means you are able to deal with all manner of domestic crises (even my intractable parent). And I know you are bearing it all because you love me, and for that I love you all the more.
Love and kisses,
Dair with the pirate beard.
6. Jonathon, Duke of Kinross, to Antonia, Duchess of Kinross
Jonathon, the Most Noble Duke of Kinross, Flat 6, Forrester’s Wynd, Lawnmarket, High Street, Edinburgh, Scotland, to Antonia, the Most Noble Duchess of Kinross, Crecy Hall via Alston, Hampshire.
Flat 6, Forrester’s Wynd, Lawnmarket, High Street, Edinburgh
September, 1777
* * *
My heart’s desire—Sweetheart,
I read your letter three times. I have it here beside me, open, and have read it yet again. My hand is shaking and my heart and head are pounding. My limbs have turned to syllabub.
I had just stepped out of a chair at the base of the stairs up to my lodgings here in the capital when a messenger handed me your letter. I was with a group of ruddy-faced gents, who had come to discuss debts and creditors and the future. All are in some way connected to my consequence—lawyers, kinsmen, a banker, my steward, two masters from neighboring lands, who spend more time here in Edinburgh than they do at their estates. I have settled my great uncle’s debts to the great satisfaction of all, and am the hero of the hour. The point is, this hero was surrounded by a group of sturdy men, and they no taller than my shoulder, when your husband was unmanned by your news and was on the verge of collapse. My knees gave way and I lunged for the closest fellow’s shoulder and used it as a crutch to stop myself from planting my face on the flagging. I am sure they thought I had suffered a heart seizure from the climb, for this place is very steep and there are stairs everywhere.
I felt the greatest fool to react to your news the way I did, and yet I did not care because you have made me the happiest of men, and not only me. When the crowd around me learned the news, the cheer that went up almost deafened me, and only added to my discomfort. And now I am grinning like a fool because I did not think it possible to feel happier than I did on our wedding day when I slipped a wedding band on your finger and made you mine.
Did I not tell you we would have a child, sweetheart? My prayers to Parvati have been answered! Do I feel for your position when you tell me you are sick every morning and now cannot stand the smell or taste of your favorite beverage? Of course I do! But it does not wipe the grin off my face. Nothing can. I walk about as if on a cloud, and everyone I pass possibly thinks me soft in the head. I do not care.
One thing is certain. I am coming home to you as soon as possible. What is most important is that I am with you, not hundreds of miles away. My steward, lawyer, banker, and anyone who matters to the estate agrees with me. The significance of your pregnancy to these people, and to my estate and the people who rely on me now I am their laird and duke, cannot be stressed enough. My elevation to the dukedom gave them hope, but your news gives them a future.
So I shall be home as quickly as it is possible for me to be so. Swift horses and good weather should see me returned to your arms by the end of the month. And then you may berate me to your heart’s content for the condition you now find yourself in, and as you say at your age. Ha! Age! That is of no consequence to either of us, remember? May you never use that as an excuse with me again for though I am sure you castigate yourself every morning that what got you into this predicament was falling in love with a man who finds you utterly desirable and would, if it were in his power to do so, make love to you ten times a day.
Mayhap you are embarrassed to be pregnant at what you deem ‘your age’? Did you feel so when you were pregnant with your sons? Of course you did not! Why would you? And I am very sure Monseigneur st
rutted about like a prize Dartmouth cock when you told him the news he was to be a father, and he in his middle years. So I give you fair warning, that this husband of yours intends to strut, and just as hard and as proud as he did. I have already started! For when I was enthusiastically congratulated by my kinsmen come with me from Fife, I know my chest swelled and I grinned. I did. I am sure my chest expanded even more when these men expressed their delight and excitement to think that their new duke has had the title for less than a year and already he is married, and will provide the dukedom with an heir in the new year. So my chest-puffing and strutting is justifiable.
I should tell you something of my stay in Scotland’s capital, a more hilly up and down place as ever I have visited. The castle on its crag looms large over the landscape, and is not unlike a boil on a green giant’s buttock, sticking up and out and looking painful, when everything around it is pleasant and green and damp. But for all that, it is a majestic sight, one that warms the Scottish blood in my veins.
I cannot fault the hard-faced locals who go about their business with solemn circumspection and purpose. Their townhouses are very tall and some six to eight stories in height, with several families living to a floor. There being no social distinction in the districts, for poor and rich live in close proximity, often in the same lodgings, it is only in the number of rooms and on which level a family chooses to reside which provide the clue as to the status of the occupants. The middle and higher floor levels are occupied by the wealthy and those with status, and the lower floors are crammed with the poor. Which is in direct contrast to what occurs in London, is it not, where the servants occupy the garrets. Not so here. There is talk and plans have been submitted for a planned city to be built on the other side of the loch that divides the castle and the surrounding areas from the rest of the lowlands. If it does go ahead, I shall buy into it, for I want my duchess and our child to live in a suitably comfortable and grand establishment. Besides, the merchant in me tells me it will be an excellent investment.
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