by Iris Danbury
She was tempted to call on Alex, but guessed he would be out supervising his stockmen and shepherds. Besides, she had no right to inflict her woes on him.
Eventually she realized that she was hungry and returned to the hotel for breakfast. Before she had put her car away Cameron came towards the row of hotel garages.
‘Going out?’ he queried.
‘No. Coming in,’ she replied brusquely. She was in no mood for further investigation or even sympathy.
‘Will you wait while I get my car out?’ he asked. He was wearing a turtle-neck sweater and dark green twill trousers.
‘Why? Am I in the way?’
His shoulders lifted as he laughed and his hazel eyes sparkled with fun. She turned her head away abruptly from that glance. She wanted to forget that particular look.
‘Not in the sense you mean,’ he answered.
She had to finish manoeuvring her car into its place and by the time she stepped outside, Cameron was already opening the nearside door of his own car.
‘It’s my day off,’ she said testily.
‘Mine, too.’
‘Well, I’ve loads of things I want to do—and I haven’t eaten any breakfast yet.’
‘I’ll give you breakfast, Fenella,’ he promised.
‘If you’re going to continue last night’s inquest, I shall have no appetite for eating anything.’
‘Then let’s see what a morning drive in Scotland’s best weather will do for your appetite.’ When she still hesitated, he said, ‘Come, Fenella. I want to talk to you and this is one of the few places where we can count on not being overheard.’
She stepped into the car. ‘If you think you’re going to persuade me not to leave the hotel, you’re mistaken. Even if I don’t get this particular job I have in view, I’ll try for others.’
Cameron said nothing while he reversed the car. He still maintained silence when he drove along the lochside road.
Fenella sat unrelaxed and mutinous. Why should he adopt this cavalier attitude because it suited him? She had nothing further to say to him about anything. Yet here she was careering around the countryside with him, wasting her free time.
She noticed that he had left the main road and was taking the long climb up between the hills.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked at last.
‘I want to visit the glen where my grandfather had his croft. I thought you might be able to direct me.’ His face was expressionless, his glance fixed straight ahead.
‘How could I know where your grandfather came from?’
He pointed to the map compartment. ‘It’s near a place called Kenrossan, so I’m told.’
She found the place. ‘Straight on until you come to a fork, then turn right.’
After a long pause he began to talk of Canada, the snow, the skiing, the skating, the camping by the lakes in summer. Without warning he turned off the road and drove up a steep rough path.
‘This isn’t the way,’ she protested, consulting the map.
‘You said you wanted breakfast and I’m going to provide it,’ he replied.
The man was ridiculous, off his head, for there was nothing that looked like a building anywhere in sight. Only the grey-green hills, the clump of firs and pines, the pale misty blue sky. Then he topped the brow of a hill and the rough road curved down towards a tiny lochan set in the bowl of hills, and clinging precariously to the steep sides was a grey stone croft.
‘Is this your grandfather’s place?’ she asked.
‘No.’
A woman was outside the door as the car stopped.
‘Ah, Mr. Ramsay, you’re here and welcome. And the young lady, too. Come away in, the both of ye.’
She led the way into a sunny, spacious farm kitchen, where a table was laid for two. Cameron introduced Fenella to Mrs. McAlpine and in a very short time the most delicious meal was set. Home-cured ham with the freshest of eggs, heather honey and golden brown toast.
‘How did you manage this, Cameron?’ Fenella asked.
‘Thought transference, by remote control,’ he answered. ‘I only hope that we were able to get here before you passed out, fainting from lack of breakfast.’
‘I wonder if it’s a bribe, a sop to put me in a good mood for some purpose of your own.’
‘After a meal like this you ought to be beaming sunshine everywhere.’
At heart, Fenella was sad that Cameron had so rarely shown himself to her in this genial light. Did he believe that now she was on the verge of leaving the hotel he was safe? Yet she could not help enjoying the unexpected mode of outing he had planned, even though she guessed the ultimate objective was to try to induce her to stay longer at the Gairmorlie.
When they left Mrs. McAlpine’s, Cameron led Fenella down to the shore of the lochan, then round the shoulder of the hill. A ruined croft with only one wall standing was partially covered by encroaching grass and bushes.
‘This was my grandfather’s home, Fenella,’ he said.
‘But you said—well, you told me to direct you with the map,’ she protested.
‘This is the short cut,’ he told her, smiling.
He took her hand to help her along the rough, hummocky grass. It was possible to trace the outline of the main living room, the kitchen, with its still blackened chimney, but the rest had disappeared. A rhododendron with crimson flowers flourished where perhaps had been the front parlour.
‘You’ve been here before,’ she accused him.
‘I didn’t say I hadn’t. I thought you might like to see the humble and now decayed origins of the Ramsays, this branch of them anyway.’
They leaned together against the rough stones of a remaining wall. ‘Scotland is full of ruined crofts and farmhouses where people went away because they couldn’t make a living,’ Fenella said sadly.
‘Well, I can rebuild at least one,’ he replied. ‘I’ve already bought the land, I’ll have a new farmhouse built, modern inside and appropriate to the surroundings outside. Then I’ll stock it and find a suitable tenant.’
‘It’s a nice idea,’ she replied warmly. ‘If only everyone who went away could come back and just help a little, Scotland would be wonderfully prosperous.’
For some time he smoked his pipe in silence. Then he tapped it out.
‘Are you really serious about going back to this dress business of yours?’ he asked.
‘Why shouldn’t I be serious? It’s what I was trained for.’
‘M’m,’ he muttered. ‘I doubt if you’ll make a success of it.’
Her colour flamed her cheeks. ‘Why must you damp my enthusiasm? My mind is made up.’
‘So is mine. I’m going to marry you.’
She jerked away from the wall and faced him. ‘Marry me?’
‘That’s what I said.’
‘But—but you haven’t even asked me!’
‘Must I go down on one knee in this tall grass and beg you to accept me?’ he demanded.
‘But I thought—’
‘To blazes with what you thought! You want to marry me, don’t you?’
The sheer colossal arrogance of the man took her breath away. He was grasping both her hands and drawing her towards him. She wanted to cry out that she could not accept marriage on his terms. Half a dozen reasons flitted through her mind, that Cameron wanted Fenella as a defence against the combined attack of Miriam and Laurie, that he needed a strong alliance with Mr. Sutherland’s daughter to reinforce himself with the hotel company.
But her eyes could not dissemble the truth, even though she said, ‘I can’t marry you—unless you love me.’
He tilted her chin with one hand. ‘Look at me, Fenella. If you don’t see your answer in my face, unhandsome though it be, then we’ve no use for each other.’
Then he was holding her in his arms, kissing her with all the tenderness and longing of which she had dreamed.
‘I thought you were very fond of Laurie,’ she whispered after a while.
‘So I am.’
>
‘Not enough to marry her?’
He thrust her to arms’ length. ‘Good grief! Laurie’s a nice child. She’ll tumble in and out of love a dozen times before she finds the right man.’
It was some time before Fenella could formulate the painful thought of Miriam. She fumbled for words, then put her vital question in a more oblique way.
‘You didn’t really believe all that Miriam said about me, did you? Giving away the advance plans of the hotel, I mean.’
Cameron took a long breath and looked away into the distance. ‘Miriam overplayed her hand. First she tried to involve the innocent Mr. Coleford who was merely an interested visitor, mainly interested, perhaps, in meeting Laurie as frequently as possible. Then she accused you and I had to bring you into the affair so that you could also hear Miriam at first hand. You must forgive me for that, Fenella, but there was no other way of allowing Miriam the long piece of rope that she needed to tie herself in knots.’
‘Was it—Miriam herself then—who—?’
‘Yes, although even now I can’t pretend to fathom her real reasons for cutting the ground under her own feet.’ Fenella imagined that she could see at least one reason if Miriam’s schemes worked. Her two rivals would be sent away, leaving her a clear field where Cameron was concerned. Wisely, Fenella said nothing of these slightly incoherent thoughts.
‘What Miriam didn’t know was that your father had seen her in the company of a man he knew, a gossip-monger who likes to be paid for his information. Oh, there are spies in the hotel industry, same as anywhere else.’
‘Did you know that last night?’
‘Yes. After you’d gone, I told her my side of it. She denied everything, of course, but I advised her to leave the Gairmorlie as soon as possible. If necessary, I’ll try to find her a good post in another hotel.’
‘Poor Jamie!’ murmured Fenella. ‘One long succession of homes.’
‘Well, perhaps we can sort out his troubles later. First, I’m going to sort out mine. Could you be ready to marry me in the autumn? After the summer rush and before the winter season builds up.’
She flung back her head and laughed joyously. ‘So I’m to be squeezed into your schedule! Mind you put it in your diary. “September the something. Marry Fenella.” ’
‘Schedule? And what d’you suppose has been happening to my schedule all these months? You knocked it sideways.’
‘How?’
‘You know perfectly well how. You’re not as dumb as that.’
‘You’re not going to pretend that you fell in love with me at first sight?’ she mocked.
‘No, indeed. I thought you were spoilt and selfish and wearing a sophisticated veneer that peeled off as soon as I looked at you.’
‘And pig-headed and big-headed,’ she added.
‘That’s right. I told Jamie and I hoped he’d pass it on,’ Cameron’s glee showed in his eyes. ‘Then, somehow, you began to creep up on me until I knew that you were the only girl I wanted. That day on the loch when we both fell in—’
‘When you practically pushed me in,’ she interrupted.
‘Are you never going to let me finish a sentence? I knew then that if only I could be sure that you weren’t hankering after Alex McNicol, I could try to—to make you love me.’
‘You didn’t have to try very hard. I was the one who had to hide it.’
‘Not any more, my love.’
They began to walk up through the long, tangled grass choked with weeds, with bright clusters of yellow ragwort, towards the croft where Cameron had left his car.
The rest of the day became blurred and dream-like to Fenella. She was aware of visiting one of the hotels at Aviemore, eating a light lunch, listening while Cameron told her of his future plans for expansion of the Gairmorlie, the skating pond that he would develop next winter on Alex McNicol’s land.
‘Will Alex co-operate with you?’ she asked.
‘Oh, yes. He’s very enthusiastic. We’ve agreed on terms so that if the scheme prospers, he gets considerable financial benefit. If it fails, then he’s lost nothing.’
Even in her dreamy state, Fenella realized that Cameron’s successful career was built on the art of cooperating with people. From the early days of the take-over, her father had been in Cameron’s favour, extolling the young Canadian’s virtues when Fenella herself was at loggerheads with the new manager.
‘We’ll get back to the Gairmorlie in time for dinner,’ Cameron suggested as he drove along the lower road from the Cairngorms. ‘You’ll have to break the news to your father that you’re all set for wasting all that money he spent on your training for the dress world.’
‘It’s not necessarily wasted,’ she answered. ‘No training is ever thrown away. Who knows? I might turn out to be the wonder of the age when I’m forty.’
‘There’s quite a bit of time to fill in before then,’ he reminded her. ‘I shall want a large slice of it, but you ought to have personal interests of your own. You can make a start on designing your wedding dress.’
‘A simple white affair so that the men can show off their tartans.’
Mr. Sutherland not only welcomed the news, but chided Fenella for her long delay. ‘Dear girl, you certainly took your time, didn’t you?’
‘But, Father, I’ve only known the man a few months!’ she said indignantly.
‘Your mother and I came to a decision in three weeks, although we waited a few months before we married, in case one of us cooled off.’
‘I’m glad you didn’t cool off, either of you.’ She bent to kiss her father’s cheek.
Cameron joined Fenella and her father in the latter’s sitting room for a small private celebration dinner, a superb meal chosen and cooked by Ernesco and served personally by Alvaro himself who was delighted to pour the champagne and join in the cries of ‘Slainte!’ to which he added his native ‘Salud, senorita.’
When at last Fenella went to her room, dazed by happiness, Laurie came.
‘I’ve been trying to see you for ages,’ she said, ‘but you were incommunicado, shut away from the vulgar gaze. Oh, Fenella, I’m terribly pleased at the news.’
‘What news?’ queried Fenella cautiously, uncertain whether the other girl was referring to some other exciting happening in the hotel.
‘Why, you and Cameron, of course! Don’t be coy.’
‘Laurie, I don’t know what to say. I thought perhaps you were rather—well, keen on Cameron.’
‘Oh, I was at first!’ Laurie admitted enthusiastically, without diffidence. ‘I thought he was gorgeous, but that was probably because I’d met so few presentable types. Now that I’ve had time to look around—being in the hotel, I mean—I realize that there are lots of men to choose from. And really, Cameron was a bit old for me.’
Fenella burst into delighted laughter. ‘Laurie, you’re a tonic!’ How wide was the difference in age between Laurie at eighteen and herself, nearly twenty. To Laurie a man nearly thirty seemed middle-aged.
‘I suppose Ian Coleford is nearer your age-group?’ Fenella hazarded.
‘M’m, but I’m not going to tie myself down to one man just yet.’ She hugged Fenella affectionately. ‘I must go. Alex is waiting outside to take me home.’
Fenella wondered if Miriam had already left the Gairmorlie, but next morning when she went on duty at six o’clock and checked in the maids on her floor, one of them said quietly, ‘You know Mrs. Erskine’s leaving? Sudden, isn’t it?’
‘Is she leaving?’ queried Fenella. ‘Oh, I see.’
‘Who’s going to take her place? You, Miss Sutherland?’
Fenella smiled and shook her head. ‘I shouldn’t think so.’ Fenella was sorry to lose Jamie. She had always been fond of the small, withdrawn boy and now felt compassion that he was to be uprooted yet again.
During the afternoon she went to see Angus, busy in the hotel kitchen-garden. Jamie was helping him plant rows of small globe-beets and endive. The boy was absorbed in his task, but when he saw Fenell
a he frowned and his face became downcast.
‘Ye’ll have heard we’re leaving?’ he said stormily. ‘I hate hotels! Why can’t we live in a wee hoose the same as other boys at school?’
‘But, Jamie, your mother has to work for you both.’ Fenella knelt down to try to comfort him.
‘Och, leave me be.’ He continued stubbornly to dig little holes for the plants.
Fenella had come to tell Angus her great news, unless he knew it already, but now thought better of it. If Jamie knew that she was going to marry Mr. Cam-Ram, he might imagine that his mother had decided to leave the Gairmorlie because of that.
There was no sign of Miriam and Mrs. Robertson told Fenella, ‘Mrs. Erskine is leaving this evening. She’s been busy packing and so on.’
Fenella hurried to the hotel shop, another of Cameron’s innovations, where chocolates, books, toys and souvenirs could be purchased. She must find something for Jamie, a small farewell present. She chose a chess set, small enough to carry about in his nomadic existence.
On the second floor she met Miriam, who gave her a smouldering stare.
‘I—I came to give Jamie a small present,’ Fenella explained.
‘He’s gone. He’s not in his room or any part of the hotel as far as we know.’ Miriam’s voice was stony.
‘Oh, Miriam! What’s happened?’
‘This is your doing!’ said Miriam in a low, harsh voice. ‘You’ve finally got both of us kicked out.’
‘But—but I’ve never done anything like that. I’ve always wanted Jamie here,’ protested Fenella.
‘But not me.’ Miriam’s dark eyes glittered. ‘Of course I was in the way. Well, you and your father have brilliantly succeeded in blackening me.’
‘Miriam, please don’t go away from us in anger.’ She laid her hand on the other’s arm, but Miriam violently threw it off.
‘As soon as Cameron came, you made up your mind to stay, so that you could hook him.’
‘That’s not true. Surely you were the one who tried those tactics.’
‘I nearly succeeded, too,’ said Miriam triumphantly, ‘but you undermined everything because you were Mr. Sutherland’s daughter.’