I stepped determinedly forward, trying to appear calm and unthreatening. Shaggy heads came up and horns tipped sideways, as protective maternal eyes watched my progress across the field.
I was in the centre of the wide green pasture when I heard Dhileas bark behind me. I turned abruptly. He was at the gate, scrambling under the lowest bar.
He saw me and barked twice, the sound sharp across the open ground between us. The cattle heard it too, and the heavy heads came around to the sound.
‘Go back, Dhileas!’ I shouted. ‘Go back!’
He stopped, whining, and then bounded forward. It was an unfamiliar command. I had always welcomed him before, and his whole joyful, bounding body spoke his certainty that I would welcome him again.
With rising fear I looked around me. The far wall was still a long way away, though the gate was even farther. The cattle were moving restlessly, hooves stamping and shifting, their wild eyes never leaving Dhileas. Suddenly they started toward him in a group, first walking then trotting then moving into a ponderous but effective gallop, their calves like little shadows at their heels.
Dhileas saw them, whined, and cowered sideways. There had been a day when he could have easily out-raced them, or boldly snapping at their heels, would have sent them on their way. Now he was old and crippled and turned pathetically to me for refuge.
He scuttled to my side, his black-spotted tail curled between his thin hind legs, curving his bony body against the protection of my skirts.
The cattle shifted their heavy shoulders, turning slightly, and continued their pursuit, now coming directly to me.
I had moments still in which I could turn and run. If I outran Dhileas I might make it to the wall. It was he they were after; their savage mother love demanded his destruction. I looked down at the thin, black head, the grey-speckled muzzle pressed against my leg, and the soft eyes trusting me to make everything all right. I could not leave him.
‘Come, Dhileas,’ I said, pushing him behind me with one hand, picking up a thin stick with the other. ‘Come on, boy.’
I began to walk backward, slowly, the stick held up to the cattle. They had come to a shuffling halt, heads tossing, and were spreading out in a watchful, restless circle, groaning and bellowing their anger.
One hairy, reddish beast charged forward a few steps, and Dhileas barked loudly, again and again. I slapped his muzzle to silence him, but the noise had its effect. The beast plunged forward, followed by others, and in moments we were surrounded by heavy, shoving red-brown shoulders, and tossing white horns.
I leapt backwards and Dhileas followed so close that I was tripping over him. The beasts were terrifyingly fast and agile, leaping and bucking. The air was full of their groaning, and Dhileas’s frightened bark cut through the low sound. Then behind me I heard another bark, louder and not at all frightened.
A furry, black streak scrambled past me and flew at the circle of cattle. It was Duncan’s tough young collie, and the kylies knew as well as I did that this was a very different dog indeed.
They backed off, facing him as he ran from one to the other, barking and nipping. Poor Dhileas rushed out from behind my skirts and tried to salvage his dignity with fierce growls from a safe distance.
‘Oh, Dhileas,’ I laughed, ‘I don’t think Seumas really needs your help.’
Duncan strode up behind me, his shepherd’s crook held warningly at the cattle, but it was not needed. They were already trotting obediently away, sheltering their calves ahead of them.
‘Elspeth, are you hurt?’ Duncan asked anxiously, his arm going about my shoulders.
‘No, not at all,’ I replied. ‘But I am certainly glad you and Seumas came just then.’
‘I heard the barking and the noise among the cattle, I knew something must not be right, with them.’ He walked with me to the stone wall, and Dhileas scampered playfully at our feet, his fear gone with the fortunate short memory of his kind.
Seumas, conscious of his position as our guardian, followed at a dignified pace behind, turning now and then to growl at the respectful cattle.
‘You should not have been bringing him with you,’ Duncan said, gesturing toward Dhileas. ‘He is no use for the cattle, and they are not liking dogs about just now.’
‘I know,’ I replied, ‘Uncle Iain told me about the cattle.’
‘Then why?’’ Duncan asked, surprised.
‘I did not bring him with me. I left him shut in the house. Someone must have let him out after I had gone.’ I paused, thinking quickly back. They had all been in the library; they had all heard Uncle Iain’s warning. Suddenly I knew then that Dhileas’s release had been no accident. Duncan clearly thought the same.
‘It will be that damned little fool again,’ he said roughly, as he helped me over the stone wall.
‘No Duncan,’ I said, ‘you must not say that. It could have been an accident. Perhaps one of the servants let him out without knowing.’ I tried to be as rational as I could, though my own mind was filled with suspicions.
‘He will not go with anyone but the family,’ Duncan said shortly. ‘He is always with Iain or Rowena.’
‘Or Roderick?’ I asked, feeling suddenly weak.
‘Yes,’ said Duncan, puzzled. ‘He will go with Roderick. But Roderick would not be wishing you any harm. He is too fond of you by half,’ he added sharply.
‘Roderick is fond of no one,’ I replied. ‘No one except Roderick.’
‘Now what is making you turn like that?’ Duncan asked, peering down at me. ‘There has been more than once that I have believed you thought most highly of him.’
‘Never!’ I said with quick, sharp vehemence.
‘Elspeth, what is wrong?’ Duncan asked, concerned, taking my face in his two strong hands. I started to cry, and he held me close to him, stroking my hair.
For a long time there seemed to be nothing in the world but Duncan and myself, the long stone wall, and the old dog and the young dog sitting side by side. I wished we could stay there, safe and free forever. Then the old fears came drifting in around us like the high, whistling wind.
‘Duncan,’ I said softly. ‘There is so much I have to tell you.’
Chapter Fifteen
‘So it was true then,’ said Duncan softly. ‘It was true after all.’
‘You had heard?’ I asked, astounded.
‘Och, we had heard,’ Duncan said slowly. I found it unbelievable that the secret of Christabel’s infidelity was shared by others.
‘But how?’ I asked.
Duncan looked off over the hill and said without facing me, ‘You see, Elspeth, there is talk, there is always talk of such things. Whether they are true or no, there will be talk. I have found it wisest to pay it no heed.’
‘Does Uncle Iain know?’ I asked faintly.
‘No. Never,’ Duncan said sharply. ‘It would never reach his ears, you see. It was for their own amusement.’
‘Whose amusement?’
‘The servants. Not all, and not most. But there are always one or two. It would be the ferry-wife’s daughter began it. She is no good, that one.’ I remembered the sly, hinting gossip of Bella MacDonald, knowing now its meaning.
‘She would do that,’ Duncan continued. ‘It would be like her to spy on her mistress. She spoke of there being proof. She would have read the diary, no doubt; she would find her chance, being housemaid, you see.’
‘Do you mean that Bella knew where the diary was hidden?’ I asked amazed.
‘Och aye, Bella is clever and as nosy as they come. She would find that out.’
‘Indeed,’ I said and then I was seeing again the Creagdhubh bridge in winter, and the skulking figure of Bella MacDonald, waiting there for Gordon and forcing on him words that he had no desire to hear. I realized then what she had told him and why he had fled in a rage from the humpbacked bridge.
The same night, the diary in my room was found and read by someone who knew exactly where to look.
‘Gordon,’ I whispered
. ‘It was Gordon.’
Duncan looked up quizzically and I explained, ‘The day you came and saved me from the bog, when I had first come to Creagdhubh. That afternoon I was standing at my window and I saw Bella MacDonald. I did not know her then, but I watched her because she acted so strangely, as if she waited for someone. Then Gordon came from the house eventually and she called to him. They talked, argued on the bridge. He was very angry. I thought he would hit her, but instead he ran away to the house, and she, too, ran down the road. It was odd then,’ I continued, ‘It had no meaning.’
I paused and then said softly, ‘But that same night was the night someone first came to my room and read the diary, as I told you. Read it, but did not take it. I had thought it must have been Roderick, though I could not see why he did not take it then, as he did later.
‘But you see,’ I went on, ‘it was not Roderick the first time, but Gordon. Gordon read the diary, but he did not take it, because he had not the heart to destroy it. It was his mother’s, and as hateful as the words in it must have been, it was still, like all of her possessions, sacred to him. You know how he is.’
‘Aye, I know,’ said Duncan. ‘So Bella had her revenge for her dismissal. She would have heard from the servant girls that the room was open. And she came and told Gordon where to find the diary, simply out of spite.’ Duncan spoke quietly with a hard edge to his voice.
‘But he most know, then!’ I exclaimed suddenly. ‘He must know about Roderick, and yet they are friends, the best of friends. Roderick is the only person Gordon appears to like. It makes no sense.’
‘Gordon is mad,’ Duncan replied calmly. ‘There’s no sense in madness.’
‘But,’ I went on, ‘surely when he read the diary he would have wanted to kill Roderick, after what he did to Christabel.’
‘Perhaps he does,’ Duncan answered. ‘Perhaps he is only waiting.’
I shuddered. ‘Waiting for what?’
‘The right time?’ Duncan said. ‘Who knows? Possibly he covers his hatred with friendship, until the occasion suits him. Gordon will have his vengeance. In his own time.’
I had no love for Roderick, but I felt cold inside thinking of what Gordon might have in store for him. I had had glimpses of the depths of Gordon’s hatred.
‘What will he do when he hears that Roderick is planning to marry his sister?’ I said.
‘I doubt that they will tell him until afterwards. And then, God alone knows what he will do.’
‘We must stop them, Duncan,’ I said. ‘We cannot let this marriage go on.’
Duncan laughed coldly. ‘Why not? I am thinking that they are well suited, those two.’
‘No, Duncan. It is not fair to say that. Rowena is foolish and selfish, but she is very young. Roderick is simply evil. There are no excuses for him. She does not deserve that.’
‘It is her choice,’ he said. ‘That is her right.’
‘It is also her right to be wisely advised by those around her. And I am suspicious of his motives.’
‘Why so?’ said Duncan. ‘At least he is having her honestly. There are other ways than marriage, after all.’
‘Yes,’ I said, thoughtfully. ‘There are other ways, but I think marriage better suits his purpose.’
‘Which is what?’
‘Did you know,’ I said, watching his face, ‘that Christabel had money of her own, and that she left it all to Rowena?’
His red-gold brows went up sharply. ‘Did she now?’ he said, impressed. And then, ‘Och, well, now I am seeing the sense of it. I had been wondering why a man like Roderick with a plentiful choice of beautiful women would be wanting to tie himself to that little vixen. But now I am seeing.’
‘Seeing what?’ I asked, though I had an idea.
‘Were you knowing now why Roderick stays at Creagdhubh?’
‘To work?’ I said.
‘Och, his work!’ Duncan said distastefully. ‘No it is not his work. Iain is very kind, and there is the family loyalty. Roderick’s father had a goodly fortune you see, but he had too a liking for the gambling. And two older sons. There was not much left for Roderick. He is the poor relation. That is why he comes to Creagdhubh. He cannot afford to live in London.’
‘I did not know,’ I said.
‘Of course not,’ Duncan answered. ‘Sir Iain would not have spoken of it.’
‘He is marrying her for her money.’
‘Well it will not be for her sweet nature, I am thinking,’ said Duncan.
We got up from the wall and began walking down its length, skirting the pasture so as not to enrage the cattle. It was getting late.
‘So Roderick would not dare ask for Rowena’s hand, with no money to support her. That is why he has spoken of elopement,’ I said.
‘He is a fool, too, then,’ Duncan replied. ‘Had he been honest, he could have had the girl and all the money he needs from her father.’
‘It is not his way to be honest,’ I replied.
We walked slowly, the black collie Seumas in the lead and old Dhileas following close to my skirts, glancing warily at the beasts in the field. I looked up at Duncan and said, ‘What am I to do? For Uncle Iain’s sake, I must do something.’
Duncan was silent, looking at the back of the black collie. After a long while he said, ‘Go to Rowena and tell her that she must speak with her father or else I will.’ He paused and then said sadly, ‘And then you must leave Creagdhubh, Elspeth, until this is all settled. It is no longer safe here for you.’
‘No,’ I said instantly. ‘I cannot leave now. I must stay for Uncle Iain and for us.’
‘Please, Elspeth,’ he said, ‘please go. I cannot explain, but I know it is dangerous now for you.’ He had that same troubled look as I had seen the day he gave me the Iona cross, as if he were reading something frightening written on the black fur of the collie dog’s back.
It frightened me, but I was determined to stay, and reluctantly he gave in, though he made me promise I would be watchful of all around me. I was willing enough; I had long been watchful of the household of Creagdhubh.
Later that evening, it was with Duncan’s warning very much in my mind that I went to see Rowena.
I found her in her room sitting alone, working painstakingly at her needlepoint. Her hand was skilled and the work was quite exquisite. She looked both innocent and lonely sitting quietly in her simple blue dress. I had a rare rush of sympathy for her, but as I spoke she looked up, her dark brown eyes intensely guarded.
‘What do you want?’ she demanded in a hushed, wary voice.
‘I would like to talk,’ I said, adding, ‘if it is all right,’ as she had made no reply.
Reluctantly she gestured to a high-backed, tapestry chair at the fireside. I felt that she feared what I might say, but also feared not hearing me out, in case I went to her father instead.
‘That is very lovely,’ I said, indicating the needlepoint design. ‘Your work is very fine. Will that be for your trousseau, now?’ I said it lightly and her eyes flashed, her slim fingers gripping the fabric in her hands.
‘Do not mock me, Elspeth. I am not a child any more. I will soon be old enough to marry, just as you are, and then we will be equals.’
‘I was not mocking,’ I replied seriously.
‘Then why do you laugh at me? Why must you come prying? Why can you not believe the truth? We are in love and we want to be married. It is natural enough. We are no different from yourself and Duncan.’
‘I have not spoken of marriage,’ I reminded her.
‘And you need not. The whole house knows, the servants speak of nothing else. Catriona makes me positively ill with it, all her foolish chatter about love.’ Her hands came up to her face; I saw tears start on her cheeks.
‘They are all so happy for you. Why can no one be happy for me and Roderick?’
Again I felt sympathy flood me for her, and I leaned forward and said softly, ‘But how can we be happy for you? You yourself insist on secrecy. Why not tell your
father so that we can have a proper wedding with all your friends around you?’
‘I have no friends,’ she said in a little, quiet voice. ‘Mother was my friend and she is gone. Besides, Roderick wants to run away. He will take me to France. He has promised.’ She spoke with the desperation of a child seeing some longed-for treasure slipping suddenly away.
‘Rowena,’ I said then, ‘I do not think Roderick will take you to France. I do not think he can. Travel is very expensive, and Roderick is not a rich man.’
Her eyes opened wide, and she stared at me with such anger that I tensed for her to slap me.
‘How did you know … who told you?’ she demanded fiercely. Then she answered for herself, ‘Duncan. It was Duncan, wasn’t it? I do not know how he knew that, but he had no right to tell you.’ Her strong chin came up suddenly, and she said proudly. ‘I know Roderick has no money. He told me. Money does not matter. I have plenty. Roderick must be free of such worries so that his art may grow. I will take care of that.’
‘And is he quite happy with such an arrangement?’
‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘Our love goes beyond such matters.’
I stood waiting for the fury of her cutting tongue. In her young face, I knew then that my cause was lost. She was determined to be in love with this man, and no matter what I said, she would stand-up for him. She was totally, hopelessly in his power.
Abruptly I walked to the door and, turning, said to her, ‘I cannot dissuade you from this marriage. And when you are of age, your father’s legal rights no longer bind you. I can say only this: this man whom you love is not worthy of your love. In that knowledge, it is my duty to inform your father of your plans. Though I acknowledge your right to do so first, if you would rather.’
I stood waiting for the fury of her cutting tongue. Instead she said perfectly calmly, ‘But of course, Elspeth, I have every intention of telling my father. Would you expect me to do otherwise? He will know within the month.’ Her sweet, demure smile followed me out of the room.
Christabel's Room: A spellbinding Victorian gothic romance Page 14