To Scotland and Love Page 3

  At the same time it was a life that he knew nothing about except from his mother.

  He would be like a small boy going to his school for the very first time.

  He put his hand up to his forehead.

  ‘I must have somebody to help me,’ he thought, ‘otherwise I shall surely make a series of mistakes and perhaps become the laughing stock of the Clan.’

  It was a sensible idea, but the question was, who could assist him?

  Chapter Two

  Just as he was going through the door of his lodgings, Talbot remembered his mother’s friend, General Sir Iain MacDowall.

  He had not seen him for nearly two years.

  Sir Iain had come constantly to the house when his mother was alive and was also a good friend of his father’s.

  He had been an outstandingly brave soldier who had commanded the Royal Scots Greys, one of Scotland’s finest Regiments, before he retired.

  Talbot could remember long conversations with him about Scotland and its future..

  He thought now that the one person who could help him and give him some idea of what his duties would be as Chieftain of the Clan would be Sir Iain.

  Accordingly, he walked down Piccadilly, past Hyde Park Corner and eventually reached Chapel Street, where Sir Iain lived.

  It was a small house crushed between two larger and taller ones.

  When he knocked on the door, he wondered if perhaps Sir Iain might have gone away or was living in a different part of London.

  In which case his visit to see him would be pointless.

  It was some minutes before the door was opened.

  But, instead of a servant, as he had expected, there was a young and very pretty girl who looked at him enquiringly.

  “I would like if it is possible,” Talbot began, “to see Sir Iain MacDowall.”

  When the girl did not reply, he gave an exclamation and said,

  “Surely I am not mistaken in thinking that you must be Tara?”

  The girl smiled.

  “And you are Talbot Marsham. It is a long time since we have seen you.”

  “It is indeed,” Talbot replied, “but, after my mother died, I lost touch with many of her friends including your father.”

  “He often spoke of you,” Tara said, “but I had no idea after your house was closed where you had gone.”

  Talbot suddenly felt guilty.

  He realised that it would have been polite, if nothing else, to have actually called on Sir Iain every now and then

  Then Tara MacDowall said,

  “If you have come to see Papa, I am afraid that you will be disappointed. He – died a – month ago.”

  “I am very sorry to hear that,” Talbot said. “It must have been very distressing for you.”

  “Papa was ill and in great pain so in a way it was a merciful release for him.”

  She spoke in a low voice that told Talbot just how much she minded losing her beloved father.

  Then in another tone she said,

  “But, please come in. We are talking on the doorstep and, if you are interested, I have a great deal to tell you.”

  “And I have a lot to tell you,” Talbot said. “That is why I have come to your father for help.”

  As they were talking, Tara led the way up the narrow staircase to the first floor.

  It consisted of a small drawing room with two windows both looking out onto the street below. There was also one at the back that looked out over the Mews.

  “Do sit down,” Tara suggested, “and tell me why you needed Papa’s help.”

  Talbot sat on a sofa and, as he did so, he was looking at Tara and thinking how much she had altered since he had last set eyes on her.

  The last time that he had seen her she had looked an untidy sixteen-year-old.

  Now he reckoned that she was eighteen and she had developed into a very lovely young woman.

  In fact, he thought, she was far more beautiful than many of the debutantes he had seen at the balls that he had attended recently.

  “If your father is dead,” he asked, “who is looking after you, Tara?”

  He knew that Lady MacDowall had died some years earlier after a short illness.

  It suddenly struck him that Tara was not wearing mourning except for a black sash at her waist.

  The house seemed very quiet.

  “I am – afraid I am – alone here,” Tara admitted.

  “Alone?” Talbot exclaimed. “But that is impossible.”

  “It seems strange,” she agreed, “but I was informed as soon as Papa died that his pension died with him. As Mama was already dead, there was no widow to provide for.”

  Talbot stared at her in astonishment.

  “Are you telling me,” he asked, “that you have no money?”

  Tara smiled.

  “It sounds – horrifying, does it not?” she answered. “But that is the truth. I am trying to find employment of some sort but finding it – very difficult.”

  Talbot frowned.

  It was what he had been doing himself and he fully understood the many difficulties.

  He thought that it was wrong for Tara, who was so young and so lovely, to be traipsing round London trying to persuade people to employ her.

  “What are you thinking of doing?” he asked,

  “I thought I could be a Governess to young children, but the Domestic Bureau to which I went told me that I was too young and far too – pretty – ”

  She hesitated over the last word and blushed, as if she was embarrassed by what she had to say.

  “They were quite right,” Talbot said. “It is not the sort of life for you.”

  He remembered as he spoke how he had always heard that Governesses, if they were at all attractive, could be the prey of the employer or his sons.

  If they refused to comply with what was demanded of them, they were dismissed without a reference.

  “You did not come here to talk about me,” Tara said, “and I feel sure that I will find – something. Tell me do, why – you are here.”

  “I came to see your father,” Talbot replied, “because an extraordinary thing happened to me only a short while ago.”

  “What was that?” Tara asked.

  “A Scotsman arrived yesterday at my lodgings to inform me that my grandfather, the Earl of Cairnloch, was dead.”

  “He must have been very old,” Tara said. “I remember Papa telling your mother that he knew him and had actually stayed in his Castle in the North of Scotland.”

  “He was over eighty,” Talbot replied, “but, because his only son died a long time ago, my mother would have inherited the title.”

  “Oh, yes. Of course she would,” Tara agreed. “In Scotland an inheritance it can go in the female line.”

  “That is what I have learnt when the senior Elder of the Clan came to see me,” Talbot answered. “Finding that my mother was dead, he then informed me that I am the new Earl and Chieftain of the Clan McCairn!”

  Tara clasped her hands together.

  “Oh, Talbot, how splendid for you. And how delighted Papa would have been if he was still with us.”

  “I can hardly believe it is true,” Talbot said, “but what I do know is that I don’t know what is expected of me or how I should behave. That is why I came to your father for his help and advice.”

  “And I know that Papa would have been only too willing to give it to you,” Tara said. “I remember now long ago, when you and I were talking about Scotland, you said that you had never danced the Reels and I told you that you ought to learn them at once.”

  “I do remember that and I thought at the time it was impertinent of a little chit, as you were then, to give me orders!”

  “Have you learnt them since?” Tara asked almost aggressively.

  “No, of course not,” he replied. “And that is another thing that I am completely ignorant about besides having no idea of what is expected of a Chieftain when he meets with his Clan for the first time. And Andrew McCairn, who came from Scotland to give me the news, tells me that I must wear the kilt.”

  “Of course you must,” Tara agreed. “It would look all wrong for you to be walking about dressed as you are now. Besides, as you know, all the Clans in the North dislike the English.”

  “That is something I do know,” Talbot said, “considering the way my mother was treated because she married an Englishman.”

  “Your father was so charming,” Tara smiled. “I can understand Lady Janet running away with him. It must have been ‒ very very romantic.”

  “It was not very romantic when I found that, when my father died, there was no money. And to tell you the truth, I was desperate this morning, wondering where my next meal was coming from.”

  “And now you are a rich man and very important,” Tara cried. “It is like a Fairy Story.”

  “In which I shall behave like the ‘Demon King’ unless somebody helps me and prevents me from making a thousand mistakes and so that I don’t antagonise everybody the moment I set foot on Scottish soil.”

  Talbot spoke intensely and there was a little silence before Tara proposed,

  “I am – sure I can – help you. Tell me what you – want to know.”

  “You will have to help me,” Talbot answered, “and you had better start instructing me quickly because, pressed by Andrew McCairn, I will be leaving for the North in three days’ time.”

  His eyes twinkled as he added,

  “I think the only reason he is waiting so long is that I should have the kilt made for me so that he will not be ashamed of appearing with a Sassenach, who has the Union Jack round his neck.”

  Tara chuckled.

  Then she said,

  “Of course you must not do that. I am sure, if he can get you a k
ilt, I can find you jackets and sporrans of Papa’s, which will tide you over until you find a good tailor in the North.”

  “That is exceedingly kind of you,” Talbot said, “but I most certainly have not come here to impose on you.”

  Then he added quickly,

  “But, of course! I have just remembered that I now have money and can buy from you anything you are kind enough to let me have.”

  “Can you imagine Papa allowing that?” Tara asked. “You know how proud he was. And, if it is for Scotland, he would have given you the shirt off his back.”

  “If we are talking about pride the Scottish half of me is very proud so, of course, I cannot accept charity even if it comes from a friend.”

  They looked at each other and then they both began to laugh.

  “This conversation is quite ridiculous!” Tara said. “Of course you may borrow anything you require of Papa’s and, when they are no longer useful, you can send them back to me.”

  “And what about the Reels?” Talbot asked. “Are you going to teach them to me?”

  “I suppose I shall have to,” Tara answered, “but there is not much time. However, you certainly cannot go to The Castle, their Chieftain, having to be a ‘wallflower’ while the others are all dancing their hearts out.”

  Talbot rose from the sofa and walked towards the window.

  He stood with his back to the room, looking out onto the sunlit streets.

  He was thinking about the large crowd of Clansmen who will be waiting for him to come to rule over them.

  That is exactly what they expected from their Chieftain.

  He wished now with all his heart that he had listened more intently to everything that he had ever heard about Scotland.

  Because he had thought it unlikely that he would ever go there, he had not asked what he realised now were important and searching questions.

  He had merely listened to his mother and she would tell him how beautiful it was and how much the skirl of the pipes meant to her at any time of the day.

  Then he was aware that Tara had come to his side.

  “You must not be – frightened,” she said. “Papa always said how clever you were and I am sure you will find yourself doing naturally what is expected of you. Your instinct will tell you what is right and what is wrong.”

  “My instincts tell me it would be very wrong, from my point of view, not to know a great deal more about the life of a Chieftain than I know at the moment. Don’t forget I start at a disadvantage because my father was English and they will just be waiting for me to put my foot in it. Especially those relations who have never forgiven my mother for running away with him.”

  “Had your mother any sisters?” Tara asked. “I have forgotten.”

  “According to Andrew McCairn,” Talbot replied, “there is a sister, Lady Heather, whose son would very much like to take the place that I am to occupy. In fact he is an applicant for the Chieftainship, but the Elders insisted that my mother was certainly the rightful heir.”

  “That is what they would do,” Tara said, “and the Elders are very important to you. You must get them all on your side.”

  Talbot made a helpless gesture and Tara went on,

  “You must first ask this man, Andrew McCairn, to tell you about them, who they are and what families they have. That will make it easier for you to talk to them when you arrive and when you tour the Clan lands.”

  “And what else will happen?” Talbot asked her.

  Tara reeled off a dozen things that he would be expected to understand and know about.

  Talbot put up his hands in protest.

  “If you think I can absorb all that in a few seconds, you are mistaken,” he said. “The only thing you can do is to teach me hour by hour during the few days I remain in London – and I am going to take notes that I can refer to whenever I am at a loss for the best thing to do.”

  “I am sure that it will not be as bad as you think,” she said. “Of course I will tell you everything you should know, but you must learn the Reels, it is essential.”

  She then pushed aside one of the armchairs and suggested,

  “Let me show you a few steps now which you have to make in Stripping the Willow. It is going to be difficult for two of us to dance the Eightsome Reel, but at least you can try to remember the movements.”

  She started to hum the tune that they could dance to and then she showed him the steps.

  They were not complicated and he thought that, given the right music and a dance floor, it would not take him long to become proficient.

  He was, as it happened, a good dancer because he was naturally athletic.

  He thought, as he danced with Tara, that she was like a piece of thistledown. She was so light that she might easily float away from him on the wind.

  They danced round until Tara threw herself down on the sofa.

  “There!” she cried. “You see how easy it is – and think how magnificent you will look when you are wearing the kilt, the Chieftain’s sporran and a skean dhu in your tartan hose.”

  “That is just the sort of thing I will forget,” Talbot said, “and I shall doubtless forget the brooch that pins that piece of tweed, or whatever it is called, to my shoulder.”

  “Your plaid,” Tara then corrected him, “and the brooch contains a Cairngorm from the Highlands.”

  Talbot leaned back in the comfortable armchair.

  “It is all too much,” he sighed. “I think I had better stay in England and leave Scotland to look after itself.”

  He was speaking jokingly and then it occurred to him that, if he did stay in England, he would probably starve to death.

  Perhaps that could also be applied to Tara.

  He was suddenly aware that she was very thin and wondered if it was perhaps because of a lack of food.

  “When you said that you had no money,” he asked in a serious voice, “did you mean that this house does not belong to you?”

  Tara shook her head.

  “Papa rented it twenty years ago when he first married Mama. It has always been our home, although he hoped when he retired that we would be able to live in the country.”

  “Is not the furniture yours?” Talbot asked.

  Tara blushed.

  “It is all mine,” she said, “but I have already sold one or two things and, if I can find somewhere to work, I will, of course, sell the rest.”

  “You cannot be a Governess,” Talbot said firmly. “I do not think it is at all suitable for you. What else can you do?”

  Tara put out her hand.

  “It seems ridiculous when I have been so well educated but the woman in the Domestic Bureau was not at all hopeful. She said that I might get a job as a companion to an old lady or perhaps be a secretary to somebody who is blind and could not write their own letters. But such cases are very few and far between.”

  “A secretary,” Talbot repeated. “Tara, I have an idea!”

  “What is it?” she asked.

  He knew by the expression in her eyes that she was not particularly hopeful that he would come up with any job that she would wish to do.

  He knew without being told that she was fearful and extremely worried by the position that she was in.

  Before he told her what he was thinking, he asked,

  “Surely you have some relative somewhere who would take you in to live with them?”

  “I have thought of that,” Tara answered, “but Papa was the only son and had one sister who has been ill for some years and resides in a Nursing Home. I suppose we have cousins and certainly a few of them came to Papa’s funeral.”

  She paused and then continued in a low voice,

  “But they did not seem in any way interested in me. I am quite sure that they would be horrified by the idea that I – might have to – live with them.”

  “Very well,” Talbot remarked. “Now I have an idea that I want you to listen to very carefully.”

  “Of course I am listening,” Tara smiled, “as I have been ever since you arrived.”

  “I think actually you have been instructing me and expecting me to listen to you,” Talbot pointed out.

  “I was only trying to – help,” Tara parried defensively.

  “That is exactly what you were doing and that is why I want you to go on doing it.”

  She looked at him in a puzzled fashion and he explained,

  “When Andrew McCairn visited me just now, I could see that he was shocked at the garret I am living in in Half Moon Street. It is an attic that I pay only a few shillings a week for. It is all I could possibly afford.”