The Richness of Love Read online

  Feeling that it was useless to try and sleep now that the morning had come, Moira rose from her bed and began to brush her long, dark hair.

  In the passageway outside, she could hear movement. Pulling on a robe, she slowly opened the door.

  “Ah, Moira. Good morning.”

  It was Ewen.

  “I could not sleep last night, Ewen. My head was simply spinning.”

  “Aye, mine too. Shall we take a walk along the brae before breakfast? I feel the need to take myself away from the castle for a while.”

  “Give me fifteen minutes and shall I meet you outside the kitchen garden?”

  Ewen nodded and yawned. He had not shaved and there was a hint of red stubble appearing on his chin.

  Fifteen minutes later, Moira had dressed and pulled on a pair of stout boots.

  They were soon climbing up the hill behind the castle. The heather was deep underfoot and dew still clung to the blooms.

  As they edged along the Loch, they both paused for a moment to look over the land that had been in the Strathcarron family for three hundred years.

  Neither of them could believe that it was about to come to an end, and that some anonymous American bank may be about to inherit everything.

  “What can we do, Ewen? We must take some action. I cannot bear to sit by and watch all this being taken away from us.”

  “Mary, Queen of Scots gave us this land,” sighed Ewen, “and to think of it being owned by foreigners is heresy!”

  “But father seemed certain that there was no way out. Father gave Harwood the deeds, Ewen.”

  “If I know father, the deed that Harwood has is merely a copy. Father is a canny man – not a buffoon. He would never have given him the real deeds. But I agree, we have to do something and without mother and father knowing – the shame would kill them if they thought that their children were trying to help them out.”

  Moira nodded in agreement. Their parents were fiercely proud and, as long as they lived under their roof, would never countenance their children providing for them.

  “We could find jobs – ”

  “That would not save the castle, Moira.”

  “What about if we sold the estate off, farm by farm, before the creditors arrived?”

  “No, we cannot.”

  “Or we could go and see father’s lawyer and talk to him. Surely whatever he signed could not be binding outside America?”

  “That is a good idea, Moira and aye, we should indeed pay Mr. Clooney a visit, but the best solution would be if we could buy father out of trouble.”

  Moira looked at her brother aghast.

  “How could we do that? We have no private income and no assets.”

  “We could marry.”

  “And pray, how would that help?”

  “Ah, if we both married rich spouses then maybe their families would be of a mind to help ours. It is a cruel injustice that father has brought upon himself, but an injustice nevertheless and many a fair-minded man would take up the cudgels on behalf of he who was wronged.”

  “But is that not for Mr. Clooney to attend to?”

  “Mr. Clooney charges a crown to enter his office, where would we find the money to fight this through the courts?”

  Moira remained silent – she was thinking of Stuart Weston. If she had to marry for money, then she would want her husband to be a man like him.

  But how could she discover whether he had enough money to take them out of trouble? She resolved to find out through some devious feminine way, but she realised that now was not the time to broach the subject with Ewen. She must keep it to herself.

  “Ewen, I am sure that mother has sold off the family silver the missing candelabra, the oyster bowl and there was that enormous pair of candlesticks.”

  “That would certainly explain the fine fare that graced our table when Harwood was staying. How I would like to get my hands on him! It makes my blood boil.”

  “I believe that mother has sold her pearls as well.”

  “Not the ones grandfather gave her when I was born?”

  “Yes, the very same.”

  “Well, this is a fine business, Moira, I am afraid we have no alternative – marriage to a rich husband and wife it has to be.”

  “But I would feel as if I were selling myself,” protested Moira angrily. She did not like all this talk of marriage for money as she wanted to marry for love and preferably Stuart Weston!

  “It is either that or we end up living off the charity of relatives,” replied Ewen dourly, “or worse still, the workhouse.”

  Moira could stand it no more. She ran away along the banks of Loch Earn and up onto the brae. Sobbing she threw herself onto a rock.

  ‘I will not marry a man I do not love,’ she wept pulling moss off the rock in anger. ‘I will not!’

  Having followed her some way behind, Ewen appeared over the top of the brae and ran towards his sister.

  “Don’t fret, Moira, don’t fret. Happen you’ll meet someone you will fall in love with and he will be rich too. You have to see that this is our only course of action. I am not relishing wedding a girl for her money, but it is that or we face the consequences.”

  Moira dried her tears and sat down on the rock with her brother. The sun was climbing high in the sky and she realised that it must be way past breakfast time by now.

  “You are right, Ewen, but how will we find these people? You have already met and discarded all the eligible young ladies hereabouts. And there is no one suitable in Edinburgh who is not either a toothless hag or a pan-faced wench.”

  Ewen began to laugh.

  “You are too choosy, Ewen,” continued Moira, “you have met some perfectly delightful young ladies over the past few years, but you deemed that none were good enough for you.”

  “Aye, well, that was before I was in dire need. No, sister, we need to look further afield than Edinburgh.”

  He paused and looked thoughtful as he continued,

  “Where? Glasgow? Aberdeen? Please do not suggest Newcastle. London?”

  “London!” cried Moira, looking shocked. “We cannot go to London. There is not the money and where would we stay?”

  “I think that our dear friends the Cunninghams owe us a favour. It is indirectly because of them that we now find ourselves in this situation. We should write to them and tell them of our intention to take them up on their offer of hospitality. They know all the right people, they have rich friends aplenty. We could easily catch ourselves a pair of worthy spouses.”

  “I do not know. I will need to consider this idea at length.”

  “Well, don’t tarry, sister, we have very little time.”

  Ewen helped his sister rise and held her hand tightly all the way back to the castle.

  It was a gloomy greeting they encountered upon their return.

  “Ewen and Moira. Where have you been?”

  The Countess rushed towards them as they entered the hallway.

  “We went for a wee walk, mother, nothing else.”

  “What is wrong, mother?” asked Moira sensing her disquiet.

  “It is your father he has taken to his bed and refuses to get up. Ewen, I was hoping you might be able to persuade him of his folly.”

  “I will try, mother,” he replied making for the staircase.

  “You missed breakfast,” said the Countess quietly as Ewen disappeared upstairs.

  “Yes, I know. Neither of us slept at all well last night and we wanted to go for a long walk. I am sorry but we must have lost track of time. What is the time now?”

  “Half-past ten. Cook will heat up some porridge if you ask her.”

  With a heavy heart, Moira took her leave and wandered off towards the kitchen.

  “Ah, there ye are, my Lady!”

  Cook was already reheating a saucepan of porridge on the iron range.

  “And where is your brother?”

  “He is with my father – ”

  “Aye, terrible business when a ma
n like him takes to his bed,” muttered cook stirring the porridge fiercely.

  Moira wished that she had a friend to confide in. There was so much troubling her and she longed to discuss her private thoughts with a trusted friend someone – like Stuart perhaps.

  But apart from the few acquaintances in Edinburgh whom she had not seen in over a year, there were no friends to be found on the estate. They had always been such a close family until the Earl had torn them apart and now Moira felt more alone than ever.

  *

  The Earl refused to come down from his bedroom and all of Ewen’s pleadings seemed to fall on deaf ears.

  A week passed and still the Earl remained steadfastly in his bed.

  Ewen became restless. Now that he had decided upon a plan to help save the estate, he was eager to implement it. However, Moira had flatly refused to let him tell their parents, saying that until their father improved, they could not possible leave him.

  “But Moira, every day we linger here brings us closer to being ejected from our home,” howled Ewen in exasperation.

  “Ewen, I understand but I fear for father. The shock of our plan could kill him.”

  “Darling sister, the shock of being evicted from his ancestral home is much more likely to kill him.”

  Moira thought long and hard on her brother’s words and eventually, she conceded that he was right. They could not delay any longer Christmas was almost upon them and if they did not catch the round of Yuletide balls, they would have to wait until the spring. By which time, Lednock may be in the hands of Harwood’s creditors.

  So, the next day, Moira and Ewen told their mother of their decision.

  “Heavens!” she reacted. “Why are you leaving us when we need you most? Ewen, Moira, I beg of you both, I need you here.”

  “But mother, would you stand in the way of us finding a solution to save the estate?”

  “How so?” enquired the Countess,

  “I cannot say, mother. But rest assured, the main purpose of this trip is not to make merry but to save the day. You must trust me – this is for the good of the family.”

  The Countess sank down onto the velvet sofa in the drawing room.

  “London,” she said, breathlessly, “and where will you stay? I will not have you accepting charity – ”

  “Mother, we would not dream of besmirching the family’s reputation by begging,” intervened Moira. “We will be staying with the Cunninghams. I will telegraph them presently. You may recall that when they stayed with us last year, they said we must return the visit – and so we intend to take them up on their kind offer.”

  The Countess considered Moira’s words for a while.

  “I will tell your father in my own time. Leave that much to me, please. Now, when do you intend to leave?”

  “Very soon – possibly within the next few days,” replied Ewen. “I have some business to attend to on the estate and then I will travel to Perth to call upon a friend of mine who may be in a position to help us with our journey South.”

  ‘Please let it be Stuart,’ hoped Moira fervently. She had gleaned from subtly questioning cook that Stuart lived in Perth. Cook knew all the locals from Stirling to Dundee – she had worked in many grand houses in the past.

  “Who would that be?” she demanded of her brother.

  “He is an old friend – don’t worry, we will not be in the hands of brigands.”

  “All the same, I wish to be assured of your sister’s safety,” interrupted the Countess. “I trust this friend is known to us?”

  “He is, aye,” answered Ewen mysteriously.

  Later that afternoon Moira and Ewen discussed their plans as they took a turn around the grounds.

  “Aye, we will need a substantial amount of money,” Ewen declared. “It is not just keeping the creditors at bay that concerns me. The castle is in urgent need of repair.”

  Moira gazed up at the turrets and the battlements. Lednock had been built in the style of the much older castle that had once stood there. To the untrained eye, the castle looked fourteenth century at least, when it was in fact built in the sixteenth century.

  “This place has so many memories,” she murmured. “Should someone else live here, it would feel as if all the happy times we spent here would vanish into nothingness.”

  “No, I keep my memories in here, “replied Ewen thumping his heart. “But it’s true, every stone, every window has a tale to tell, and to never stand here and look over the Loch. Why, it would be unthinkable!”

  “Ewen, I worry so for our father. It is not right that a man his age should take to his bed. Mother says that he has hardly eaten and I fear for his health and sanity.”

  “He is of sound mind yet,” countered Ewen angrily. “Our father is not mad simply because he made a wrong decision. Have a care how you speak about him.”

  Moira felt ashamed of herself, but even so, she felt deeply resentful that her father had jeopardised the family’s security on what she perceived to be a whim.

  As they both walked to the stables in silence, she finally spoke up,

  “It is mother I worry for too, Ewen. If the worst came and we were evicted from the castle, you and I would surely survive somehow. We would be able and willing to work for others, but mother – she has never worked and would not countenance living off the charity of well-meaning relatives. How would she survive?”

  Ewen stroked his stallion’s head. The horse had heard his voice and had put his fine chestnut head out of his stable door.

  “I will miss you, Sturrock,” he crooned, caressing his ears and mane. “But I will return soon I promise you.”

  “Ewen, the horses! We would lose them too should Lednock be repossessed.”

  Moira thought of her mount Jessie, a doughty, bay mare. The horse had been a present from her father when Moira was just thirteen and the pair had become firm friends. She knew she could not bear to part with her.

  “Then all the more reason for us to travel to London and resolve this delicate matter,” muttered Ewen.

  He loved his Sturrock every bit as much as Moira loved Jessie.

  As the two made their way back to the castle, they were dismayed to see a black carriage standing by the front entrance.

  Moira grabbed her brother’s arm, feeling quite faint.

  “Ewen, surely it is not the creditors already.”

  She felt hot and sick. A man dressed all in black climbed out of the carriage. He was carrying a large folio and held the air of one who was on official business.

  “Come, sister, we must see what brings this man to the door of the Strathcarrons.”

  Ewen strode off in front of her, his expression grim.

  ‘Please do not let it be the creditors,’ she prayed, as she reluctantly followed him. Fear gripped her heart and made her legs feel curiously unstable.

  By the time she had made her way to the drawing room, she could hardly breathe.

  The Countess was seated and was reading some kind of document, whilst the tall thin man in black stood by the fireplace.

  Ewen wore an angry expression and was remonstrating with the man as Moira walked in.

  “But this is outrageous,” he was saying. “How can that be?”

  “Mother, Ewen, what is it?” she enquired nervously.

  “Darling, do not be alarmed. This gentleman has come to serve us notice to complete an inventory of the estate. That is all. It does not mean that our departure from here is imminent.”

  “And I say it is the business of no man how many horses or pairs of boots I own,” erupted Ewen.

  “Darling, the gentleman is not asking for a list of the contents of your wardrobe,” answered the Countess calmly.

  “My Lady, I will return in a month’s time to see that it has been completed. You will receive more instructions forthwith. I will see myself out.”

  The man buckled up his folio and gave a short bow. Turning on his heels, he nodded to Ewen and Moira before leaving the room.

&nbs
p; It was all too, too much for the Countess. She broke into sobs, crumpling up the form for the inventory in her hand.

  Ewen rushed to his mother’s side to comfort her.

  “Does father know about this?”

  “Not yet.”

  “We must keep this development from the servants. Should they find out, they will panic and leave us.”

  The Countess blew her nose on her lace hanky and nodded in agreement.

  “You are wise, darling. I think it is best if we maintain that we have had a visit from a representative of Mr. Clooney. We do not want servants’ gossip making this whole unseemly affair even worse.”

  “Yes, mother,” replied Moira, “shall I speak to Rankin?”

  “No, I will see him later when I am feeling more able. I must first go and break the news to your father.”

  “Mother, there is no need to bother him with such a trifle. I will take care of it.”

  Ewen pulled himself up to his full height with a steely glint in his eye. The Countess regarded him with pride such a fine son.

  Moira hastened over to where her mother sat and took the place next to her.

  “Mother, how is father today?”

  “Much the same,” came the reply. “He eats not enough to keep a bird alive and refuses to leave his bed. Nothing I say to him seems to lift his spirits. I have yet not dared tell him that you are going to London.”

  “Mother, we have to go. If there is a chance that we can find a way to save the estate, then we must take it.”

  “Yes, I know. I understand that it is a selfless thing that you are doing. It is not as if you are out hunting for a sweetheart or some other such frivolity.”

  Moira could not stop from blushing. She bowed her head, hoping that her mother would not see her embarrassment.

  “And the Cunninghams are such good people,” continued the Countess, “but mind you do not tell them of our current predicament. I do not want our family name being dragged through the rumour mill of London I would die of shame.”

  “Of course I will not breathe a word. There is no need for Lady Cunningham to know of our present circumstances. I fail to see what business it can be of hers.”

  The Countess sighed deeply and looked around the drawing room.

  On every wall hung paintings of the Strathcarrons – from the first Earl to her husband’s father. There were engravings of hunts and horses, bronzes of foxes and eagles, sabres and shields – all reminders of the Strathcarrons’ illustrious past.