The Scots Never Forget Page 5

  “But it is not the right way to eat porridge in Scotland,” Rory told her seriously.

  “I know that,” Pepita replied, “but your grandfather, who is the Chieftain, is eating his at the table and I think we shall all be safe.”

  As if he was pacified by what she had said, Rory started to eat from the bowl in front of him, but Jeanie pushed hers to one side and complained

  “I don’t like porridge.”

  “If you say that, you are a Sassenach,” Rory said. “Grandpapa hates Sassenachs!”

  Pepita looked quickly at the Duke, feeling that he might be angry, but she saw that there was a faint smile quivering at the corners of his mouth.

  Although she did not say anything, Fergus took the porridge away from Jeanie and gave her instead a salmon fishcake.

  She ate that with relish and Pepita thought that she had never known the children to eat a larger breakfast.

  When they had only half-finished, Torquil said,

  “The ghillies will be waiting. I think I had better go ahead if I am to begin at the top of the river.”

  “And I will start at the bottom,” the Duke countered, “but I want to speak to Miss Linford before I leave.”

  Pepita’s heart gave a little jerk, but, as he walked towards the door, Torquil smiled at her as if to tell her, as he had last night, not to worry.

  However, she was not so much worried as frightened and, when the children had finished their breakfast, she told Rory that he could go to explore the garden.

  “I want to go fishing with Grandpapa,” he answered stubbornly. “Ask him if I can go with him, Aunt Pepita, and tell him I can fish very well.”

  He had in fact been taught by his father to fish for trout in the small stream that ran through the estate in Cornwall.

  The trout had, of course, been quite small, but at least Rory knew how to handle a rod and to reel in his line once a fish was on the hook.

  “I will try,” Pepita said to the small boy, “but don’t be disappointed if your grandfather refuses.”

  Fergus heard the last part of the conversation and he said now to Rory,

  “You stay with me, my Lord, and I’ll show you His Grace’s skean dhus.”

  “I would like that,” Rory enthused, “and I want to see a real claymore too.”

  Fergus laughed.

  “There are plenty in the Chieftain’s Room.”

  “Then please take me there and can I hold one in my hand?”

  Fergus promised him he could and, as they walked away, Pepita took Jeanie back to their bedroom where she hoped she would find Mrs. Sutherland.

  She was, however, told by the housemaid that she was in the housekeeper’s room, which was at the end of the corridor.

  It was a bright room filled, Pepita saw at a glance, with souvenirs that Mrs. Sutherland must have collected all her life.

  There were sketches hung on the walls that looked as if they had been drawn by children, bunches of white heather, some brown with age, as well as small Highland bonnets that she suspected had been worn by Alistair and his brother when they were Rory’s age.

  There were also blackcock feathers and white ones from a ptarmigan.

  She knew that Jeanie would be fascinated by such an array of strange objects and Mrs. Sutherland would have no difficulty in looking after her.

  Pepita therefore walked quickly back along the corridor, feeling as if she was a schoolgirl about to be reprimanded.

  The Duke was waiting for her not in the drawing room but in the room next to it, which she learnt was his special sanctum and known quite simply as ‘The Duke’s Room’.

  Books covered one wall and on the others between the windows were paintings of previous Dukes, all of whom looked, she thought, not only autocratic but fierce and warlike.

  At the same time, although she was afraid of him, she could not help admiring the Duke as he stood with his back to the fireplace.

  He looked very impressive in his kilt, worn in the daytime with a tweed jacket, and his sporran was what Rory had expected to see, plain with the head of an otter on it.

  The Duke did not speak as she walked down the room towards him and, when she reached him, there was a perceptible pause, as if he intended to make her feel uncomfortable.

  “Sit down, Miss Linford,” he said at last.

  Thankfully, not only because her legs felt weak but because he was so tall that she had to look up at him, Pepita sat down on the sofa.

  Again there was a pause before he said slowly,

  “I would like to start by saying that I consider it an extraordinary and reprehensible action on your part to have arrived here without first notifying me of your intention to do so.”

  “I brought the children to you,” Pepita replied, “because it was impossible for them to stay any longer in Cornwall and there was nowhere we could go or where they belonged.”

  “You must be aware that after he left I considered that Alistair was no longer my son,” the Duke said harshly.

  “That was your personal decision,” Pepita answered, “but legally, morally and, because his blood was your blood, he still belonged to you.”

  She spoke quietly without anything aggressive in her tone, but the Duke glared at her as if he thought that she was being impertinent.

  Then she asked,

  “What was I to do with two small children who had been left without a penny to their name?”

  “You said that last night,” the Duke replied, “but I can hardly believe it is true.”

  “I swear to you, if you like on the Bible, that all we possess at this moment is exactly three sovereigns and five shillings,” Pepita answered. “What is more, my brother-in- law’s Solicitors will tell you if you communicate with them, that there are still debts outstanding of over two hundred pounds, which will have to be paid at some time.”

  “I will not be responsible for my son’s debts! They were incurred because he married an Englishwoman!” the Duke exclaimed.

  Pepita looked round the comfortable room, which she saw was furnished with every luxury.

  She thought that the sale of the flat-topped Georgian desk or just one of the paintings on the wall, all painted by great artists, would not only cover what her brother-in-law owed but would also leave a great deal over.

  Then, because the way the Duke was behaving made her feel angry and especially because she thought that his sneering at her sister was unforgivable, she said in a voice that she attempted to keep quiet and controlled,

  “I have a solution to this problem, Your Grace, if you will listen to it.”

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “If you will give me some money, not very much, but enough to rent a house for the children where I can look after them, I will endeavour to bring them up in the way your son would have wanted me to.”

  She paused for a moment and, when the Duke did not speak, she went on,

  “The only matter I would need your help on is to get Rory into a good Public School and if possible to University. He is very intelligent and, if he is to earn his own living, as appears likely, he will certainly need a good education.”

  As she finished speaking, the Duke stared at her as if she was some strange phenomenon that he had never seen before.

  Then he asked harshly,

  “Do you really think that is something a young woman of your age could do? And what will happen to the children if you marry?”

  “I am not concerned with myself,” Pepita replied, “but with two small children who so far in their lives have known only love and will not be able to cope with being disliked or punished for something that their father did before they were born.”

  The Duke, who had been standing in front of the fire, then sat down in the seat opposite Pepita, and after gazing at her for some seconds from under his eyebrows he said,

  “You surprise me, Miss Linford.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, although I can hardly believe what you are saying, you
are prepared to take on what I should have thought would have seemed too formidable a task for any woman of your age with no man to look after her and protect her.”

  “I admit that it will be challenging, Your Grace, but I am certain I can do it. Moreover, in many ways it would be better for the children than to stay here, where they are not wanted.”

  He did not answer her and then suddenly and sharply he said,

  “Why was I not told that Alistair had a son?”

  His voice seemed to echo round the study.

  As Pepita stared at him, thinking that it was a stupid question, suddenly with a perception she had always had, she knew what had occurred.

  Because the Duke had lost his eldest son, the Marquis, and had excluded Alistair from his life, he had been desperate to have another son. Even if he could not take his title, he could be Chieftain of the Clan.

  He had therefore married a woman much younger than himself and Pepita guessed that the Duchess was a member of the same Clan he had tried to force on his sons in the hope that she would provide him with an heir.

  Suddenly Pepita could understand as she had not been able to do before how much the arrival of Rory had confused the Duke’s plans.

  He was waiting now for an answer to his question and after a moment Pepita said quietly,

  “When my brother-in-law learnt that his elder brother was dead, since you had cut him out of the family he did not assume his title. Although I know that he was desperately sorry he had lost his brother and you your son, he thought that you would think it a presumption if he communicated with you.”

  She paused.

  Then she added,

  “Surely it would have been your place to find him? You knew that when you died he would succeed to the Dukedom and it seems extraordinary that just because you hated my sister you did nothing to demolish the barrier you had erected between them and you.”

  She thought as she finished speaking that the Duke would roar at her for telling him what was the truth.

  Instead he said obstinately, almost as if he was speaking to himself,

  “I will never forgive Alistair for disobeying not only his father but his Chieftain!”

  Pepita gave a little laugh and, as the Duke stared at her again, she said,

  “Your Grace may have an omnipotent power over your Clan, but there is something in life that is even higher than a man’s loyalty to his father who he has sworn allegiance to.”

  The Duke did not ask the question, but she knew that he was waiting to hear it.

  “It is something called ‘love’, Your Grace,” Pepita went on, “and, as my brother-in-law found, there is no power on earth so insuperable or so irresistible.”

  Once again she realised that she had surprised the Duke. As if she had also made him feel somewhat embarrassed, he rose to his feet to say,

  “That is the sentimental maundering of a woman and should not concern men.”

  “And yet all through history men have fought and died for love,” Pepita answered. “If you look back at your own ancestors, Your Grace, you will find that, while they did many great deeds of valour, when they were not on a battlefield they were deeply concerned with love.”

  The Duke was silent and she was sure that he was trying to find the right answer.

  Then she said,

  “I know you do not wish to speak about Alistair, but I would like you to know not only that he had a deep affection for you but in all the time I lived with him I never heard him say one word against you.”

  She paused before she added,

  “But he was always deeply hurt and distressed that you would no longer – acknowledge him as one of your – family, which in himself he never ceased to be.”

  Her voice was very moving as she spoke because Pepita had been so very fond of her brother-in-law and she was finding it hard to keep the tears from her eyes and from her voice.

  Then she added with an effort,

  “He talked to Rory about you and about The Castle, so the little boy is not in the least afraid of anything you might do to him.”

  She waited for the Duke to speak and, when he did not do so, she resumed,

  “He is waiting now, hoping that you will take him fishing with you because he feels instinctively that you, as his grandfather, will take the – place of the father he has – lost.”

  All the time she was speaking she was praying that the Duke would understand what she was trying to say to him and several tears escaped from her eyes and ran down her cheeks.

  Hastily she brushed them away, but not before the Duke had seen them.

  He walked away to stand at the window with his back to her looking out to the sea.

  She waited feeling as if she had done everything she could and that if she had failed there was nothing more she could do.

  Then he asked,

  “Are you prepared to stay here and look after the children, as I understand you have been doing up until now?”

  Pepita felt her heart leap, but at first she was afraid that she had not heard aright what he had said.

  Then in a voice that trembled she replied,

  “That is what I have been – praying you would – allow me to do.”

  “Then for the moment we will leave things as they are,” the Duke said. “When it becomes clearer what would be best for my grandchildren, we will discuss it again.”

  Pepita drew in her breath.

  “Thank you – thank you very much – Your Grace.”

  “Now I am going fishing,” the Duke said. “Young Rory had better come with me. It will keep him out of mischief.”

  He went from the study and for a moment it was impossible for Pepita to move.

  Then she jumped to her feet and hurried after the Duke, wondering as she did so where Rory would be.

  She need not have worried, for the Duke had already gone down the stairs and she could hear his voice in the hall.

  “His Lordship will want some boots,” he was saying to Fergus and the butler replied,

  “Mrs. Sutherland’s been a-lookin’ in her cupboards for what his father wore when he was that age, Your Grace, and there are two pairs here that’ll fit his Lordship.”

  “I shall want a rod, Grandpapa,” Rory interrupted. “It will have to be longer than the one I had at home, because trout are much smaller than salmon, are they not, Grandpapa?”

  Pepita smiled.

  Then, because she could not see for the tears in her eyes, she turned and went to find Jeanie.

  She was quite certain that the men could manage without her and she felt at the moment as if she had fought a battle that had left her victorious but in a state of exhaustion.

  *

  There was so much to see in The Castle and the garden in the September sunshine was such an unexpected delight that the hours seemed to slip by and it was luncheontime long before she was aware of it.

  It was depressing to find that she and Jeanie were alone with the Duchess, who was looking, Pepita thought, plainer and more disagreeable by daylight than she had looked the evening before.

  When they appeared, she made no effort to disguise her hostility.

  “You are still here, Miss Linford,” she remarked as she and Jeanie came into the drawing room. “I expected by this time that you would have packed your boxes and left.”

  “His Grace has very kindly said that the children can stay,” Pepita replied politely.

  The Duchess gave what was a scream of anger.

  “I don’t believe it! I told him I would not have them here and that he was to send them away.”

  Pepita thought it best not to reply.

  She had no wish to antagonise the Duke and her instinct told her that anything she might say to the Duchess would only make things worse.

  Instead she talked to Jeanie, who was occupied in making a fuss of a small spaniel that Pepita realised had been left behind because she was so old.

  She had noticed that the Duke always had two younger spaniel
s at his heels and she thought that they must be the dogs he took out shooting and knew how delighted Rory would be with them.

  Trying to change the subject, she said to Jeanie,

  “I think that dog is very old, so you must be very gentle with her.”

  “She likes me patting her.”

  “I am sure she does,” Pepita agreed.

  The Duchess did not speak and, when luncheon was announced, she stalked ahead of them disdainfully as if they were beneath her condescension.

  Once again it was a delicious meal and there was so much to eat that Pepita began to think they would all grow very fat.

  The Duchess ate in silence, only occasionally speaking to Fergus, who was waiting on them with two footmen to assist him.

  Now that she was not so anxious, Pepita could admire the splendour of the dining room, which was large enough to seat at least thirty people, and the paintings that hung on the walls.

  They were all of the McNairns and, painted by the great artists of their time, were not only a very attractive but also a very valuable collection.

  Because there was so much she wanted to know about them, when the Duchess, having finished her luncheon, had walked out of the room without speaking, she asked Fergus,

  “How can I learn all about The Castle? There is so much I want to know and there are many questions I am longing to ask.”

  “That’s quite easy, miss,” Fergus replied. “You’ll find His Grace’s Curator in the Chieftain’s Room.”

  “A Curator?”

  “Aye, miss. He comes here most days, as he’s cataloguin’ the contents of The Castle.”

  “I would like to talk to him.”

  “I’m sure he’d be honoured, miss.”

  She had found out what she wanted to know, Pepita thought, but it could keep for later.

  It was important now to take Jeanie out in the sunshine. They went out into the garden and Pepita found at the far end it was enclosed by a high wall and beyond it was a rough piece of moorland before the cliffs.

  These, rising above the rocks on the shore, stood higher and more impressive further along the coast.

  She and Jeanie peeped over the edge of the wall.

  The tide was out, so the waves were not beating against the rocks in the same way as in Cornwall.