A Castle of Dreams Read online

  She could sense that the Duke would only ever give his trust sparingly.

  He had given it to the Lyalls.

  How could she be the one to spoil all that for him?

  Still deep in thought, she turned a corner and then stopped and gasped.

  In front of her was a flight of stone steps, leading down into a square walled rose garden.

  Everywhere she looked roses grew in wild abandon with great swathes of pink, yellow and red cascading over the old bricks.

  Tall standard varieties studded with crimson, white and apricot flowers, bushes of old roses covered in smaller bunches of white tinged with pink and yellow blushing into pink and a red so dark it was almost black.

  And on the air floated the most incredible perfume.

  Viola could hardly believe her senses.

  She ran down the rough stone steps and cupped the nearest rose to inhale the wonderful smell.

  “You like yon flower, then, lassie?”

  Viola spun round.

  A very elderly man was standing watching her. He was wearing old corduroy breeches and heavy boots. His hair was sparse and white and he leant on a gnarled stick.

  “These roses have the most amazing scent! I have never seen such a wonderful rose garden. I thought you would have difficulty in growing such fine specimens this far North.”

  “Angus will tell you he can grow roses anywhere!”

  Viola turned round, startled.

  The Duke was standing on the stone steps, gazing down at her, his dark hair tousled by the summer breeze.

  “Your Grace,” the old man wheezed and raised a knuckle to his lined forehead.

  “Pay no attention to Angus McAndrew’s courtesy to me, Viola,” the Duke added. “He has been a gardener here at Glentorran since my grandfather’s day.

  “He taught me how to fish, how to shoot and how to ride a horse. He even larruped my backside once when Fergus and I accidentally smashed a window in one of his glasshouses!”

  The old man’s eyes gleamed under his bushy white brows.

  “That young red-headed devil was always up to no good, Your Grace, and draggin’ you with him, as I recall. And you got the punishment, because he ran off and you couldna do so!”

  The Duke chuckled.

  “Viola, this is Angus McAndrew. You met his son, Stuart, yesterday. Angus, this is Lady Viola Northcombe. She and her brother – ”

  “Aye, shipwrecked they were indeed, so I’ve been told. Weel, you’re a bonny lass, that’s for sure, my Lady. And you like the rose there, I see.”

  Viola was holding up a white rose, its petals tinged with pink, so perfect she could almost have cried.

  “It is wonderful. How do you grow them like this in such a harsh climate, Mr. McAndrew?”

  “Angus has green fingers – and is helped a lot by the Gulf Stream!” the Duke told her. “It brings warm air and warm waters to this coastline. Our temperature is far less severe than other parts of Scotland.”

  He reached over and snapped off a bloom.

  Angus handed the Duke a long knife and he swiftly stripped away the thorns and threaded the stem through the buttonhole of Viola’s jacket.

  “This particular rose is called ‘Grace Darling’,” he murmured and Viola could feel the colour flush up into her cheeks as his fingers brushed against her neck.

  “Thank you! It’s lovely,” she managed to whisper, deciding that it was just her imagination that had made her think he had paused briefly between the words Grace and Darling!

  Angus took back his knife, glanced towards Viola and then said something in a strange language to the Duke before hobbling out of the rose garden, chuckling under his breath.

  “What on earth did he say?” Viola asked the Duke, desperately searching for a safe subject. “It sounded very weird.”

  “That was in Gaelic, the language of the Highlands. You will often hear it spoken around Glentorran. Now, let me escort you back to the Castle. I am sure you will be glad of a cool drink after your walk.”

  He offered Viola his arm, which she accepted gratefully, but was well aware as they left the rose garden that he had not told her what remark the old gardener had made about her.

  The Duke held back a long branch that swept down from a bush across the overgrown path.

  “Men like Angus McAndrew and his son are the life-blood of Glentorran,” he told her. “They have worked, man and boy for the estate all their lives.

  “I have no idea how old Angus is, but his father and his father before him worked for the Glentorrans and that is the same for almost every family for miles around.

  “So I am sure you can imagine how hard it is for me to even consider for a moment giving up the estate and leaving them to their fate. But I would expect your family will have similar problems.”

  He laughed unhappily, as he added,

  “Money may well be the root of all evil, but I could do a lot of good with just a little!”

  Viola cast a swift glance up at his troubled face.

  She could hear the passion and despair in his voice and longed to speak out – to tell him that she was no longer poor.

  She recognised she was living in his home under false pretences.

  It would only take her a second to tell him – but she hesitated, because in that short time, she realised she would lose his friendship for ever.

  How he would despise a girl who pretended to be poor when she was not. He would see her as someone who had no moral fibre and no idea of what was decent, right or wrong.

  “In America I learnt that they are trying to do away with the idea that one man should have the well-being of a whole district in his hands,” she ventured.

  The Duke shouldered his way between two overgrown shrubs and Viola followed behind him, unaware that a cascade of white blossom had fallen on her golden hair.

  He turned round and almost exclaimed out loud at how beautiful she looked.

  For a second he felt compelled to tell her and then with a strong physical effort, he schooled his expression to remain calm.

  There was no way he could have a future with Lady Viola Northcombe.

  He had nothing to offer her – only a life of poverty, and he was quite sure she had already experienced enough of that.

  No, he was sure that Viola would soon meet some rich titled fellow who would whisk her away to his home and he, Robert, would never see her again.

  He forced himself to remember what she had been talking about.

  “Yes, there is a lot to be said for making my tenants more self-reliant. As the fishermen are, of course. They can feed their families and sell their catch at market. They will not suffer if Glentorran has to be sold.

  “But there are hundreds of others on the estate who will find their world a colder and more difficult place if I am forced to give up the Castle.”

  He tried to sound cheerful.

  “Och, this is a dreary subject for so fine a day! Don’t you worry about my problems, Viola. I will be away to London again soon. I am sure my bankers will find me someone who is keen to invest in an impoverished Scottish Dukedom!”

  Viola turned to him.

  She could bear this no longer!

  She would tell him the truth about her father, the oil fields and the vast sums of money that she and David had inherited on his death.

  She would now suggest that the Northcombe family should invest into the Glentorran estate and that between them they would make a big difference.

  She took a deep breath.

  “Robert – ” she began.

  At that precise moment the Duke turned abruptly away from Viola –

  “Look over there! Here’s Meg come to find us, no doubt. Hello, my little sister. Am I neglecting my duties in some way? That frown on your face does not spell good news, I am sure.”

  Lady Margaret reached up and kissed his cheek.

  “Only Mr. Campbell from town, Robert. Worrying about his bill for cattle feed once more!

  �
��I have asked him to wait in the library and said I would come to find you immediately. But if we walk very slowly, he might have lost patience and left!”

  The Duke sighed heavily and the mournful sound tore at Viola’s heart.

  Viola could tell just how greatly he cared about his inheritance and all the responsibilities it carried.

  How difficult he really must find it, to have to beg a tradesman for time to pay a bill.

  She fell silent as they made their way slowly back to the Castle.

  Her chance to set things straight between them had disappeared for now, but she would have to find a way of speaking to the Duke again very soon.

  Because there was also the problem of Fergus and the diamond brooch!

  Viola groaned inwardly.

  Goodness, how complicated her life had become in such a short time!

  CHAPTER SIX

  The following day dawned sparkling and clear over Glentorran Castle, the distant mountains sharply etched in purple against a pale blue sky.

  The sea was lapping quietly against the shore and it was impossible to believe that it could ever be wild enough to sink a ship and put lives at risk.

  The local people would have told Viola and David that these signs were deceptive, that there was a great deal of bad weather to come later that day, but at the moment it was warm and fine.

  Viola had spent a restless night tossing and turning, worrying about how soon an opportunity would arise when she could tell the Duke she was no longer poor like him, but together with David was the owner of a vast fortune.

  Unable to sleep she climbed out of bed and gazed out of her window at the moonlit landscape.

  She decided that after dinner that evening would be the best time for the face to face she dreaded so much.

  She would ask for a private word with the Duke in his study and confess to him that she had kept the change in her circumstances secret.

  ‘And I can easily guess what his reaction will be!’ she murmured wryly to herself, leaning out of the casement window to breathe in the fresh night air.

  ‘Indeed, I cannot blame him. How would I react if our roles were reversed? I would feel that all my trust had been betrayed!’

  But Viola still felt a little better for having made up her mind to take a specific course of action and, returning to bed, she finally fell asleep.

  After breakfast she was surprised to see a sea mist rolling in, hiding the high mountains from view and filling the air with a fine drizzle.

  Walking in the grounds was not an option, so Viola decided to make some alterations to the rest of the clothes Lady Margaret had found for her to wear.

  She was wearying of always dining in the same old plain blouse and skirt. There was a pretty primrose dress with a becoming high collar and long sleeves edged in lace that would fit her with a few small adjustments.

  The Duke had not appeared at breakfast – no doubt he had left the Castle very early once again.

  Viola was working in the small drawing room, the primrose dress lying across her lap in a shimmery tangle as she was studying it, when the door opened and her brother limped slowly in, his grey eyes smiling.

  He was wearing an ancient Glentorran kilt and she clapped her hands in glee at the sight.

  “David! How wonderful. You are well enough to come downstairs. Are you sure? You don’t wish to over-tax your strength. And I am sure that putting on a kilt must have taken a lot of your energy! If your friends in London and New York could only see you now!”

  The young Earl walked over to a chair next to Viola and sank into it with a slight moan.

  “Goodness me, those stairs were steeper than I had thought! You can mock me, Viola, but the kilt is strangely comfortable and although I could wish for my legs to be a little bit stronger, I don’t think I would shame this garment too much!

  “And yes, I am well on the road to recovery, Viola. Indeed, I think if I can continue to progress at this rate, we could make plans to leave at the end of the week.”

  “Leave?”

  Viola could not prevent a cold wave of unhappiness sweeping over her.

  David sighed.

  “I know just how you feel. I, too, am loath to say goodbye to Glentorran. But life goes on, Sis. We must get back to London and pick up the threads of our own world.

  “And I am sure that Robert and Meg, as hospitable as they are, will be glad to have their home to themselves once more. We must be a drain on their slender resources.

  “But – ” he now hesitated, looking very young and uneasy – “before we go, I want you to release me from my promise. I need to tell Meg of our change in circumstances, as I cannot leave her believing the lie that I am as poor as she and her brother.”

  Viola bent her golden head over the silk dress, tears threatening to fall.

  Her twin brother was not the only one who needed to confess.

  “David, I really must tell the Duke first. It is only polite. Please give me until tomorrow night and I promise you that I will explain the situation to him before then.”

  David looked closely at his sister’s beautiful face.

  They often thought alike and he was certain that he understood how she was feeling.

  “You like the Duke? More than like him – perhaps?”

  Viola flushed and tossed her head.

  She now turned away to gaze out of the window, not wanting her brother to see the pain in her eyes.

  “What nonsense you do talk, David! Of course, I like the Duke. Robert is a fine man, but I hardly know him or he me. We are just – friends – acquaintances. I am just a guest who he has been forced to shelter. I am sure that as soon as we leave Scotland, he will not give me a second thought.”

  David was about to begin arguing with her, when Lady Margaret appeared in the doorway.

  She hesitated, aware of an atmosphere in the room.

  “I am so sorry,” she started to say, “I do hope I am not interrupting, but oh, David, it is so good to see you up and about once more. And wearing such a bonny kilt! I am very impressed.”

  David stood up, all his earlier tiredness apparently forgotten.

  “Meg – good morning! And yes, as you can see, I am becoming stronger with every passing minute and I am hoping that you will take my arm and show me some of the Castle grounds.

  “Look, your good housekeeper, Mrs. Livesey, has found an old sketchbook for me. I have promised to be very careful with it because some of the pages have already been used. But if you can find me a good place to sit, I plan to draw to record my own memories of your beautiful home.”

  Lady Margaret’s eyes shone and her cheeks burnt pink.

  “I would be so delighted to help you. The rain has vanished as quickly as it came and the sun is shining once more to welcome you outside.”

  David walked across the room to stand beside her and then turned back to Viola, his face grave.

  “I shall abide, of course, by your wishes, Viola, but only until tomorrow.”

  And then they were both gone and Viola could only sit still, fighting back the tears that threatened to overcome her once more.

  Meg and David walked slowly out of the Castle and down the steps into the wild garden.

  A quick glance at David’s white face told Meg that he was not as strong as he thought and she made an excuse to sit on a stone bench, gazing out across the cliff-tops to where the sea met the sky in a dark blue line.

  “I wish I had a boat and could sail away – ” David said at last, opening the sketchbook and reaching for one of the many pencils Mrs. Livesey had found for him.

  “To foreign lands?”

  “Yes, indeed! And to see all those exotic places I dream of, but there is no good in dreaming. Instead I have to travel down to London at the end of the week!”

  Meg took a deep breath.

  She knew something was bothering him, but would it be very forward to ask?

  Surely they were good enough friends for him to be honest with her.


  “Sometimes you seem so troubled about the future, David – ” she began.

  Suddenly he put down his pencil and reached out to take her hand.

  Meg gave a little gasp, but did not pull away.

  “Meg, will you trust me? It’s very true, there is something most important I have to tell you, but I have promised Viola that – ”

  She interrupted swiftly, an expression of irritation crossing her usually calm face.

  “David, do you always have to do what your sister requests? Sometimes it appears to me that she seems to control your life.”

  The young Earl shook his head.

  “That just isn’t true. I agree that, because of the odd way we have been brought up, we are very close and often like to do the same things, but in many other ways we are completely different.

  “But on this occasion, my silence is because I made a promise and until I am released from it, I am, of course, honour bound not to speak.

  “Come to this bench tomorrow morning, if you still wish to know and then I shall tell you everything!”

  Meg felt her cheeks redden.

  She knew so little of the real world and even less of men. Should she give him any encouragement? She had no idea what her brother would think of her behaviour.

  She glanced at his hand holding hers and gasped.

  Still entwined around his little finger was the cotton thread David had cut from her sleeve the day before!

  Meg looked at him gravely, but a smile glimmered deep in her dark eyes.

  “If you have a wife and children living in London, then I think it would be somewhat courteous if you told me now! Otherwise, yes, I will wait until tomorrow, David.”

  And she sat quietly, watching as his clever fingers sped over the page, sketching the scene he saw before him and dreaming all the time of tropical lands where brightly-coloured parrots flew in the sky instead of the seagulls that spiralled above the cliffs of Glentorran.

  *

  Back at the Castle, Viola had finished altering the primrose dress and wondered how to spend the rest of the morning.

  She gazed wistfully out of the window, wondering about walking down to the beach.

  The tide was out and she was keen to explore.