A Maxwell Mourned (7 page)
‘The minister is going …’ Peter sipped the tea, then drank thirstily. ‘He’s going to the hospital first thing,’
‘You’ve chosen names?’ Rachel asked. Peter shook his head and brushed away the tears with a shamefaced glance. ‘Don’t know. I must get back to Meg …’
‘Not before you’ve had an hour or two of sleep,’ Mrs Jenkins said firmly.
‘I’ll make some toast,’ Rachel offered, ‘For all of us. Mrs Jenkins is right. You must have a rest so that you’ll be strong for Meg. I’ll waken you as soon as it’s dawn.’
M
EG WAS BARELY CONSCIOUS
when the minister visited her in the little hospital room. Peter had to choose the names alone. He named the stronger twin Maxwell, after Meg’s family. The smaller baby he named Ruairidh, after Doctor Gill.
‘If he lives long enough to go to school he will not thank you for it,’ Doctor Gill grimaced, ‘Though I am known as Rory to all except my lawyer now.’
‘He will live, and he’ll thank you for both your name and your skill, Doctor,’ the matron vowed. ‘He may be a wee mite, but he’s a fighter. Isn’t that so, Nurse Laine?’
‘Indeed he is. In fact he may be a better feeder than his big brother, who’s showing signs of being a sleepy, lazy infant.’
‘Is he now? We must watch for signs of jaundice when they are born early.’ Doctor Gill frowned, but he summoned a reassuring smile as he turned to Peter. ‘I believe your wife was aware of the christening. She seems more at peace now. Her pulse is settling nicely.’
‘That’s the best news yet, Doctor.’ Peter breathed a huge sigh of relief. ‘Meg is the most important person in the world to me.’
‘I trust you mean that, because she will require a longer spell of nursing than usual after such a difficult birth. Can you afford to keep her here, at the hospital? It would be the best place for her. She will need to rest.’
‘We will work out the most favourable terms we can, Mr Sedgeman,’ the matron promised. ‘My two nurses and I would like to see your little family well on the road to good health after being so near to losing them.’
‘Even if it costs me my business and everything I have, Meg must have whatever she needs to make her well,’ Peter declared with feeling.
Rachel had written to Ross the day after the birth of Meg’s babies. He replied by return. She was dismayed to hear he was expecting her to travel to Lochandee immediately. She thought she had explained Meg’s critical condition and the smaller of the two babies was hanging to life by a mere thread. She wished she had not sent him news of the birth so promptly.
It was nearly three weeks before Meg was pronounced well enough to return home. During that time Ross had written several letters, each more impatient and exasperated than the last, demanding to know when Rachel would be at Lochandee.
‘An important matter has arisen. Mistress Beattie and the Factor insist you should be consulted,’ he wrote. Rachel felt torn in two. She sensed Ross was piqued that she should need to be consulted on anything to do with his work at Lochandee, while she could not think of anything more important than Meg’s recovery.
Eventually Alice Beattie wrote to Rachel. The tone was kind and understanding of her dilemma:
“
The matter which has arisen affects you, even more than Ross. I feel you must be free to express an opinion. However there is no necessity to tear yourself away from Mrs Sedgeman until you feel she is well enough to manage without you.
Mr Shaw has agreed to my request to make Ross a joint tenant. However the Laird’s health is deteriorating more rapidly than we expected and he has advised me to bring forward the agreement. He fears there will be changes in the running of the estate when it passes to the young Laird. These may not be to our liking or advantage. Mr Shaw is trustworthy and I respect his opinion, but I am concerned that Ross may not have considered all the implications. The decision affects both of you, and your son.
To become a joint tenant Ross would be required to pay half the valuation of all the stock and equipment at The Glens of Lochandee as well as being responsible for paying half of the rent at the end of each six months term.
Naturally he would receive half of the profits. He is confident, with you to help him, that he will be able to pay off the debt within a few years. Mr Shaw assures me a valuation of one thousand pounds for Ross’s half-share is a generous offer – certainly a much better opportunity than he would have if he rented a farm entirely on his own. You may wonder why I am being generous – or you may consider me a selfish woman. The truth is I have grown very fond of Ross and I am sure his happiness here will be complete when he has you at his side.
For my part, my dearest wish is to spend the rest of my life at The Glens of Lochandee. I have begun to hope that may be possible with Ross’s help.
I understand both of you will wish to pay off your debt as soon as possible. Mr Shaw has promised to reinstate the original boundaries to The Glens of Lochandee when the lease is up for the present tenants. Ross was already planning to increase the herd but this means we need to hire another man. The Hiring Fair is May the twenty-eighth so time is running out.
The question which really affects you is this: Ross wishes to hire a married man with a wife to assist with the milking and dairy work. This would mean they would live in the cottage, which was to be your home. Would you be content to live here with me and rear your family under my roof? Or would you prefer to furnish the cottage and make it your own home? I should be happy to have you here. I admire and respect the loyalty you have shown to Mr and Mrs Sedgeman. But the decision must be your own
.”
There were a few more sentences. Rachel read and re-read the letter and then she showed it to Meg and Peter.
‘I can understand how wary you must feel about sharing your home and family, dear Rachel,’ Meg said, ‘after your experiences with my mother. At least Mistress Beattie is honest enough to tell you what she hopes to gain from such an arrangement. Do you feel you could get along together? Would Conan annoy her, or other children when you get them.’
Rachel blushed at that and Meg chuckled.
‘I am sure you and Ross will have lots more babies. I expect they may be irritating to elderly people though.’
‘Mistress Beattie has never had children of her own but she seemed very patient with Conan. In fact she appeared to enjoy his visit,’ Rachel added remembering the crib.
‘It’s an excellent opportunity for Ross to get started in a farm,’ Peter commented, ‘though I think he would require a formal agreement with Mistress Beattie. He should make sure he has the opportunity to buy her share of Lochandee when she no longer needs it – just in case a long lost relation turns up and claims it when she dies.’
‘Yes, that does happen sometimes, if there is money to be gained,’ Meg agreed. ‘I had not thought of that.’
‘I will mention it when I write to Ross,’ Rachel nodded.
‘It would save you the expense of buying your own furniture,’ Peter reflected, ‘and it ought to be cheaper if you all live in one house – but as Mistress Beattie says, lassie, it depends how you feel about it. Two women in one house do not often get along without friction.’
‘We have got along splendidly,’ Meg told him indignantly.
‘Yes, my love, but you are exceptional women. Anyway you have both been too busy to quarrel.’
‘I expect I shall be busy when I go to Lochandee,’ Rachel smiled. ‘Ross is hoping I shall make butter to sell in the village. I shall enjoy that. Beth Pearson, the maid, is little more than a child herself and she was wonderful with Conan. He really liked her.’
‘Well don’t reply in a hurry,’ Meg advised. ‘Think about it tonight. Make your own decision – not just to please Ross. He always liked to have his own way, even when he was a very small boy,’ she recalled with a smile. ‘By the way, Rachel, will you go with me to see Father before you leave? I know he would like to see you again, and Conan.’
‘Yes, I would like to see him too,’ Rachel agreed. ‘I expect he wants to see your fine sons?’ Rachel teased, glancing down at the two tiny heads in the pram.
‘Yes, Peter thought we could make a bed for them in a washing basket and put it in the back of the van. He’s going to teach me to drive when I get my strength back.’
‘That’s a good idea,’ Rachel agreed, thinking how well Meg was progressing in spite of the demands of two hungry babies.
Soon she would be able to move to Lochandee and Ross with a clear conscience. She felt the familiar yearning and smiled inwardly. She understood one of the reasons Ross was so impatient.
Cameron Maxwell was almost speechless with emotion when he saw Rachel and Conan, as well as Meg and the two tiny babies, snuggled head to toe in a large, well padded wicker wash basket.
Ruth and Willie were delighted to see them. Although the babies were very tiny Rory was feeding well and holding his own.
‘Doctor Gill is astonished at how well he’s progressing,’ Meg told them all proudly. ‘And Max is wonderfully contented.’
‘Well, that’s a blessing, lassie,’ Cameron Maxwell told his daughter gruffly. ‘Though I seem to remember you were always a good-natured wee bairn yourself. Maybe you take after me. I’ve always thanked the good Lord for a contented soul – even though I was never a great one for attending the kirk.’
‘Meg and I certainly have plenty to thank Him for,’ Peter said with real sincerity.
‘Aye, you’re a good lad, Peter,’ the old man smiled at him, ‘I’m glad things have worked out so happily for the pair o’ you.’ He reached out a hand towards Rachel and she went closer. He took her hand in his. ‘I canna tell you how sorry I am for the way you were treated under my roof, lassie. I promised your father …’ He shook his white head in distress. ‘Can you forgive us?’ he pleaded.
‘You were always kind to me.’ In her heart Rachel knew she would never forget his wife’s cruelty. One day she might be able to forgive her, but not yet. She perched on the arm of a chair beside him, bouncing her small son on her knee. ‘And see I have Conan. He’s called after you and my father but the girls shortened his name to Conan.’
‘He’s a fine boy. He’s just like Ross was at that age. He even has that mischievous twinkle in his eye. I expect he’ll lead you a merry dance before he’s grown. Ross liked his own way.’ Rachel smiled back into his twinkling eyes. ‘Ah, but you’re a bonnie lassie and no mistake,’ he sighed reminiscently and fell silent.
After some consideration Rachel had written to Alice Beattie accepting her offer and Alice Beattie replied by return, briefly but warmly.
‘She reminds me of Granny Ferguson,’ Rachel told Meg when the reply came. ‘She was always fair and kind.’ She sighed heavily. ‘I do wish I had been able to collect the vase she left for me – just as a reminder. Ross said he would bring it if he ever went in that direction to play the fiddle, but he never got the chance.’
‘No, he even left his fiddle behind, but I know he took it with him to Lochandee when he returned after Mother’s funeral.’
‘He did,’ Rachel smiled. ‘But he wonders whether he will ever find time to play it again.’
Peter was very late home from his rounds the night before Rachel and Conan were due to leave for Lochandee. Meg did not seem concerned and Rachel understood the reason when Peter handed her a package containg the vase. Rachel felt tears well into her eyes at the unexpected kindness.
‘Mistress Carmichael, your old neighbour, sent this letter for you Rachel, and a “wee minding” to wish you happiness in your marriage.’
Ross was waiting at the station to meet them with the pony and cart. Conan had been sleeping. He wakened from his nap feeling disgruntled and fretful. Rachel’s heart sank. Ross had greeted her so eagerly, but he barely looked at his pouting young son.
‘I think the pair of you are more alike than I had imagined,’ she said tartly as she tried to soothe Conan while helping Ross get their baggage into the trap.
As they jogged along the leafy lanes bordered by purple rhododendrons and beech hedges with their newly unfurled leaves and golden buds her spirits rose.
‘The countryside looks so beautiful at this time of year,’ she sighed rapturously.
‘It’s beautiful at any time of year in this area,’ Ross grinned cheerfully. ‘I just know you will grow to love it as much as I do …’ He reached out and squeezed her waist, ‘Especially now we are together.’ Conan shot out a chubby fist and tried to push his arm away. ‘Mama,’ he said indignantly ‘Mine.’
‘Mmm, a possessive wee fellow, isn’t he?’ Ross remarked with raised brows, but he could not help but laugh when Conan raised his own small brows in perfect imitation. Rachel’s heart lightened. More than anything in the world she wanted Ross to love their son as she loved him.
Alice Beattie welcomed them with a warmth which surprised Rachel, considering they scarcely knew each other. She did not know Mr Shaw had confided a little of her story.
‘In my opinion she deserves some good fortune in her life. If I am any judge of character I’d say she is the type to repay it many times over,’ he had told Alice.
‘I respect your judgement, especially when it bears out my own. I should have known Ross would choose wisely, but love can cloud the clearest mind when we are young.’
Although Rachel missed Meg and the little girls badly it was good to get back into the old routine of milking and butter-making. Beth Pearson welcomed both herself and Conan like long lost friends and Rachel quickly settled into life at The Glens of Lochandee. Conan was not so easily uprooted from his familiar environment. He missed the company. When Rachel wrote to Meg she told her how he had asked several times for “Sam – shoes,” and Polly was constantly mentioned.
Gradually he began to settle down but Rachel saw that his presence in their bedroom seemed to irritate and even inhibit Ross.
R
OSS HAD HIRED A
man named Sandy Kidd and his wife, Dolly. They had moved into the cottage at the May term with their two sons. The younger was a year older than Conan and his elder brother was almost four. They accompanied their parents to the byre in the afternoons, but were left in bed, alone in the cottage, during the morning milking. This arrangement troubled Rachel.
‘Och, they are used to being left in bed while I’m at the milking,’ Dolly said placidly. She loved her boys but she was casual in her care of them – or at least Rachel felt she was. Ross saw nothing wrong in the arrangement and was inclined to think she pampered Conan too much.
‘Don’t you worry about him,’ Alice said quietly one afternoon, after hearing them arguing about Conan’s welfare. ‘I do not agree with children being left alone in the house either. I will make sure Conan is safe. I confess I am pleased I do not need to go to the milking every morning since you came, Rachel. I shall prepare your breakfasts instead.’ Rachel felt reassured to know she had an ally and Conan was happy to have the Kidd boys as his new friends during the days which followed.
During the turnip hoeing the three small boys played together in the shadow of the hedgerows while all available hands strove to make the best of a spell of dry weather before haymaking began. Sandy Kidd was a quiet, rather dour man, but he was patient with Alfie and they were all grateful for that.
The highlight of Rachel’s summer was when Ross bought her a bicycle from old Mr Pearson. The old man had fixed a small seat on the back for Conan. As soon as she was competent to ride well enough she cycled down to Lochandee village with him to thank Beth’s grandfather. He was delighted to see them.
‘Beth told me you had a fine boy,’ he chuckled. ‘She didna think you would want to leave him behind.’
‘We brought you some fresh eggs and a pound of butter for your trouble,’ Rachel smiled at him.
‘Och, that’s verra kind o’ ye, but my Beth tells me what a fine woman ye are. She hasna had an easy life, losing her own mother when she was just a wee lassie. She was content up at Lochandee though, and now you and the wee fellow have come she is as happy as a skylark. She loves bairns.’
‘She is certainly patient with Conan. He goes with her to feed the chickens and collect the eggs whenever he can – but look at him!’
‘Och, the wee rascal,’ Mr Pearson chuckled, seizing Conan by the seat of his pants, just in time to prevent him pulling a can of thick black oil from a work bench. It was the first of many visits. Conan always asked to go to the bicycle shop whenever Rachel set out with him. She had no idea of the seeds she was sowing in his young mind when he continually asked the old man to show him how things worked.
Beth’s grandfather praised the butter and eggs all around the village and Rachel soon had several regular customers, including the Reverend Simms and his wife, Doctor McEwan’s wife, the cobbler, and the blacksmith, as well as some of the people from the cottages. By the end of the summer she was cycling to Lochandee village twice a week with deliveries. Mr Pearson fixed her a wicker basket on the front of her machine.
Rachel decided to get a pair of clogs made for Conan for the winter. He was very disappointed when they called at the cobbler’s workshop.
‘Not Dewy!’ he screamed. ‘Not like … No go!’ When Rachel wrote to Meg she described her small son’s reaction.
‘I was surprised that he still remembers Mr Dewar so well at his age.’ Meg relayed this snippet to her elderly neighbour and his pleasure at being remembered was immense.
‘How sad it is that Sam has no family of his own.’ She wrote in her reply to Rachel. ‘It’s such a lonely existence for him, but I am pleased to say he still has long chats with Peter. They are grateful to you for “breaking the ice” between them. It sounds as though you are getting to know lots of people in your new surroundings too. I am so pleased Mrs Beattie treats you more as a friend than as a maid, Rachel. I am sure you will prove to be a very loyal friend to her – just as you are to me.’
Rachel and Meg continued to write regularly and it was the highlight of Rachel’s week when the postman brought her a letter.
Ross had built up regular customers for milk deliveries on his way to the station. The better prices helped their income, but attending to their needs took far more time and effort than unloading churns of milk at the station. During harvest he began to take Beth with him, dropping her off with a churn of milk and the measure in the middle of the little hamlet. Several other customers came to buy from her and some of the older women enjoyed a chat and invited her into their homes for a cup of tea. Beth looked forward to these trips in the milk cart.
Just before Christmas an unexpected shadow fell on their lives. Mr Shaw had become a regular caller now that Alice had more time to talk with him. He knew she liked to have news of the Laird, who had been her childhood companion. It was not the Laird’s death which cast the shadow, however. Mr Shaw’s own wife died in her sleep at the beginning of December. She had enjoyed robust health all her life.
‘He is shattered, the poor man,’ Alice confided to Ross and Rachel. ‘He seems to have aged overnight. And as if losing his wife was not enough to bear, he’s having trouble with the young Laird. Apparently he cannot wait to get his hands on his father’s money.’
‘I heard rumours about him at the market,’ Ross said. ‘I hoped they were not true or it will not be good for any of us.’
‘I fear there may be some truth in them,’ Alice nodded. ‘Mr Shaw told me – in confidence remember – that the young Laird has already run up debts and is planning to sell some of the farms when his father dies. He and Mr Shaw have had several disagreements already. The young Laird does not even listen to his wife, and Mr Shaw says she is an intelligent young woman who could be a great asset to him. He will not allow her near the estate office. Mr Shaw thinks he may resign when the young Laird inherits the estate. His only daughter is married to a factor but they live on an estate up north and Mr Shaw owns a house up there. I suppose we cannot blame him for moving nearer to his grandchildren.’
‘I shall be truly sorry if he leaves,’ Ross said. ‘He has treated me very fairly.’ Rachel silently echoed his thoughts. She had great respect for Mr Shaw. She felt strangely protected and safe with him in charge.
Early in the new year of 1924 Mr Shaw arrived with a gift for Alice. It was from the Laird. He brought Lady Lindsay and one of her young sons with him.
‘They have just come for the ride.’
‘Would they like to come in?’ Alice asked, feeling a little flustered at the unexpected callers.
‘Not today. We ought to be back before her husband gets home. It was his Lordship who suggested they come along to see The Glens of Lochandee. He has told her so much about the farm, and about its Mistress.’ Alice blushed but he went on. ‘He wanted you to have a wireless set so I am just dropping it off.’
‘A wireless? But we have no electricity. It has not come this far up the glens yet. He must have forgotten.’
‘No, he remembers well. His mind is very alert. It is his body which is frail. He says you always had a lively and enquiring mind as a girl. He has had great pleasure from his own wireless so he hopes you will enjoy this one. It works from a battery. See, it sits in the back.’
‘That square jar full of water?’ Alice asked incredulously.
‘It’s acid. He instructed me to buy two so that you can still use the wireless while the other battery is being topped up.’
Alice and Rachel watched, agog with excitement as Mr Shaw tuned into the station. Suddenly a man’s voice filled the room.
‘This is the Home Service. It’s a very good way of getting news, but you will need to keep it out of reach of young Conan.’ Mr Shaw warned.
One of the first pieces of news which Alice heard over the wireless was the announcement of the death of Lenin, the man who had brought about the revolution in Russia. A day later it was followed by the news that King George V had appointed Ramsay MacDonald as the first Labour Prime Minister of Great Britain. Ross and Rachel listened as avidly as Alice.
‘Well at least he is a Scotsman,’ Ross approved. ‘I don’t think he will carry out the plans the Red Clydesiders are urging.’
‘No. He’s in a weak position. His new cabinet is such a mixture. He will not have an easy task whatever policy he pursues.’ Alice sighed. ‘It’s amazing to hear a man who is hundreds of miles away.’
‘His voice is so clear,’ Rachel marvelled.
‘Yes, I will write to his lordship tonight and send all our thanks for such a thoughtful gift.’
It was the last gift the Laird would send to anyone. A few weeks later all the tenants on the estate assembled to pay their last respects. Many of the older tenants shared Alice’s foreboding.
‘There’ll be death duties to pay for a start,’ Murdoch Rogers muttered gloomily over Alice’s shoulder.
‘Aye, and some reckon the coffers are nearly empty already.’ Henry Mackay joined in. ‘Ever since the young Laird had his coming of age celebrations he has been spending money – horses, motor cars, gambling in London and abroad, or so I’ve heard.’
‘Well he’ll need a fat purse to go far in his motor cars now,’ another tenant muttered. ‘Petrol is going up to two shillings a gallon.’
‘Don’t talk daft, Edward.’
‘Just repeating what I’ve heard.’
‘Aye, well I’m more concerned about Mr Shaw leaving. The Factor is the man that matters as far as the tenants are concerned. You can’t get anywhere if you can’t get on with the Factor. The Laird only watches over the money.’
‘Or spends it!’
‘Aye, well it seems the young Laird is doing that well enough. I’ve heard rumours that he and the Factor plan to sell some o’ the farms to raise money for the death duties. We are on the edge o’ the estate up at Nether Fauchan.’
‘Och, even the young Laird would surely have the sense to sell the land to the east if he has to sell any …’
‘That’s not what I heard. My family have been in Nether Fauchan for nearly a hundred years. It’s in good heart so it would fetch a better price.’
‘It might, if there was anybody daft enough to throw money away on buying a farm!’
Ross listened to the conversations but at the mention of the new Factor he could not help himself.
‘Has a new Factor been appointed already then?’ he asked.
‘Aye, laddie. Have ye not heard? Mr Shaw is moving out as soon as the funeral is over. He’ll be on his way north by tomorrow morning. They say he had some fine bits o’ furniture. It has all been packed and sent ahead by rail.’ The farmer looked keenly at Ross. ‘You must be new to these parts, are you? Takes time to hear the gossip …’
‘Och, this is the young fellow frae The Glens o’ Lochandee,’ another tenant joined the conversation. ‘Geordie Marchbank is the name.’ He thrust out a hand and shook Ross’s in an iron grip. ‘I’ve seen you putting the milk on the train at the station. You seem to be doing well enough, judging by the number o’ milk churns anyway.’
‘We are building up the herd again,’ Ross nodded.
‘Well you should be safe enough. Even a silly young Laird wouldna sell the farms nearest his own doorstep – at least not until he reaches the final fling – and he will if he doesna get himself killed first. You mark my words.’
‘Don’t talk like that! That would mean another lot o’ death duties to raise,’ his companion muttered morosely. ‘As it is I’ve heard the new Factor is a ruthless idiot. He’d sell his grandmother’s last pair o’ drawers if it suited him.’
‘Who is he?’ Ross asked curiously.
‘Bert Elder is his name. I take it you haven’t seen him around then?’
‘No.’ Ross shook his head. ‘Never heard of him.’
‘It would be better if none of us had,’ the man named Edward grimaced ominously. ‘He’s a big fellow, red-faced, big yellow teeth.’ He pulled back his lips in a toothy grin to demonstrate. He used to have red hair but he hasna’ much left. He still thinks he’s God’s gift to women though. I wouldna let him near my old lady, I can tell you – and she’s no spring chicken. Anything in skirts and he’ll give chase. Put a skirt on an old cow and he’d be after her, if you ask me.’
‘Whisht!’ His neighbour dug him in the ribs. ‘He’s over there. He’ll hear ye if ye dinna keep your boomer down.’
Ross felt uneasy as he drove Alice Beattie back to Lochandee in the trap after the funeral. She was silent too, saddened by the passing of a well-respected landlord and an old friend. Mr Shaw had made a point of bidding her a final good-bye after the funeral. She knew she would miss his visits and the news he had brought her, as well as his wise advice.
The weeks passed into months but neither the new Factor nor the Laird came to The Glens of Lochandee.
‘You will meet them both if you go to the tenants’ dinner when rent day comes round,’ Alice told Ross.
‘Oh, I’m not anxious to meet either of them from what I’ve heard so far.’
‘I think you and Rachel should attend the dinner. Such gatherings hold no attraction for me anymore. Rachel would enjoy seeing Valantannoch, the laird’s house. It’s beautiful and in a lovely setting. Yes, it would be good for you both.’
Long before the Rent Dinner was due at the end of May, Rachel and Ross set out on their bicycles for a rare few hours of pure pleasure. Conan waved his arms excitedly to Alice and Beth as he perched in his bicycle seat behind Rachel. It was a beautiful spring day and Rachel’s heart soared as they bowled along the leafy lanes, down to the village and out again on the track bordering the loch. They aimed to reach a small wood on the very far side before they stopped to eat the picnic which Ross was carrying on his back. Some of the wild rhododendrons were beginning to open with splashes of purple amidst shiny dark leaves. Above them a delicate filigree of birch leaves trembled on graceful silver trunks. Here and there an ancient beech tree towered towards the sky and ash trees still held their sooty flattened buds. The sky was a backdrop of clear blue with a few white puffs of cloud sailing slowly before the gentle breeze.
‘I don’t know when I last felt so happy,’ Rachel said as they peddled leisurely along side by side. ‘It’s such a glorious day.’ Ross glanced sideways, returning her smile.
