By Eastern windows (37 page)

Heavy rain poured down as his carriage rolled west, splattering against the windows. The journey was only seventy-five miles to Oban, yet the hours dragged dismally for Lachlan, unable to write a letter or read a book due to the furious jolting of the carriage. He was sure the axle on one of the wheels must be loose, but if he made the driver halt to check each wheel in the pouring rain, the delay could take hours and he wanted to reach Oban in time to catch the evening ferry.

He sat watching the rain batter against the windows, obscuring any view. Hours of silent thought was not his choice, he preferred his mind to be active and occupied. He made a fresh attempt to read his book, but it was simply impossible.

For a time he allowed himself to worry about George Jarvis and what George’s future should hold.
 
Marianne was now a teacher of mixed-race children at Bombay’s English school and she wrote to him often in perfect English … which reminded him of the two letters he had written to Elizabeth Campbell since his departure from London, but so far she had not replied. He stopped thinking and let his gaze travel into the distance. The rain had eased and he could see the wetness of the hills.

When they reached Oban he warned the driver, ‘You should check those wheels. I think the axle is loose on at least one of them.’

The ferry crossing was smooth, the rain had stopped. He finally reached Lochbuy and ran up the steps, feeling so hungry now that all he could think about was the enjoyment of a good supper.

Murdoch greeted him with a woeful face. ‘Margaret is up in her bed,’ he said. ‘She’s been up there all day, crying herself sick, and who can blame her? I always said that young sister of hers was a strange one.’

‘Who, Elizabeth?’

‘Aye, Miss Elizabeth, who else? Margaret feared that all Elizabeth’s gallivanting down in that sinful London might turn her into some Englishman’s trollop, but this – this is a hundred times worse in Maggie’s opinion.’

‘Worse? What is?’ Lachlan asked, perplexed. ‘Murdoch, what are you talking about?’

‘Let’s eat,’ said Murdoch, leading the way into the dining room. ‘I canna get my poor Maggie to eat a thing, so there’s plenty.’

Lachlan took his seat, watching silently as two maids carried dishes to the table and began to serve. When they had left the room he looked questioningly at Murdoch. `So? What’s all the distress about Elizabeth?’

Murdoch took a mouthful of food, and then shrugged with some annoyance. ‘Miss Elizabeth has decided to become a Missionary teacher. Oh aye, it’s all signed up and sealed. She’s been learning and preparing for over a month, and now her passage is already booked and stamped to sail away next week.’

Lachlan stared at his uncle in astonishment.

‘Aye, that was my reaction too, same as yours, dumbfounded!’ Murdoch lifted his glass. ‘But, I tell ye, it’s nearly killed my poor Maggie. She sent a letter over to Airds to her brother John asking him to try and stop Elizabeth, but I don’t think he will be able to stop her either.
 
No, from as far back as I can remember, Miss Elizabeth’s behaviour has always been ill-judged and obstinate.’

‘Where is she sailing to?’

‘China.’

Lachlan slowly put down his knife. ‘China?’

‘Aye, China, as God is above us, China – to the very end of the earth she’s going. So mebbe now you’ll understand why her poor sister is crying herself into a sickness upstairs. Their father would never have allowed this to happen, never. Especially as it’s not even to a Presbyterian Mission she’s going, but one run by a group of them English Evangelists.’

Lachlan did not answer, hardly knowing what to say. If Elizabeth was determined to do this, then Murdoch was right, nobody could stop her. The depth of his own shock and disappointment surprised him. He looked down at his plate and realised he had not eaten a thing, nor did he feel like doing so, his appetite completely vanished.

‘China …’ he finally murmured. ‘Why?’

Murdoch shrugged. ‘Why anything with Elizabeth?
 
I’ve never understood the girl myself.’

‘But why
China
of all places?’ Lachlan persisted. ‘The Chinese offer no welcome to Westerners, missionaries or otherwise, as the Jesuits have already found.’

Murdoch sighed, and gave up on his food, rising from his chair. ‘I’d better go up to see how my poor Maggie is doing. This business has knocked her down flat.’

Lachlan was glad when Murdoch left him to join Margaret. It gave him time alone, quiet and solitary, to try and give his thoughts some semblance of order. Elizabeth’s decision was not the only surprise tonight, but also Murdoch’s genuine concern for his wife.

In theory, he reflected, the union of Murdoch and Margaret should have been doomed from the start, based as it was on convenience. But reality had proved the marriage a great success, with husband and wife appearing to grow fonder of each other with every passing year, not to mention their production to date of eleven children.

And then he thought of Elizabeth. She was nice and she was fun, especially during their time together in London, but in truth he had always liked her. Yet he knew she was tired of the life she had been living and constantly yearned for new places and fresh experiences … but if she believed that
China
was the solution, then she had been very ill advised.

China … the place of his torment … his thoughts went back to his own past for some long minutes, until the memories and the feelings within him made him feel physically sick

Later, in the darkness of his bedroom, he slept badly, dreaming of cold-eyed Chinese Mandarins who despised the British, their nightmarish images distorted beyond all reality.

He was glad to wake up, glad to see the morning light. He sprang out of bed, all his actions hurried. The previous night he had not known what to think or to do, but now he did know. Despite all his own persuasions to the contrary, he knew that one other solution was possible. At least it was worth a try.

The sound of his boots running down the stairs must have awakened Murdoch. He had reached the front door of the house when Murdoch came lolloping down the stairs and into the hall calling after him, oddly comical-looking in his nightshirt.
 

`Where are you off to at this hour?’ Murdoch asked.

‘To London.’

‘London?’

‘I can’t let her go to China, Murdoch. I have to try and stop her.’

‘So why are ye going to London then?’

‘Because that’s where she’s living, isn’t it? At Wigmore Street.’

‘Och no! She’s been here in Mull for the last two days, saying her farewells to all of us. Didn’t I tell ye how she left poor Maggie in such a bad state.’

‘Yes, but you didn’t tell me she was here on the island!’ Lachlan snapped impatiently. ‘So where is she now?’

‘She left here yesterday to go over to say farewell to your mother. If you leave now you’ll likely catch her before she leaves to come back here. But mind, she’s planning to catch the evening ferry.’

Moments later Murdoch was back in his bedroom, standing by the window and watching Lachlan ride away at speed in the direction of Rossall. Margaret had clambered out of bed to stand and watch also.

Murdoch murmured, ‘Do you think he’ll be able to stop her, Maggie, when we couldna?’

Margaret’s hand wiped at the tears on her red-blotched face. ‘I couldna say, dear, but one thing I do know. Mebbe no one else in this world is capable of stopping Elizabeth, but
he
might. She was madly in love with him once, when she was about thirteen or so.’

*

The journey through the woods and tracks of Rossall to Oskamull took him longer than he had expected, due to the wetness of the ground from the rain the day before. Finally he reached the road leading down to the farm, his heart beating faster as he approached his old home.

His mother and Elizabeth were in the kitchen when he entered, seated at the table, their breakfast over.

‘Lachlan!’ His mother’s smile was delighted. ‘I’d no word ye were coming!’

He walked over to kiss his mother’s cheek. ‘Are you well?’

‘Aye, I’m well. A trifle under the weather mebbe … and so sad to hear Elizabeth is leaving us.’

Elizabeth had risen from her seat. Lachlan was alarmed to see the change in her. Her lustrous hair was severely scraped back into a knot and she wore a black dress of the kind worn by servants.

‘My God, you even
look
like a Missionary,’ he said. ‘What’s happened to you, Elizabeth? What’s making you do this fanatical thing?’

Elizabeth turned to leave the room, but he caught her arm. ‘I can’t let you go,’ he insisted, ‘not to China.’

She wrenched away from him and put her hand to her head, as if trying to think. ‘This is unfair,’ she said. ‘And this is certainly none of your business.’

‘I’ve been to China. I know what it’s like there. And it’s definitely not a place for you.’

Mrs Macquarie rose to support him. ‘Oh, I agree, verra likely it’s no’ the place for ye, Elizabeth.’

‘So where
is
the place for me, in your opinions?’ Elizabeth demanded angrily. She turned furious blue eyes on Lachlan. ‘And is that why you came rushing over here at this early hour, to convey to me your downright disapproval of my journey to China?’

‘No, not entirely, but can you please calm yourself down and allow us to talk about this. You’re not catching the ferry until this evening, so you do have some time to spare, if you’re willing to grant it.’

‘It would be poor of you not to – spare him some of your time, I mean,’ Mrs Macquarie said quickly. ‘Maybe just a wee bit, Elizabeth hennie?’

Elizabeth sighed.
 
‘Oh, very well. ’

‘So, now,’ said Mrs Macquarie, moving towards the door.
 
‘I think I’ll take a wee stroll down to the shore and see how the kelpers are doing.’

When she had left the room, Elizabeth turned away from him. ‘Just say whatever it is you want to say.’

‘Elizabeth, why you are doing this? You were never obsessed with religion before.’

She spun round, cut to the quick. ‘How dare you say that? I’ve always been a devout Presbyterian.’

‘Then why are you going to China with a group of English evangelists?’

Confounded, she stared at him. Then her hand went to her head again and she stood in a dull pause. ‘Oh, what does it
matter,
’ she blurted out. ‘And why should it matter to
you
? You’re not my dutiful chaperone any more. ’

‘Marry me,’ he said gently.

‘What?’ She stared at him, her eyes unbelieving, then accusing him bitterly.
 
‘Is this yet another of your kind gestures?’

‘No, just a simple and sincere request.’

‘To marry you?’

‘If you would be so kind.’

‘But
why?
’ She was pale now, quite distraught. ‘It’s inexcusable to make such a request when you have no feelings of that kind for me. Or do you think, like Henrietta, that I cannot live anywhere in this world without a
husband!
’

‘I think’ – he took a quick breath – `that I do have feelings of that kind for you … it hurts me to realise that now. I never thought I could, or would, feel much affection for any woman again, but there are so many things I like about you, Elizabeth …’

‘Such as?’ she interrupted bluntly. ‘What are these many things you like about me?
 
Please enlighten me? Go on.’

He smiled faintly. ‘Do you think I came prepared with a list?’

‘I don’t know what to think,’ she admitted.

He paused, then with simple frankness. ‘The proposal is mine, Elizabeth, the answer is yours.’

Elizabeth was so dazed and confused she could not take it in. She sat down and put her face in her hands. ‘Oh, I don’t know … I feel as if a hammer has struck my head … my decision to go was made with such certainty … I need time to think … oh, this is so
unfair!
’

TWENTY-THREE

Dark clouds hung over the grounds of George Jarvis’s school in Edinburgh. Lachlan felt his anxiety increasing as he walked slowly up the drive to the main door. He glanced up at the clouds, heavy with rain, and hoped that George would understand.

Minutes later he was standing in the hall of the school, his eyes moving over the numerous portraits of former Deans without seeing them, his mind preoccupied with the task ahead. He now faced a crisis of decision about George Jarvis, just as he had once done with Marianne.

At last a student appeared, listened to his request, nodded agreeably, and then led him up a flight of stairs to a long corridor where he silently indicated a dark mahogany door.

George Jarvis answered his knock with a smile of surprise, but instantly he sensed something was wrong and his smile faded.
 
‘What is wrong?’ he asked.

 
‘Nothing,’ Lachlan replied, walking into the room. ‘I’m sorry to drop in on you like this without warning.’

‘No, no, do not apologise for coming,’ George said. ‘You know I am always happy to see you.’ He gestured to a leather armchair for Lachlan to sit down. ‘Let me get you something to drink. Some hot tea?’