Call of Glengarron (11 page)

“If Margo was the sort of woman you describe,” I persisted, “she’d never have given up the wealth she commanded as your wife. How do you explain her leaving you if she was so utterly mercenary?”

“That’s easy. Sheer money becomes unimportant above a certain level of income. Margo wanted status and the envy of other people—things she expected to get as my wife. But I wouldn’t play it her way, so she decided she could do better without me, even though it meant having a bit less cash to throw around.”

“A bit less cash. Margo had to go back to modeling to make both ends meet....”

My hot protest died away at the sight of his face. Craig looked astounded by what I’d said.

“Is that what Margo told you—that she was obliged to earn her own living?”

“Well—” I said uncomfortably.

“Didn’t it ever occur to you to wonder how she could afford a luxury flat? How she could dress as she did, and drive a fancy sports car?”

Rather shakily, I used Margo’s own justification. “Those things were necessary to her career as a model.”

Craig stopped dead in his pacing, and swung around to face me, scowling. “Come now, Lucy, you can’t be as naive as you make out. You’re just trying to find excuses for her.”

“Do you mean ... are you saying Margo hadn’t any need to work?”

“Good God, of course she hadn’t. She got a large allowance from me. Far more than any court would ever award a separated wife.”

“If Margo was as bad as you say,” I put in quickly, “why should you have been so generous?”

Suddenly deflated, Craig sat heavily on the arm of a chair. He clenched his hands tightly, and stared down at them as if they would repay a close study.

“I don’t know the answer to that, Lucy.”

After a long pause he got up again and came slowly toward me, just a couple of steps or so.

“There was Jamie, of course — I wanted Margo to have ample money to look after him properly. But that’s not the whole story. She had far more from me than was necessary for Jamie’s sake.”

He stopped, and I got the impression that he had never really sorted out his motives before. It was as if my question had obliged him to face the issue for the first time.

He began again, considering every word. “I suppose it had something to do with not wanting to give Margo any ammunition, so she couldn’t accuse me of being mean. And then, you see, I never entirely gave up hope that we would be reconciled one day.”

“From what you’ve been telling me,” I said, still unconvinced, “I’m surprised you could even contemplate living with her again.”

He didn’t reply at once. After a moment he smiled—a small, sad, inward-looking smile. “I doubt if anyone who’s not been married could ever really understand. It’s so difficult to explain. People talk glibly about love-hate relationships without really knowing what it’s all about. But living together does make a curious sort of bond between two people, and don’t forget we shared the parentage of a child.”

That faint elusive smile still lingered on his face as he looked up suddenly and met my eyes.

“I haven’t made it a bit clear, have I? But there it is. I only know that I could always imagine living with Margo again, despite everything. After all, I had loved her once. Something must still have been there, deep down.”

I had nothing to say to that. All at once I felt terribly young, acutely conscious of my raw innocence. Craig was talking about things I couldn’t understand. His next words were utterly unexpected.

“Do you know, Lucy—you are very like Margo.”

My cheeks flushing hotly, I spluttered, “I should hardly think that’s a compliment—the way you’ve been talking about her.”

“No, I meant like her to look at. And that is a compliment. Margo was a very beautiful woman.”

Distantly, the dinner gong was booming again—the second summons.

“We’d better go down,” I said hastily.

Craig made no move. It was as if he hadn’t heard me.

“Lucy, this is difficult for me to say....”

“Yes?”

“I’ve not told anybody else about stopping off in London between planes on ... on that night. It’s much better left alone. I think we both want to avoid any more muckraking.”

I thought of Lambert Nairn. He knew Craig had visited Margo. But Lambert Nairn had his own good reason for keeping silent.

Cautiously, I said, “Are you sure nobody else could have seen you?”

He shook his head. “I took the precaution of phoning Margo before I went there.” He flushed slightly, biting his lower lip. “You see, I thought if by chance she had anybody with her, I’d give him ... give them an opportunity to clear out before I arrived at the flat.”

What a good thing, I thought, that Craig had phoned, and so avoided finding Lambert Nairn with Margo. Or was it? Maybe if the two men had come face to face, Margo’s tragic death would not have occurred. That was something I should never know.

“Why did you go to see Margo?”

He looked surprised that I should ask. “As I said, I never entirely gave up hope that we could come together again. I went to plead with her. Not just for my own sake, but for Jamie’s too. He was growing up—he needed to have a father around.”

“But Margo wouldn’t listen?”

“No,” he said huskily, “she wouldn’t listen. But let’s not discuss what Margo said to me. Let’s try to forget that she and I ever met that night.”

I was only too ready to agree. “You can be sure that I will never mention it.”

Swiftly Craig reached out and took my hand in his. We stood close, facing one another. Then abruptly he swung around and led me across the room.

“Are you ready to go down to dinner?”

“Yes, I was on my way when I saw you.”

Craig opened the door, and with my hand still in his we walked out into the corridor.

A silent figure stood at the head of the staircase, watching us.

Alistair Lennox.

This time it was not a mirror image. I was looking directly at him. He smiled quickly, waved a vague hand, and went on downstairs ahead of us.

The next morning I decided to take another walk. I felt I had to go out, because it was the only way I could see of separating myself from Jamie. As long as I was around the castle, the little boy tended to keep close by me. On the other hand he’d apparently been happy enough out with Craig and Fiona the previous day. Given time, given a bit of understanding, I was confident now that the final break would be fairly painless—for Jamie.

As I finished breakfast I announced in a general sort of way that I planned to go walking.

To my surprise Craig said at once, “I’ll come with you, Lucy.”

“Thank you,” I said quietly, “but I guess it would be best if I went alone.” I nodded toward Jamie as I spoke, hoping that Craig would get the message.

Luckily he caught on. “Yes ... yes, of course. Which way are you going?”

I hadn’t really thought about it, except that I was determined to keep well away from Lambert Nairn’s land. I didn’t want another encounter with him.

Fiona had already left the table. She was- sitting in the window seat, idly flicking through a copy of the
Scottish Field.
She looked up sharply. “You’re taking me to Fort William this morning, Craig.”

The words were tossed across the room with a feather lightness. I doubted if Craig could see what I could see—the underlying iron determination.

He swung toward Fiona, surprised. “Oh, is it today you wanted to go?”

“But I told you,” she snapped, irritated.

“Sorry, Fiona. I thought you just meant sometime in the next few days. Still, it’s perfectly okay. As it happens I’m free this morning.”

Her ironic eyebrows arched upward. “How very fortunate.”

Jamie was making rather a sticky mess of a boiled egg, too absorbed to listen to the adult conversation. I knew he hadn’t heard me say I was going out. Feeling a bit of a heel, I made my escape and ran upstairs to get changed.

The inner hall looked deserted when I came down again. But at the foot of the stairs I suddenly spotted Isabel Lennox standing quietly in a doorway. Obviously she’d been waiting for me to appear. She beckoned me over.

“Could I have a word with you please, Lucy dear?” For her, the sentence was clear and explicit.

“Yes, of course, Mrs. Lennox.”

“Will you come in here for a moment?”

The room was casually furnished, even a bit shabby. Near the window, in the clear light, a large tapestry was stretched on a frame. In the subtly soft browns and greens of a Scottish landscape, merging with muted red and tenuous blue, it was a scene of Highland soldiers in battle.

Isabel Lennox saw my look of interest. “I am repairing it. A little hobby of mine.”

“How fascinating.” I went closer, bending to admire the fine stitching. “It’s terribly clever of you.”

She fluttered a little. “Oh, not really ... it’s just a matter of— It makes something to ...”

I realized that this was her retreat from a life that brought no happiness. The magnificence of the castle, the round of social engagements, the lavish dinner parties—all these meant nothing to Isabel Lennox—nothing but anxiety. She preferred to shut herself away in this small homely room, quietly working on her tapestry. I felt a sudden rush of pity for her.

Craig’s aunt motioned me to sit down. I took a seat beside the fire, and she sat opposite me, her thin angularity uneasy in the well-sprung armchair.

“We all of us want you to know how grateful we are, how extremely grateful.”

I had never before heard her speaking so fluently. Clearly she had screwed herself up to say something important.

I waited, and she went on: “I mean, you have been so very kind and patient with little Jamie.”

“I’m very fond of him.”

“Yes, my dear—I can see that. But after all, you have your own life to consider.”

“If I could,” I told him earnestly, “I would gladly have Jamie. Don’t think for a moment that I
want
to part with him.”

“We realize that, but his place is with his father. I know you understand.”

I was puzzled, and beginning to get a bit annoyed. Was Isabel Lennox hinting that I was being obstructive?

“Of course I understand that,” I said stiffly. “And I’ve been doing everything possible these last few days to lessen Jamie’s dependence on me. It’s at your request that I’m staying here longer than originally planned.”

“And I feel rather badly about that now. It was selfish of us to expect you to jeopardize your whole career just to make things easier for us.”

“Jeopardize?” I exclaimed. “It’s hardly like that, Mrs. Lennox. As I told you, my boss understands the circumstances, and is sympathetic.”

“All the same,” she said with a firm finality that was completely out of character. “All the same, we cannot presume upon your kindness any further.”

I stared at her. Then I asked bluntly, “Do you mean you want me to go?”

Isabel Lennox jerked up her hands, taking shelter behind them from the crudity of my words. “Of course we don’t want... Please try ...”

I rose to my feet. “When would you like me to leave?”

She jumped up too, and came and put her thin fingers on my arm.

“You’re making it very difficult for me, my dear.”

“I’m sorry about that,” I said with cold sarcasm.

“We don’t want to rush you, of course,” she went on. “You are very
welcome
here.”

I cut in impatiently: “I don’t know the details of the flights back to London. Perhaps you will let me know.”

“There is an afternoon plane,” she rushed in eagerly. “At ten past five from Inverness. You could leave after lunch….”

“Today?”

She looked quite shocked. “No, I didn’t mean ...” She took breath, and added ingenuously, “Besides, you couldn’t go today—there are no seats vacant.”

Without another word I turned and walked out of the room.

It was fortunate I’d planned a solitary walk. I needed to be alone for a while to give me a chance to calm down. To be asked to stay on at Glengarron, and then to be unceremoniously kicked out. There wasn’t even to be a decent dignity about my departure. I was being put on the first available plane back to London.

Steaming with fury, I stalked across the causeway and took the first track I found heading up into the forest-clad hills.

A soft breeze blew against my cheeks, and there was the cool sweet scent of pines. I was glad of the vast remoteness which quickly engulfed me. Maybe it would help me to get my own insignificant problems into perspective.

The track was steep, but my anger and hurt pride goaded me into keeping up a brisk pace. Even so I was forced to slow down after a while, and the very act of slowing eased the pressure on my mind.

Was I making too much of that scene with Mrs. Lennox? Her whole attitude had been so untypical. Had she perhaps spoken with such clumsy directness only out of a sort of consideration for me?

Maybe the family was embarrassed about taking advantage of my being here as a kind of unpaid governess for Jamie. And so they darn well should be.

Who would look after him when I had gone away? Mrs. Lennox herself lived too much in her own quiet dream world, while Fiona was not at all the sort to cope with a child. I suspected she only showed interest in Jamie to impress Craig.

That left the servants. There was Duncan’s wife, who from the little I’d seen of her appeared to be fond of the boy. But she was fully occupied with her job as housekeeper and cook. As for the two or three maids, these girls only came in for a few hours during the day.

The family would surely be forced to employ someone specially for Jamie. And they might not find it all that easy to get a woman willing to work and live in such an isolated place. I wondered if Isabel Lennox, in her abstracted, unworldly way, had overlooked the fact that a five-year-old boy needs quite a lot of attention.

There was no point agonizing over all this, I told myself. Jamie was no longer my responsibility, however much he claimed my love. If I was asked to leave the castle, I had no option but to go.

With a sense of bitter resignation, I decided to make the most of my last day here.