Clandara (18 page)

She smiled at him for the first time.

“I think it very like you, Henry. You always thought well before making a decision, but when you made it nothing could move you.”

“Or you,” he retorted gently. “Only you never thought at all, my dear. You were always wild. It used to be the very devil stopping you from taking every jump when you were a child, just because Robert and I did.”

There was silence then, and the Earl snapped his fingers for more wine. The two Fraser servants who waited on them filled his glass and Henry's, and removed the dishes from the table. Then suddenly Katharine spoke.

“I'm so glad you came to see us.” She leant across and touched his hand and he flushed. “I feel as if you have brought Robert back.”

“I feel it too,” her father said. “You were always like a second son to me, my dear boy. Stay longer than a week! Wait till we hear how the Prince has done on his march … what's the use of going to Inverness when he may have run straight into the English army?”

“I hoped you'd ask me,” Henry said. “I last heard that a force was marching out under the Commander of the Garrison, Sir John Cope, hoping to intercept the Prince. I met Cope once at a reception – a fearfully dull fellow like all the English, not a word to say for himself, and his officers were little better. I think,” and his eyes gleamed, “that our people will run them into the ground the first time they meet them!”

“Maybe, maybe,” the Earl said. “But it's the last battle that decides, not the first … I hope the Prince and his advisers remember that. Nobody did in the '15.”

“I always wanted to know what your father said on the scaffold,” Henry asked, “that they had to execute him so hurriedly in the middle of it.”

The Earl smiled a little.

“My father was a blunt man,” he said, “with a good turn of phrase. He said, ‘God save King James', and he was wishing a physical calamity upon the Elector of Hanover and one of his ugly German women, a most embarrassing calamity” – he was chuckling as he spoke – “which doesn't bear translation in front of you, Katharine, when the executioner took a swing at him with the axe! My mother used to repeat it with tears of pride in her eyes. Come, we've sat here long enough. Take Katharine into the Green Salon and I'll join you before bed. I've some business to see to with the grieve. Now that Robert's gone, I've little time to do anything but watch these tenants of mine and listen to their complaints.”

They went into the Green Salon, and Katharine turned to him and asked if he would like to hear her play.

“You used to like the spinet,” she reminded him. “But I haven't touched it for so long I doubt if it's in tune.”

“Then leave it for another time,” he told her. “Come and walk in the gardens; it's a perfect night.”

He opened the long windows for her and they stepped out into the cool grounds, and after a few steps he gently took her arm. The moon was high, casting a pale, soft light over the waving trees, outlining the splendid mountains that towered over them like sentinels against the sky. He began leading her to the arbour where the stone seat was, and suddenly she stopped him and drew back.

“Not that way,” she said. “Please take the other path, Henry; it leads to the lower lawn.”

“As you wish; I thought we might sit down.”

“It's too cold,” she said quickly. “Much too cold. I want to walk a little longer, then we can go in.”

For some moments they said nothing. He held her arm against him, but the pressure was not returned. She walked with him but her thoughts were of that other night when she had wandered alone into the garden, taking the path to which Henry had tried to lead her, and found James waiting for her.

The memory was so intense and painful that she closed her eyes to drive it out, but the longing for him came upon her so violently that she shivered. It was as if her body belonged to someone else, and all the wrongs she had suffered and all the hatred she had felt was in vain, helpless to still the cry of desire for the arms which had captured her that night. Henry felt that shiver, and immediately he turned back.

“You
are
cold,” he said gently. “Come, Katharine, we'll go back. It was selfish of me, but I wanted to be alone with you for a little while.”

“Selfish!” She turned and faced him with a cry. “Oh, Henry, how foolish you are … you don't know the meaning of the word! You're the gentlest and kindest man I've ever known – saving only Robert! I know what selfishness is, and cruelty, and lust. I shock you, don't I? You never expected me to speak like this?”

“I want you to,” he urged her. He put his arms around her, and though she was stiff and cold, he held her close to him. “I want you to tell me what happened. Go on, Katharine, tell me. Everything!”

“You know what happened,” she said fiercely. “You know how I sent you away for him, for James Macdonald of Dundrenan, the son of our enemy!”

“I know all that,” he said slowly. “I know what he was; I couldn't believe that you could love him …”

“Nor could anyone,” she said bitterly. “They all warned me; Father, Robert, everyone, but I didn't listen. I wanted him and I was blind. I loved him, Henry. There, I haven't said that since Robert died, but I've known it in my heart. I loved him in spite of everything, and, God forgive me, I love him still!”

In the pale light his face was grey but he still held her, and one hand stroked her hair.

“That doesn't matter. These things take time to die.”

“He came back,” she whispered. “He came here after Robert's death and hid in the garden and sprang on me in the arbour – that's why I wouldn't go there with you tonight. He came to beg me to forgive him.”

“And did you?” he asked her.

“No!” She pulled away from him, her eyes blazing. “No, thank God, I had that much honour left. I cursed him and struck him! That was my forgiveness for killing my Robert, my brother, who was
his
friend as well as mine …”

“And he escaped,” Henry said. “How did he escape?”

“I let him go,” she said, and her voice was a whisper. “Can you understand that, Henry? I let him get away, I never raised the alarm or made a sound. If my father knew it I think he'd kill me.”

“He will never know,” he said gently. “My poor Katharine, my beloved Katharine. Let me comfort you. Forget the past. Come, I'm going to take you in.”

She was crying as they walked, still with his arm around her, and all his old love was alive in him, stronger than ever and deeper because of the pain and disappointment he had suffered. If James Macdonald had seduced her, Henry would not have cared. He would have gone out to find him and kill him, but he would not have loved her any less. But he knew too that then was not the moment to tell her or to offer more than comfort. He longed to take her in his arms and kiss her and wipe away the tears and the memory of the other, but he was sensible enough to know that it could not be done. Not then; not yet. He was a cautious man, and, in spite of his gentleness, a determined one. He knew how to wait for what he wanted, and he wanted Katharine, weeping and desolate for the man who had betrayed her trust, as he had never wanted anything in his whole life. And he felt suddenly quite sure that this time he was going to get her.

“Wipe your eyes,” he said. “Your father may be in the salon; what will he think if he sees you crying?” He gave her his handkerchief and she used it quickly, turning her face up for his inspection. The soft mouth was so close to him; it was still quivering.

“How is it now? Would he see anything?”

“Nothing … nothing now.” His eyes were on her mouth and he made an involuntary movement towards her and then quickly stopped.

“Thank you for that, Henry,” she said slowly. “Thank you for not doing that. I couldn't have borne it yet, even from you.”

“I understand,” he told her. “I will be patient, Katharine. Before I go to Inverness I will ask you if I may. Just for the sake of my old love and your old fondness.”

As they walked into the salon, she saw to her relief that it was empty. As he shut the windows, she went to a sofa and sat down, closing her eyes. She felt terribly weak and tired and very much afraid that she would give way to still more tears.

She heard him moving around the room and opened her eyes and watched him. He had changed very little in nearly two years. He was still as slim and elegant as ever; he always wore tartan coats and breeches of a different colour; she and Robert used to tease him for being a dandy. His dark brown hair was unpowdered and there was a little grey in it, just enough to accentuate the ten years' difference in their ages. They had been two wild youths, he and her brother Robert, and she a wilful, boisterous child who tried so hard to match them and keep up. Once, when she was fourteen, she had thought him good-looking and flirted innocently to his great delight. But that was past, buried in Robert's grave with all the rest of her youth and its innocence. James had destroyed that as he had destroyed everything she loved. She was a woman now, marked by a furious and thwarted passion, embittered by hatred and sorrow and tortured by her own weakness. The soft-spoken, gentle companion of her youth had nothing to offer her now; there would be no peace in his arms from the evil with the face and voice of James Macdonald.

The door opened and one of the servants came in and curtsied. “You rang, sir?”

“Bring a decanter of brandy and two glasses for her ladyship and myself,” he said. The girl curtsied again and withdrew.

“It will do you good.” Henry came over and sat beside her. “Ah, that's excellent. I'll pour it. You may go.”

She took the glass and he poured some for himself and sat down again beside her.

“Drink that,” he said. “And then go up to bed; it's been a long and distressing day for you, I know that. I've brought the past back, Katharine. Just give me a little time and see if I can show you something of the future.”

Katharine shook her head. She felt better after the brandy.

“What a fool I was,” she said slowly. “What a fool to lose you, Henry. Can you really forgive me? I was so young and so thoughtless. I know I hurt you.”

“That's not important now.” He smiled down at her. “You were not in love with me, my dearest. I was still something of a brother; I realize that now; only a fool would have proposed to you when I did.”

“If I'd accepted you all would have been well. Instead” – she shrugged in despair – “my life is ruined, my brother gone, my father – I don't dare tell you what grief for his son and hate and whisky have driven him to doing. I saved my step-mother's life by a hair. He was starving and beating her. It was indescribable. And for a time I knew it and did nothing. You have no idea what has become of us!”

“I'm beginning to,” he said slowly. He was shocked in spite of himself, but even more determined that Clandara was no place for her to stay alone. “I'm going to speak to your father in the morning. I'm going to tell him that he should open his house again for your sake, receive people, try and forget Robert until he can bring the Macdonalds to a legal accounting.”

“He may listen to you,” she said wearily. “But it's of no avail. If you're trying to marry me off, my dear Henry, I can save you the trouble. I have done with marriage.” She looked up at him and her eyes were full of tears. “Thanks to James Macdonald, I have done with life. I can truly say that, for I know I shall never be happy again.”

“You think that now,” Henry Ogilvie answered her steadily. “But I am going to warn you, Katharine. I shan't press you or make one advance against your wishes. But I lost you once and I don't intend to let you go again. All I ask is that you will allow me to remain a little while. Your father will end his mourning and you will begin to see people and live a normal life again. But I am going to stay here and live it with you.”

“What of the Prince? I thought you were going to join him …” She felt too weak and tired to argue. It all seemed quite unreal and she felt as if she would wake tomorrow and discover the whole evening had taken place in her imagination.

“The Prince can wait.” He said it very firmly. “He's got to conquer the rest of Scotland yet. There'll be plenty of time for the Prince. And now I'm going to ring for your woman to get you to bed.”

By the middle of the month the Prince's army left Perth, followed by a crowd of wives and loyalist ladies of indifferent reputation. Accompanied by pack-horses and three servants, Janet Douglas rode out of the city behind the army, and James Macdonald left with his brothers in command of a regiment of his clansmen to seek the English forces.

The night of September 16th was very quiet, and considering that the army of Prince Charles was encamped outside the city's walls, Edinburgh itself was comparatively calm. They had sent out a civic deputation to plead with the Prince for time before they answered his call for unconditional surrender. The worthy gentlemen explained that though the main English army had marched out and left them unprotected, there was still a loyal garrison in Edinburgh Castle, and they dared not admit the Prince and his men without some thought for the consequences to themselves. Charles was reasonable and polite, but firm in his demand. He hoped to make a good impression on the deputies, but at the same time he sent a message to his favourite, Cameron of Lochiel, with orders to take nine hundred men and see if they could storm one of the city gates by a trick. But he forbade violence. It would not do to harden the Capital's resistance to him. The time passed and nothing was agreed by either side. One of the coaches belonging to the deputation returned empty to its stable inside the Netherbow Port, and as soon as the gate was opened for it the gatekeeper was taken quietly by the throat by a certain Captain Ewan MacGregor, who then walked quietly through with the Camerons. The city was taken without a shot being fired, and by noon the following day the Heralds proclaimed King James III and his son Charles as Regent to the wild enthusiasm of the crowd. Contrary to their expectations, the Highlanders behaved with admirable courtesy and restraint, and since there was nothing immediate to fear and nothing whatever to gain by being sour, they threw their hats in the air and shouted for the Prince, while the English garrison in the Castle looked down on the crowded streets and celebrating crowds and told the Prince's emissaries to take their terms of surrender and go to hell. Its English commander made it clear that he would turn his guns upon the city if any attempt were made to attack the Castle.