Joan Wolf (13 page)

“You are going to ask Mac Caileinmhor if you can borrow money from him?” Margaret sounded incredulous.

   “I want to borrow money from a bank,” he replied patiently. “But I am an unknown factor. If the Duke of Argyll gives me a reference, I will have a much better chance of getting the money I need.”

“The last time the Macdonalds went to Inverary it was in the army of the great Marquis of Montrose.
Your
great-great-grandfather,” Lady Lochaber said as she turned to Frances. “They went to bring fire and sword to the Campbells in their own land, and they chased Mac Caileinmhor out of his own castle.” She paused. “What do you think of this, Frances?”

Frances’s face maintained its expression of unruffled serenity. “I think Ian is right, Godmama. The Campbells have used us for long enough. Now it is time for us to use them.”

Lady Lochaber looked thoughtful and Ian shot his wife a glance of amused respect. Trust Frances to find the right way of putting it. Wisely he said no more, and after a minute Lady Lochaber changed the subject. He left a week later for Inverary.

Chapter Sixteen

Argyll has raised a hunder men,

An hunder hamess’d rarely,

And he’s awa’ by the back of Dunkell

To plunder the castle of Airlie.

—
ANONYMOUS

The week before he left for Campbell country, Ian devoted to trying to win over Nell. It was uphill work but he persevered with a patience that Frances had not known he possessed.

Nell was not happy about her mother’s marriage. Frances had known it would be a difficult time for her, but she hadn’t realized the extent to which Nell would be upset. It had begun as soon as Frances broke the news to her. “My Papa is dead,” Nell had said stubbornly. “I don’t want another Papa.” And nothing Frances could say would soften her.

   The news that they would be leaving Charlotte Square to go live at Castle Hunter, was, if anything, even more traumatic. Nell began to cling to Frances in the way she had after Robert Sedburgh’s death. She didn’t want to leave the house. She followed her grandfather about like a determined shadow and she showed a face of implacable hostility to Ian.

“I don’t want you to marry my mother!” she shouted at him the afternoon before he left for Lochaber. “You aren’t my Papa!”

The bleak look that had settled over Ian’s face pulled at Frances’s heart. She had taken Nell upstairs and then returned to find him in front of the mantel staring down into the empty grate. He looked relaxed but his white knuckles on the mantelpiece gave him away. “You are going to have to be patient with Nell, Ian,” she said, looking anxiously at his bent head. “She has had some very hard things to cope with for such a little girl. This isn’t easy for her.”

“So I see.” His voice was level.

“She adored Rob, you see,” she went on, conscious that she was inflicting hurt but aware of the necessity for it. “She was only two when he died but she was old enough to miss him and to grieve for him. We stayed at Aysgarth, which helped. Rob’s parents love her and have always paid a lot of attention to her, which helped also. Then we came back home to Edinburgh and she was uprooted and upset again.”

He had turned to look at her. “Why did you leave Aysgarth, Frances?”

She shrugged a little. “There was no place for me there with Rob gone. And a good excuse for going presented itself.”

“What was that?”

“Rob’s brother.”

His eyes narrowed a little, with irony. “Did he want to marry you too?”

“I didn’t stay long enough to find out,” she replied composedly.

“I see. And so Nell was devastated to leave the Sedburghs.” He sounded cool enough but Frances caught the sudden unguarded flicker of his eyelids. She spoke quickly, wanting to get it over with.”

“It was not easy, of course. But she soon settled in here. And she had my father.” She made a helpless gesture. “You know how he was with me, Ian. How he still is. Well, it is the same with Nell. He thinks she is perfect. He spoils her shamefully. She adores him.”

“ ‘Poppy,’ in fact, has taken the place of Papa,’”  Ian said.

“Yes.”

 There was a long silence and then Ian asked, “What do you advise me to do, Frances? I do not relish the thought of my daughter hating me.”

She winced slightly at what she heard in his voice. “She will come around, Ian. She is, basically, thank God, a very adaptable child. You must have patience, though.”

And patience he certainly had, Frances thought as she watched him with Nell all during the week between their return from Loch Shiel and his departure for Inverary. Sir Donal had left for Edinburgh two days before Frances and Ian returned to Castle Hunter, so Nell had been left in the care of Ian’s mother and sister. They both wore themselves out trying to entertain her, but when Frances came into the upstairs drawing room, Nell had flung herself into her mother’s arms like an abandoned child.

She stuck to Frances like a leech for the next few days, but since Frances spent most of her time with Ian, the two were thrown together. He put aside all the affairs that were clamoring to be attended to and devoted himself to wooing his daughter. Together, he and Frances showed her all the haunts of their own mutual childhood and made her laugh with the stories of their adventures. Ian built a dam with her in a Highland stream, both of them getting extremely wet in the process. He let her help him row a boat. He taught her how to skip stones and how to climb a tree. Frances watched with a smile in her eyes as he won over their daughter the same way he had won her years ago.

The reward for all his trouble came the day before he left. He came into the sitting room that adjoined Frances’s bedroom where she was sorting through a box of books. Nell was with her, fidgeting around the window, looking out at the mountains shimmering in the clear sun.

“I’m going fishing,” he announced. “Do you care to come with me, Frances?”

 She looked from him to Nell and then shook her head. “No, I want to finish unpacking these books. Then I promised to go over the house with your mother.’’

“Very well.” He took a step toward the door and then turned to Nell. “Would you like to come fishing with me, Nell?”

“I’ve never been fishing,” the little girl answered cautiously.

“I’ll teach you,” he responded promptly. “I taught your mother when she was a little girl. I always thought she was the only girl I’d ever go fishing with because she knows how to keep quiet.” He frowned suddenly. “Do you think you could be quiet?” he asked anxiously.

Nell looked scornful. “Of course.”

“That’s all right then. Do you want to come?”

The child hesitated, looking at her mother for guidance. But Frances’s face was expressionless. “It is up to you, Nell,” she said. “You may go or stay, just as you please.”

Nell wavered, obviously reluctant to leave the safety of Frances’s side. But the promise of fishing and the blazing life in Ian’s eyes were too strong a lure. “I think I’ll go fishing,” she said.

“Fine,” replied Frances, careful to keep the relief from her voice. “Be sure you’re back in time for dinner.”

“Maybe I’ll catch a fish for you to eat, Mama,” said Nell excitedly.

“That would be fun, my love. There is nothing as good as fish from a Highland loch.”

“I know,” Nell said importantly, and Ian laughed.

“Get a jacket, Nell,” he advised. “It can get chilly out on the water.”

“All right. Wait for me, I’ll be right back!” She darted out of the room and they could hear her running down the hall. They barely had a chance to exchange a glance of mutual congratulation before she was back with her jacket. Frances watched from the window as they left the castle together, and tears stung her eyes. Then, laughing at her own emotion, she returned to unpacking her books.

Ian rode by himself when he left for Inverary the next morning. His mother had wanted him to take a tail of gillies with him to demonstrate his importance, but he had refused. “I don’t want any incidents, mother, and Lochaber Macdonalds do not mix well with the members of Clan Diarmed.” This was indisputably true and so it was a solitary horseman who left Castle Hunter on that fine September morning.

He rode through Glen Etive to the ferry on the northern shore of the beautiful loch of the same name where he was rowed across the quiet, blue water. He stopped at the hostelry on the other side for something to eat, then proceeded on his way toward Argyll through the Pass of Brander. Mighty Ben Cruachan towered above him on one side, and on the other was the deep black water of the Awe as it streamed toward Loch Etive. He stopped at the inn in Dalmally for a meal and then turned his horse south, toward Loch Fyne, the long sea loch at whose head stood Inverary Castle, ancient seat of Mac Caileinmhor, the Duke of Argyll, chief of the Campbells, the hated Clan Diarmed, the blood enemies of the Macdonalds of Lochaber.

* * * *

The Duke was not in residence and Ian was received by his nephew, James Campbell of Ardkinglas. The Ardkinglas Campbells were from Loch Goil, a few miles to the east of Inverary and Loch Fyne. James Campbell had a fine estate of his own, but in his uncle’s absence he came periodically to Inverary to consult with the Duke’s factor and to send word to his uncle. It was morning, as Ian had spent the night at the inn in town. He had come to ask for Campbell help, but he did not want to be put in the position of having to ask for Campbell hospitality.

   James Campbell was the same age as Ian and had been up at Cambridge with him, although at a different college. He had been profoundly surprised when the major-domo had announced the Earl of Lochaber. The Macdonalds of Lochaber had been for centuries the chief rivals and enemies of his clan. They were Catholic and Jacobite while the Campbells were Protestant and Hanoverian. They could never rival the Campbells in wealth but their prestige among the Scottish nobility was enormous. People listened to the Campbells out of fear. They listened to the Macdonalds out of affection and pride. ‘Loyal as Lochaber’ was a saying heard not infrequently on the streets of Edinburgh. So it was an occasion of some magnitude that the Earl of Lochaber should present himself at Inverary Castle.

James Campbell told the major-domo to bring the Earl to him in the library and then stood looking at the door, a faint frown between his brows. He was, in fact, a little in awe of Ian Macdonald and was trying to conceal it as best he could.

   To the older nobility of England and Scotland, Ian was an unknown quantity. To his peers who had been at school with him, he was a legend. At Eton he had been the best fighter in the school. Even in his first year the older boys had left him alone. And he had been unequalled in sports. By the time he graduated he had been the acknowledged king of the school. It had been the same at Cambridge.

   Life just seemed more vivid and exciting around Ian. Very few refused to follow where he led. The final act that had rung down the curtain on his Cambridge career was still talked about among undergraduates five years after it had happened. Campbell had heard men boast of having been in that race; it had gone down as one of the epic escapades in university history. The fact that Ian had been the only one expelled was a measure of how accurately the authorities had understood the power of his leadership. The race had gone unnoticed in the world at large, but Campbell knew it was one of the landmarks of his own generation.

So now he stood waiting for Ian Macdonald, a trifle angry with himself for feeling the way he did. He remembered Ian as being larger than life, he told himself. Doubtless he would find that the reality fell far short of his schoolboy memory.

It didn’t. If anything, the Earl of Lochaber was even more overwhelming than Campbell remembered. Ian filled the doorway, his dark eyes fixed interrogatively on James Campbell. “Ardkinglas?” he said in his deep, slow voice. “My business is with the Duke.”

“My uncle is in London, Lord Lochaber,” replied Campbell. “Perhaps I may be of assistance to you.”

“Damn,” said Ian and came into the room. He wore buckskin riding breeches, topboots, and a coat of blue superfine that fit perfectly across his broad shoulders. There was nothing in his attire to suggest that he was anything but a well-born English gentleman.

  His face gave the lie to the subdued fashion of his clothes. It was as Campbell remembered, full of strength and vivid life and the suggestion of suppressed violence. It was not precisely a handsome face, but it was one you did not forget.             “Do you expect him to return anytime in the near future?” Ian asked the slender man who was dressed like himself in ordinary riding clothes. The kilt was no longer proscribed in Scotland, but very few wore it except on dress occasions.

“No. I believe he plans to remain in London for several months.”

   There was a silence as Ian looked speculatively at James Campbell, obviously trying to decide whether or not to deal with him in place of the absent duke. Campbell’s mouth tightened in annoyance. He did not like being made to feel insignificant. Ian’s arrogance was all the more damning, he thought, because it was totally unconscious. “If I cannot help you, my lord,” he said, an edge to his voice.

Ian had made up his mind. “You have lands not far from here, Ardkinglas, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yes.”

“Are you bringing in sheep?”

“No, I am not.”

“Good. If you can spare me a few minutes, Ardkinglas, I have a plan I should like to talk over with you.”

“Certainly, my lord,” said Campbell stiffly. “Won’t you be seated?”

* * * *

  Forty minutes later he was looking at Ian with respect on his face. “It sounds like an excellent scheme to me,” he said, “In fact, I might be interested in trying the same thing at Ardkinglas. We are not nearly so wealthy as Inverary, I’m afraid.”

“No one is,” said Ian ruefully, and Campbell laughed.

“You surprise me, my lord. I did not think to find in you an agrarian reformer.” Ian’s brows rose slightly, and in response to his unasked question Campbell continued, “I was at Cambridge the same time you were.”