Kingdom of Shadows (26 page)

‘I don’t know.’ She glanced away. ‘He’s on the banking side, so I don’t see a lot of him.’

‘You just said you had dinner with him, Diane,’ his voice was softly wheedling. ‘You must know him quite well to have done that.’

‘I was taken, by one of his co-directors. Henry Firbank. We go out from time to time.’

‘I see.’ Rex leaned forward and steepled his fingers over his glass. ‘I see. So tell me, from what you know of him, would you say Paul Royland would be a good man to do business with?’

Diane frowned. ‘Is that what you’re thinking of doing? Raising money through BCWP?’

‘Possibly. But I was thinking on a more personal level. I want to know if he’s sound.’ His voice had sharpened.

She looked down. ‘So. This isn’t just a social lunch. You’ve asked me here for a reason. I might have guessed, you old fraud. You don’t change, do you? Well, the answer is I don’t know. There have been rumours.’ She glanced up at him, uncomfortable now with his questions. ‘I shouldn’t tell you any of this, Rex.’

‘It won’t go any further, honey.’ He reached over the table and took her hand. ‘But I need to know.’

‘Well,’ she hesitated again. ‘Henry would never say anything, he’s too loyal, but I know Paul’s sister, Emma, quite well, and she’s let slip a few things. Her husband is on the Far East desk, and she has no idea of how to keep tactful silence about things he’s told her about the office.’ She smiled fondly. ‘And of course, Peter only tells her because she is Paul’s sister! Peter thinks that there may have been trouble about the Hannington takeover, when the price dropped when they had the strike. Do you remember? The shares shot up and there were screams of insider dealing. Then the takeover fell through. I suspect Paul lost a lot of money over that deal. I think he can be less than shrewd sometimes.’

‘But you like him anyway.’ Rex raised an eyebrow.

‘Is it that obvious?’

‘Only to me. I’ve known you too long. So, what about his wife?’

Diane sighed. ‘She is rich and stunningly beautiful. I would never stand a chance.’

‘You too are stunningly beautiful, my Diane.’ He smiled at her, raising his glass. ‘Do you like her?’

Diane shrugged. ‘I’m not sure, to be honest. She’s strange. A bit vague.’

‘And what is his sister like, apart from garrulous?’

‘Nice. You’d get on well with her.’

‘And is she close to her brother?’ He made the question casual.

Diane laughed. ‘She can’t stand him. Poor Emma. Like Clare she is not really a City wife. Neither of them fit in. They don’t know what to talk about.’

‘And yet you get on with her.’

‘Perhaps that’s because I’m different too.’ She grinned. ‘I’m a woman and I’m American. That makes me an outsider in the City as well. Why are you showing such an interest in the Roylands, Rex? Are you sure it’s just business?’

‘I’m interested in you, honey. That’s all. I want to know all about you. It’s been too long since we’ve seen you. I tell you what. Why don’t you bring your boyfriend – Henry, did you say he was called? – to dinner one evening. Mary would be thrilled with that …’

‘What the hell do I do, James?’ Clare’s knuckles were white on the receiver. She had dialled her brother’s number before Geoffrey’s car had vanished down the drive.

‘Sell, Clare. You’d be crazy not to. They don’t have to buy, you know. They could just apply for a licence to drill. And there would be nothing you could do about it. The oil isn’t yours, sis.’

‘What do you mean, it isn’t mine?’

‘Oil belongs to the country, Clare. They can take it, whatever you say. My guess is that this company wants the land and the hotel to ease the hassle. But they’ll get the oil if the government grants them a licence.’

‘I don’t believe you!’

‘It’s true, Clare.’

‘Have you been talking to Paul about this?’

‘He asked me about Duncairn. He can’t understand why you didn’t want to sell.’

‘So he decided to sell over my head! That’s what it sounds like.’

‘Well, he can’t do that, so don’t panic. No one can force you to sell or sell without your consent. Married Women’s Property Act and all that!’

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. ‘You are sure?’

‘Paul must have told him you are ill as an excuse to start negotiating on your behalf. All you have to do is ring this man and deny it.’

‘I can’t. I threw away the letter. I can’t remember the solicitor’s name …’

James looked heavenwards. ‘Ask the florist, Clare, but I think you’ll find that the firm is called Sigma.’

Rex phoned her back as soon as he got back to his office. ‘Mrs Royland. How are you?’ He sat down at his desk and leaned back, staring out at the murky sky.

‘I’m very well, Mr Cummin. Thank you for the flowers, but they weren’t necessary. And I’m afraid you are under a misapprehension. I have not changed my mind about selling Duncairn. It is not and never will be for sale. And if my husband has led you to believe that he is empowered to act on my behalf he is misleading you. He has no authority to act for me. None at all.’ She could feel the receiver slipping in her hand. ‘Please leave us alone, Mr Cummin. There is no oil at Duncairn.’

‘Ah. There, my dear lady, you are wrong. There is oil there.’

‘Then leave it there. This country doesn’t need any more oil.’

‘There is always demand for oil, Mrs Royland.’ He leaned forward on the desk, easing his weight on the chair. ‘Why don’t you and I meet? I’d like to explain things to you, tell you our schedule, put your mind at rest. I could show you my plans for the hotel and the castle. I think you’d like what I have in mind. I’m a Scot by descent, Mrs Royland. I care about that castle as much as you do.’

‘I doubt that.’ Clare was white to the lips. The threat of this unknown man, and his offer to buy Duncairn, had suddenly become real again.

‘Perhaps I should explain.’ She could hear the sudden pride in his voice. ‘I can trace my roots back to the family who owned Duncairn once a long time ago. Comyn, they were called. It is my ancestral home, Mrs Royland, in a manner of speaking. So I care very much about what happens to it. I would spend money on it.’

Clare was speechless.

‘Are you there, Mrs Royland? Obviously Sigma doesn’t need to own the land. We’ll get the XL – that is a licence to test drill. But I want Duncairn to get the credit it deserves. I want it to become the European headquarters for Sigma. I want to raise that castle back to its former glory. I want to rebuild Duncairn Castle, Mrs Royland.’

‘No!’ It came out as an anguished whisper. ‘No, Mr Cummin. Never. I won’t sell to you or anyone.’ Her hands were shaking violently. ‘You and I have nothing to say to one another, Mr Cummin. Nothing!’

She slammed down the receiver. Then she picked it up again and rang Paul. ‘Don’t you ever, ever, try that again! I may not be in London, I may spend half my life in a dream as you put it, but believe me, if you try negotiating with that man again I will hear about it and I will stop you, believe me, I will stop you!’

The house was quiet again. Sarah had put away the shopping, made them both a light salad – Clare had hardly touched hers – then she had gone out again. She was driving up to Norwich to stay the night with a friend.

‘You’re sure you’ll be all right?’ she had said as Clare saw her off. ‘You’ll have Casta for company, bless her. One is never alone with that dog, however empty the house.’ Then she had gone, pleased to be away.

Clare closed the door after her and leaned against it with a sigh. The house wasn’t empty for her. It was full of people, waiting in the shadows.

The long summer night never grew entirely dark. Isobel, standing on the battlements in the deeper black of the shadows, caught her breath as a man appeared at the head of the stair. She had known he would come. Silently she slipped from the concealment of the walls and stepped forward into the bright starlight.

‘You can see the camp fires of the English from up here,’ she whispered.

He frowned. ‘Not for long. We’ll drive Edward from Scotland for good this time.’ He smiled down at her. ‘So, why does Lady Buchan want to speak to me so urgently?’

‘Can’t you guess? I never see you alone any more.’ She tried not to sound petulant. ‘Robert, I know you loved your Isabella of Mar, but she is dead. You are free!’ Lord Buchan had told her. Before they left Duncairn the news had come and he had laughed at Isobel’s white, shocked face, and then he had ordered her to accompany him south.

‘And you are not free.’ Robert’s voice was harsh. ‘This cannot be, Isobel.’ He turned away from her abruptly and leaned with his elbows on the battlements. Below, in the luminous darkness the scent of wild honeysuckle drifted up from the hedgerows on the night wind; she heard the grating of his armour as he shifted his weight. ‘Lord Buchan must send you north again,’ he went on, without looking at her. ‘It is too dangerous here. I have given orders that all the women are to be moved on at first light.’ Staring out into the darkness he went on, almost talking to himself. ‘Everywhere our spies are telling us that Edward is leading a huge army against us from England. We knew he would when he returned from Flanders. We should have been more prepared. I am afraid we have been too confident.’ He was almost talking to himself. ‘To rid Scotland forever of the English threat we have to defeat him again, decisively, on every front. We have to chase him away for good.’

‘And I must go north, away from the fighting, and I shall not see you again for months perhaps –’ She wanted to reach out and touch him, but something in the angle of his shoulders beneath their heavy mail stopped her.

‘You must not see me, at all, Isobel. Sweet Jesus! Do you realise what you do to me when you talk like this! There can be no love between us. You belong to Buchan!’ His fists clenched convulsively on the stone wall. ‘Don’t you understand? My love is for this country. Scotland is my mistress, Isobel. For her I will fight, and for her I will die, if I must, but first, I will be her king!’

‘Then why are you leaving to march west? Why do you not march eastwards towards Falkirk with my husband, to meet up with Wallace?’ Hurt by his rejection, there was only one way to retaliate. By reproaching him for turning his back on the battle they both knew was coming.

‘Because I will not fight for Balliol, Isobel. And Wallace fights in his name. I support Wallace. It was I who knighted him. But he rules this land as Guardian for John Balliol. Oh, I too will fight the English, make no mistake about that. But in my lands, in the west, amongst my people.’

‘If you fight the English, you must fight in the name of Scotland’s king.’

Robert snorted. ‘Toom Tabard! ‘A puppet! A cypher! A nothing in exile. What kind of king is that for a proud nation?’ He sighed. ‘But you are right, of course. I shall be fighting outwardly in his name. This whole war has been one of shifting loyalties and ideals. We all have to tread a path between loyalty and expedience; between honour and common sense; between idealism and what is right for this particular moment. A woman wouldn’t understand.’

‘No.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘A woman would put loyalty before all else and be prepared to die for it.’

He turned to her at last. For a long time he stared down into her face. Then he shook his head grimly. ‘A woman like you perhaps, my Isobel. Please God you never have to put your loyalty to the test. Scotland needs her men and women alive.’ He glanced out into the strange half darkness of the northern summer night again. ‘And above all she needs a strong king. That is what we have to work for. That is what her people need.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘I long for the day when your husband kisses my hand.’

‘I doubt if he will ever do that, Robert. I suspect he would rather die than acknowledge you his king.’ She stared past him into the distance and she shivered. ‘Dawn is near. I suppose I must go down.’ She took a step nearer him. ‘For what it’s worth, you shall have my allegiance, when the time comes.’

‘And I shall value it.’ He caught her hands. ‘Take care, my love. Don’t allow yourself to fall into danger.’

‘Nor you, my lord.’

For a moment she thought he would kiss her, but he turned back to his watching, staring out again at the tiny specks of fire in the hills to the south which showed where the armies of the English were gathering.

‘Where have you been, madam?’ Lord Buchan was waiting for her in the chamber she had been allocated with her serving women. Fully armed, but for his helm, just as Robert had been, he was an imposing figure in the light of a single flare which burned in the sconce near the door.

‘I went up to the wall walk for some air. It is so hot down here, my lord,’ she answered listlessly. The room was full of the stink of stale cooking which had drifted up from the hall below. The floor coverings were unchanged and the hangings musty.

‘You leave for the north at first light. That will give you air enough.’ He began to fumble with his surcoat and hauberk. ‘Boy! Thomas! Blast you,’ he bellowed towards the door. ‘Come and help me with my harness! I want you back in Buchan, Isobel, I want you to tour the castles. With my followers away and my mother ill, they need to be closely overseen. Make sure the stewards are not cheating me. I want full storerooms this winter.’ He groaned with relief as the heavy mail hauberk was lifted over his head and the padded gambeson unfastened. He waved Thomas aside when all his armour had been removed. ‘Enough. Leave us alone.’ He waited until the heavy door was pulled shut before he turned back to her. ‘And I want the cradle full as well. It is six months since you miscarried my child.’ His lips tightened grimly. ‘And still there is none to replace it.’

Macduff and Sir Alexander had between them deflected his anger from her as she lay hovering between life and death after she had lost the baby, and his fury and his fear had been tempered by his guilt; he knew his blows had led to her injuries and to the loss of the baby, but his suspicions had not gone. They festered and grew every time he caught sight of his wife’s wild beauty and her persistently slim figure. Somehow she was deliberately avoiding the pregnancy which was her duty and in doing so she was defying both him and God. Deep down his anger was hardening.