Rumors Among the Heather (3 page)

“Yes. I am taking up
the position of governess at the home of Baron Bonnleigh. Do you
know the family?”

“Aye, that I do.
Forgive me if I seem forward, but you are surely too young to hold
the position of governess, not to mention traveling by
yourself.”

“I had no choice. I
had to find employment, and I could not find anyone going this way.
So far, I have not had any problems. Just a rude person back at the
Sixpence, but it amounted to nothing. It’s a wild country. I have
heard the people here don’t like the English.”

“Nonsense, my dear.
There’s bound to be a few, but most are like meself. I like
everyone until I have a reason not to. Don’t you worry,” she said
with a smile.

“Of course, you’re
right. I can’t let my courage desert me now. I’ll be under Lord
Bonnleigh’s protection. He’s a MacDonald, I believe. I should be
safe,” Julie said, more to assure herself than Mrs. Parsons.

“For sure, my dear,
you’ll be safe here. ’Tis a small town. Your family must have been
upset at losing you,” Mrs. Parsons commented.

“When my father died,
I had to seek employment quickly. I could have gone to my cousin
Hannah in Bath. She wrote and asked me to come, but I did not like
the idea of living off someone else’s charity, no matter how well
meant. I only have the one cousin, and she married recently. This
was something I had to do. I couldn’t take the chance of waiting
and losing the only position offered to me.”

Julie found herself
talking to Mrs. Parsons as if she were an old friend. She did not
normally confide her problems to a stranger, but there was just
something about the motherly figure that was comforting.

Mrs. Parsons gave her
a reassuring pat and said, “Everything will work out. You’ll
see!”

When Julie looked
again, Mrs. Parsons had drifted back off to sleep. With each bump,
she leaned a little more sideways until her head rested on Julie’s
shoulder. Nothing changed much in the next sixteen hours. Her
fellow passengers woke up long enough to complain about their ride
or take refreshments at each stop. Mrs. Parson woke up, yawned,
apologized, and went back to sleep. Julie stared out the window,
and the mail coach rattled on its journey.

Her backside ached
relentlessly from being beaten against the unpadded seat of the
coach. She felt she would have to be dead for three days to feel
better. At last they arrived in Gairloch. Julie stepped down from
the coach and into the yard of the Pig and Whistle. Raucous
laughter reached her ears when a door opened, and a couple of local
fellows staggered into the sunlight.

The small tavern
boasted only a few rooms available to the hardy traveler. The
tavern keeper leaned against the doorframe watching the post
deposit its mail and passengers. He wore a greasy apron tucked into
his buckskins, and his cap tipped rakishly across his low forehead.
The coachman deposited Julie’s luggage in the dirt in front of the
tavern. She looked around for some sign of her new employer. The
tavern keeper spat into the dusty earth before strolling over to
where she stood. His breath reeked of onions, and his body odor
left no doubt in her mind that he feared water. Julie took a step
backward, and he a step forward.

She took out a
perfumed handkerchief and put it to her nose. “I am meeting Lord
Bonnleigh’s coach here. Could you direct me to it, or to his
estate?”

“Hoots toots, ye can
see he’s not here. Ye’ll have to wait til the morrow. The mail
coach was late, and there’s a storm a-comin’.”

“What has that to do
with anything? Could you not send someone to tell him I’m here? I’m
sure he would reward you.”

“Nae, are ye deef? I
told ye there’s a storm comin’ up.”

“I have two good ears,
thank you. What has a storm to do with anything?” Julie asked
through clenched teeth.

“Do ye not ken? He
lives on yon island,” he said and pointed toward the ocean.

Julie looked out to
sea with growing dread. The mist partially obscured a mass of land
in the distance. Lightning danced on the horizon and lit up the
island’s outline. Slowly, his words began to sink in as huge drops
of rain began falling.

Julie bent to pick up
her trunk. Failing to do so, she tried dragging it to the porch in
front of the tavern. The tavern keeper stood by, watching her, but
did not offer to help. Again, she pulled at her trunk with all her
strength, but she did not gain much ground.

Ready to give up and
close to tears, Julie heard Mrs. Parsons ask, “What’s wrong,
dear?”

“I’m trying to get to
Lord Bonnleigh’s estate. Since the coach was late, his man must
have been here earlier and left. I’m not sure what to do next. The
tavern keeper tells me he lives on an island somewhere out there,”
Julie pointed out to sea. “And I can’t get my trunk out of the
rain.”

Mrs. Parson turned on
the innkeeper. “For shame for not helping this young lady.” She
motioned to a man standing at her side, who reached down and moved
the trunk onto the porch. “As to Baron Bonnleigh, he does live on
yon island. There’ll be no one over until the storm subsides. In
the meantime, you must come with me. You cannae stay here. There is
an inn in the village. It was left over from the time when this was
a popular destination. The name is the Charleston Inn. It would be
an honor for my son Robbie here to help you with your luggage and
show you to the inn. It is not far from here.”

With umbrella raised,
Julie hesitated to follow someone she did not know in a strange
town, but she did not appear to have a choice. She could not stay
at the Pig and Whistle. She put her trust in the kindness of this
stranger. “Thank you, it is I who am honored, Mrs. Parsons,” Julie
said. “I’ll leave a message at the tavern so Lord Bonnleigh’s man
can find me.” She walked back to the innkeeper. “When Lord
Bonnleigh’s man comes for me, would you be so kind as to tell him I
have gone to the Charleston Inn?”

“A bloody Englisher,
ain’t yer?” he said, looking at Julie with scorn.

“Yes, I am, and proud
of it,” she shot back. She held her head a little higher and stared
back at him.

The little Scotsman’s
weathered face broke into a grin. “Go along, lass. I’ll tell him.
Won’t be anyone over from yon island till the storm breaks and the
seas are calm again.”

Julie smiled back at
him and waved good-bye. She turned and hurried to catch up with
Mrs. Parsons and Robbie. Robbie transferred the heavy trunk to his
shoulder, and they finished the walk to the inn in good time. The
establishment perched solidly on a cliff overlooking the estuary.
Made of stone and heavy timbers, nothing short of a tidal wave
could have budged it from its perch.

Mrs. Parsons opened
the door and motioned for Julie to go in. “Welcome to Gairloch and
to my wee inn,” Mrs. Parsons said, smiling at her little joke.
“Robbie, bless my soul, don’t stand there grinning. Ye put that
heavy trunk down and come inside to tea,” she said with a laugh.
“Come along, young lady.”

Julie followed her
into the sitting room. “Mrs. Parsons, you’re so kind to rescue me
from the Pig and Whistle. I don’t know what I would have done if
you had not brought me here.”

“Don’t ye worry,
lassie, I’ll be glad to put ye up. I dinnae get verra many guests
anymore. It gets lonesome with just meself and Robbie. Ye must make
yourself at home. I’ll get the tea.”

Julie sat down in the
cozy room with a glowing peat fire. Although well into summer, the
highland climate could be pleasantly warm during the day, but at
night or before a storm, the temperature began chilling the
landscape. The fire made her feel welcome.

The whole front of the
sitting room was enclosed in glass. Safe and warm inside, its
occupants could look out on the growing storm. Spectacular displays
of lightning ripped through the sky, and horrendous claps of
thunder rumbled above the inn. Julie loved a good lightning and
thunder storm. And this storm did not disappoint—although it eased
up just before sunset. The dark, ragged clouds parted long enough
to shoot the last rays of the sun through the sitting room
windows.

The pleasant
atmosphere lulled Julie into a sense of well-being until Mrs.
Parsons came into the room. “Miss Hastings, I have your room ready.
Follow me.”

The chamber was very
pleasant and clean and looked out onto the sea. She thought she
would fall asleep immediately, but instead spent a restless night
tumbling in and out of slumber only to awaken at first light. She
missed Wintersea and her friends there. Thinking about home also
brought back the memory of her dreams of a much different life, and
her doomed engagement to Geoffrey Hamilton. She tried to put those
thoughts behind her, but sometimes they came back without warning.
Wearily, she rose from her bed and performed her morning toilet,
trying hard to shake the past from her mind.

She came down the back
stairs to find Mrs. Parsons humming to herself while she prepared
breakfast. “Good morning, Mrs. Parsons. I was wondering if I could
ask you a couple of questions.”

“Go ahead, child, but
if you’re wondering about the weather, I’m afraid we are in for
another spell of rain.”

“Thank you. The
weather is worrying me, among other things.”

“I understand
completely, but ye’ve naught to worry about. I’ll be glad to keep
you until someone comes over from yon island,” Mrs. Parsons
said.

“What about the
MacDonalds who live on the island? Please, Mrs. Parsons, do you
know anything about them?”

“Why, that Lord
Bonnleigh ye be going to work for, o’ course I know him. I would
advise ye to turn around and go back where you came from if ye were
my daughter,” Mrs. Parsons said and turned back to her work.

“Why? What could be so
terrible? The MacDonalds are an old family.”

“Lassie, I dinnae ken
from experience, mind ye, but I heard the rumors among the heather.
Oh, he’s proper enough when he comes to Lark Mead, which ain’t
often. However, the stories that come to my ears about his
goings-on when he’s with that fast set in London and them other
foreign parts, well, it’s sufficient to make me blush, and I was
married for nigh on twenty years.

“All I can say is I’d
think twice before I went under his roof. Where there’s smoke,
sinfulness is at hand, I always say. If you’re set to go, then I
cannae stop ye, but I’d be careful and watch my step, lassie.” Mrs.
Parsons finished by pursing her lips and shaking her finger at
Julie.

“Thank you, but I’ve
come this far. I have to accept this position or face starvation,”
Julie said with bravado, but secretly she felt a growing dread of
having hitched her wagon to a falling star.

Mrs. Parsons nodded in
understanding. “A trip like that must have worn ye to a frazzle, my
dear. Sit ye down with a nice cuppa hot tea while I dish up your
breakfast.”

By mid-morning, the
skies were black again. The rain started shortly after noon. Mrs.
Parsons prepared a cold luncheon for Julie, herself, and Robbie in
front of the fire in the sitting room. Robbie entertained her with
jokes and songs, and Mrs. Parsons told delightfully scary ghost
stories, or “haint tales” as she called them. Julie could not
remember laughing so much or having this much fun since before her
father became ill. She spent a pleasant day, and some of her travel
nerves were beginning to leave her.

Four days passed
before someone came to pick her up. A dour-faced man named Ribble
loaded her trunk on his cart and took her down to the shore where
they boarded a skiff headed for an island just barely visible from
the shore on a clear day. With her courage waning, Julie clasped
her hands together and sat perfectly still. As soon as the little
boat’s sail unfurled, they were flying over the water toward her
new home.

“Ribble, how long will
it take to reach the island?”

“With a goodly wind to
fill the sail, it will take the good part of an hour, I reckon.”
Ribble sighed after the words were out of his mouth. He seemed to
have exhausted his supply of words for the day. This did nothing to
cheer Julie.

The sky grew blacker
as they neared the island, and just when she wondered if the world
really could be flat and if they were going to run off the edge,
Mother Nature provided a little magic. A low fog danced about the
shoreline of the island, giving it the impression of being
suspended between ocean and sky. She smelled the damp earth, heard
the seagulls cry and the roar of waves crashing on the shore. Then
they sailed through the fog and into the brilliant rays of the sun
and the imposing view of the castle. She’d barely caught her breath
before they passed from the sunlight into the obscurity of more fog
and landed ashore. Servants were waiting to take her trunk, and a
pony provided transport up the steep trail to the castle.

“Ye’ll have to wait in
there. I don’t know what’s to be done with ye,” uttered a harried
castle maid. “Mrs. Highet will be in shortly. I’ll have to find her
first. You sit down and wait here.”

“I understand, but...”
Before Julie could get another word in, the servant left,
presumably to find Mrs. Highet, the housekeeper.

She glanced around the
dismal little sitting room and wondered what she should do now. A
draft tugged at her skirts. The threadbare upholstery and the faded
drapery covering the only window added to the shabby quality of the
chamber. Dust covered everything, including the floor that badly
needed scrubbing. A stale, moldy odor shrouded the area. So far the
castle failed to live up to the stuff of little girls’ dreams.
Julie began to wonder if this Lord Bonnleigh could afford to hire
her. However, if he could provide a roof over her head and food,
then she would have to accept—the alternative being starvation.