Clandara (41 page)

“My mistress wants to know what has befallen,” she said. “Is it true there are soldiers guarding Lady Katharine?”

“It is,” Annie almost spat at her. Her swollen eyes filled up with tears again. “And ye can tell your mistress this: milady is being taken away to prison tomorrow and all on account of your cursed family! She was out trying to warn that devil James Macdonald when they caught her. Now get out of my way before I box the head off your shoulders!”

Jean turned and slipped past her and ran back upstairs to the Countess's rooms. She shut the door quickly and her mistress came out from her bedroom. To Jean's surprise she had rouged her face; the effect was grotesque, and even more so was the yellow velvet gown trimmed with lace which the little maid had not seen her wear for years.

“She's under arrest, milady,” she said. “I met her maid in the passage below and she told me it was on account of the Lord James. She was caught by them, trying to warn him … They're taking her to Inverness tomorrow!”

“I don't believe it,” the Countess said. “I don't believe they'd dare … Taking her to Inverness, did you say? To prison?”

“Yes,” Jean muttered. “I've heard them talking in the kitchens about how they keep our people at Inverness. They're terrible places.”

“I expect they are,” the Countess said. “She wouldn't look so beautiful after a while spent in Inverness … it's a pity she won't be going.”

“Not going? But why not?”

“Because by tomorrow she and everyone in here except you and I will be dead!” the Countess said softly. “I said in that letter to my cousins that on the night of the full moon I'd find a way to let them in if they came here. We know they're still alive and somewhere near. The Chisholms must have found them. And tonight
is
the full moon. Why are you looking at me like that, girl? Close your mouth, it's hanging open like an idiot's!”

“Tonight, milady …” Jean stammered, staring at her. For the first time in all the years she had served her, she felt as if the Countess were positively evil.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Margaret said angrily. “Tonight is the full moon! And when the house is sleeping you're going to creep out and unbar the north postern gate. You know the one, set back in the wall. It's easy, it's only a short piece of iron; a strong girl like you can lift it out of the socket and a hundred men can slip through there without being seen.”

“But if there's a sentry …” Jean protested.

“Sentry!” her mistress snapped at her. “What sentry, you fool? Why should they post sentries here? Whom do they expect to attack them?”

She came close to the girl, and caught her by the arms.

“I'd go myself, you miserable little slut, but I haven't the strength to lift it. No one will question you, even if you are seen. I'd be detained at once by one of these damned servants if I tried even to leave my rooms. You're going to do it, do you hear?”

“Yes, milady. I'm not afraid. I'll open it.” Jean moved away a few steps, rubbing her arms. The Countess's hands had left red marks upon them.

“Think of it, Jean,” she exulted. “Think of all the years we've spent in this place, insulted, despised … think of the nights
he
used to come here drunk and tear my clothes off my back and beat me like a dog on account of his son! Did you think I'd forgotten? Did you think I'd weaken and let it go unpunished? There won't be one of them alive by morning …
He
and his daughter and his English officers! I saw you looking at me just now, child. I've rouged myself and changed my dress.”

She looked down and pulled at the low bodice of her old dress, exposing her thin, sallow breasts.

“I want my cousin James to see me looking well,” she said, half to herself. “He must have forgotten me by now. When he comes, I want to surprise him.”

Something stirred in Jean; much as she hated all the Frasers, and especially the Earl, she felt a momentary compunction for the woman who had risked her safety for the sake of James Macdonald. For the first time she used her name respectfully when speaking of her to the Countess.

“But will our people kill the Lady Katharine,” she said, “when they know what she tried to do? …”

The venom and rage on her mistress's face made her step back. “Will they kill her? By the living God they will, if the clansmen haven't torn her to pieces first! Now go down and get me something to eat and see what more you can find out. I'm hungry. And I'm excited too.”

She went back into her bedroom and Jean could hear her singing softly. Through the half-open door she saw the Countess standing by her mirror, examining herself slowly, and again she tugged at the neck of the dress. Quickly the girl turned away and went down to the kitchens. There was something horrible about that glimpse of the plain, greying woman, preening herself in a dress she had never been young enough or beautiful enough to wear. Jean shuddered and put the thought of it out of her mind.

The Earl dined alone that night in the Library, leaving Captain Booth and his two junior officers to eat in the Great Hall. He was sitting by the fire, as comfortable as his devoted servant Dugal could make him, with a cushion behind his head, his books and whisky by his elbow and the candles placed for him so that he could read if he wished. There was a knock on the door, and Angus came in, bonnet in hand, and when the Earl beckoned him near he fell on his knee.

“What is it?” Clandara said sharply. “Why do you disturb me at this hour?”

“Is it true they're taking her ladyship away tomorrow?” the old man mumbled. He looked up into the stony face above him and his eyes filled with tears. She was going away, that was all Annie could tell him and all that anyone knew. There had been no word or sign from her father and the old man could bear the suspense no longer.

“It is perfectly true,” the Earl said. He had been drinking whisky since the Captain left him, and it had produced no effect on him at all. He felt completely empty and sober.

“In God's name, then,” Angus quavered, “what are we to do, lord? Have ye no orders for us, so as we can stop them? The servants sent me to ye, and I'm afraid there'll be fighting with these dogs of soldiers before the night's over!”

The Earl sat upright.

“Tell the servants this. My daughter goes to Inverness tomorrow for the crime of trying to aid Lord Robert's murderer. She went to warn the Macdonalds of Dundrenan. For this I have disowned and abandoned her and I command my people to do the same. After tonight her name will not be spoken in this house. Anyone who provokes the English troops will be hanged. Make that clear. Now go.”

He watched the old man shuffle away, and turned back to his whisky. It had done much to relieve him after Robert's death, but now the hollowness could not be filled. “Too many deaths,” he said aloud to himself. Robert and Henry, and now Katharine too, for the woman who betrayed her brother's memory and her dead husband's name was not his daughter but a stranger whom he was never going to see or think about again.

He was alone, and all he loved were dead. There were no grandchildren to inherit the great Castle and carry on his ancient name. Some distant cousin would be found to take it all when he was dead, and for their sake and to keep his clan together he must find the will to live the trouble out and see the Highlands at peace again. After that, the sooner he was free of life the better. After a time he remembered something; the thought came to him slowly and he digested it over another glass of whisky, remembering too how he had always thought the same thought at about that time. His wife was still in the Castle; strange that he should have forgotten her. Of course she was still there. The Captain had come upon her in one of his searches, and he had explained her presence as a prisoner with the excuse that she was mad, and the Captain had obviously agreed with him. Margaret Macdonald. The others would be caught and killed in time. They were proscribed by law. There was nothing he could do about Margaret as long as the troops were at Clandara, but when they'd gone there would be no one there to interfere … That promise made to Katharine was no longer valid. He sat on until the decanter was finished and at last Dugal and one of the manservants came in and carried him up to his bed.

“He'll do naught,” Angus said. “He said she went to help the Macdonalds of Dundrenan and he's disowned her. Her name is forbidden in the house!”

“Och, let him tell me that!” Annie blazed. “Did ye not know why she went, Angus, and why weren't ye with her, now that I think of it?” In her grief and terror she turned furiously upon her grandfather.

“I knew it,” he retorted. “She told me so, and it was no surprise to me. Nor is it to anyone who knows her. She's loved that scoundrel from the first moment and only her father wouldn't admit it! Anyway, she wouldn't
let
me go with her. What are we to do, Annie? There's no help from him at all …”

“Then we'll do without it,” Annie said fiercely. “She's upstairs there with that ruffianly soldier standing by the door, and her own father hasn't even been to see her … Angus, go among the men. See how many ye can call on and we'll try and rescue her tomorrow.”

“We can lie in wait for them on the Inverness road.” The old man's eyes gleamed. “They won't send more than two or three men to escort one woman prisoner—”

“Two,” interrupted Annie. “I'm going with her and no one's going to stop me.”

“Two women then,” Angus nodded. “Ye're a good girl, Annie. Don't fret now. No matter what the lord says, we'll think of something. All my life,” he said, shaking his grey head, “I've obeyed the lord in everything. But I'm not going to obey him this time. Give her ladyship my greeting and tell her not to fret herself. We'll find a way.”

9

As soon as it grew dark the Macdonalds began their long march to Clandara. They came out of the ruins of Kincarrig like shadows, those unmounted moving beside the Chief and James and David and the tacksmen who had horses. They had taken off the jingling bridles and stripped the saddles of insignia or ornament; the horses were as silent in their movement as the men, and no bright metal gleamed in the light of the big moon which rose above the mountains. It was a glorious night, still and cool, and the beauty of the wild country in the moonlight was such that even the poor ignorant humblies' hearts were filled with pride and sorrow for the plight of Scotland, ravaged by the invader and humiliated by defeat, Somewhere among the mountains their prince was a fugitive like them, and in spite of the price his enemies had put upon him, none had been found, or ever would be, base enough to give him up. A few were with him and others still were waiting to join him far off in the Western Isles where a ship might take them to France.

In the foul prisons at Inverness the men who had fought for him lay starving and dying of wounds, and the gibbets in the city were hung with rotting corpses. The holds of the English ships anchored in the Tay were filled with prisoners awaiting transport to London where they would be tried, and the sufferings of those battened down among the ballast stones and bilge-water was even greater than the miseries of the men in confinement ashore.

The land was full of miserable fugitives, many of them innocent civilians whose crime was the name of a clan who had fought at Culloden, and little children perished in the hills while Cumberland's troops burnt and looted their homes in the glens. Under the bright moon, the men of Dundrenan rode out to pay back many wrongs. Death and rapine and destruction had fallen on their families and they were outcasts with no hope of pardon and no place to lay their heads. They had been told where they were going, and all that afternoon they had been sharpening their weapons and priming the few pistols they possessed, and the lust for vengeance dulled their hunger and their weariness. At the head of them James rode the big black horse which he had taken from the trooper at Drummossie Moor. He had been organizing the men and inspecting their weapons, and he had not spoken again to his father except to come and tell him they were ready to start out.

Broadsword, dirk and the curved English bayonet hung at his side, and a pistol was in his belt. His mind had accepted what he was going to do; now it seemed inevitable that he should kill the woman he loved, because the love itself was an inexpiable crime and she as guilty as her father of treason to her country and her people. And somewhere in his soul his fierce jealousy rejoiced; another man had married her and known her, and for that he could never forgive her. He would have killed Henry Ogilvie because of what he had enjoyed. Now he would make sure that there would be no other men. He wondered savagely what manner of men the English officers were, those honoured guests of Lord Clandara, and whether one of these were not being made more welcome still … Even believing him her brother's murderer, her hungry lips had welcomed him in the garden at Clandara. Janet, half forgotten now, as he imagined living safely in her house in Perth, had taught him a great deal about the depth and power of female sexuality, but, unlike Katharine, she at least had loved him, with a strength and unselfishness that never wavered. Unlike the false passion of the woman he had loved with all his heart. His father was right.

The ruins of the great house which he had dreamed of living in with her were all that were left of his hopes and his incredible folly, and while he lived like a bandit in his own lands, she entertained his enemies and smiled at them across the table in Clandara. That thought, more than anything, made him mad; as mad with jealousy as when he faced her husband at Culloden House and challenged him to fight. He wanted her death; he wanted to punish her for her venality and himself for his weakness. He would obey his father …

They dismounted at the Black Rock Bridge and led the horses over at a walk. David pointed silently to a large mound of freshly dug earth by the side of the track. James remembered the English soldier who had been buried there alive, and, turning aside, he spat upon the grave.