Clandara (5 page)

The Earl and his Countess were long dead, but the morning chocolate survived in their memory. But when Katharine went down, only the Countess was there, waiting.

“Where is my father, and Robert?” she asked Margaret.

“I don't know,” the Countess answered. “I have been here for some ten minutes or more.” She looked quickly at her step-daughter. She knew the significance of the beautiful dress; she even admitted, for her nature was not a grudging one, that if her cousin won her he would have the loveliest woman in Scotland as his wife. After a moment she coughed. “Katharine, I don't wish to pry into your affairs, but … is my cousin James coming today?”

“Oh yes, he is!” Katharine turned to her. “He's coming at noon to see Father. What do you think Father will do, madam?”

“I have no way of knowing what your father thinks or feels,” the Countess said quietly. “He does not confide in me. I only know his feelings for my family have not changed.”

“I know,” Katharine said. Remembering her father's remarks about his own wedding, she felt suddenly sorry for her step-mother. “I hope you were not too hurt, madam, yesterday morning. I am sure my father values you; he is not a demonstrative man.”

“He fondles his dogs,” the Countess answered, her tone very calm. “He has never once even offered his hand to me.”

“But you did not expect love,” Katharine reminded her. She was embarrassed and uncomfortable at discussing her father with this woman to whom she hardly spoke at all.

“No, perhaps not.” The Countess looked up at her. “I don't know quite what I did expect. I had long ceased to think of marriage when your father's offer came. I was brought up to think it could be a sweet thing. As it will be for you, if you have really won my cousin James's heart. It is a brave one, but from his childhood it was always empty. No woman filled it, and, believe me, many tried. I congratulate you. You will have love and children … your marriage will not be like mine. God go with you today.”

As she finished speaking, Robert Fraser came into the room. The Countess curtsied and then hid herself in a chair in a corner by the fireplace.

“He won't come down,” Robert said, speaking to Katharine. “He won't see you or speak to you, and I've had the devil's own trouble making him keep his promise to receive James Macdonald today. He's in a bad mood, Katharine. I don't know what the result may be.”

“He's preparing himself to meet James with insults, that's what he's doing. I know Father! He couldn't move me yesterday, and then you supported me, and now he thinks he'll rile James into a quarrel. But he won't, Robert!” She came to her brother and he put his arm round her. “Can't you do anything with him? Try once more, I beg of you. Tell him at least that James is of our faith and we can be married here in the Chapel … Think, if it were Andrew Cameron, or the Macgregor – they were both suitors once, and neither of them Catholics. Please, Robert, think of something to make him more reasonable before he sees James!”

“I'll try,” her brother said gently. “Ring for Davie, and after you've finished here, go to your room and wait.”

The hours were endless. She finished her chocolate without speaking to her step-mother, who sat back in the shadow of the tall chair, and then she ran back to her own rooms where Annie waited, and there she spent the time pacing up and down by the windows, looking out and asking her maid the time every few minutes. At five minutes to noon she heard horses, and the thud and rattle of the gates being opened, and ran to the window to open it. But Annie got there first.

“Away with ye,” she said fiercely. “Hanging out the window like any crofter's lass looking for her lover! Remember yourself, and who you are, and don't let the man see you. God forgive ye, where's your pride and your sense of what's proper?”

“Is it him, Annie?” Katharine demanded. “Can you see him? Tell me!”

“Aye, I can,” the maid answered. “He's riding past through the outer courtyard and he has one of his clansmen with him. A mighty ruffian he is too. No,” she amended as Katharine tried to push past her, “not James Macdonald, he's all dressed in velvets like a gentleman and riding a horse as black as himself. It's the servant I meant.”

Katharine held out her arms to her suddenly, and instantly Annie enfolded her. “Annie, pray for me. If I lose him I'll never have another happy day. And say that you'll come to Kincarrig with me.”

“Och,” Annie said crossly, “do ye think I'd let you go anywhere without me to look after ye! Go down now, milady, or you'll keep your father and James Macdonald waiting.”

Five years ago the Earl had met face to face with the man who now came to claim his daughter. Five years ago both families had met in the Great Hall to sign the marriage treaty and witness the wedding of their kinswoman to the Earl, and apart from the squat, dark figure of Sir Alexander Macdonald, Katharine's father had remembered his arrogant eldest son the best.

He had changed very little. He was as tall as the Earl remembered, and even darker if that were possible. His dress, of deep green velvet doublet, lace cuffs and jabot, was immaculate, and a red-and-green plaid hung from his shoulder. The Earl noticed with surprise that James Macdonald was not wearing a sword.

“I cannot welcome you,” the Earl said coldly, “because I know the reason for your visit, and I must tell you, sir, that whatever you have to say to me is a waste of time.”

“My compliments, my lord.” James came closer to where the Earl and his son Robert stood, and bowed low to both of them. The expression on his dark face was quite calm. “I understand your feelings – indeed I sympathize with them. No man could be worthy of Katharine. With that as a basis for discussion, may I ask you to be patient with me?” He glanced round the Great Hall and at that moment he saw her at the top of the stairs, one hand on the stone balustrade, and, forgetting her father and brother, James turned his back on them and came to meet her. At the foot of the stairs she gave him her hand, and bending low he kissed it. For a moment they gazed at each other, and she heard him whisper, “I promised you … as meek as milk …”

When they came face to face with the Earl, Katharine's hand was firmly held in his.

“Release my daughter.” Her father's voice was icy. James pressed her fingers and then let them go.

“Lord Clandara,” he began, “I want to marry your daughter. I know what you feel about me – I told you, I sympathize! But I promise to spend the rest of my life making her happy if you will give your consent.”

“Those are fine sentiments,” the Earl retorted, “but they hardly sound convincing in the mouth of a man whose reputation is the scandal of the Highlands. Your estimate of women's virtue is well known, sir. Do you seriously suggest that I deliver my daughter to a man like yourself? Come,” he said sarcastically, “don't let us descend to farce. I shall find a suitable husband for Katharine as soon as possible. As for you, I advise you to seek a wife among your own kin. If you can find any father who will receive you!”

“If I do not marry your daughter I shall never marry,” James answered. “Your advice to me is useless.”

“And useless to me too.” Katharine spoke up for the first time. She stepped closer to James and, in defiance of the Earl's angry frown, put her arm through his.

“I will never marry either,” she said slowly. “My heart is already bestowed. Father, we beg you, at least give us a little time to prove our love for each other.”

“That's all I ask,” James said.

The Earl's expression did not soften. It angered him beyond endurance to see Katharine with her arm through James Macdonald's; it made him painfully aware of the physical consequences of what they asked and the thought of that swarthy, murderous son of his enemy bestriding his child made him sick with rage.

He stood up. “You have made your point,” he said. “I see no reason to continue this discussion. Can't you see, sir” – his voice rose to a roar – “that you are upsetting my daughter? Katharine, go to your room. You look as if you're going to faint!”

She was so pale that both her father and her brother came towards her, but James's arm was round her and it was he who brought her to a chair and lowered her into it, oblivious of them, murmuring anxiously to her and rubbing her hands in his to warm them. Robert had not spoken until then. He had come to the meeting, as prejudiced as his father, agreeing in principle with every word the Earl spoke, and then when his sister nearly fainted he began to change his mind.

“Angus, bring us some wine. And set some chairs here. Father, I think we had better sit down. We've had our game with them, now we must talk.”

“It was no game,” his father snapped. “You, sir, leave the house; there's no more to be said.”

“One moment!” Robert's voice was firm. He pointed at James. “Sit down if you please. Now, Father, remember your promise. We have not treated this submission honourably, and I am now convinced that it was made in honour. I am going to ask you a question or two, sir, and depending on how you answer, my father and I will give our judgment. Angus, wine for her ladyship and for us. Drink that, Kate, it will put some blood back into your cheeks. Now, let us be calm, for the sake of the one we all love who is present here. Let there be no scoring points” – he glanced quickly at his father – “for whoever wins, it will be poor Kate's heart that breaks. Now.” He turned to James. “You have a very bad name. Is it deserved or not?”

“It is deserved,” James answered without hesitating. “But in my own defence I've never wronged an innocent woman save once.”

“We know,” the Earl interposed sharply. “At Glengannock. You raided the mansion house there for some slight or other and took Gannock's daughter by force.”

James did not excuse himself, but his dark face flushed and he did not look at Katharine.

“I was drunk,” he said.

After a moment, Katharine put out her hand and laid it on his.

“If I can forgive him,” she said gently, “why can't both of you?”

“And your duelling, sir,” the Earl interrupted quickly. “How many men have you killed, and how many times have you gone out raiding since you were a wee boy? … Your hands are covered in blood; the blood of my people more than any other! Tell my daughter how you shut in the women and the children when you set my crofts on fire! Were you drunk then too?”

“No, my lord. But I was not on that raid; it was led by my father. It was he who did the burning, not I. And all this slaying and bad living that you bring against me was not unknown to the Frasers. We are not saints. We are not saints, but nor are you. But for my part I am prepared to do anything that will make Katharine happy. I will absent myself from Dundrenan, if you have qualms about her living there, away from her own people. She can fill my house at Kincarrig with her own servants, and they will soon learn to live in amity with mine. I am not a poor man, I assure you. Donal'! Bring the casket here!” The Macdonald servant moved up quietly behind his master's chair. He put down a leather box on the table, and handed James the key.

“Whatever you offer,” the Earl broke in, “it will not be enough.”

“I offer nothing,” James retorted, and his dark eyes flashed with contempt. “I give. My betrothal present.” He opened the box.

There was a necklace inside on a bed of faded blue velvet; on each side of it there hung two pendant ear-rings. The stones were emeralds and diamonds of such a magnificent size and lustre that even the Earl was silenced. “These were part of my mother's dowry,” James explained. “They came from Spain originally with my grandmother. She left these and others to me when she died. I give them to you, Katharine. It was my mother's wish that they should be given to my wife. No other woman will wear them if you do not.”

“My child,” the Earl said at last. “Do not be dazzled, I beg you. I am not, I assure you,” he added, addressing himself to James. For the first time, James smiled.

“You are a hard man, Lord Clandara. As hard as my father said you were. What must I do to move you?”

“Nothing,” the Earl said simply. “Apart from your name, sir, which is like that of the devil to me, I love my child and I do not trust you. Take back your gift. She cannot accept it.”

“One moment.” Robert put his hand on the Earl's shoulder. “Katharine, do you love James Macdonald? Are you ready to leave your home and family and go and live with him among his people?”

“I love James with all my heart,” she answered. “I will follow him as the Queen of Scots said she'd follow Bothwell – to the world's end in a white petticoat! If I don't marry him I will never marry anyone.”

“So.” Robert turned then to James. “Do you love my sister enough to abandon your old way of living and make her happy if she becomes your wife?”

“I love your sister enough to cut out my heart and give it to her if it would make her happy,” was the answer. “From the moment I saw Katharine my old life was finished, and every memory of it is abhorrent to me. If I fail her,” James spoke to both the Earl and Robert then, “you can call me to any accounting you please.”

“In that case, Father,” Robert said, “there is little else to do but agree.”

“Agree!” The Earl turned to stare at his son in astonishment. “Robert, you must be mad … I listened to you in the first place, that's why I received him – but now you sit there and tell me I must agree to this marriage …”

“You must,” Robert asserted quietly. “For I am ready to give permission, and as your heir I have a say in my sister's future. Please, Father. Agree to the betrothal.”

“I implore you.” Katharine spoke then. “We won't set a date for the wedding without your approval. But let me be betrothed to James. Please, Father …”