Clandara (6 page)

The Earl did not answer at once. He had expected Katharine to oppose him, but his son's defection was a complete surprise. And he knew his daughter. If she said she would never marry anyone but that ruffian sitting opposite to him, then she would keep her word. But bethrothal was not marriage. She would have time to find James Macdonald out.

“As you wish, my child,” he said at last. “We will announce it. But the wedding day shall be decided by me. I hope that is understood?”

James stood up and bowed to him.

“I thank you, my lord. I will confess that expressing gratitude is hard to me; I am better at giving insults than compliments,” and he smiled. “But I thank you with all my heart, and I repeat my promise.” He turned to Katharine and she stood beside him, her hand in his. James raised it to his lips and kissed it. “I will make Katharine happy. And for her sake, if it takes me twenty years, I'll make a friend of you.”

Katharine left them then. Robert seemed to have taken full control and suggested that they discuss the question of a dowry and a settlement from James, and the men withdrew to the Long Library to drink whisky and draft out an arrangement from both sides. She ran up the stairs, holding the skirts of her dress in one hand, and exposing her ankles to the horrified sight of Annie, who had been waiting and trying to listen from the top of the staircase.

Katharine flew to her and threw her arms around her. Firmly, Annie disengaged herself. “Ye needn't tell me,” she said, “but you're very happy about something. His lordship didn't throw him out, I see.”

“No.” Katharine looked up at her; she was flushed and laughing. “No, he didn't. And you can go and look out your baggage for Kincarrig!”

“Oh, God protect us,” Annie said. “There's no possible good can come of this!”

2

Nine long months had passed since James Macdonald first came to the Castle. The time had seemed an eternity to the lovers, and in the beginning it had not been made easy by the relentless hostility of the heads of their families. The Earl lost his old affectionate way with his daughter; he was sullen and disapproving and when James first began to present himself as her affianced husband, it was only the influence of Robert which prevented the old Earl from breaking his word and ordering him out of the Castle. But, try as he would, he could find no fault with James.

Clandara could only describe him as besotted. His harsh voice became gentle; his fierce glance softened with tenderness whenever Katharine appeared; his hand was always out to steady her step, his arm supported her, his extraordinary passion would have been ridiculous in a lesser man. And Katharine adored him. The old Earl saw his daughter's wilful character, with its slight element of spoiltness, flower and soften under the impetus of her radiant love for James Macdonald. When he was present they were very circumspect, sitting like two solemn children in the presence of an adult, weighing their words for his benefit and waiting only for the moment when he left them. And then he would hear them laughing when they were alone, or listen to Katharine playing on the virginals while he stood by her, and there was always the low murmur of their talk, broken by laughter, shutting everyone out of their lives. Her father was very angry, as angry as the father of James, who seldom saw his son or could begin a conversation without ending in a violent quarrel, but they were helpless against their children. Robert did not mind; he understood that Katharine's heart was full and he loved her enough to withdraw gracefully when he was satisfied that she had chosen a man who could be trusted with her happiness. On the day her father surrendered and set a date in August for their wedding, Katharine remembered Robert who had brought her heart's desire into reach, and with gratitude and love she thanked him for it.

“You made it possible,” she told him. “Today is the happiest day in my entire life, and I owe it all to you.” She came to him and put her arms around his neck as she had done when they were children.

“My dear brother,” she said gently, “I know how I've neglected you these last few months. You've had to go riding alone and walking alone. But never believe that I have stopped loving you. And the only thing that troubles me is the fear of your being lonely when I have gone.”

“I shall be very lonely, Kate,” Robert answered her. “I have been lonely already. But I didn't mind, because I saw how happy you were. I must admit your James adores you. I can't see any harm befalling you with him.”

“Nor can I,” she said softly. “But, dearest Robert, when I'm married why don't you think of a wife for yourself? This house is gloomy sometimes, when Father reads for hours on end and that poor dull woman sits there sewing her interminable samplers. Find a gay and pretty girl and think about it … Will you promise?”

Robert kissed her cheek.

“I will promise to think about it,” he said. “Much as I love Clandara, it will be insufferable without you. It was dull enough when you went to France. Oh, Kate, I'm glad you're happy! That's all that really matters.”

“I am so happy,” she said to him, “that I cannot believe I am not dreaming and will not suddenly wake up to find that James has gone or never existed … I want to marry him, Robert; I want to be his wife and bear his children and do all the things with him that I have never done. And now I know, in two short months, I shall. God bless you, brother. I am going to meet him this afternoon and I can hear Angus downstairs grumbling because he's got to be the chaperon again. We'll both see you this evening.”

When she was gone Robert waited alone in the room for a few moments. In spite of his reassurance to Katharine, he suddenly felt sad and abandoned and, for the first time, a little jealous. But his feeling was unworthy and he suppressed it, and went to the window when he heard her leaving and leaned out to wave goodbye. And after that there was little time for loneliness, for the wedding of the Earl's daughter claimed the time and attentions of everyone from the Chief himself down to the humble crofters who began weaving and embroidering gifts for the bride. And a month before the wedding, on July 26th, the Earl gave a ball at Clandara for Katharine and her bridegroom, to which the Chief of the Macdonalds and his family and all the families in the county were invited.

The Great Hall had been transformed; its walls were hung with tapestries, and hundreds of candles burnt in the great bronze chandeliers that hung from the vaulted roof. There were more lights burning in tall sconces, and the Earl's piper played in the gallery above the guests. The huge library had been turned into a supper-room, one wall lined by tables on which every variety of meat and game and great quantities of fish were arranged, while servants waited to serve food and wine. It was the gayest and most brilliant assembly of the local noble families that had been gathered at Clandara for thirty years. The last time had been before the Rising of 1715, when the Earl's mother had entertained her cousins from France and given a reception for them. Few who were present then had met again after the Rebellion was crushed by the English forces and the King in exile had been once more driven from Scotland. Many had joined the ninth Earl of Clandara on the scaffold, and many had lost their fortunes and estates and fled the country. And now, thirty years after, when a new German king, George II, sat on the throne of England and many of the veterans of the '15 were exiled in penury in Rome where the unhappy James Stuart lived on the bounty of the Pope, the talk had begun again, and it was once again of rebellion and war. James Stuart was the son of James II of England, the last Catholic King of that obdurately Protestant country, whom they had driven out and replaced by members of his own family who were of the right persuasion. But James II had a son, and it was for this son that old Clandara had lost his head, and though he had retired, unwilling that more blood should be shed for him, James Stuart had a young heir; Prince Charles Edward was already a veteran of the European wars, a youth of twenty-four but a man in the coinage of valour and spirit. The old Jacobites drank to the King across the seas, giving the forbidden toast by passing the wineglass over a cup of water, but now the young men were talking of the Prince. They were tired of laws which were originated in England being promulgated in Edinburgh and enforced by Lowlanders or traitors who had purchased the lands of the loyalists in their absence. The Highland chiefs were bored and their young sons were restless, drawn by the idea of a man as young as themselves who spoke and wrote with passion of his native Scotland and of his wish to return there if it were only to die among his own in battle.

There was talk and there was uneasiness because something was going to happen soon, though no one among them all seemed to know where or when it would be. But there was no shadow over the happiness of Katharine and James that night; war was not in the heart of that indomitable fighter James, who hated the English and the Protestants and had been reared on his father's tales of blood and vengeance. War was far indeed from the mind of Katharine as she danced the reel with him, so flushed and radiant with happiness that her beauty surpassed itself and drew all eyes on them both. Among those who watched were the Chief of the Macdonalds and his two younger sons.

Hugh Macdonald was thirty; like James he was dark and his handsome face was as swarthy as a Spaniard's, but the eyes were a curious grey-blue. They gave him an almost boyish look and the impression of youth was accentuated by an elegant, if raffish, manner. His rather thin lips were always curled up in a smile, and of all his dour family he was the only one who laughed continuously. He was once described with great pride by his father as the most heartless young scoundrel he had ever encountered, not even excluding James himself.

Hugh's wits were as quick and agile as his body; he resembled his younger brother David as a fine rapier does a heavy claymore. David, at twenty-two, was the twin of his father; thickset, powerful, dark as night and with a spirit consumed by the desire to fight and kill. He had little conversation and little mental process. He was essentially a savage and out of his time, even in that savage age.

“I've not seen your cousin Margaret,” Sir Alexander remarked. They had dined earlier on with their host and his family, and the Countess had spoken so little that she might just as well not have been there. When the men remained at the table, and before the other guests arrived, she rose and vanished. Now, bored and enraged because he had been unable to find fault, the old Chief searched for some other cause of grievance.

“Clandara has not danced once with her,” he snarled to Hugh, who was leaning up against the tapestried wall, watching the dancers through his narrow, light eyes.

“I can't say I blame him,” he answered. “Cousin Margaret always looked a little like a horse. You're feeling quarrelsome, Father. Think of something else. You can't pick a quarrel with a man because he doesn't fancy
Margaret
…”

“I have no intention of picking a quarrel,” his father snapped. “This is not the time or the place. I let it get too far; one month more and they'll be married. If you're talking about quarrels, that should have been arranged months ago!”

“I don't see why it's too late.” David spoke for the first time for half an hour. “Anything would be justified if it stopped our brother making a fool of himself.”

“He's bewitched,” his father said. “There's no other explanation for it. He's defied me – his father – cast off his own kind and given himself body and soul to that damned woman. Where's the whisky? … David, call that servant over there. My glass is empty, like their hospitality and my son James's head!”

“Oh, I wouldn't condemn him too hard,” Hugh remarked. “Look at them dancing there. You must admit she's a fine beauty. One of the finest I've seen. It's a pity it's James, you know. He was always too rough and uncomprehending of women's pretty ways. Such a pity he's hiding her away at Kincarrig. I might have had some gay evenings with her if he were absent at all …”

“I wouldn't touch her.” David Macdonald spoke suddenly. “I wouldn't put a hand on any Fraser except to kill them.”

“No wonder the women run away from you,” his brother said. “You're so violent, Davie, you remind me of our dear James before love transfigured his black soul. Now, my soul is just as black as yours but I'm a sight more pleasant with it! I'd take that redheaded madam from under his nose in a week if he brought her to Dundrenan.”

“That's a good reason why she's going to Kincarrig,” Sir Alexander retorted. “I'd have you and James killing each other over a Fraser – that would be the last irony. Where the hell is the whisky?”

A servant came with a silver jug and some water and refilled their glasses. Hugh took a long drink and then set the glass down.

“Since we're here, we may as well enjoy it. While you and Father get drunk, Davie, I'm going to pay court to some of these charming ladies I see here. That little child with the fair hair from Glendar …”

“Lord Mackintosh's niece,” his father said. “Mind yourself, Hugh. They're a powerful family; you'll not get away with your tricks there.”

“I have no tricks in mind,” Hugh protested. “Seeing my brother James dancing there with a fair bride-to-be on his arm, I'm in a romantic mood, that's all. Mackintosh's niece, is she? Charming. In that gown you can see quite a lot of her little breasts. Farewell, Father. Brother.” He bowed to them and began to make his way towards the seventeen-year-old Fiona Mackintosh of Glendar.

“Your brother's dancing,” Katharine whispered. The reel had finished and new partnerships were forming for the next dance. Katharine and James stood very close together, her arm through his; they were a perfect complement to each other. She was graceful, yet voluptuous, with beautiful shoulders and arms, and the combination of her colouring was startlingly brilliant. Her dress was white, crossed by a silk tartan sash, and the magnificent emerald necklace shone round her neck. And James did credit to his ancient blood and the blood of the noble Spanish lady who had been his grandmother. His black hair was powdered and tied back in a queue with a velvet ribbon; his red velvet coat and dress kilt fitted his splendid, muscular figure and there was a large diamond pin in his lace cravat. They matched each other, and they knew it and were proud.