Return to Rhonan (9 page)

Douglas cleared his throat, ‘I’m sorry, but for safety reasons, one of the staff will row you over.  The mausoleum is my ancestor’s, Lord Duncan – story is he drowned himself in the lake.’

Jessie’s heart leapt, ‘Oh my God, did you say Duncan? Lord Duncan?’

His eyes narrowed as he said, ‘Yes. You’ve heard of him?’

Jess saw his jaw tighten; the full lips pull back. Trained to read body language, she realized this was a touchy subject. Just saying the name caused him to tense up.  Puzzled, she decided not to pursue the subject; there was plenty of time for her to start asking questions. She felt the excitement tighten her chest.  Was there a chance it was the same Duncan?

Quickly,
she said, ‘Drowned himself in the lake?’ That’s awful.  You
know; I
saw a young woman over there when I was in the cab coming here – long red hair like mine going into the copse ... maybe it’s my eyes playing tricks. She could have been my double. But then there are lots of red-haired women in Scotland.’

Douglas realized he’d over-reacted to her question.  There was only six weeks now for the codicil to run. Both he and Nat were on full alert as fraudsters frantically contacted the solicitor’s office with false claims. Thank God, Pevensey was on the ball.  He saved them a lot of time and heartache.  Douglas fought to compose himself. He was becoming
paranoiac
. After all, she was an American
,
and a multi-millionaire
,
there was little chance she was at all interested, added to that, she was gorgeous, her green eyes wide and innocent.  He smiled as he said, ‘People are warned to stay away from the island.  I’ll have to warn the staff to keep a look out – it’s quite dangerous –tidal water –fed by Loch Achray nearby.  But if you really want to have a look at the Mausoleum, I’ll certainly get one of the staff to row you over, maybe this afternoon?’

An icy breeze almost stabbed her skin, followed by a peculiar pull on her body.  Her muscles grew heavy with
fatigue; her
legs leaden. ‘I guess I’ll have to take a rain check –I’m just so tired. I don’t know why, but maybe it’s the plane flight.’

‘Would you like me to send you up some lunch?’

‘Err … no thanks.  I ate on the plane.  I guess I’m too exhausted to do anything but sleep right now.’

‘I’ll let you rest ...  how about a drink in the
bar,
this evening? Say nine o’clock?’ Glancing over to the bed and then at the luscious curves and languorous eyes, Douglas felt the urge to join her. His fear now forgotten, he shook his head bemused, this woman bewitched him.

‘Great ... by the way, my dog Daisy should be arriving
in a few days.
We had trouble
with
her
vaccination; she
was quite unwell after it.’

‘Oh I hope she’s okay now.’

‘Yes thank goodness. Anyway, I was told she could stay in my suite.’

‘Of course.  I‘ll have a basket brought up for her. You said she was a golden retriever, so I’ll make sure she has a larger
basket,
and feeding bowls.’  

‘That’s good of you. She’s a hundred and two pounds, but not fat.  Loves her food though. I’ve really missed her. But
,
I just couldn’t bring her over whilst we were traveling so much.’ 

‘I know what you mean, I have a hound –
Victor; we're
like Siamese twins as, wherever I
go,
he’s there.’

Jess laughed.  ‘I know Daisy is the same.  What breed is he?’

‘A Hungarian Viszla; they’re very much like the Weirmaraners, but all the Viszlas are ginger.  The breeders use the name ‘sedge’ – sounds better.’

‘Hah … beautiful dogs.’

Seeing the wilt of her shoulders he said, ‘Look, I’ll let you get some sleep … later then.’  As he closed the door, he shook his head, still feeling that slight shock of recognition. She really was the double of Muriall, the woman in the portrait gallery.

CHAPTER 1
3

His heart was heavy. So much for the meeting.  Now to tell Muriall and the others that there was no respite for the tenants.  Duncan felt like giving up the inheritance, of departing for the Jamaican Plantations bequeathed to him by his late grandfather. At
least,
he and Muriall could marry without condemnation from the Ton. But, how could he leave the tenants to their fate? Even though he and a group of loyal volunteers could not help them all, at least some would not starve.
Others,
however, would survive only by pawning clothes and bedding. At least if he
stayed,
he could make sure they didn’t starve on the coast.

Kelping was a dangerous trade, cutting the seaweed under the rocks, in
waist-high 
water. The kelpers crofts were a few miles inland, so it meant fathers and sons sheltering in tarpaulin tents on the beach, or sleeping in wet clothes out in the open, suffering all manner of ills and often death. However, he could ensure they had enough to eat and adequate shelter inland.  Duncan hurried past the stables to the small group waiting at the Orangery. Except for the glow of lanterns, it was almost pitch black. He nodded to the second footman and groom already seated whilst the kennel man sat in the back with Muriall and his sister, Meg. As they set off the night shadows darkened around the old stables.

Muriall shook her
head; she
had hardly slept the night before, tossing and turning, she schemed how she could procure more victuals for the peasants. The Earl had forbidden them to raid the larders for food, but stealthily with the aid of the
servants; they
managed to pile the cart high with fresh food, clothes and bedding. 

The small cavalcade moved forward with Duncan’s youngest brother Guy, riding behind, whilst half a dozen deer hounds ran ahead. After travelling a mile or so, the thatch of the huts loomed dark against the night sky. Wordlessly, they split up into pairs each going to different huts.  Muriall was glad of her breeches, as she walked through mud towards the hut.

Only a small peat fire lit the gloomy interior. She saw her friends of childhood, Robert and Alice, rise to their feet, whilst six children, their skeletal bodies covered with rags, crouched around the peat fire. Hastily, Muriall took off the linen cover, showing them the basket of fresh food. Kneeling, she spread a red and white check cloth on the floor, laying out slices of mutton, ham and freshly churned butter. 

After wiping their small hands, Muriall gave them white rolls, which they pushed into their mouths, their eyes and cheeks bulging as they tried to chew.

Pulling clothes from the sack, warm flannel shirts for the little boys and dresses for the girls, she said,
‘
The ladies of the district are sewing as fast as they can.
’
Turning to Robert, her childhood
playmate,
she handed him a pair of warm cloth trousers with a shabby coat. To Alice she gave a cotton chemise and wool dress.  Muriall  tried  to cheer her, saying the blue would suit her eyes and hair – hair once so beautiful, falling in sun-kissed waves down her back, now a dirty blonde and dull.

It was then she felt small arms creep around her neck, a soft kiss on her cheek. Turning her head, Muriall looked into the sea green eyes of little Bonny, only four years old grinning as she chewed on some ham.  Slipping on a flannel chemise over the child’s mud caked body, followed by a pink flannel dress; she tried not to wince as she felt the child’s bones.

Little Patrick who would soon be six, squealed, ‘Trousers  Mammy, and would you believe it, socks for me feet.’

Speaking in low
tones,
Alice asked if they had any news.  Were they to be evicted or were they to be allowed to stay on their tiny farm. It was a hard patch of land, but on it, they managed to grow corn, raise chickens, and sustain a cow.  Lowering her eyes, Muriall shook her head. ‘We are still arguing Alice, but it is not good news. It seems the Earl is intent on clearing the land, all the land for the sheep.  The Duke of Glennard opposes his view and intends to keep his tenant farmers, but here on
Rhonan.
I am afraid it is dire news.’

Alice gave a little cry holding her fists to her head whilst Robert drew her close into his arms as if to shield her from the coming disaster. 

Alice wailed, ‘This cottage has been in my family for over two hundred
years; it
is all I know, Muriall – all I know. We can barely scratch a
living,
but it is ours even though the rent is high.’  Muriall clung to them both, as Alice put her head on her husband’s chest and sobbed. It did not seem possible that this small cottage had been a place of childhood joy, chasing each other through the heather, milking the ld cow, lying sprawled on the baked earth floor listening to stories from old Patrick, Alice’s father. 

Alice in a strangled voice, said, ‘Where – where will we go?’ So many have starved
there; others
drowned in the cruel waves cutting the kelp.  The bairns are so little but cut the kelp they must. Oh dear God save us.’

Muriall whispered. ‘It is the Coast – Duncan fought
hard,
but he lost Alice – he lost.  However, don’t despair, it is not far from us. We will make sure you have food, and we will help you build a cottage.  I promise you
Alice,
we will not forsake you.’

Robert lifted his head, looking at the children, as he said, ‘They have not broken us, and they think they have broken the clans, destroyed our Chieftains but the spirit is still there.  Tis a different world we had Muriall before Culloden, a world of sharing, of compassion, and love.  The land belonged equally to all the clan from the eldest to the youngest. The Chieftain too shared all.  This would not have happened in the days of the clan. It was a hard life, but a life the clans lived for thousands of years.   We ate together we starved together, each a brother, a sister.   A different world Muriall – lost in the hardened hearts of these greedy landlords. 

Muriall wiped her eyes and lifted her head, ’But another world will come Robbie, a world that will not forget what happened to the brave Highlanders.  They will mourn Robbie – somehow in my
heart,
I know that. And those that write of these days will weep for us e’en though we are in our graves.

CHAPTER 1
4

As Douglas closed the door, Jess frowned, he was so like Duncan, the man in the locket. She tried to think of it as a co-incidence, many people had a double.  Crossing to the bed, she
lifted the duvet and bottom sheet to examine the mattress, her hand sinking into the plump softness. Ah yes, deep memory foam, as were the pillows.  She’d sleep okay here.  Once undressed, she pulled on a robe and on a whim went to the balcony to take another look at the lake. Stepping onto the balcony, she saw the woman was back, looking directly at her.  Frowning, Jess took out a digital camera from her handbag and moving out of view, took a photo of her. She was intrigued; the woman could have been her twin.
Another co-incidence.  A shiver  ran through her body, things seemed a little unreal.  Maybe it was the tiredness.
   

She felt that familiar heaviness of her eyes pulling her into sleep, that tug of her body that forebodes of something more than a dream. 

Earlier,
she’d had that sense of déjà-vu when the cab drove up to the Manor, but it was fleeting.  Rubbing her eyes, she felt she was entering Muriall’s body again.  As always, it was a strange sensation.  She wondered if Muriall had any idea what was happening, whether she too felt the same weird sensations as Jess’s spirit slipped into her body, her mind.   Really, it was time she and Dinah investigated whether this was a Past Life experience. She still felt that guilt, of being a voyeur, but she was helpless to stop the dream happening. She was also anxious about Muriall.
Shaking her head, she smiled, why should she be so worried for someone dead over two hundred years?
But, the dreams were so real. Anyway, dead or not, the
woman ran such risks.  She certainly had guts,
having a love affair with a
distant cousin-in-law
. In those times, it was tantamount to heresy.
  

It was a wonder the servants had no apprehension of Duncan slipping into Muriall’s room at night. But, the Manor was a warren of secret passages, doors and hideaways. So necessary also, as pillage and assassination were always a danger in those hazardous times.

  Fighting to keep her eyes open, her body jerked as the phone rang.  Picking it up, she stifled a yawn. ‘Hello Di … God I’m so tired; it’s that dreadful feeling again.  You know as if Muriall’s taking over … No,  I’ll be
fine; I'm
used to it now … just need to sleep for a while. See you later. Okay?  Yes, the dining room … dinner? Wake me up if I’m late.’  Sighing she dragged herself onto the bed. Within seconds of closing her eyes, a kaleidoscope of images flickered pulling her into the dream.