The House of Lyall (33 page)

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Not yet sixteen, Esmerelda Mowatt – known as Melda – was generally acknowledged to be the prettiest girl in Stonehaven's Mackie Academy. Even the other girls grudgingly admitted it, although some were inclined to be jealous of her long black hair and creamy skin, and the way her black lashes curled away from her dark blue eyes. She accepted the adulation calmly, giving no indication of how she felt, yet she was not a vain person, nor a cold fish. She joined in the other students' pranks and laughed as heartily as any; she bore the other girls' cattiness without losing her temper; she was not above carrying on a mild flirtation but drew the line at going the least bit beyond that. Eventually, apart from those whose skins were so thick that they did not recognize a rebuff unless it was accompanied by a slap in the face or a knee in the groin, they stopped trying to make her forget her principles.

If they had but known, it wasn't just her principles which kept her from taking the biggest step a young girl ever takes – the surrendering of her virginity – but the thought of the two boys who had been her closest companions until they'd been sent to boarding school almost nine years earlier. As soon as she was old enough to think of such things, she had decided to marry Ranald Bruce-Lyall … or maybe Ruairidh. She couldn't quite make up her mind which, for they were both so fair and handsome, though Ranald's blue eyes usually held more than a touch of mischievous devilment, while Ruairidh's had become more serious as he grew older.

Last time she had seen them, Ranald had the suggestion of a moustache on his upper lip and had teased Ruairidh because his whiskers hadn't started growing yet. That was the one thing about Rannie she didn't much care for: he was inclined to make fun of his brother, though he jumped to Ruairidh's defence if anyone else dared to criticize him. But she only saw them now when they came home on vacation, as they called their holidays.

They still seemed to enjoy her company, though she was so much younger than either of them. Unfortunately, last time they'd been home, Rannie's seeming need to do things which led to trouble for himself and his brother had involved her, too …

They were in the woods, not playing the childish games they had done before, not cycling like mad things until one or other fell off, but sitting on a mossy bank just talking, when Rannie said, ‘They've started up the still again. When we were home at Easter, I heard Carnie warning Jimmy Black to watch himself. He said if they were caught, it would mean jail for them, and they did stop for a while, but I took a look last Thursday afternoon and they're at it again.'

‘What's a still?' Melda asked.

He jumped to his feet and pulled her up. ‘I'll show you. Coming, Ruairidh?'

His brother unwound his long legs. ‘Might as well.'

The showing, worse luck, led to the tasting, but what Melda thought was water in the huge container burned her mouth and she spat it out. Rannie, however, was determined to show that he was a man, and Ruairidh struggled hard to keep up with him. After about twenty minutes, the boys began to act strangely, their limbs not behaving properly, their words slurring a little, and in another half-hour, they reminded her of the time she had seen Jimmy Black and two of the old shepherds falling about as they tried to walk along the road, singing at full pitch, and when she told her father, he had said they were drunk.

That was when she realized what was wrong with her two companions. She managed to get them on their feet, and going between them with their arms round her shoulders and hers round their waists, she got them outside, but had to wait several minutes until they stopped being sick before she could take them towards the castle. She couldn't think what to do other than take them home, though she knew that their mother would be very angry when she saw the state they were in … and with her, too, probably.

They hadn't quite reached the gate into the rose garden when Rannie's legs gave way, and the three of them landed on the stony path, and this time, no matter how hard she tried, she just could not get them back on their feet.

‘I'll have to go and get Carnie,' she told them, aware as she ran off that neither had understood a word.

The coachman collared one of the stable lads and between the three of them they got the miscreants to their feet and more or less trailed them to the stables, where Carnie ducked their heads into the water trough, over and over again, calling them every name he could think of, rough words not meant for female ears. After almost an hour, he gave up and let them sprawl on the cobbled yard, coughing and retching, but miraculously conscious of what was going on.
Thankfully, it was a warm April day and the sun soon dried their hair and the necks of their thin cotton shirts. When they went inside the house, they were almost back to normal, apart from somewhat pasty faces, which Rannie excused by saying they had eaten some berries which must have been poisonous.

Melda's mind returned to the present. She'd had hardly any time with them recently. Every time they came home, their mother either had visitors to stay or had accepted invitations on their behalf to the homes of rich families where there were marriageable daughters. Lady Glendarril seemed to be doing her best to introduce her sons to prospective wives. Not that they took it seriously; they just laughed and said they had no intention of marrying anybody just to please their mother, and besides, they were far too young to worry about it.

Melda was counting the days until the start of the Christmas holidays when she was given some bad news.

‘You won't see the Bruce-Lyall boys this time.' Becky Drummond, daughter of the minister, took a delight in saying things to hurt the girl she envied more than any other. ‘Oh, goodness! Did you not know they're in the army?' she went on, her sneer deepening.

Melda hadn't known, but was angry at herself for rising to Becky's baiting by showing her surprise. Trying to cover up, she grinned. ‘Oh, that! Last time they were home they said they were going to enlist, but they thought they wouldn't be taken till summer.'

She waited until the crestfallen Becky had moved away before she let herself mull over what she'd been told. She knew they had been in the cadets at their college since war was declared. Rannie had said they were training to be officers, but he hadn't said anything about actually joining up and she felt quite put out, for they had never kept anything secret from her before. But maybe Becky had made it up to annoy her.

Unhappily, Melda discovered when she went home that the information was genuine. Her father had been called to the castle to attend to Lady Glendarril that forenoon.

‘Her blood pressure was sky high,' Robert Mowatt told his wife. ‘It was Ranald's idea, but she's spitting mad at Hamish for buying them into the Royal Scots Fusiliers without discussing it with her first. I can't understand her. She should be proud that her sons are so patriotic.'

‘Her boys mean everything to her,' Flora pointed out. ‘She's bound to be terrified they'll be killed. I know I would, if it was me.'

The doctor took another helping of mashed potatoes. ‘I suppose so.' He turned to his daughter now. ‘I bet you're proud of them? They'll soon be off to France to fight for their country.'

Melda fought to banish the fears her mother had aroused in her, and losing the battle, she burst into noisy sobs and ran out of the room. Her father raised his eyebrows. ‘What's wrong with her?'

Flora shook her head sadly. ‘She's grown too fond of them. I think that's why their mother sent them to boarding school originally.'

‘Why? It was a cruel thing to do when they were always together, like two brothers and a sister.'

‘Oh, Robert,' Flora sighed, ‘don't bury your head in the sand. When they were younger they were like brothers and sister, but it was obvious when Ranald was only about ten that there was going to be trouble.'

‘Trouble? Because two boys and a girl liked each other?'

‘Because the two boys loved the same girl, because the girl loved both the boys.'

‘Melda will choose when she is ready, and whichever one she picks, the other will have to accept it.'

‘You're not thinking clearly, Robert. Marianne will want her sons to marry within their own class.'

‘
She
was only working class when Hamish married her. The old laird told me at the time he was glad his remaining son had taken a wife who would put some life into the Bruce-Lyall blood.'

Flora laid her hand gently over his. ‘That's just it, dear. Have you forgotten whose blood runs through Melda's veins?'

Clearly deeply disturbed, his eyes slid away. ‘Surely Marianne would never hold that against her?'

‘I wouldn't be too sure. Remember what Duncan did to her?'

The doctor ran his free hand through his thatch of wiry greying hair. ‘Does it really matter now?'

After a moment's reflection, Flora said, ‘I don't suppose it does.'

Ranald wished now that he had not pressed his father into buying him and his brother commissions in the Fusiliers, in which his grandfather, Hector, had been an officer when his twin brother died. Then he'd been ordered home by
his
father to be trained to run the estate.

But this wasn't the adventure Ranald had thought it would be. He and Ruairidh were both stationed in Inverness yet saw little of each other. The initial zeal, the spirit which had spurred him to train as an officer in the first place, was somewhat blunted now, and, as he wrote to his mother, he was bored stiff up here and wished he had been posted directly to France to see some action.

His boredom was considerably brightened on meeting a very attractive seventeen-year-old at one of the officers' dances. She was a vivacious girl who fixed her sights on the tall, blonde second lieutenant as soon as she was introduced to him. While they recovered from an eightsome reel, she told him her name was Catriona MacLennan and
he gave his as Ronald Lyall. He and his brother had both decided that life would be simpler if no one knew that their father was a lord.

At the beginning of the last dance, ‘Ronald' suggested going outside for some air, and was flattered at how eagerly she agreed. Her unhidden admiration went to his head, and without having planned it, he steered her towards a dark corner.

It was the first time he had ever been alone with a girl, and his stomach knotted with excitement as Catriona opened her lips to his kisses. Inexperienced, he copied the moves his fellow officers bragged about, and when she arched her back, he knew she was his for the taking.

So he took her, and liked it so much that he took her again.

The following day, he sought out Ruairidh to boast about his conquest, and was deflated when his brother's face broke into a wide smile. ‘Oh, great! Now you've got a girl, I'll be free to tell Melda I love her.'

This was not how Ranald saw things. Ruairidh had no right to take it for granted that he wouldn't want Melda now; he wanted her more than ever, really wanted her. Catriona was only a stopgap. Wisely, he kept these thoughts to himself and resolved to arrange his furlough as soon as he could … before his brother's, that was imperative.

Melda was astonished but delighted to see Ranald Bruce-Lyall waiting for her when she came out of the Academy one afternoon at the end of May, so pleased that she hitched up her skirts and raced to the kilted figure as fast as she could. Grinning, he lifted her off her feet and kissed her in front of everyone, sensuous kisses that took her breath away and had the schoolboys hooting.

Letting her go at last, he whispered, ‘It's good to see you, Melda.'

She tried to still her fluttering heart. ‘It's good to see you, too, Rannie, but where's Ruairidh? Didn't he come home with you?'

The tiny frown which flitted across his face at this was gone in an instant. ‘We don't all get leave at the same time. He'll likely get his when I go back. Now, how do you get home from here?'

‘I take the train to Laurencekirk to collect my bike.'

‘I thought that would be it, so I left my bike there, as well.'

He put his arm round her waist and they ambled along until Melda said, ‘We'd better put a step in. The train won't be long.'

On the fifteen miles' journey, she listened to his humorous accounts of being a raw young officer when the sergeants had ten or twenty years' service behind them. ‘They don't think much of us “wet-behind-the-ears-jumped-up gentry”, so it's best not to put a foot wrong. They don't know I'm the heir to a title, and I try to learn from them and not to get their backs up by pretending I know better than them, but it's bloody hard going.'

‘What about the ordinary soldiers?' Melda asked, guessing that it was from them he had picked up the swearword she had never heard him use before. ‘Do they object to having young officers? Do they cast up that you're gentry?'

‘Not to our faces, though I bet they resent us. Mind you, there's a few of them came from boarding and public schools themselves. They're the ones who wanted no privileges because of that, whereas I'm happy to have a decent bed at nights and a batman to look after me.' He winked to show that he was joking.

At Laurencekirk, they collected their cycles from the station yard, but before they set off for the glen, Ranald said, ‘I've got to see you alone, Melda. We haven't had a chance to talk properly yet.'

Her heart sank. ‘If it had been the school holidays, I could have met you any evening, Rannie, but my examinations begin in a week, and I've hours of studying to do. My father'll be really disappointed if I don't pass, for he's set on me studying Medicine at university, and taking over from him one day.'

‘Couldn't you say one of your school friends in Laurencekirk has asked you to tea, and she says you'd better stay all night so you don't have to cycle up the glen in the dark?'