The House of Lyall (47 page)

‘Mr Bruce-Lyall, I am dreadfully sorry I brought the subject up. You are most likely right in what you said, and I was making a mountain out of a molehill. Please, I can assure you that nothing like this will happen again.'

Thinking that the whole situation was somewhat ridiculous, Ruairidh gave a snorting laugh. ‘What did you think she was doing? Letting them put their hands up her knickers? At eleven?'

A subdued impression of a smile crossed the dominie's face. ‘Yes, it does sound far-fetched, doesn't it?'

Positive that it was exactly what the man had thought, Ruairidh said sharply, ‘Too far-fetched for my liking, and I want to hear no more of this kind of thing.'

He did not tell Melda what had been said – he knew it would just upset her – and he did not approach Dorothea when he went home because he didn't want to put ideas into her head. The dominie was a narrow-minded, dirty-minded
fool, and had been making something out of nothing, possibly to titillate himself, and even though he was a good teacher, he would be out on his ear if he ever said anything like that again.

As it happened, it was Kirsty, one of the large clan of Blacks, who reprimanded the girl. ‘You shouldn't carry on with the boys like you do, Dorrie,' she told her one afternoon on their way home from school.

‘I wasn't carrying on with them!' protested Dorothea.

‘Oh, you little fibber! I seen you! You and our Billy and Tommy Rattray!'

‘We were only having a laugh. They wanted to see my legs.'

‘Well, don't let them see them again.' Just months older in actual age but five years older in worldly wisdom, Kirsty knew what her brother and Tommy Rattray had been after. One of the older boys had tried to get his hand up the leg of
her
knickers last year – she'd kicked his shins – but Dorrie was maybe too much of a lady to do that, though it didn't stop her from swearing like a trooper.

Dorothea had been quite peeved at Kirsty Black. What right had she to tell anybody off for something she likely did herself? Besides, Billy Black and Tommy Rattray had only been kids and she
had
only been having a bit of fun with them, but now, a year later, it was
Jakey
Black she was interested in, he was so tall and good-looking. He wasn't very clever, he'd left the glen school as soon as he was fourteen, but that made him all the more interesting. He was a gardener's boy at the castle now, so he was
hers
, wasn't he – to do with what she liked … and even to let him do what he liked to her, as long as he didn't punch her or anything like that.

It was quite easy to get him alone. She waited till she knew he'd be inside the stables and then went in after him, making sure nobody saw her because she knew she would be in trouble if she was caught. He had looked up in surprise the first time, and she felt so shy all of a sudden that she couldn't tell him she wanted him to kiss her, just to see what it was like. She'd been alone with him several times after that, and it had finally dawned on the big galoot that she was making up to him.

That was when he grabbed her and pushed her against the wooden wall. It wasn't as nice as she had hoped. His mouth was all slobbery and his breath smelled, and she couldn't get away from him no matter how hard she struggled. To make it worse, his horrible great hand had touched her chest, and his knee was trying to prise her legs open.

Dargie, almost retiring age now, had seen Miss Dorrie coming out of the stable once or twice before, looking a wee bit guilty, and he'd wondered what she'd been up to, but he'd never dreamed …! ‘You filthy bugger!' he shouted, yanking the lanky boy away from the girl by the scruff of his neck. ‘God Almighty! What the hell d'you think you're playin' at? Get oot o' here this minute, and it's the last I want to see o' you.'

Crimson-faced, the youth scampered off, and the old gardener turned to the girl now. ‘As for you, Miss Dorrie, I some think you were askin' for it, but maybe you're no' auld enough to realize …' He had to stop, for a sickness was flooding up in him at the thought of what could have happened if he hadn't stopped it when he did. Jakey Black was just fifteen, but he could easily father a bairn, and the lass was twelve or thereabouts, so she'd be capable of conceiving.

She drew herself to her full height and looked him straight in the eye. ‘You won't say anything, Dargie!'

He felt quite shocked, for it was an order not a request … the brazen little madam! ‘I'll no' say anything, Miss Dorrie, but no' for your sake. I wouldna like to think on the hurt it would cause your mother and father if they ken't their lassie had been lettin' a stable laddie paw at her like yon. But if this kind o' thing happens again, wi' ony o' my men, I'll go straight to your father and tell him. D'you hear me, now? You'll regret it if you dinna heed what I say, for you could easy land in the family way.'

Walking away from him with her head in the air, Dorrie suddenly recalled a conversation she'd heard about a year ago between the two young parlour maids.

‘Ooh, Jenny, you never let him?' one of them had asked in a shocked voice.

‘Well, I never meant to let him,' Jenny had said, ‘but he … well, Vi'let, you ken.'

‘No, I dinna ken. What did he dae?'

‘You ken! My mother aye tell't me no' to let a lad inside my bloomers, but he was kissin' me and strokin' the top o' my leg an' afore I kent what he was daein' he was inside me, never mind my bloomers.'

Violet had given a gasp at that, and then, spotting the girl nearby, had hissed, ‘Watch what your sayin', Jenny.'

So that was all she had heard, Dorrie recalled, but a few months later, Jenny left suddenly, and she'd heard the other maids saying she was in the family way. But she could hardly believe what Dargie had said. That couldn't be the way to make babies. There must be more to it than what Jakey had done, but she wouldn't give anybody else the chance to do it.

Chapter Twenty-seven

As the years passed, Dorothea matured more in body than in mind, and she took no interest in the discussions going on around her, mostly concerning Hitler and the trouble he was causing in Europe. She still sulked if she didn't get her own way. At seventeen, having gained the qualifications necessary for entering university, she was determined to take up the opportunity, but she met with opposition from all quarters. The only person who encouraged her was her grandfather, who said it would do her good to knuckle down to the discipline needed in studying.

‘Your mother didn't go to university,' Marianne scolded one day at Sunday lunch, ‘even though she passed the entrance examinations.'

‘That was different!' Melda snapped. ‘There were reasons, as well you know.'

On another occasion, another attempt to make him change his mind, Ruairidh told her, ‘As my daughter, you do not have to earn your living, and I do not want you to go.'

‘What about thinking of what I want for a change?' Dorrie retorted. ‘I can't sit around here all day looking decorative.' Giving a laugh at the very idea, she went on, ‘Anyway, I'm not a very decorative person, am I? I want to be doing something, something useful, and the only way –'

He shook his head. ‘Being a wife and mother is the most useful thing a woman –'

‘Why did you send me to the Academy, then, if you didn't want me to use my education? I don't feel ready to settle down and raise kids. I don't think I ever will.'

‘You'll feel differently when you meet the right man,' Ruairidh soothed, out of his depth and wishing that his wife hadn't gone to Aberdeen for the day.

‘
If
I ever meet the right man,' she said scathingly, ‘it wouldn't make an ounce of difference. What's the point of having kids and then rejecting them … like you did?'

Her father gasped at this. ‘You were never rejected, Dorrie! You got everything you ever wanted, far more than you needed …'

‘But that's not love! You and Mum were always so busy with the mill, you hardly paid any attention to me.'

‘Oh, come now. That's a bit too much, Dorrie. Your mother and I loved you in spite of the spoiled brat you were when you were younger.'

‘Thank
you
!' she said sarcastically. ‘It's nice to know what you think of me.'

At this, Ruairidh lost his temper. ‘All right!' he said loudly. ‘Go to university if you want to. You may learn how to behave when you are subjected to proper discipline, but do not expect to come running home here if you do not like it.'

It was while she was home for Christmas at the end of her first term as a medical student, that Dorrie met Archie Grassie. She had gone to the midnight service on her own – her mother and father said they were too tired, and her grandparents had gone to bed early – so she made for the Bruce-Lyall pew. She enjoyed all the old carols she remembered from her childhood, and while the collection was being taken, she had a quick glance round to see who else was there, or rather, who wasn't there, because the little church was quite full. The Black tribe were out in full, she noticed, even Jakey, who had almost given her her first taste of sex. Studying him now, so rough and bucolic-looking, she wondered how she could have borne to let him touch her. Her eyes travelled on again, until she came to where the minister's wife was sitting at the other side of the aisle. The Drummonds had moved to another parish and the popular Mr Mathieson had been called to the glen. Mrs Mathieson wasn't alone today. She had a very personable young man sitting beside her – a very,
very
personable young man.

Dorrie could scarcely keep her eyes off him, and when the service ended, she kept sitting until Mrs Mathieson and her companion rose to leave. He wasn't really all that handsome, but he was well over six feet tall, with dark curly hair, and very smartly dressed. She got to her feet now and joined the moving line of people which had reduced to a mere trickle.

‘Nice to see you, Dorrie, dear,' Mrs Mathieson said, as they made their way outside. ‘Archie, let me introduce you to Dorothea Bruce-Lyall. Archie's my baby brother, Dorrie.'

‘Not so much of the baby,' he laughed. ‘I am delighted to meet you Miss Bruce-Lyall.'

‘Dorrie, please,' she said breathlessly, wishing that she could sound more sophisticated.

‘Then I am delighted to meet you, Miss Dorrie.'

‘Oh, damn!' Phyllis Mathieson exclaimed, then covered her mouth in embarrassment. ‘It's a good thing that only you were near enough to hear me, Dorrie, but I just remembered that Gil asked me to tell old Mrs Black something. Just carry on, Archie, I'll catch you up.'

He looked questioningly at the girl as they emerged into the crisp winter air. ‘May I escort you home, Miss Dorrie? I take it you are going back to the castle?'

She couldn't help giggling. ‘I don't usually wander round the glen at this time of night, but I'd be glad of an escort.'

He was extremely easy to talk to, she discovered, and even when he said that he was studying for the ministry, she still felt drawn to him, although, like her grandmother, she didn't much care for men of the cloth. Not that she had ever understood why her grandma was like that, for she was never intimidated by anybody. Still, Archie Grassie didn't look
like a minister, didn't speak with the drone of a minister, and, above all, didn't make her tongue-tied like Mr Mathieson did.

Walking steadily along, careful not to step on any of the iced-over puddles glistening at the sides of the road, they told each other their hopes for the future, discussed life in their different areas of study and arrived at the door of the castle much too soon for her liking. ‘Thank you for seeing me home … Archie,' she said, shy now that they were standing alone in the darkness with just a quick flash of moonlight as the clouds scurried across the sky.

‘It was a pleasure, Miss Dorrie,' he smiled.

Going inside, she wished that he had asked to see her again, or arranged to meet her in Aberdeen, but contented herself with the hope of seeing him during their next vacation.

Dorothea's Easter visit home – so eagerly looked forward to in the hope of seeing Archie – was a sad occasion. Hamish had been suffering for days with a flu-like sore throat and a racking cough, which Marianne had been treating with a linctus, but his condition worsened on the day after his granddaughter arrived. Robert Mowatt, the girl's other grandfather, was called in, but when he came downstairs after examining his patient, his face was grave.

‘I should have been called in earlier,' he said. ‘His heart, which was never very strong, as you know, Ruairidh, has been under a great deal of strain from the coughing, and …' He looked down at his feet as if unwilling to meet his son-in-law's eyes any longer. ‘I honestly can't see him pulling through this.'

Melda drew in her breath sharply. ‘Oh, no! Is there nothing you can do, Father?'

‘I have done all I can to make it easier for him, but …' He raised his head again. ‘I think someone should relieve your mother, Ruairidh. She tells me she hasn't left his side for more than a few minutes since he took to his bed, and strong as she is, she can not stand up to that.'

Dorothea jumped up. ‘I'll go.'

She went out before anyone could argue with her and ran upstairs anxiously. Of all her grandparents, she loved her father's father best. Both her grandmothers kept so busy that she often felt she should make an appointment to talk to them, and Grandfather Robert, being the only doctor in the glen, was often called out in the middle of a conversation with her, but Grandfather Hamish, no matter what he was doing, had always taken time to answer her questions, to allay any fears she had.

She didn't know what to expect when she went into his room, but his drawn face with the cheekbones jutting out like those of a skeleton, and the effort he was having to make to breathe, tore at her heart. If it hadn't been for the laboured movement of his chest, she might have thought he had already passed over.