Secret of the Glen

CHAPTER ONE 1850-1

CHAPTER ONE

1850Leona felt the wind whistling through every crack and corner of the carriage even though it was strongly and expensively made.

In fact the gale blowing across the moors was so strong that the horses could only move at a snail’s pace.

It was disappointing, she thought, because the previous day had been bright with sunshine and she had sat staring out onto the purple moorlands.

She had been entranced by the high peaks silhouetted against the sky and had felt a childlike excitement when she saw silver cascades pouring down into the burns.

‘It is even more beautiful than Mama described it,’ she told herself and knew that nothing could be more thrilling than to be in Scotland.

Ever since she was a baby Leona had listened to the stories of Scottish bravery, of the feuds of the Clans and of the loyalty of the Jacobites for the ‘King across the water’.

The stories had been more than mere tales of heroism.

To her mother they were so real, so poignant and filled with so much nostalgia that her voice, as she related them, had throbbed with emotions that her daughter could never forget.

To Elizabeth Macdonald, the treachery of the Campbells at the m******e of Glencoe was an event that might have happened yesterday.

Although she lived away from her native land, she remained a Scot in thought, word and deed to her dying day.

“Your mother looks upon me as a mere Sassenach, however much she loves me,” her father would sometimes say to Leona with a smile on his lips.

But he was right in saying that his wife loved him.

Leona could not imagine that any two people could have been happier together than her mother and father.

They were desperately poor, but that did not matter.

When Richard Grenville was invalided out of the Army, he had only his pension and a crumbling Manor House in Essex on which to support his wife and his only child.

He had farmed in a dilatory, half-hearted manner that supplied them with chickens and eggs, with ducks and turkeys and even sometimes with mutton.

It never seemed to matter that there was not enough actual money with which to buy elegant clothes or smart carriages or to pay for visits to London.

What was important was that they were together.

Leona thought that her home was always full of sunshine and laughter, despite the fact that the covers on the furniture were threadbare and it was difficult to guess how the curtains had looked before they faded.

‘We were happy – so very happy,’ she told herself now, ‘until Papa died.’

Richard Grenville had died unexpectedly of a heart attack and his wife had no wish to go on living without him.

She had gone into a despondent decline from which not even Leona could arouse her.

“Come and look at the baby chickens, Mama,” she would beg or she would ask her mother to help her exercise the two horses which were their only mode of conveyance.

But Mrs. Grenville had just let her life ebb away as she sat about the house, lost in her memories and only counting the days until she could be reunited with her husband.

It was very much as an afterthought that Leona’s mother had made any plans for her.

“You must not die, Mama,” Leona had urged frantically one evening.

She could almost see her mother slipping into the unseen world where she was convinced that her husband was waiting for her.

Her words seemed to have no impact and she had added despairingly,

“What will become of me? What shall I do, Mama, if you leave me?”

It was as if the problem had presented itself to Elizabeth Grenville for the first time.

“You cannot stay here, darling.”

“Not alone,” Leona agreed. “Besides, when you die, there will not even be your widow’s pension to support me.”

Mrs. Grenville closed her eyes as if the word ‘widow’ hurt her. Then she said,

“Bring me my writing materials.”

“Who are you going to write to, Mama?” Leona asked curiously as she obeyed.

She knew they had few relations. Her father’s parents came from Devon and were long since dead.

Her mother had been born near Loch Leven, but she had become an orphan before she married and had lived with an aged aunt and uncle, who had died a few years after she came South.

There must be cousins belonging to both her parents, Leona thought, but she had never met them.

“I am writing,” Elizabeth Grenville said in her soft voice, “to someone who was my closest friend when I was a girl.”

Leona waited, wondering what her mother would tell her.

“Jeannie McLeod and I were almost brought up together,” she said, “and because my parents were dead I spent months of every year in her home while occasionally she came to mine.”

Her eyes were full of memories as she went on,

“It was Jeannie’s parents who introduced me to Society at the balls in Edinburgh when we were both nearly eighteen and, when I left Scotland with your father, the only thing I regretted was that I must leave Jeannie behind.”

“You have not seen her since, Mama?”

“We used to write to each other regularly,” her mother replied, “but then, you know how it is, Leona, one always puts off until tomorrow what one should do today.”

She sighed before she continued,

“I always received a very sweet letter from her at Christmas except, now I think of it, no letter came last year.”

She paused. Then she added,

“It may have – I was so – distraught at losing your – father I can remember very little about Christmas.”

“That is not surprising, it was a very miserable time, Mama,” Leona agreed.

Her father had died in the middle of December and there had been no Christmas tree, no presents and, because she thought it would upset her mother, Leona had not even allowed the carol singers to come to the house.

“I am writing to Jeannie now,” Mrs. Grenville said, “to beg her, when I am gone, to look after you and love you as we loved each other when we were girls together.”

“Don’t talk of leaving me, Mama,” Leona begged. “I want you to get well. I want you to stay with me and help me look after the house and the farm.”

Her mother did not reply and after a moment Leona said, “It was what Papa would have wished, as you well know. He would have hated to see you as you are now.”

“It is no use, dearest,” her mother answered. “When your father left us, he took my heart and my soul with him. There is nothing in me now but an aching, longing need to find him and for us to be together again.”

Hearing the pain in her mother’s voice, Leona knew that there was nothing more she could say.

She watched her mother write the letter and, only when she saw to whom it was addressed, did she give an exclamation of surprise.

“The Duchess of Ardness, Mama? Is that who your friend is now?”

“Yes. Jeannie made a brilliant marriage. But the Duke was much older than she was and I thought when I met him that he was rather a frightening man.”

“While you fell in love with Papa.”

Mrs. Grenville’s eyes lit up.

“I loved him the moment I saw him,” she answered. “It was not only that he was so very attractive in his uniform. There was something else, something so magical and indescribable that it is difficult to put it into words.”

“It was love at first sight!” Leona said with a smile, “and Papa often told me how he fell in love with you.”

“Tell me what he said,” Mrs. Grenville asked eagerly.

“He walked into the ballroom feeling rather bored,” Leona related. “He said that he had been to so many dances and had found the Scottish women dull with nothing original to say and he was wishing he was back in the South.”

“Go on!” Mrs. Grenville prompted and for a moment her face was as happy as a young girl’s.

“Then Papa saw you” Leona continued. “You were dancing very gaily with an Officer in the Black Watch whom he knew. He looked at you and he said to himself, ‘that is the girl I am going to marry!’”

“And as soon as he spoke to me, I wanted to marry him,” Mrs. Grenville cried. “It was just as if we had known each other before and found each other again after a long separation.”

“I am sure that is what happens when one is really in love,” Leona said, almost as if she spoke to herself.

“You will feel like that one day, my darling. Then you will understand that when it happens, nothing else in the world is of any consequence.”

Her voice throbbed as she went on,

“I would have gone with your father anywhere he wished to take me. I would have followed him barefoot to England if he had tried to leave me behind!”

“So you were not envious of your friend marrying a Duke?” Leona teased.

“I have been envious of no one. I was so lucky, so unbelievably and marvellously lucky to marry your father”

“Papa felt just the same.”

“He is near me,” Mrs. Grenville said, almost fiercely. “He has not left me. I cannot see him, but I know he is there!”

“I am sure he is, Mama.”

“And that is why I must go to him as soon as I can – you do understand, darling? I hate leaving you, but I cannot bear to be without him.”

“I will try, Mama.”

“Post the letter! Post the letter quickly” she urged. “Then neither your father nor I will have to worry about you.”

The letter had been despatched, but before there was any chance of an answer, Mrs. Grenville slipped away to join the husband she had loved so deeply.

Leona had found her dead in her bed one morning with a smile on her lips and looking incredibly young.

She had been buried beside her husband in the churchyard of the little grey Church and, after the funeral was over, Leona had gone back to the Manor House to wonder what she should do.

The answer came a week later when she received a letter, not from the Duchess, but from the Duke of Ardness, and it was addressed to her mother.

It told Mrs. Grenville briefly that her friend, the Duchess, was dead, but went on,

“Nevertheless, if as you say you have not long to live, then I shall be delighted to welcome your daughter here in Scotland. Tell her that, when the unhappy moment comes and she finds herself alone, she may write to me for further instructions. In the meantime I hope your fears are groundless and that you will recover your good health.”

It was a pleasant letter and, because there was nothing else she could do, Leona sat down and replied to it immediately.

She told the Duke that her mother was dead and said that, while she had no wish to be a burden upon him, she would be very grateful if she could come to Scotland and at least discuss her future with him.

Because she felt quite certain that he would acquiesce in her request, she looked round for a purchaser for the house and disposed of the livestock on the farm and even the two horses she loved.

She took the greatest care to find them a home where they would be well looked after.

Fortunately the neighbouring farmer was, as Leona knew, a kindly man and he bought the horses and gave her, she thought, more than he would have bid in a sale, simply because he was sorry for her.

He also promised to try to find a purchaser for the house and land.

This, Leona realised, was not going to be easy, but even a small sum would give her a little financial security.

From the money obtained by the sale of the horses there was little left after she had paid all the outstanding bills and given the man who had groomed the horses enough to live on until he found another job.

It was only when everything had been arranged that Leona wondered rather nervously what would happen if the Duke, after all, refused to have her.

But her fears were groundless.

She received a letter telling her how welcome she would be at Ardness Castle and instructing her to leave immediately.