Clandara (14 page)

“Oh, but your brother's more than welcome too.” Margaret Macpherson spoke so quickly that her husband, who did not wish to entertain one and certainly not two of these overbearing aristocrats, had no time to accept Hugh's excuse. She knew perfectly well that dull, stuffy Donald, with his law books and his tedious attitude to everything, resented their intrusion; but there was something very flattering and fascinating about this young Highland gentleman and the way in which he looked at her without caring whether Donald noticed it or not. She was determined not to lose him, even if it meant entertaining his ferocious-looking brother. There was nothing to attract her about James. She felt quite nervous when those black eyes were turned on her; they seemed to burn as if there were a light behind them.

“We would be delighted,” Hugh said gaily. “How charming of you both to entertain us. Have you perhaps a sister, madam, who could make conversation with my brother? He's a man of genial taste and he delights in the company of charming ladies …”

“A sister-in-law,” Margaret Macpherson murmured. “She's there, wearing a red gown, talking to Colonel O'Sullivan, the Prince's Quarter Master General.”

“Enchanting,” murmured Hugh, and the remark was accompanied by a look which assured Mistress Macpherson that the honours were still hers. James glanced across at the woman with O'Sullivan, and what he saw made no impression on him. He had never liked women of his own colouring, and this woman in her scarlet silk dress was very dark. She was tall and handsome in a curiously patrician way. She resembled her brother the lawyer a little; both had rather pronounced features, but as she came towards them he could see that her eyes, unlike Macpherson's, were brilliantly blue.

“James Macdonald of Dundrenan, his brother Hugh, my sister-in-law Mrs. Douglas. These gentlemen are dining with us tonight.”

Janet Douglas gave James her hand to kiss and smiled slightly without speaking. It was a very cool hand and steady. She did not appeal to him at all, but at least she possessed some air of distinction, however accidental, and he far preferred her to the fluffy creature Hugh had marked out for himself.

“If you will excuse us,” James said, “we must speak to our father for a moment. We will rejoin you here.”

As soon as they had moved away he turned angrily to Hugh. “What the devil have you done, inviting me to these damned people's house for dinner! Go and lay that stupid wife of his if you want to, but don't ruin my few hours this evening!”

“My dear brother, keep your temper. I know exactly what I'm doing.”

“And how do you propose to do it, with her husband looking on?” James demanded.

“Leave that to me,” Hugh said pleasantly. “But we shall have an excellent dinner for which we shan't pay a penny, and then I shall have her and you shall have the sister-in-law if you have a mind to.”

“And if I haven't a mind to, or she hasn't?” James exploded. “What then?”

“Then we will go down to the stews and you can take your pick of the whores,” his brother answered. “But it will cost you money and you will probably catch the pox from one of them; this place has been full of men for the past two days. Try my little plan first. Mistress Douglas looks likely enough; I'm not sure I wouldn't sooner have her than my little eager chicken … But we will see. Perhaps we'll try it turn and turn about.” And he laughed.

James did not join him, but before his inner eye he saw himself with Katharine in his arms, so tender and eager and completely within his grasp. In the heather by the Loch, and again on the night of the Ball on the Ladies' Walk at Clandara. And himself, so wild with chivalrous love that he had put her from him. Turn and turn about. First that tall, self-possessed bitch with her shrewd blue eyes, and then the other, all fluttering and full-bosomed. Why not? He had done as much before, and sat down laughing with his brothers and comparing notes. Anything, anything, to drive the thought of Katharine from his mind.

“Why not, indeed?” he said. “But we may have to kill the husband and that would hardly endear us to the Prince.”

“We'll kill nobody,” Hugh said. “We'll take two clansmen with us and they can keep Macpherson company while we dine. He won't protest, I promise you.”

“Some more wine,” James said. “Hugh, pass it here, damn you!” The meal was already finished, and the four of them, the Macdonalds and the two women, were sitting at the table still, propping their elbows on it, finishing off another bottle of the absent Macpherson's best claret. As Hugh had promised the dinner was excellent, and under a firm pressure on each arm from the two Macdonald clansmen who had escorted them through the streets, their host had been removed to an upper room where James informed him curtly that his men had orders to cut his throat if he called out. And once the position was established, their hostess had abandoned herself to the enjoyment of a situation for which she could not possibly be blamed, and her sister-in-law, Janet Douglas, had made no comment whatever but began serving James with meat and wine. He ate less than he drank, and he drank with furious intent, not savouring the good claret but pouring it down his throat as if it were whisky, while his brother sat with his arm around Margaret Macpherson and grew bolder as he received encouragement. She leant back against him, a little tipsy herself, and her dress slipping from her shoulders.

“Poor Donald,” she sighed. “He must be so terribly frightened for me. I hope your men won't hurt him?”

“Of course they won't,” Hugh said. “They're just like Iambs. I told you he wouldn't make a to-do about it.”

James looked across at the woman, her eyes heavy, pressing herself against his grinning brother, and, suddenly irritated, he said coldly: “Would you like us to look, madam, in case our lambs have cut his throat as I directed? Maybe that's why he's silent.”

“Knowing Donald,” Janet Douglas said suddenly, “I'm sure he gave them no cause. What a remarkably clever plan; which one of you gentlemen thought of it?”

“I did,” Hugh grinned. “We were so enamoured by the sight of you that we couldn't allow a mere husband to stand in our way. Come, come, sweetheart, you're yawning.” He whispered in her ear, and Margaret giggled. “Excuse us.” Hugh got up and made a bow to the two left at the table. “Take care of my brother, my dear lady. He's in need of comfort.”

When they were alone, James up-ended the last bottle and cursed to find it empty. Janet looked at him. “How much do you need?” she asked him. He raised his head and looked at her. His eyes were bloodshot, but though he had drunk twice as much as Hugh, he was still sober.

“What the devil do you mean?” he said. Janet went to the cabinet and came back to the table. She carried a decanter of whisky.

“You know very well what I mean,” she said. “Here, try this. Why did you come here, when you've no stomach for any of it?”

“I was invited,” he said sarcastically. “What's the matter, madam, can't you wait? If I don't oblige you, have a little patience and my brother will when he's finished with your sister-in-law.”

“I don't care for your brother,” she said quietly. “I think he and that worthless woman are well matched. But don't underestimate her; he won't be back as soon as you think. Be kind enough to pass me a glass; I'll have a little whisky myself.”

She poured out a measure and began to sip it slowly. James watched her without speaking. In the candlelight she seemed very handsome; her pale, chiselled face was strangely composed. She might have been sitting at any dinner-table in Perth with a sober company instead of drinking with a man she had never met before, whose followers were holding her brother prisoner while his wife was being seduced in his own bed.

“What manner of woman are you?” he said suddenly. “You can't be related to that poltroon upstairs.”

“As it happens I am,” she said. “But brothers and sisters don't have to be alike. Witness yourself and your own brother. You look alike and so do Donald and I, but you're quite different from each other. What ails you, Macdonald of Dundrenan? Do you find me ugly?”

“Not ugly, no. But unpleasingly bold. I don't care for it.”

“Oh, dear me,” she smiled, and her eyes flashed at him with genuine amusement. “Don't tell me I've shocked you! I know all about you, sir. Your reputation has gone before you. Long before,” she added. “Don't tell me you prefer women to be hypocrites?”

“What do you know of me?” he demanded. She disturbed him when she was silent; he had never met anyone like her before. When she talked she made him extremely angry, but angry as if he were dealing with a man.

“I know that you have a very bad name,” she said gently. “Friends of mine had cause to curse it. A particular friend; Alice Gannock, to be precise. Do you remember her at all?”

“I do.” He looked at her, his eyes slowly and insultingly considering her, from her shining black hair to the line of her breasts above the neck of her red dress. “But I was drunk, and she was unwilling. Things are different this time. Are you still eager to find out if what she said was true, madam? There must be another bedroom in the house and I'm damned sure you'll know where to find it.”

Janet rose. Her pale face had not altered. Instead she watched him with an expression that was full of curiosity and quite without fear.

“Alice Gannock never told me anything,” she said slowly. “I heard of it from her mother. She is safely married now to a man who thought more of a large dowry than virginity. She is quite happy. Before we find that bedroom, Macdonald, let me tell you one thing. At seventeen I was married to a man who was so much in love with my money that he killed himself spending it. I have spent all my time since then searching for a man who
is
a man. I believe you are such a one. In any case, I would like to find out. Come, then.”

They went to a room up the first flight of stairs, and for a moment they stood facing each other, hesitating like two combatants before the final challenge is accepted. Then Janet came to him and stood against him, not moving, not putting her arms around him, just watching his face. James looked down at her and, putting both hands on her shoulders, he tore the red dress off her back. In the furious encounter which followed he was astonished to hear her laughing.

He must have slept because he found that she had covered him, and when he opened his eyes she had lit a candle by the bedside and was sitting up beside him. She had a beautiful, voluptuous body, feminine and yet superbly strong. The sight of it left him so cold and so sickened with rage and disappointment that he turned away from her.

“Cover yourself,” he said brutally. “You look like a whore.”

“As you wish. I'm sorry, Macdonald. I should have gone and left you sleeping.”

James did not answer her. He did not know how long he had slept, but sleep had engulfed him as if he had stepped over a precipice.

Now his mind was clear, and with his memory came the most acute revulsion for himself and for the woman so close to him that he could hear her breathing. He had made love to scores of women, including some of the lowest drabs who gave themselves to any drunken young gentleman for a few shillings; now he felt unclean and full of despair. He had escaped from nothing.

“I am sorry,” Janet said again. “I found what I wanted, I only wish that you had too. Please look at me; I've done as you asked.”

He pulled himself upright and jumped out of the bed. He began dressing, still without speaking or looking at her. It was incredible that he could have embraced and possessed one of the most passionate women he had ever encountered and yet remained horribly aloof and empty, as if he were outside his body and critically watching the empty manifestations of his own lust. When he was ready she came up to him; she was wearing a long silk-and-velvet robe, and, as if she could read his mind, she said quietly: “This is mine. This is my room; I live here with Donald and Margaret. I think I can hear her and your brother stirring. It will be daylight soon. You had better release my brother and be gone before anyone sees you. I will persuade him to accept the inevitable. He's a cautious man and inclined to be greedy. He won't want to lose his good standing with the Prince by complaining against his officers.”

“It's of no consequence to me,” he said roughly. “I'll stand any paltry lawyer's accusation and make him eat it!”

“I'm sure you would,” she said gently. “But it's better not to have to do it. Before you go, tell me one thing.”

He turned unwillingly and looked at her. “What is it?”

“Will you see me again? I have a house of my own here in Perth.”

“I doubt it,” he said. “There's been little profit in our meeting.”

“Then I shall seek you,” she said. “She must be very beautiful.”

“Who? What do you mean?”

“I mean the woman whose name you called when you were making love to me. Good night, Macdonald of Dundrenan. We shall meet again.”

The rest of the week was spent in assembling the Prince's army, checking and storing the ammunition and holding councils of war with the chiefs. The day after their encounter with the family of Macpherson, the Macdonalds were present at one of these. The Prince was at the head of the table and on the right and left of him were Lord George Murray, brother of the Duke of Atholl, and the thirty-two-year-old Duke of Perth. Lord Nairne was there, and Lord Ogilvy, a new arrival. The news Colonel O'Sullivan gave them was encouraging.

The British garrison had left Edinburgh and was on its way to Stirling to give battle to the Prince's forces. Its commander, Sir John Cope, was not optimistic about his chances of success, and his force of English troops was already depleted by desertions. Rumours of the terrible barbarians from the North were terrifying his men, who numbered only two thousand five hundred and imagined themselves being cut to pieces by a force ten times that number. The size and ferocity of the Highland army gathering at Perth was joyfully exaggerated by those Scottish civilians who gravely advised Cope to escape them while he could. And not one man had answered the English call to volunteer, while more and more small chiefs and their tacksmen tenants came in by horse and on foot to Perth, some armed only with scythes lashed to long poles, others equipped with basket-handled sword and the small buckler which was the standard equipment of the Highlander in war.