God's Highlander (23 page)

‘Eneas! He's your own son.
Our
son. You have no right to turn him away when he's come to see you – and with the minister, too!' Magdalene Ross came to the doorway, the apron she was wearing twisted into a tight knot in her hands.

‘Don't tell me what rights I have in my own house, woman. If you want to greet him, I'll not stop you – but you'll do it outside. As for Donnie bringing the preacher to the house … you know
why
, the same as I do.'

Magdalene left the house and ran to where Donnie, Mairi and Wyatt stood. Gathering her son in her arms and giving him a kiss, she said: ‘You're thin. You should stop this foolishness. Come home to let me feed you again.'

‘I'm eating as well as I ever have, Ma. As for coming home … I'll do it willingly when I can bring Seonaid here, too.'

‘You'll not bring the Fraser girl to this house, Donnie Ross,' said Eneas Ross. ‘Words of welcome would turn to bile in my mouth if I tried to speak them.'

‘Can we talk about this calmly and reasonably, Eneas?' Wyatt decided it was time he intervened between father and son. ‘Donnie and Seonaid have asked me to marry them. In view of Donnie's age I'd like your consent.'

‘There's nothing to talk about. I'll not have a son of mine marrying a daughter of Hamish Fraser.'

‘Then, you'll have to live with the knowledge that you're responsible for sending me to prison. I doubt if Hamish Fraser would do such a thing.' The angry words came from Donnie.

As Magdalene Ross let out a wail of anguish, Eneas Ross said sharply: ‘Prison? What are you talking about, boy? Why should
you
of all people go to prison?'

‘You know how severe the bastardy laws are. If I can't marry Seonaid and support the child she's having, I'll go to prison.'

Eneas Ross leaped to his feet. ‘Seonaid Fraser's having a bastard?
Your
bastard?'

There was a sound from behind Wyatt. When he looked round he saw that most of Donnie's brothers and Tibbie had returned to the cot.

‘
Garrett's
bastard, more likely.' The speaker was Ian, the eldest of the Ross brothers.

Donnie rounded on his brother, and his mother caught his arm, fearing brother would strike brother.

‘You had no call to say that, Ian.' Donnie sounded more hurt than angry. ‘You wouldn't like anyone to say such a thing about Tibbie.'

‘Tibbie's never given me or anyone else cause,' retorted Ian Ross. ‘Rumours have never stopped about Seonaid and Garrett – yes, and other men before him.'

Donnie looked bewildered and hurt, and Wyatt stepped in quickly. ‘Such foolish talk is getting no one anywhere. From what I hear, the girl has been more sinned against than sinner. I've spoken to both Seonaid and Donnie at some length. I'm satisfied they know what they're doing. What's more, I'm convinced they love each other, too.'

‘
Love
? What nonsense is this you're talking, Preacher? When it comes to taking a wife there's far more than
love
involved. A man must take his family's wishes into consideration
and
think how his wife will get along with
them
.'

‘Did
you
think of all these things when you married Magdalene? A Spanish Catholic in the Highlands of Scotland? Did you make certain
your
family would approve before you decided to take her for your wife?'

Wyatt asked the question quietly, but it was heard by every member of the Ross family and they fell silent as they waited for Eneas to answer. None awaited his reply with more interest than Magdalene.

‘That was different,' Eneas said after a couple of false beginnings.

‘Was it? I, too, was in the Army, Eneas. I know what's said about girls who marry soldiers on a campaign march. Are you telling me you didn't trust your own judgement – just as Donnie is?'

‘If you weren't a man of God, you'd regret speaking of Magdalene and Seonaid Fraser in the same breath, Preacher Jamieson.'

‘I'm saying nothing against Magdalene, Eneas – and I wouldn't. There's not a man I know who has a better wife. All I'm saying is that Donnie is your son – yours and Magdalene's. Trust him; he's a sound, sensible young man.'

‘He's a boy … hardly more than a child.' Eneas glared at his son, uncomfortably aware of his wife's eyes on him.

‘You were a year younger than me when you joined the Army, Pa. You've told me so many times.' Donnie hesitated. ‘I want to go into marriage with your blessing, Pa. Yours and Ma's.'

‘You'll never get my blessing to a marriage with Hamish Fraser's child. Nor will she ever set foot inside this cot again. I can't speak for your mother, and I won't try.'

‘Does Donnie have your permission to marry?' For Donnie's sake Wyatt wanted to hear Eneas Ross say the words.

‘He can do whatever he pleases. You've been telling me how much of a man he is. Very well, I'll not interfere in his life again. He must go his own way now.'

‘Pa!' Donnie took a step towards his father, but Eneas Ross turned away and walked inside his cot without another look at his youngest son.

D
ONNIE ROSS AND Seonaid were married in the little Eskaig church four weeks after Eneas Ross turned his back on his youngest son.

Donnie Ross arrived at the church looking self-consciously resplendent in a new kilt and plaid, preceded by a piper and flanked by two of his brothers, Dugald and Stewart.

The church was well filled by villagers. Many of the older women had attended every wedding conducted in the Eskaig church during their long lifetime. They would not miss this, the most talked-about ceremony for very many years.

When the three young Ross boys entered the church, Donnie looked eagerly among the congregation, hoping other members of his family might have had a last-minute change of heart. None was there, and the watching villagers did not miss the fleeting expression of unhappiness that touched his honest young face.

Donnie and his brothers were not kept waiting long. There was a stir in the church as Seonaid arrived. She was accompanied by Mairi, who had set aside her misgivings about the marriage for the sake of her younger brother.

As the two Highland girls walked down the aisle towards the waiting bridegroom there were nudges, smirks and many knowing looks among the congregation. Seonaid's dress, newly made for the wedding, could not hide the swelling of her body about the waist.

If Seonaid was aware of the unkind interest being taken in her figure, she did not allow it to spoil the occasion. She kept her gaze firmly fixed on the spot where Donnie waited at the front of the church. His nerves and curiosity overtook him, and he turned once to check on her progress. When he saw his bride, Donnie gave her a smile that Wyatt later swore would have lit up the darkest kirk.

Seonaid reached Donnie's side, and the bride and groom walked forward together. When they stood before Wyatt the ceremony began.

A great stillness fell upon the congregation when Wyatt called for any man to come forward if he could show just cause why the young couple might not be joined together in matrimony.

It was rumoured that John Garrett had returned late the previous evening, travelling from Glasgow, as he had once before, on board a Scandinavian ship bound for the Caledonian Canal.

Wyatt's call to the congregation passed without a response, and a sigh went through the crowded church that might, spitefully, have been interpreted as disappointment. The moment soon passed.

Donnie's responses were made in a strong clear voice. After a surprisingly faltering start, Seonaid's responses gained in strength until they matched those of her bridegroom.

When Wyatt pronounced the young couple ‘man and wife' in the sight of God and the Eskaig community, there was not a man or woman present who did not respond with a fervent ‘Amen' on their behalf.

Outside the church a reception party was waiting. Salutes were fired over the young couple from guns that had survived the ban placed upon them after Culloden. When Donnie and Seonaid emerged from the clouds of black powder-smoke rolling across the church path they were met by a fiddler. The musician led the way to the schoolhouse, which had been suitably bedecked for the celebrations that were to follow.

In the grounds of the school three fires were burning. Over each a whole sheep was being turned on a spit. As fat from the animals dripped on slow-burning peat fires, yellow flames leaped about the slowly rotating carcasses and a mouth-watering aroma filled the air.

Soon lines of excited villagers formed a large square, and Donnie and Seonaid led the dancers in a wild reel that thumbed its nose at Seonaid's condition. The dances were fast and furious. A few perspiring dancers attributed this to the fact that the fiddler, a Corpach man, was being paid at the rate of a penny a dance – plus as much whisky as he could drink.

It was a celebration that would continue until well into the night. Indeed, once darkness fell and the mutton was carved and distributed, the celebrations grew in intensity. By now the fiddle-player was flagging
in spite of the incentive to keep playing, and pipers were brought in to take his place.

When more whisky was brought up it became noticeable that more men and fewer women were taking part in the dancing now.

When many of the older girls and boys began to wander off hand in hand together into the darkness, Wyatt felt it advisable to lock the doors of his kirk. The young couples might otherwise be inclined to take advantage of the shelter afforded by the church against the night wind.

On the road outside the school he met a horseman sitting in his saddle, watching the festivities from a distance. Wyatt could make out no more than the outline of the man, but he said: ‘Come and join the celebrations. There's food and drink for one more.'

A startled white face was turned towards Wyatt, and a voice that was the last he would have wished to hear tonight exclaimed: ‘Eh? Oh, it's you, Jamieson. What's going on? The music and drunken singing can be heard four miles away, at Corpach.'

‘It's a wedding, Factor. Two young people have been married today. The villagers are celebrating in true Highland fashion.'

Wyatt hoped John Garrett would accept the explanation without demanding further details, but the factor was not a man to take half-statements without question.

‘
Who's
been married? If it's a Kilmalie tenant, it's usual for me to be informed.'

‘Donnie Ross has married Seonaid Fraser – and you haven't been here to be informed.'

The long silence that followed Wyatt's announcement was finally broken by the factor.

‘Seonaid's married … young Ross? I don't believe it.' The words came out in a hoarse incredulous whisper.

‘It's quite true, I can assure you. I married them myself, this afternoon. '

Again there was a long silence, broken this time by Wyatt. ‘It's customary for a landowner to give his good wishes, at least, to a young couple. Is there anything you would like to contribute on Lord Kilmalie's behalf?'

‘Damn your Highland customs! I'll not be taken for a fool. I should have been told of this. I should have been told….'

Wyatt waited for the factor to add to his surprising statement, but John Garrett had said all he intended to say this evening. Jerking his mount around, he dug the heels of his riding-boots into the flanks of the horse and clattered back the way he had come.

As Wyatt stood alone on the darkened road the sound coming from the school grew even louder. The newly wed couple had decided it was time to bring the celebrations to an end – for them, at least. They were to spend the first night of their married life at the Eskaig inn. A room had been placed at their disposal by Annie Hamilton, the somewhat disreputable landlady of Eskaig's only tavern.

The only Englishwoman in the village, Annie Hamilton had made her appearance in Eskaig at the end of the Napoleonic Wars, with her crippled ex-soldier husband, son of the inn landlord. Although there was always some doubt, she insisted she
was
legally married. Such was her character that no one in the small village possessed the courage to challenge her statement.

She had met the landlord's son when he was a soldier in the 79th Regiment, passing through London. She, like Magdalene Ross, had accompanied her husband on the campaign that took the 79th Regiment from Portugal through Spain and on to the final battles inside the French border. It was rumoured Annie Hamilton had carried her wounded husband on her back from the final battlefield and ensured he received immediate treatment from the overworked military surgeons.

She continued to nurse her semi-invalid husband when he took over the inn from his father. After she was widowed, Annie Hamilton ran the Eskaig inn herself, despite vociferous opposition from the scandalised village elders.

Annie Hamilton had heard every one of the rumours about Seonaid's morals and the probable father of the baby the young bride carried. She paid no heed to them. Annie Hamilton had never been one to accept the narrow views of the others. She was one of the few villagers to have visited Magdalene Ross in the isolated Highland croft, drawn there by the common experiences both women had shared.

Annie Hamilton knew what Magdalene Ross would have wished for her son and his bride. Loyalty to her husband might have prevented Magdalene from attending the wedding, but the inn landlady determined
the young couple would want for nothing on their wedding night.

Led by two pipers and the inebriated fiddler, the young couple made their way to the inn surrounded by revellers. At the inn someone crumbled a cake over the head of the bride and there was a scramble among the unmarried girls to retrieve the pieces. Superstition had it that the girl who picked up the largest piece of cake would be the next to wed.

Then it was the turn of the men of Eskaig who claimed the right to kiss the bride. Bowing to custom, Seonaid stood by the inn door. Unfortunately, fuelled by whisky and Seonaid's reputation, some of the ‘well-wishers' crossed the bounds of propriety. Wyatt saw what was happening and plunged into the excited crowd to go to Seonaid's aid – but Annie Hamilton was there first. Wielding a long-handled copper warming-pan, she emerged from the doorway behind the young couple and quickly drove off the liberty-taking revellers.

Reaching the doorway where Annie Hamilton stood on guard in the manner of an avenging Britannia, Wyatt said: ‘You wield a handy bed-warmer, Annie.'

Annie Hamilton brandished the long-handled ‘weapon' menacingly. ‘Had there been a bayonet attached, I'd have driven them all the way to the lowlands. You'd have done the same if all I've heard of your past service is true.'

‘I've seen bayonets wielded to less purpose than your warming-pan,' countered Wyatt. ‘There'll be a few bruised heads in the morning. You'll be closing the inn now, no doubt?'

‘Closing? Not on your life, dearie. This lot have got the taste for drink now. I'll stay open until the last man drops to the floor. I expect to do more business tonight than in any two weeks of the year.' She looked up to where a lamp shone dimly through the curtained window of the ‘bridal suite'. There will be little sleep tonight for them, but I doubt if they'll be complaining in the morning, poor dears.' The lewd wink she gave Wyatt would have shocked many ministers. Wyatt only grinned. ‘If you'd like a drop of
good
whisky yourself, I've a quiet room at the back. It will be on the house.'

Wyatt shook his head. ‘I need to be up early. Lachlan Munro is ill again. I've promised I'll pay him a visit.'

‘The poor man. With such a nice little family, too. Until you came to Eskaig he'd received scant reward for serving his country well. Call
in to see me before you go. I've a bottle of something that will cheer him up. There should be plenty of food left over from this lot, too. It'd be a pity to see it go to waste. There'll be more than you can carry, I've no doubt.'

Thanking Annie Hamilton for her generosity, Wyatt set off for the manse. He had gone only a few paces when Mairi fell in beside him.

‘It was a fine service you gave for Donnie and Seonaid. It got their marriage off to a good start, in spite of their circumstances.'

‘They're not the first young couple to have found the restraints urged upon them by the Church hard to accept. I doubt if they'll be the last.'

‘I wish I could accept the child as Donnie's.' Mairi looked towards her companion, but it was too dark to make out his expression. ‘You're no fool, Wyatt. You know what's been going on between Seonaid and the factor. What do you think?'

‘I've just married two very nice young people who have to face a great many difficulties together in the months and years ahead. I think we should give them all the help we can.'

‘They'll get that from me. From Ma and Pa, too, if they ever get into any
real
trouble. But you haven't answered my question.'

‘And I don't intend to.' Wyatt changed the subject abruptly. ‘I didn't see you scrambling for the cake back there at the inn door.'

‘If marriage depends upon a piece of cake, I don't think I'll bother.' Mairi spoke scornfully, at the same time uncomfortably aware that she carried a large piece of cake carefully wrapped in her handkerchief. She had snatched it up unnoticed from inside the inn doorway, while other girls were scrabbling on the ground in the street outside.

‘How are your lessons coming along?' Wyatt asked the question as the silence that fell between them began to lengthen.

‘I can read well enough now, and my handwriting is much improved.' Mairi spoke nonchalantly, as though what Wyatt thought did not much matter. Yet the thought of earning his praise had driven her on for long firelit hours after a hard day's work at the shielings and, more recently, by candlelight in the mountain cot while the rest of the family slept.

‘You can
read
already?' Wyatt's admiration was genuine. He had not forgotten the many night hours he had put into studying – and he had been fortunate enough to have a literate and enthusiastic father to
give him help and encouragement. ‘You've done marvellously well. Better than if you'd stayed at the school, I don't doubt.'

It was exactly the response for which Mairi had been working so hard. She was determined to prove
she
could learn without tuition from Evangeline Garrett.

Behind them a discordant wail rose upon the night air as a set of bagpipes was brought into use. The wedding revellers would not end their celebrations for a long time yet. There would be little sleep for the newlyweds or for anyone else in Eskaig tonight.

‘You're not on your way home to the croft?' Wyatt asked the question as they left the lighted windows of the last house behind and were engulfed in the darkness of a starless night. The way to the mountain croft would take Mairi past the manse, but to attempt to find the faint mountain path on such a night would be foolhardy.