Heather Song (23 page)

I
t was torment almost beyond belief to be stuck in Elgin and cooped up in a B and B for two days.

There was so much I wanted to do, people I was dying to see. I had no ocean, no seagulls, no trails, no headlands to walk along, no Crannoch Bin—only city streets and big-box stores and bustle and traffic and noise.

For the first time in my life, I was thankful for jet lag. What better way to pass the time than sleeping the day away.

Finally Thursday came and the meeting with Alasdair’s Edinburgh solicitor. Mr. Murdoch was utterly gracious and respectful. He treated me like a duchess whether I really was one or not. After Mr. Crathie told him of my doubts and reservations, he went to great lengths to establish the veracity of the claim and to explain why it had taken so long to make the content of Alasdair’s affidavit public.

“We had to get it all the way through the network of probate court,” he concluded, “and all the complex legal channels involved, with everything documented and recorded, before any potential challenge could be mounted.”

I nodded. “I appreciate how thorough you have been with everything, Mr. Murdoch,” I said. “But you do understand my own mixed feelings and reactions.”

“Of course. They are understandable given the circumstances. We are all very sympathetic. But you see, Mrs. Reidhaven,” he went on, “it is already beyond the point where you have to do anything, or even whether you have to take my word for it. The matter is concluded. You will be listed in the forthcoming edition of Debrett’s
Peerage
as Lady Angel Dawn Marie Buchan Reidhaven, Duchess of Buchan.”

I shook my head again in disbelief. Hearing him say it like that, especially with the
Lady
in front of my name, was like hearing it all again for the first time.

“I didn’t realize you knew my full name.” I smiled.

“Indeed, Mrs. Reidhaven, I probably know more about you than you have any idea. The legalities involved have required the most exhaustive research into your background.”

“In any event, I am honored,” I said, “and I will do my duty to Alasdair’s memory. But it is still very difficult for me to fathom why he did it in this way.”

“I understand,” rejoined Mr. Murdoch. “He anticipated exactly this contingency, even this moment when you would raise these very questions. He attempted, he said, to convince you against the prenuptial agreement, but did not want to pressure you unduly. He hoped your precautions, and this whole matter of his subsequent precautions as well, would turn out to be moot anyway. But to make certain nothing untoward should eventuate, he then undertook, as he said when he first broached the subject to me, ‘Plan B.’ He asked me to convey to you his sincere apologies for the subterfuge. But he could not help fearing what his sister might do. While respecting your selfless desire to marry him without anticipation of future benefit to yourself, the fact of the matter is that he
trusted
you to deal with his affairs more than he trusted anyone else. It was for the good of the estate and the community that he did what he did. He prayed you would understand and forgive the temporary deception. Even if you couldn’t forgive him, he said, he would still rather
you
, not Mrs.Urquhart, not even the National Trust, were in a position to make decisions on his behalf. After all was said and done, if you still chose to relinquish the title and all claim to the estate, that would be your decision to make after you saw, as he put it, the direction the winds of future change were blowing.”

Even before he was through, I was weeping. It was Alasdair again—thinking of me, thinking of everyone, trying to cover every contingency. How could I blame him—he was trying to do what he thought best. None of it would even have come up had I not insisted on the prenup. In a way, I had only myself to blame for making it all as complicated as it was.

“He wanted me to tell you above all, Mrs. Reidhaven,” added Mr. Murdoch, “how much and how deeply he loved you.”

I nodded and smiled, wiping my eyes. But I could say nothing. It was quiet a minute or two.

“What am I supposed to do now?” I asked at length.

“As I see it,” replied Mr. Murdoch after a moment, “we must do two things—get you into the castle and in control of the estate, and get Mrs. Urquhart out. The legalities of the thing are established. You
are
the owner of Castle Buchan and the legal administrator of the Buchan estate. Mr. Crathie and I have been, as your husband’s solicitors, acting on his, and your, behalf for the past year. With a few signatures, we will put everything at your disposal that will enable you to assume your position and take over the estate’s affairs and begin acting accordingly. However, your sister-in-law’s legal action in contestation of your husband’s will remains problematic. We must proceed carefully so that she is not able to block us in the establishment of your position. As I believe Mr. Crathie has explained to you, we have to get you physically into the castle. Once there, you may, under our supervision and with our help, begin your administrative duties on behalf of the estate until the courts play out her lawsuit and her claims are denied. Hopefully we will then be able to ease Mrs. Urquhart out with as little difficulty as possible. Therefore, we want you in the castle and in possession of the property before going public with all this. You might want to wait until a time when she is away on errands or at her solicitors. I will leave the logistics of your next moves to you and Mr. Crathie. Unfortunately, I have some pressing matters and must be back in Edinburgh this evening.”

When Mr. Crathie and I were left alone, he outlined his plan.

“I want you to be able to contact me easily at any time, day or night.” He handed me a mobile phone and charger. “Keep this with you at all times. My number and Alicia’s…Miss Forbes’s—both are programmed into it. She has an identical phone. The three of us may need to be in close contact and able to act quickly. I have booked a room at the Crannoch Bay Hotel. It is in my name. All they know is that it will be occupied by an out-of-town client. Tonight I will drive you there. We will slip in late in the evening through the back door. I have reserved their largest room on the seaward side. I hope you will be comfortable. I know it may not be pleasant, but at least you will have a view of the bay and harbor and Florimel’s Rock and Bow Fiddle Rock.”

“What do I do then?” I asked.

“I’m afraid you wait. Either Alicia or I will contact you when the time is right.”

“The time for what?”

“Actually, I am uncertain,” replied Mr. Crathie. “It is my hope to find an opportunity when Mrs. Urquhart is gone for a few hours, as Mr. Murdoch suggested, and one of the gates to one of the three entries to the castle is open. If such a time presents itself and Alicia is able to get word to me, I will collect you and simply drive you into the grounds.”

“But with the castle locked and the locks changed?”

“There remain contingencies to be worked out. We will have to see. Alicia tells me that she is aware of Mr. Nicholls’s movements and occasional errands in the village. She hopes to intercept him. She believes he will be sympathetic and may provide us with a key to the castle, possibly even the remote-control code to one of the outer gates, though she is uncertain whether even he knows it.
Everything
, she says, has become secretive about the place. She also fears the Cruickshank woman. Her exact words were, ‘Adela is a bloodhound. We won’t be able to do anything that escapes her notice.’ But the first step is to have you nearby so as to be ready to move quickly.”

I
crept through the rear entrance to the Crannoch Bay Hotel that evening about ten-thirty. Mr. Crathie had gone in some forty-five seconds earlier to make sure the coast was clear and now signaled me to follow.

We snuck up the stairway, with the old wooden steps squeaking so loudly under our feet in spite of the carpet it seemed sure everyone in the place would be roused. Within a minute I was down the corridor and safely in the room with the door shut behind me.

Whew!
I sighed in relief.

“So far so good,” said Mr. Crathie. “I’ll be right back with your bags and your harp.”

He disappeared again to his car and returned two or three minutes later with my things. Once more he left, and when he returned for the last time it was with several bags of groceries.

“I told the hotel manager that my client was a recluse,” he said. “He was not completely pleased, but I said I would pay for the extra services and he reluctantly obliged me. So call down if you want anything brought up. They will bring you a tray with breakfast at 8:30—I hope that will be all right.”

“Just fine, thank you.”

“The imperative thing is that you are not seen and recognized. Mrs. Urquhart would know of it within minutes. We
must
not allow her to file an injunction. Once you are inside the castle, it will be too late. Wresting possession
away
from you would be very difficult for her, especially with the papers you will have in documentation of your rights. Actually, that reminds me—”

He removed a thick envelope from inside his coat.

“This may not be enough in itself,” he said, handing it to me. “It is a legal documentation, with all appropriate seals and signatures from Edinburgh, attesting to your position as Duchess of Buchan and your rightful ownership of Castle Buchan. Mrs. Urquhart may still be able to cause us difficulties, but if you get into the castle and she should try any strong-arm tactics with the local authorities, this document should slow them down long enough for me to get there. Call me instantly at the sign of any trouble.”

“I will, believe me. I have no desire to tangle with Olivia. What shall I do in the meantime?”

“Wait, I’m afraid. Alicia will look for an opportunity to intercept the fellow Nicholls, and then hopefully an opportunity will arise when Mrs. Urquhart is away. Until then…I hope you have all you need—water boiler, tea, tele. If there is anything else, don’t hesitate to call.”

He left me and I sat down on the bed and sighed. At least my immediate way was clear. It was time for bed.

What a glorious awakening the morning brought. I threw back the curtains. Spread out before me like a spectacular wide-screen movie was Crannoch Bay stretching from Bow Fiddle Rock all the way around to Crannoch Harbor.

How I had missed the sea!

I was home!

I made tea and sat down in front of the window and remained staring out at the lovely expanse with the gentle sound of the tide making the most pleasant background music imaginable. If the whole world had the peaceful sounds of the sea at their disposal, there would be no need for harps. Then a thought occurred to me that had never crossed my mind before that moment:
Are there oceans in heaven?

I sat gazing at the sea through two cups of tea, until my reverie was broken by a knock on the door.

“Breakfast,” announced a man’s voice.

I rose and walked across the floor.

“Just leave it outside, thank you,” I said through the door, trying to fake a British accent.

I heard footsteps retreating. I opened the door a moment later and retrieved the tray from the floor. A full cooked breakfast with another pot of steaming tea. With provision like this, I would hardly need Mr. Crathie’s groceries!

In spite of the best view I had ever enjoyed from any window of any room or house or hotel, by afternoon I must confess the hours began to drag by slowly. I played my harp softly, I read, I slept, I sat in front of the window—but a hotel room offers you only so much to entertain yourself until boredom sets in. By the second day I was getting antsy, by the third going stir-crazy.

I had just settled into bed shortly after ten that night when I was startled by a light knock on the door.

I crept from bed and hesitated. It came again. I rose and went to it.

“Yes?” I said softly through the door.

“It’s Alicia,” came the answer.

I fumbled with the lock, opened the door, and pulled her inside.

“Alicia!” I said in a loud whisper. “What are you doing here? You look like you’re off for a cross-country hike!”

“Not so far wrong,” she said. “What I’m doing is sneaking around hoping no one will see me. Get dressed. It’s time.”

Hurriedly I prepared to change out of my nightgown.

“We’re not in that big a hurry,” she said. “I wanted to get here before the hotel locked its doors.”

“Is Mr. Crathie coming?” I said.

“No, just us. Put on trousers and walking shoes. We’re walking, not driving. You won’t need anything but a jacket and your mobile.”

“Walking…where? You mean to the castle? Is Olivia gone?”

“No, she’s there. We’re going to sneak in right under her nose.”

“How?”

“Harvey is meeting us at the entry to the tunnel you and Alasdair renovated.”

“You’re right!” I exclaimed. “Why didn’t I think of that?!”

“It’s the one entrance to the grounds Olivia didn’t secure. At least Harvey doesn’t think so.”

“I wonder if she even knows about it. She was in Aberdeen that whole time we were carrying out the renovations. What a fantastic idea!”

“It’s not entirely foolproof,” said Alicia. “Alasdair’s old groundskeeper, you remember Farquharson—he’s one of Olivia’s lackeys now. He prowls around at all hours with his rifle trying to keep the foxes away from his pheasants. Harvey says he is drunk with what he supposes is his new power, lording it over everyone and giving the villagers orders as if he’s Olivia’s little puppet colonel.”

We waited two hours—the longest two hours of my life. When we finally put on our jackets and turned out the lights, it was about thirty minutes after midnight.

My heart was racing and my anticipation high as we crept down the stairs a minute later and out the back door of the hotel. Every sound echoed through the darkened hallways. I knew if we weren’t out and gone quickly, someone would be up to investigate. It did no good to tiptoe, the stairs creaked just the same. So we hurried along, didn’t worry about the noise, let the outside door bang shut, and ran across the parking lot toward the main road. Crossing the road, we made our way down the steep incline to the golf links bordering the wide sands of Crannoch Bay. It was a dusky night, not quite black but misting heavily and without a moon. Alicia had a hand-torch. She flipped it on and we made our way along the base of the hill beneath the road until we arrived at a door into the hillside, framed by a bricked-in arch. Behind it stretched the long-disused tunnel connecting the beach and the temple.

We reached it and knocked on the green door. I had painted it myself just two years ago.

A fumbling sound came from the other side. A moment later the door swung back. There stood Harvey Nicholls with the blackness of the tunnel behind him.

“Nicholls!” I exclaimed.

“Evening to you, Duchess,” he said with a slight bow. “’Tis a pleasure to welcome you home, and an honor to be in your service again.”

“Thank you, Nicholls.”

“And welcome back to you, Alicia,” he added. “It’s been a gloomy place without you. That Cruickshank woman’s a bit of raw work, with her nose snooping into other people’s affairs. Campbell keeps to himself saying nothing to nobody, and Farquharson’s letting his supposed power go to his head like he’s the woman’s bloomin’ bodyguard! ’Tis good to have you both back.”

He reached past us as we stepped inside and pulled the door closed, flipping on his own torch at the same time.

“Now come, ladies,” he said, “follow me.”

He turned and led the way through the darkened tunnel with the beam of his light bobbing in front of us. When Alasdair and I had set about to have the place cleaned up of debris, strengthened, reexcavated, and secured with new doors and locks on both ends, we had envisioned walking this way to the shore on bright warm summer days as they had in the early twentieth century. It never occurred to us that one of us would be using it with an invasion army of two in order to infiltrate the ranks of an enemy who had taken control of the castle. But here the three of us were, sneaking through occupied lines in the dead of night!

We reached the temple at the other end of the tunnel and again felt the night air on our faces.

It was deathly still and quiet. Even the crows were asleep. The way was easy enough going now, thanks to the wide path we had smoothed and laid with crushed gravel two summers before.

Suddenly a deafening shot exploded in the night only fifty feet in front of us.

“Stop, whate’er or whoe’er ye be!” shouted a voice in the darkness, “or the naist ane willna be jist a warnin’!”

Nicholls spun around as the crows in the trees above erupted in a frenzy.

“Quickly, both of you into the brush!” he whispered. “Get down and don’t move until I get him away from here. South wing…old servants’ entrance. I’ll wait there.”

He turned away from us again. “Put yer rifle doon, Farquharson!” he called, marching hurriedly in the direction of the gunfire. “’Tis jist me.”

“Nicholls, ye auld fool! What are ye doin’ here?” said the gameskeeper as we crouched down in the bracken and trees a few feet off the path. “I could hae shot ye deid!”

“Then ye’d hae had murder on yer heid!” retorted Nicholls, borrowing one of Olivia’s tactics. We watched anxiously as the outline of our only ally disappeared from sight. “What are
ye
doin’ oot prowlin’ aboot wi’ a gun?” he added, continuing to walk forward to meet the man.

“’Tis my ain business, Nicholls.”

“An’ maybe what I’m aboot is mine. But gie ye maun ken…Alexander Legge called an’ said ane o’ his dogs had gane missin’ an’ spiered o’ me tae keep an eye oot for it.”

“At one in the bloomin’ mornin’!”

“’Tis a night dog.”

“I dinna ken whether tae believe a word ye say, Nicholls. Come on, then, back tae the castle wi’ ye. I’ll hae tae report this tae the mistress in the mornin’.”

“Wha made ye my watchdog, Farquharson?”

“Maybe the mistress hersel’. Maybe she doesna trust yer loyalties.”

“Tell her whate’er ye like, Farquharson. My loyalties are my ain affair an’ I’m nae bothered by her ony mair than I am yer threats. What can she de tae me?”

“She can aye fire ye.”

“I dinna think the duchess will be firin’ me onytime soon,” replied Nicholls as the two men walked off, leaving us alone in the night.

Neither of us dared make a move for several minutes.

“I think they’re gone,” I whispered at length. “But maybe another minute or two. I don’t want Farquharson emptying his rifle in our direction.”

“What is he doing shooting at night?” Alicia asked.

“I don’t know. I would rather not wait to find out.”

As we waited, the crows finally settled down, silence returned, and the loneliness of the night descended upon us. It didn’t take long before we were both ready to take our chances with Farquharson rather than whatever creatures might be roaming the night. I rose and led the way out of the brush onto the path.

“I think we had better feel our way without the light,” I said. “I don’t trust him not to start shooting.”

We made our way along as quickly as we could manage in the dark as the path led along the course of Crannoch Burn where it trickled its way down from the Bin to Seatown. In the distance we heard the thud of a door closing.

“They must be back inside,” said Alicia.

“
Both
of them, I hope. I do not want to encounter Farquharson again!”

As we approached the castle, my heart began to pound. It was like coming home, though not exactly under the circumstances I might have envisioned. Hardly the triumphant return of a conquering hero! Even in the dark, the silhouette of the imposing edifice loomed ahead with the shadowy outlines of the trees against the faint night sky. A light shone in an upper-floor window. I knew it as the bedroom Alasdair and I had occupied so happily together.

“I take it that would be Olivia’s room now?” I said.

“I’m sorry, Marie,” replied Alicia. “She moved all your and Alasdair’s things out immediately. She has been there ever since.”

We climbed the steep hill out of the valley of the burn, walking up the path of the old laundry. There was Castle Buchan before us.

We turned toward the west wing and crept along past the kitchen. As slowly as we went, I was still afraid of our steps sounding on the gravel.

Suddenly a light came on in a ground-floor window only thirty feet away. Almost the same moment we heard the latch.

Quickly we turned and ran to the edge of the gravel, across the thin border of close-mown grass, ducking behind the trunk of a great beech the moment the bolt clanked back and the door of the kitchen opened behind us.

Very slowly I poked one eye around the edge of the trunk.

“
Adela!
 ” I breathed as I saw the outline in the light pouring through the open door. “What is
she
doing up at this hour?!”

“She has positively preternatural senses,” whispered Alicia in a voice barely audible. “I’m beginning to think she has second sight, too.”

“No wonder she and Olivia are birds of a feather!”

Neither of us dared utter another peep. Adela pulled out a small hand-torch and sent its beam from the entryway 180 degrees to the north, all the way around to the end of the west wing. Something had obviously aroused her attention and I doubted it was only Farquharson’s gun. I ducked behind the tree and we both held our breath. She was less than a hundred feet away. We only hoped she didn’t get it into her mind to conduct a thorough search. The beam from her flashlight flitted back and forth across the gravel and grass, coming right next to us and passing by, broken by the shadow of the tree, then back two or three times in both directions.