Heather Song (30 page)

B
y then everyone in Port Scarnose knew of the lawsuit. And now knew also of its peremptory dismissal. Speculation ran rampant as to the reasons. No one knew anything for certain, only that Ranald Bain must have
something
on Olivia Urquhart, and that whatever it was must be powerful and secretive.

I called on Ranald the very next day. He was back to his normal self—dirty dungarees, plaid wool workshirt, and thick Scots accent.

“I scarcely recognized you!” I said. “You looked like an MP! I didn’t imagine you owned such a dashing suit.”

“’Tis only for special occasions—’twas either the suit or the kilt.”

I thanked him profusely for what he had done—whatever it was!—but not to my most persistent entreaties would he divulge one word of his secret. The expression on his face, however, told me that whatever it was that he and Olivia shared, it was personal and painful.

When I returned, a familiar car sat in front of the castle. I recognized it immediately as Mr. Crathie’s. I wondered how long he had been waiting for me, and if he had more papers for me to sign.

I walked inside and found him standing in the entryway.

“Hello, Mr. Crathie,” I said.

He returned my greetings, though he struck me as unaccountably nervous.

“You could have waited for me in the Drawing Room,” I said. “Have you seen Alicia? She would surely have—”

Footsteps coming down the stairs behind us interrupted me. I glanced behind Mr. Crathie to see Alicia descending toward us. The moment she saw me, a blush spread over her cheeks.

“Actually, Mrs. Reidhaven,” said the attorney, “I didn’t come on business. I hoped that Alicia might be free to take a drive with me along the coast.”

“Oh, of course. That’s wonderful.”

“You don’t mind, do you, Marie?” said Alicia. “I wasn’t sure how long you would be gone.”

“Not at all.”

“If you don’t need me for anything, Nigel asked if we might have dinner together at the Banff Hotel.”

“Certainly—take the rest of the day, and the evening!”

Alicia walked past me, a faint fragrance of perfume following in her wake. I must say, she looked radiant. I had never seen her with makeup on. As she and Mr. Crathie reached the door, she turned her head to cast me a momentary smile, and mouthed the silent words
Thank you.

I was very happy for her.

Olivia went into a self-imposed exile. I assumed that she returned to Aberdeen. Neither was Adela Cruickshank seen in the village after that. After two weeks we thought we had better check the room where she had been staying. We found it empty of any sign that anyone had occupied it for years. When she had come to move her things out, we hadn’t an idea.

I wasn’t quite so eager to investigate Olivia’s private domain to see whether she, too, had somehow moved out without our knowing it. I would wait until I was certain all remnants of her temporary occupation of the castle were gone before I would again take up residence in my former apartments. Eventually, however, I had to know. I went to the room and knocked, then again, and called loudly. I knew she wasn’t there, but I didn’t want to go in without giving a warning just in case. When there was no reply, I tried the door. It was locked. I tried every key in my possession, but none opened the lock. I asked both Nicholls and Farquharson if there were keys I didn’t know of. Both men examined the large key ring I had in my hand and said that as far as they knew, those were all the keys since the changing of the locks several months before.

At that point I had no choice but to call in a locksmith from Buckie to pick the lock and have a new key made.

It was strange to invade Olivia’s private domain, even though it had once been mine. All her things were still in place. Nothing appeared the worse for her presence. I did not look around extensively. I only wanted to determine the status of the apartments. I did have one additional motive. During all the months since my return, when either Alicia, Nicholls, or myself had methodically examined every nook and cranny of the castle in search of my pedal harp, there remained one set of four rooms we had
not
ventured into—the former apartment of the duke, which had then been mine and Alasdair’s, and more recently had been occupied by Olivia during her brief tenure. I secretly hoped that she might have hidden my harp in her own rooms, knowing it was the one place I would never dare look.

Now I
did
look, and with great disappointment saw nothing whatever that interested me, certainly no harp.

I could be patient to wait for her to collect her clothes and the furniture that was hers. My eyes did fall on one item, however, that instantly made my blood boil. An old rusty iron ring lay on her bureau containing a dozen equally old and equally rusted giant keys—each four to six inches in length, one notably of brass that was greening rather than rusting.

I grabbed it, left her rooms and locked them behind me with the new key, and again went in search of Harvey Nicholls.

“Have you seen these before?” I asked, showing him the ring.

“They look like more keys to the basement rooms, my lady,” he replied.

“Just as I thought!” I said. “Olivia specifically told me she had
no
basement keys. She was lying through her teeth the whole time. Take these, Nicholls—see if there is
any
lock you could have missed, even a small storeroom, a closet, a room within a room, an unobtrusive recess or panel or movable wall…anything. You know how these old places are, with mysterious passageways and alcoves and storage rooms and stairways hidden behind walls. I don’t know if there’s anything like that. How I wish Alasdair was here. These keys would not have been in her room unless she was hiding something from me. I simply do not believe her story about my harp being stolen by some man she hired whom you never saw. It’s got to be here…
somewhere
.”

Alas, even the new search produced nothing but dead ends. And still no sign of the
Queen
.

A week and a half later I was asonished to receive in the post a note from Olivia saying that she would like to talk to me about Alasdair and Gwendolyn. She apologized for the misunderstandings about the will and the estate. She added that she hoped we could put all that behind us. As the weather had been nice, and knowing how much I loved the sea, perhaps we could take a walk together. She loved the coastline, too, she added, as it reminded her of happy times when she and Gwendolyn used to walk together. She asked me to call and gave a telephone number. I recognized it as that of her former house where I had first made her acquaintance and spent so many happy hours with dear Gwendolyn. She also thought she might have an idea where we could locate my missing harp, about which she felt just dreadful.

Overjoyed at the prospect of this olive branch of reconciliation, I went to the telephone immediately. Olivia’s tone, as I had gathered from the note, was warm and friendly. I could hardly believe the change. Even as sisters-in-law, we would never become friends. Yet I hoped we might be something other than adversaries. We made arrangements to meet that same afternoon at three o’clock at the Scar Nose promontory. It had rained the night before and was bright and clear and promised to be a lovely day for a walk.

I had already planned to have lunch that same day with Ranald at his cottage. Because of Olivia’s call I drove rather than walked up and we had a nice visit. We enjoyed a simple cold lunch with egg mayonnaise on softies. With the court case behind me and my future now clarified, we talked about the difficulties and decisions now facing me. I told him about my father and his work in the States, which I also felt a responsibility to attend to.

“So you see, Ranald,” I said, “I’ve lost two men in the last year, and now find myself wanting to do what I can to further the works of both…yet they are six thousand miles apart!”

“Ye’ll du what the Lord gies ye tae du faithfully, o’ that I haena a doobt. But it may tak time for him tae mak yer way clear. Jist be nae in a hurry, lass. God’s best things tak time tae unfold.”

Ranald gave me good counsel, but mostly was just a wise and willing listener. We prayed together. Then he asked if I would like to play. I glanced at my watch. It was about two. I said that I was a little short of time and that maybe we ought to get together again soon. He said that was fine and that he understood.

As we were cleaning up the lunch things, a fighter jet suddenly screamed by overhead. Though it was a common occurrence here, I nearly leaped out of my skin. It prompted Ranald to tell me about his days as a young man in the RAF during the early years of the Cold War.

“I had no idea you were in the RAF—so was Alicia’s father.”

“She an’ I need tae swap stories. Div ye ken whaur her father was afore they came tae Lossie?”

“I don’t know that she told me that. She did tell me that she would like to learn to fly one day herself.”

“Did she noo? She maun be an adventurous lass!”

I don’t know why, but the thought of bearded, white-haired Ranald Bain as a young fighter pilot flying secretive missions over the Soviet Union of the 1950s surprised me. He asked if I would like to see some of his old photos, both of his RAF years and of the croft and of he and Maggie and their Winifred.

Suddenly I again remembered the time. Again I looked at my watch. It was 2:40.

“Oh, I would dearly love to see them,” I said, quickly rising. “But I have to go. Believe it or not, Olivia Urquhart wants to get together with me. It’s an opportunity I can’t pass up. After all that has happened, I am hoping that at last she is going to bury the hatchet. I am encouraged that this might be the beginning of a breakthrough. She and I agreed to meet at three for a walk.”

“A walk…whaur?” said Ranald, his voice suddenly grave. He stood and followed me slowly toward the door.

“I don’t know,” I replied, “probably along the coast. She said she has always loved walking along the headlands, as I do.”

Ranald’s expression turned yet more serious. “I sud say she does,” he mumbled. I had no idea what he meant. Then he reached out and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Dinna gae oot wi’ her alone, lass,” he said. His tone was so commanding, it frightened me.

“But I have to, Ranald,” I said. “You were the one who told me of the Scripture about agreeing with your adversaries. I tried and it wasn’t successful
before
she took me to court. Perhaps now, after the fact, she might at last be ready.”

“Marie,” he repeated, “
dinna
gae. E’en after a’ that has ta’en place, ye hae nae idea fit she is.”

“I think I have some idea.”

“Ye dinna ken a’.”

I stared back at him, then slowly nodded. “I understand,” I said. “I’ll be careful.”

I turned toward the door. He walked outside with me. I faced him again, tried to smile, and thanked him for lunch. But his face remained somber. I knew he wasn’t satisfied with my response. He gave me a warm, fatherly embrace, then stepped back.

“God gae wi’ ye, lass,” he said, “an’ protect ye.”

I must have had a puzzled expression on my face. His words sounded far too much like a benediction for comfort. I nodded, and got into my car and drove back down the hill toward Port Scarnose.

I
was standing on the overlook above the Scar Nose at five till three. I was surprised to see Olivia drive up in her car. I had expected her to walk. She greeted me from the open window with a friendly smile and asked if I would like to go for a short drive. She would show me one of her favorite walks, she said. I nodded and climbed in on the passenger side.

We drove east, through Crannoch, turned off the main road and into the farmland, where Olivia parked in a small obscure wood. We got out and began walking along a path out of the trees, through cultivated fields, toward the sea. I wasn’t exactly sure where we were. Being east of Crannoch, I should have known. I knew most of this coastline intimately. But a mental fog was invisibly settling over me. The path was a little muddy in spots from the rain, but there was mud everywhere in Scotland. It was something you got used to. Olivia talked about Gwendolyn’s harp playing and how happy she was that I had given Gwendolyn that opportunity and had taken such an interest in her. Again she expressed regret that the situation between us had been so awkward and had caused so many misunderstandings. But she hoped this could be a new beginning. I kept waiting for her news about the
Queen
, but I didn’t want to appear too anxious.

We reached the promontory probably a mile or two east of Crannoch beyond Logie Head.

“Have you seen Findlater Castle?” Olivia asked.

A chill swept through me.

“Oh, Findlater,” I replied. “Yes…I, uh…Alasdair pointed out the ruins to me one time from the sea.”

“Would you like to see it close up?” she asked.

“I, uh…Maybe this isn’t the best day,” I said hesitantly. “I remember Alasdair saying it was dangerous.”

“Nonsense—he was afraid of his own shadow. I want to show it to you.”

I continued to follow. I was afraid of alienating her. We walked along the top of the cliff east from Logie Head, single file in spots where the path was narrow, occasionally side by side. I had to watch my footing because we were at the edge of the headland where the cliff rose straight up from the sea.

“There are the ruins,” said Olivia, pointing ahead some two hundred yards. I knew well enough by now where we were. Ranald’s and Alasdair’s cautions rang in my ears. But I could not stop. A dreamy inevitability had come over me. My brain was sleepy. Ahead was the spot where we had found Alicia standing in the rain as Ranald and I approached the ancient castle from the other direction.

I saw the ruins now more plainly from this angle. They were still not so easy to see as they had been from aboard Alasdair’s yacht. A little grass-topped promontory jutted out into the sea, on the side and top of which what remained of Findlater Castle appeared from this vantage point like great piles of rocks and fallen stone walls. A steep narrow path went down over the edge of the promontory, along a narrow sort of land bridge, then up to the ruins. From the path the cliff extended almost straight down to jagged rocks where the tide swirled and splashed and beat against them. What an inhospitable place to have built a home to live in, even if it was a fortified castle.

We walked on to the point where the path veered out onto the promontory and down in the direction of the ruins. There we stopped. We were almost exactly at the place where Alicia had been standing. By now I knew I was in a precarious situation. But I was walking in a dream. I had become just like Alicia, under a spell. The wind was blowing strongly up from the sea, howling and whipping my hair across my face.

“How did they come and go when they lived here?” I said in a monotone of disinterest. “It looks so dangerous.”

“There was a bridge from the mainland here over to the castle,” said Olivia. Her tone had changed, too. I glanced toward her. She was staring across to the ruins with a far-off look in her eye. “Come, I will show you,” she said.

She began to follow the narrow path that led steeply down from the edge out along the top of a narrow and uneven slice of earth that had apparently, over time, been built up between castle and headland to take the place of the bridge. She made her way across it with the confidence of a Highland sheep. She obviously knew the way well.

“Olivia,” I called after her, roused a little by the wind. “I don’t…I mean…It’s slippery, and so windy.”

“It’s fine,” I heard her say. She did not turn around as she spoke. “I’ll show you the way down inside the castle. There are rooms still remaining. Don’t you want to find your harp?”

“My harp?” I said, taking a few tentative steps after her. “What does Findlater have to do with my harp? It can’t be here.”

“One never knows. Findlater holds the key to the mysteries—why not your harp?”

“What mysteries?”

“All the mysteries. The mysteries and the curses. Do you know the curse of Bain, my dear? Everyone knows the curse:
The curse of madness will be the stain, of all who enter the house of Bain.
The curse of Bain lives on at Findlater. It will always live on because the curse of Bain does not die. Winny still lives. She has become the curse.”

She was talking gibberish. Frightening gibberish!

“Olivia, where is my harp?” I said again.

“Your harp? All in good time, my dear. You will be united with your harp again. Winny will show you the way. Perhaps Winny will play for you.”

“But, Olivia, my harp is not here. These are only ruins. You are confusing the two castles.”

Suddenly she stopped and turned to face me. Her face was wild, her eyes full of strange light.

“Don’t be too certain, my dear,” she said. “You think I am crazy, but there are mysteries you know nothing of. There is a secret tunnel. No one knows of it now. It is blocked by the sea. No one knows how they escaped during the Viking rampage. But I know. And Winny knew. That’s how she escaped, too, escaped from the sea. Maybe it was Winny who took your harp where no one could find it. Ha! Ha! Maybe she took it to play for her own funeral. Ha! Ha!”

I trembled as I listened. Then Olivia began to chant horrifying rhymes.
“Winny Bain was not drowned by the sea, she hid from the Vikings and now is free.
Ha! Ha!
Her thin bony fingers pluck harp and lyre, as flames rise around her funeral pyre.
Ha! Ha! Ha!”

This was becoming creepier by the second. I shook myself awake.

“Olivia!” I called. “I want to know what you did with it.”

She stopped and turned. She had reached the ruins at the end of the precipice and stood staring down into a hole among the rocks.

“Olivia,” I called again.

She did not answer or show in any way that she had heard me. Still she stood, peering into the blackness below.

“Come here. I will show you.”

I crept tentatively ahead, careful of my step and by now wanting to keep my distance. Olivia was sounding like a lunatic!

Gradually the hole she was looking down came into view, the decayed remnants of an ancient circular staircase spiraling its way straight down through the rock into the interior of Findlater. It was steep and so many of the stones had fallen that it was clearly impassable.

Was it possible…
could
she have somehow contrived to bring my harp here? Horrible thought! It would be ruined along with the ruins! How could she possibly—

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her voice, calm again.

“This is where Maggie Bain died, you know,” said Olivia, walking slowly toward me. Her voice was low, expressionless.

“No, I didn’t know,” I replied.

Her eyes glassed over and her voice sounded strange. “The old crow—she came here and left flowers for poor Winny. What good do flowers do? Nothing would bring Winny back. Winny had followed the hidden path. She had gone where they would never find her. They tried to find her. But they did not know the secret. She was gone where not even the Vikings knew where to look. So she brought flowers, always flowers, because she thought Winny had been swept away. Every time I came along the path I saw one of her silly bouquets of dead flowers. And the way she spoke to me—she had no right. Blaming
me
for what happened, spreading it about that I knew more than I was telling. Who was she to accuse me?! She won’t blame me again, that’s what I told her. Now they bring flowers for her, the old witch.”

I stood paralyzed. Olivia’s voice was harsh and rasping and low.

“And Winny, the goose! Everyone loved Winny. All the boys loved Winny. Once she got pretty and her hair grew long and her breasts filled out…none of them looked at me again. It was Winny this and Winny that. Where is Winny Bain now, the goose! Taken by the sea, sailed on the tide, they all think. But she is hiding. She must preserve the curse of the house of Bain.”

I couldn’t make heads or tails of what she was talking about. But I knew enough to realize I didn’t want to be on this dangerous cliff with Olivia acting so strangely.

Cora’s words came back to me:
“Welcome, O death, thy warm embrace, on the cliff at Findlater’s face.”

I shivered and suddenly realized my incredible folly. How stupid could I be?! Slowly I turned and began creeping back the way I had come. I had seen enough of this place!

Suddenly Olivia shouted after me. “Where do you think you’re going!” she cried.

“It is too steep for me,” I said, though I did not stop. “I felt myself getting light-headed. I thought I should go back up onto the mainland.”

“What about your harp? Don’t you want to see your harp?”

“I’ll look for it later.”

“You’re not going anywhere!” cried Olivia. “I want you to see the ruins. I told you I wanted to show you the rooms inside, down the stairway.”

I glanced behind me. Olivia was following.

“I don’t think I’m up to it today, Olivia,” I said, hurrying on. I felt genuine terror now.

“Oh, Little Miss Opportunist isn’t up to it today!” she spat back derisively, coming rapidly toward me. “You have certainly been up to everything else. Up to ensnaring my brother and laying your greedy hands on his fortune. Oh, you have been up to it all right, turning him against me so he would cut me out. Oh, yes, Winny—you have had your way, and now you will get what you deserve.”

“Olivia—I’m not Winny. I’m Marie…Marie Reidhaven, your sister-in-law.”

“Of course you are,” she said, walking quickly to me, reaching out and laying hold of my shoulder to stop my retreat. The feel of her hand clutching me paralyzed me with dread. She forced me around to face her, then stared into my face with a wicked smile.

“Who else would you be? My dear, dear sister-in-law who has taken everything that should be mine. I am the rightful duchess. You wormed your way into Alasdair’s affections. I warned them about you. I told them your music was but the allure of a charlatan.
Though her music seems soft and sweet…in her heart lies only deceit.
Yes, Marie, my dear sweet sister-in-law, I saw your scheme for what it was from the start.”

“Olivia, there was no scheme. I was as surprised by everything that happened as you were.”

“Surprised!” She laughed bitterly. “Ha, ha! Surprised that Alasdair left you the fortune that should be mine! Ha, ha, ha! Surprised!”

“You admitted that you know all those things you said about me aren’t true.”

“
You
are a liar!” she cried. “You are nothing but a deceiving, scheming tart.”

Suddenly she lunged at me.

I shrieked and jumped back, slipping as I did. I screamed as I recovered and tried to run toward the safety of the top of the headland. But she knew the path better than I. She caught me within two seconds, grabbed my shoulder again, and yanked me backward with such force I fell to the ground.

I screamed in terror. She was standing above me, such a look of hatred in her eyes as I had never seen on a human face. She lifted one foot and brought it down on my chest, then slowly began to shove me toward the edge.

“Olivia, please!” I cried. “You can’t get away with it. They will know it was you.”

“Who will know? No one saw us in town together. No one saw Winny, and no one saw you. Soon you will join her. You and she can play your harp together.”

“I told Ranald I was going to meet you.”

Another horrible laugh burst from her lips. “That old fool—no one will believe him. Where do you think the curse comes from?
He
is its source, his Highland blood from generations gone by. The curse from the ancient sorcerers of the Highlands. He is the curse from which the madness comes. You wanted me to show you Findlater. I warned you. I told you it was dangerous, that the path would be slippery. But you wouldn’t listen. You insisted that you had to see it. You set out on your own. Frantic for my poor sister-in-law’s safety, I followed. But I was too late. I arrived just in time to see you lose your balance and to hear the forlorn sound of your final cries as you fell to the rocks below— Right down there, Marie. They will never find you. They will think you were taken by the tide. No one will know, dear Marie, that you are with Winny. You and Winny and your idiotic harp—making music with the angels…or the devils. Ha! Ha! Ha!”

She began to kick me violently toward the cliff. Frantically I grabbed all about me for anything solid.

Suddenly a voice cried loudly behind us. It was only ten or twelve feet away from the direction of the cliff.

“Olivia, stop!” it said. “Stand awa’!”

Shocked but not cowed, Olivia’s foot relaxed as she turned toward it. I knew the voice instantly as that of Ranald Bain. I had never heard him speak with such command.

“You old imbecile!” she spat. “Do you really think you can stop me? I will send you to join your wife.”

“Ye will do nae mair evil at this place, Olivia Reidhaven. I ken who ye are. Ye hae deceived mony, but ye hae ne’er deceived me. I willna alloo ye tae hairm anither. Ye hae killed here afore, an’ I dinna doobt twice afore though I canna prove the first. But I aye saw ye push my ain Maggie doon wi’ my ain twa eye, though I followed too late tae stop ye, as I told ye in court tae stop yer lyin’ schemes. But I learned my lesson that time, an’ I’m nae aboot tae let ye repeat yer evil deed. Ye willna kill again.
Imich uam a Shàtain!
Noo, Olivia Reidhaven, I command ye in God’s name—stand awa’!”