Return to Rhonan (10 page)

Hidden by the bulrushes, the lovers lay entangled on a bank overlooking the
lake; Muriall
played with a lock of Duncan’s hair. 

Pulling her to him, he said, ‘When we are married—‘

‘Let’s not talk of that – it’s frightening. I just wish I was not
illegitimate,
then I would have nothing to fear—‘

‘It is something we will face together.  Your mother had a tragic life and I—‘

‘Can you imagine dying alone of the cholera?’ Tears threatened as her voice quivered. ‘Married at barely fifteen? She was so young. How could they force her to marry a man of over seventy?   God knows what he did to her in bed.’

‘Aye no wonder she took a lover.’

‘And they killed him.  That duel was rigged Duncan.   How could a young man of two and twenty years be out fenced by a man who could barely walk? No
,
the duel was rigged; the bastards killed him, then locked her away, pregnant and alone. As for that lecherous old swine, I’m glad he’s dead. He took a child to his bed Duncan, a child. At least, she knew some love.’  Tears bubbled and dropped from her eyes as she buried her head in her hands and wept. “It was only a few years ago that women were slaves to the sexual desires of men, betrothed at birth, bedded at twelve.’

Duncan’s mind went back to that day he’d first seen Muriall. He’d bounded down the main staircase, the dogs at his heels when old Patrick
McGregor,
and his father came through the front door with a toddler between them, her hair a halo of fiery curls, emerald eyes framed with black lashes.  The green chiffon dress and hair band gave her a look of a tiny mermaid almost too ethereal for this world.  He remembered laughing as she held out plump little arms to the dogs standing almost a head taller than her. His father called out ‘Duncan this is
Muriall; she
has come to live with us.  Come greet your little cousin.’

He rushed forward
,
as she put a chubby finger in her mouth
,
staring up at him.  He’d never wanted a
sister; they
were too prissy, always whining and playing with dolls but this little creature unafraid of the animals towering over her, just stared up at him, her arm reaching up to curl around the dog’s neck
,
as it licked her cheek.  He knew then that he would care for her with his life. She too bonded immediately.  As the years passed she emulated him in every way insisting that the fairies change her into a boy. It was only later as she reached her sixteenth birthday Duncan was glad she hadn’t. For over a year he fought his feelings, his longings. It seemed almost
incestuous,
but he could not fight his love. Muriall was a part of him, part of his very soul.  

‘It still hurts me Duncan and always will. You have always known the love of your family, your mother, father brothers and sister.  I have no one. I often long to know my mother – to meet her if only for a few seconds – to hold her hand – to feel her hold me in her arms, feel her soft skin. I often imagine that her favourite scent was lavender like mine. Just think, I could pick a sprig of lavender and immediately be with her in my mind, in my senses. But, that can never be. And then my father – killed in a duel.  Often I dream of him, dream that we are walking together through a meadow of wild flowers. He is so tall and strong and I come only to his waist.  Then I dream he grabs me and tosses me in the air – so much love, so much
laughter,
and then I wake up. I am alone Duncan. Sometimes I feel so isolated.’

CHAPTER 
1
5

Jessie groaned as she struggled to wake, rising on her elbows to watch a shaft of light spear shadows.  The dreams left her feeling weaker.  She forced herself to swing her legs over the bed.  Struggling into a silk wrap, she trudged over to the shower. Unlike so many other people Jessie loved the water at just medium warm, scalding hot water took away the silken joy of water on her skin.  Reaching for the sponge and foaming gel, she fought to escape the nightmare of the Clearances.  Muriall was so brave, so feisty but still in those days women were subjugated to men. The threat of being thrown out onto the streets was never far from their minds, a threat more lethal than iron shackles.

Yet Muriall was right; she was not the type to sip morning coffee or chocolate and join in frivolous gossip. Through the dreams, she came through as a rebel, a signal of the suffragette movement to come.

Toweling her hair, Jessie wondered how the girl controlled her rage against a society that sequestered her in a soft prison of the home. She was fortunate she had Duncan and not some pompous ass talking through his balls.
She realized Douglas could even be him in another life – they were so alike. T
here was some kind of synchronicity or divine order taking place. Before meeting
Douglas,
she had consistently dreamt of his ancestor. Was there such a thing as Fate – Destiny?

***

The dining room carried through the Regency decor with gleaming rosewood dining chairs on sabre legs.  The ripe twist top rails sparkled with gilt brass mounts complimented with maroon and gold striped upholstery.  Exquisite linen tablecloths invited with sparkling crystal glasses and heavy silver cutlery. 

Dinah already seated in a secluded corner table, waved.  ‘Hey, you look washed out.’

Jess slumped into her chair.  ‘I feel it.  The nap has made me feel worse not better.’

Dinah frowned.  ‘I’ve got you some wine, whilst we’re waiting – Shiraz.   That should buck you up. 
Hey,
guess what? I met George and Lucy in the bar. They were so pleased to know we’ve arrived.  I said we’d meet up later –if that’s alright with you.’

‘Yes that’s fine, but I am meeting Douglas.  He asked me to join him at the bar.’

‘He’s one gorgeous hunk.’

‘Yeah, well let’s hope he doesn’t think so too.’

‘That’s the trouble with good-looking guys; they think you’ll rip off your thong if they just glance your way.’

‘Hmm, you can usually tell though in the first two sentences.’

Dinah grinned,
‘Well,
I got it wrong once. There was this great looking guy. He seemed so pleasant – polite. All I did was go to the loo and he was waiting outside. The next thing I know, he’s slamming me against the wall and tearing off my top with one hand
,
his fingers on my crotch with the other.  He was crazy, he kept saying, ‘Baby, baby, I know you want this.’ 

‘
So what did you do?’

‘Kneed him’

‘Ouch.’ 

‘Well George seems okay. He behaved himself at the
pub,
and he didn’t follow me to the loo.’    

‘Well he certainly couldn’t take his eyes off you. Changing the subject though, I’ve had that dream again. You know the one about the lak
e. Only this time ─’ She stopped as the waiter, a slim young man looking more Italian than Scottish, approached with the menus.  ‘I’ll tell you about it later.’  As she cast her eyes down the menu, she felt her appetite diminish.  She still had that sense
of heaviness.  Maybe a good night’s sleep would shake it off.

After ordering, Dinah leant forward, her voice low. ‘So go on tell me about the dream.’  She was keen to hear it, psychologists
placed great importance on dreams,
however surreal they may be.

‘It’s changed Di; it’s almost as if I am living Muriall’s life now, more so than ever. I seem to be inside her body and yet this hovering spirit that can read the thoughts of both her and Duncan.  It’s quite peculiar.’

‘Shades of Past Lives?  As
you know,
the person going back to a Past life can often be telepathic as well.  So tell me what happened?’   

Jess shaking out her napkin began recounting the dream, starting with the feeling of heaviness in her eyelids, the waves of exhaustion sweeping over her.  Taking a bite from the duck in cherry and port sauce she said, ‘They are caught up in the Scottish Clearances. As I know their names, it might be easier to trace it all back.  Then of course there
were
the love trysts as they called them, and this guy spying on them.  Muriall saw him and told
Duncan,
but she was so afraid they might duel, and Duncan could be lethally hurt.’ 

Dinah chewed on a delicious portion of lobster Thermidor   ‘Hmm – this really does sound like a Past Life.  ‘We really should try taking you back. This time it could happen.  The dreams certainly are vivid as you say. Muriall and Duncan’s are so
strong; they
might even manifest.’

Jessie shivered. ‘Oh no.  That’s the one thing I don’t want to happen. I don’t mind getting a message or even drawing them but nothing else. I’d die of fright.’

‘Perhaps we ought to have a séance. We could ask George and Lucy.  I’m sure they’d be up for it.’

‘I’d like to, but I need to get organized first. Daisy’s coming in a
few
days,
and I need to get the studio sorted out.’

‘Trouble is if you leave it, the power fades.’

‘I know it’s just that heaviness, the exhaustion. I can still feel it. It’s quite frightening actually.’

‘Maybe you were taken over.  After all you are a medium.’

‘Psychic artist Dinah.  That’s a load of difference from a medium.  I mean I might go into a light trance but not anywhere as deep as a medium does.’

‘Maybe you did this time. Maybe that’s why you have this feeling of exhaustion. For all you know your powers might be evolving. Have a think about it.’

‘Okay but don’t say anything to George or Lucy.  At the moment, I don’t want to be held to anything.’

Seeing Jessie finish her coffee, Dinah said, ‘Let’s go and find them shall we?’

On their way to the bar, they passed through one of the small lounges, decorated with gold silk walls.  The centre point was a carving of a pine tree soaring ceiling high, encircled with an ottoman.  The gilt painted leaves of the palm-tree complimented the six foot carving of the Hindu god Ganesha in a far corner, typical Regency period.

Jess turned to the sound of Douglas’s voice, ‘Jessie, hey, over here.’

The bar was in direct contrast to the Regency decor of the dining room and rest area. The low oak ceiling beams and tables with oak carved
chairs,
and country rose chintz upholstery gave more of a Victorian feel to the room. 

Douglas rose to greet her, his eyes taking in the slenderness of her body, the swell of her breasts in the low cut black dress that clung to sinuous curves.  A three stringed choker of pearls, with a central ruby, her only ornament, gave lustre to the pale beauty of her skin.

George pulled out a chair calling to Dinah, ‘Hi precious girl.’  Dinah flushed, tweaking one of the dark ringlets, her body swaying seductively in a short skirt of blue chiffon with a cream silk bustier. Sitting down, he put a huge arm over the back of her chair and stroked her neck whispering, ‘Such a beautiful neck.’ 

Blushing
,
she moved a little closer to him.

Douglas smiled at the group. ’So what can I get you all.’

Jess asked for Shiraz, Dinah a
Chardonnay; Lucy
stayed with her soft orange whilst George settled for a pint of Guinness.

As Douglas went to the bar, Jessie saw a
good-looking guy
with
dark blonde
hair, dressed in country casuals, approach Lucy. As she smiled back, he pulled up a chair and sat down beside her. ‘Sorry I missed the class, but one of the Vietnamese pigs in the domestic farm decided to have colic.’

Jess laughed, ‘A Pot-bellied pig. They’re beautiful.  I have a friend who sculpts them, has two of her own, one black and one spotted.’

Nat grinned, ‘They have such friendly natures, make excellent pets. I’ve been told they are more intelligent than dogs.  By
the way,
I’m Nat, Douglas’s brother.’

Jess took his hand, feeling the calluses on his fingers. ‘Pleased to meet you – Jessie – Jessie
McGregor
.  I’ve done some paintings of them.  Pot bellied pigs are ideal for pop-art with their floppy ears and rolls of fat. I love the way they sway when they walk.’

‘Yea, I have to watch they don’t get too fat though, they’re greedy little buggers.’

‘My Golden Retriever is one of the greediest dogs I know. She lives for the next bite.’

Douglas returned to the table, carrying a tray laden with drinks. ‘Ah Nat, got you a beer.’ Seeing Nat sitting on the other side of
Jessie,
he said, ‘I see you two have introduced yourselves?’
 
He frowned as Nat held Jessie’s hand to his lips before releasing it. What the hell was he playing at?  He was already flirting with Lucy, so why this?

Taking his seat next to her, he put his arm lightly around her shoulders, possessively. As the others talked, he murmured to Jessie. ‘You look beautiful.  I hope you had a good nap.’