The Inheritance (8 page)

May 2010

Danny and I left the castle and walked back to the car.  It was almost noon, and the sun was riding high in the sky making the walls of the castle glitter in its golden embrace.  I looked back, thinking that it no longer looked magical, but melancholy and bereft now that its last owner was gone as well.  I would ask Danny what I could do with it.  I didn’t expect to sell the place, but maybe I could donate it to some historical society that would declare it a landmark and become responsible for its upkeep.

“Would you like to drive into the town of Kilmaron and see where your grandparents grew up?  We can have some lunch.  I
’m starved.”  Danny was holding the door open for me, eager to leave the place. 

We
drove back down the winding road and turned toward the town.  By New York standards it was more like a tiny village, but I didn’t comment on that.  There was a long main street made up of attached houses all built from the same gray stone.  The lower floors were mostly storefronts, and the upper floors showed signs of habitation with lacy curtains in the windows, and overflowing flower boxes adding a splash of color to the drab stone façade.  Some of the stores looked like they’d been there for ages, but some looked modern with signs advertising internet cafes and cell phone deals.  I thought I saw a Starbucks further down the street, but Danny parked in front of an establishment with leaded windows and an old wooden sign gently swaying in the breeze.  Despite the peeling paint, I could make out the profile of a king and the name confirmed my suspicions.  The pub was called
The King’s Head
and looked like something straight out of Dickens.

“I thought you might enjoy something authentic.  This place makes the best fish and chips in town.  Have you ever had
any?”  Danny was already walking in and greeting the barman. 

“Can’t say that I have,” I mumbled.  I wasn’t a huge fan of fried fish, but when in Rome….

The food was delicious and Danny insisted that I dip my chips in vinegar rather than ketchup.  It gave them a unique flavor that wasn’t as weird as I expected.  The fish was hot and flaky, covered in a crispy golden crust. 

“So what did you think of the old place
?” Danny asked me as he popped a chip into his mouth.  “Pretty romantic, aye?”

“It is, and very melancholy.  Why would Angus want to live there?  It’s so lonely and remote.”

“He only lived there for the past year.  He had a house in town before that, but he sold it to restore those two bedrooms in the tower.  I can’t tell you why.  He was an odd man.  I’ve actually never been inside before.  It gave me an odd feeling.”  He took a sip of his beer and sat back in relaxed contentment.

“What kind of odd feeling?”  I was curious if he felt it too.  I took a sip of my diet Coke waiting for him to reply.  He seemed to be trying to find the right words.  His gr
ay eyes had a faraway look in them and I noticed again how attractive he was.

“It’s like the place is full of ghosts, I suppose.  I can see why people made up the story about
Isobel walking at night.  It feels haunted,” he finished.

“Do you believe in ghosts, Danny?”  I heard Scots were fanciful and believed a lot of the old stories, but Daniel was a big city lawyer.  I was curious to hear his answer.

“I believe that there are a lot of things we don’t understand.  I don’t believe in faeries and little people, but anything is possible when it comes to the human spirit.”  He was studying me across the table.  “What about you?”

“I don’t know.  I’ve always enjoyed the stories about gothic castles and tormented souls unable to pass on to the next world, but I don’t know that I actually believe in ghosts.  I think there
’s usually a more logical explanation for things, at least that’s what I would like to think,” I finished lamely.  “So, where to next?”

“I have to head back to
Inverness this afternoon.  Tomorrow is Monday, so I have to be back in the office.  I’ll call the distillery and arrange a tour for you, and speak to my gran as well.  I know you’re eager to talk with her.”

“Do you take such an interest in all your clients?” I asked smiling at him. 

“No, only the pretty American ones,” he answered equally flirtatious. 

“Are there many of those?”

“Dozens!” he said laughing.  We walked out of the pub into the summer sunshine and I stopped, looking up the street.  I could see a car rental office up the block and started to walk toward it.  Danny caught up with me.  He thought it was a great idea for me to rent a car for a few days and explore the countryside.  I was on vacation, so I would make the most of my stay.  I bought a local map and he showed me some places of interest to visit.  I also bought a guidebook.  I was in serious need of a history lesson and I liked to know what I was looking at and the story behind it. 

Danny dropped me off back at the B&B
, and I headed to my room to peruse the book and map. Linda caught me on the way up and informed me that I’d received several calls while I was out with Danny; one from my anxious mother and one from Sophia.  I’d call them back after I decided on my itinerary for the next two days.  I had never been anywhere on my own before, and it felt strangely exhilarating to think that I could do anything I wanted or go anywhere I pleased.  I would drive into Inverness first, and then explore the surrounding countryside.  I’d always liked museums, but what I really enjoyed was seeing how people had actually lived.

   The guidebook showed lots of ancient homes and castles that were open to the public and were still furnished and full of artwork.  I would start with those.  Some of the castles were also renowned for their beautiful gardens and I longed to see them.  Having made my plans, I picked up the phone to call home. 

The next morning after breakfast, I input the coordinates into the GPS of my rented car, and pulled out of the parking lot of the B&B.  I was a little nervous driving in a foreign country, but I began to relax after the first few miles, or should I say kilometers.  There wasn’t much traffic on the road, and having driven in Manhattan I could probably drive anywhere.  Parts of the road were wooded, but then the trees would recede, and there would be a bare stretch of road surrounded by vast fields of heather and distant mountains piercing the aquamarine sky.  Unattended livestock just wandered here and there, and I often found myself looking into the black faces of fluffy sheep that came dangerously close to the road.

Having grown up in New York, I couldn’t believe the amount of unspoiled countryside I was seeing.  I supposed there were still places like this in the States, but I’d never seen them. 
I was used to Wal-Marts and Targets fighting for space on the side of a highway, and the familiar signs for McDonalds and Burger King luring the travelers with promises of tasty, high-calorie foods that clogged the arteries and satisfied cravings.

I saw a castle in the distance
, and my mind turned to Angus McBride.  I would have to ask Danny for a picture of him.  I couldn’t imagine what kind of man spent his life building his fortune, only to leave it to someone he’d never even met.  There must have been someone in his life that held a place of importance, someone who deserved this more than I did.  Danny did say that Angus was a recluse, and his lonely room at the castle certainly attested to that, but he must have loved someone.  Not for the first time I wished I could ask my grandmother.  She must have known him in her youth and would be able to answer my questions.  At this point, Danny was my only source of information, and he wasn’t very forthcoming.  That got me thinking about Danny.

Daniel Ogilvy had been the first male company that I
’d enjoyed in a long time, but I was his client, not his friend.  His interest in me was strictly professional.  Despite being friendly and even flirtatious, he revealed very little about himself, and I found myself wondering about his life.  I noticed that he wore no wedding ring, but that meant nothing.  Some men didn’t like to wear jewelry.  I wondered if he had children.  He didn’t strike me as a father and certainly didn’t mention any kids, but that might just be because he was keeping professional distance.  He didn’t enquire about my personal life either. 

Sophia had been full of questions about him when I spoke to her last night, but I assured her that our relationship was strictly professional
, and she gave up the third degree.  I’d known him for only a few days, but I missed his company, and wished that he could have come with me on my journey of exploration. 

I began to see more houses alongside the road and eventually saw the church spires of Inverness.  I had a few places I wanted to
visit, so I parked by the river and set off map in hand.  I wandered around happily for several hours stopping into Inverness Castle, the Inverness Museum and Art Gallery and Beauly. 

The weather was perfect
, and I wondered why people always complained about it raining in Scotland.  I stopped at a quaint pub for lunch, and found myself pleasantly surprised when I didn’t feel embarrassed to eat alone.  I felt at peace in my own company, something I never truly experienced at home.  If I was to eat alone in New York, I would pull out my cell phone, and listen to my voice mail or send texts just to give the impression of being busy and in demand.  Here, I felt no need to pretend.  I just sat back in my booth by the window, and watched the world go by while eating my smoked salmon sandwich. 

After lunch
, I stopped into a couple of souvenir shops and picked up some trinkets for my parents and Sophia.  I bought some magnets with the McBride crest, and a scarf for my father made of the McBride tartan. 

I returned to the B&B in the evening, tired b
ut satisfied with my day.  Danny had left me a message that he would arrive on Wednesday night, and we’d tour the distillery on Thursday morning, then join his grandmother for tea in the afternoon.  I was glad to hear that he’d be coming soon and excited to meet his grandmother, who seemed to hold the key to the mystery of my sudden inheritance.

The following morning as I was sitting over my breakfast and perusing the map, Linda stopped by the table.  She was always eager for a chat, and I was glad of the company.   I told her that I was looking to visit a castle similar to Kilmaron that was a museum, and she immediately recommended Crathes.  It would take me some time to get there, but I was in no hurry, and as long as I had my GPS and a full tank of gas I was comfortable. 

It was another splendid Highland morning
, and I threw my purse in the car and drove away in high spirits.  I was beginning to enjoy my newfound freedom, and I found a pop station on the radio and sang along as I turned in the direction of Crathes Castle. 

I arrived at Crathes close to lunchtime, but it had been worth the trip.  The architecture of this castle was slightly different
, and it wasn’t built on a cliff, but it was very well-preserved and boasted a gorgeous walled garden that I planned to explore at length after taking a tour of the inside. 

I purchased my ticket
, and took my place in line waiting to enter the narrow doorway.  There were lots of tourists speaking in various languages and I enjoyed the feeling of being on vacation. 

I walked up the narrow steps to the second floor where the tour began.  All the chambers had been restored
, and decorated with the period furniture and works of art that would have been there at the time of human occupation.  The rooms didn’t resemble a museum, but real places where people would live.  It seemed as if the occupants had gone out for a while and would shortly be back to resume their tasks.  I particularly liked a room in one of the towers that had small chairs and wooden toys.  I could imagine the children playing or sitting on their little chairs around the nurse, as she told them colorful stories about knights, dragons, and beautiful maidens who shed their seal skins when they walked out of the sea. 

After completing the tour, I headed toward the gardens.  The walled garden was bigger than I expected
, and I found the symmetry of the flower beds and shrubs pleasing to the eye.  Everything was in full bloom, and I walked down the paths enjoying the scent of the flowers and the whimsical shapes of the hedges.  I wandered around for a long while feeling like Alice in Wonderland.  The place had a certain magical quality, like something out of a fairy tale. 

I walked over to the shop and bought a brochure
, then headed back to the parking lot.  It was time to get back, and I didn’t feel comfortable enough to be driving around after dark.  As I drove back to the inn, I tried to picture Kilmaron Castle as it might have been.  Now that I’d seen a furnished castle from the period, it was easier to fill the rooms with furniture in my imagination, and I did some mental decorating as I drove back to the B&B. 

January 1745

Isobel looked out of her window at the snowflakes falling into the slate-gray sea.  It had been snowing for two days, and the countryside was all shades of white and gray.  She wrapped her shawl tighter around herself to keep out the chill, checked that Matty was still asleep in her basket, and decided to go visit her father-in-law.  He’d been keeping to his bed for the past two weeks, and no one really expected him to rise again.  Isobel hadn’t known him for long, but she felt sorry for the old man.  John paid his father a perfunctory visit once a day to discuss clan affairs, but was only too happy to leave the sick room behind and go about his business.  He seemed to feel no sadness at the thought of his father’s imminent death, and was busy making plans for the future. 

Alan’s bedchamber was much warmer th
an her own, and the air was stale and smelled of sickness.  He lay on his four-poster bed covered with several blankets, his gray hair blending into the pillows.  Alan wasn’t a very old man, but weeks of illness had left him gaunt, with sunken cheeks and a fever-induced flush.  Isobel sat down next to him on the bed and took his hot hand.  She could hear him wheezing with every breath he took, and she wondered how much longer he would hold out before giving himself permission to expire; for he was surviving on sheer force of will.  Alan’s servant was sitting in a chair by the window waiting to serve his master, but Alan waved him out of the room.

Alan looked at
Isobel with interest.  She came nearly every day, but some days he never even woke up, and others he didn’t recognize her.  Today he seemed alert and smiled at her through his grizzled beard.

He squeezed her hand and thanked her for coming. 

“I have a mind to tell ye something, lass, and I pray that ye listen,” he began.  “Ye might think that I ken nothing lying in this bed waiting to die, but I hear things.  I ken that ye have a fondness for young Rory and he for ye.  I’ve seen the way he watches ye with my own eyes and I must warn ye to stay away.”  Isobel was about to protest that she’d never been unfaithful to John and it was only a friendship, but Alan raised his hand to silence her and went on. 

“I, like y
e, had to marry against my will.  My father was the Laird, and a wife was chosen for me to further clan relations and ensure our alliance with the McLeods.  My bride, Mary, was a fine lass, but I loved another, and was heartbroken as I did my duty.

She was beautiful, my Elizabeth, with raven curls and eyes the color of a moonless night.  I tried to give her up, but while my wife awaited the birth of our son, I gave in to temptation
, and went to her once more.  I kent it was wrong, but my feelings wouldna be denied and Lizzie dinnae send me away.  Within a few months she was with child, and my father arranged for her to marry my younger brother, Arthur. 

Arthur knew the truth, but he wanted to help me and Lizzie
, and I think he loved her for himself.  So, my wife gave birth to John and Lizzie gave birth to Rory, the son of my heart.  No one wouldnae have been the wiser, but evil tongues wag, as they always do, and my wife found out.  She banished me from her bed from that day on, and told John of my betrayal when he was old enough.  John is a vengeful sort and hates Rory.  Dinnae give him any reason to hate him more, do ye hear me lass?  John will be Laird soon, and Rory will have to swear allegiance to him.  John can use his power to put Rory in danger, and I want my son safe.”  Alan was exhausted by the long speech, and lay back on his pillow satisfied that his message had been delivered. 

Isobel
was shocked that he didn’t chastise her for her feelings, but only warned her for Rory’s sake.  She almost felt sorry for her husband that his father obviously loved his bastard son so much more.  Now she understood the animosity between the two men, and wondered if Rory hated John as well. She knew there were some at the castle who wanted Rory to be the next Laird because John, with his dour personality and lack of political savvy, didn’t inspire loyalty.  Rory had no chance of gaining leadership being only the nephew/bastard son of the chieftain, but he was still a threat and a nuisance, and John might want him out of the way.

Isobel
resolved to stay away from Rory for her own sake, as well as his.  What would John do if he suspected her of being disloyal to him with his lifelong enemy?  She kept her promise to herself not to see Rory for exactly a day and a half, at which point their paths crossed again.  The snow had stopped, and the hazy winter sun broke through the clouds making the fields and trees sparkle like diamonds. 

Isobel
longed to get out of the castle.  She told John she was on her way to kirk, and left the castle with Mary in tow.  The girl was even more sullen than before, and no amount of questioning would make her reveal the source of her unhappiness.  They were about a quarter-mile away from the castle when she saw Rory emerge from the trees on his demonic-looking horse.

“May I ride with y
e, my lady?” Isobel suspected this wasn’t an accident and he’d been waiting for her, and wasn’t at all sure how to feel.  Her heart was rejoicing at the sight of him, but her head was telling her to beware.  What if someone saw them together and reported to her husband?  John wouldn’t let her go out again if he learned that Rory was escorting her, but her joy at seeing him wouldn’t be silenced.  He hadn’t shaved that morning, and his black stubble made him look like the pirates she’d seen in picture books. 

“I
dinnae ken.  Ye are looking rather disreputable today, my lord, like a pirate,” she answered him with an impish smile.

“I would enjoy being a pirate, I think. 
A life of adventure on the high seas, and a lass in every port.”  He sounded wistful, and she wondered what life was like for him at the castle.  She knew that his parents were long dead, and he didn’t have any siblings.  “Are ye on yer way to kirk again?”

“We are.  Will y
e be joining us?”  Isobel knew she shouldn’t be inviting him, but she couldn’t give up these few stolen moments with him.

“I wish
we were going to kirk together for a different reason,” he said.  This was the closest he’d ever come to declaring himself to her. 

“I
’m wed to yer cousin, Rory.  We canna let anything happen between us.”

“I know y
e are a married woman and I would never insult ye with any unwelcome advances.  I just want ye to know that I love ye and would do anything for ye.  I would risk my own life to keep ye safe.”

Isobel
opened her mouth to tell him that it was her husband’s duty to protect her and keep her safe, but instead she whispered, “I love ye too, Rory.”  His eyes lit up for a second, and then he looked away to hide his emotion.   They had reached an impasse.  To give in to their feelings would be dishonorable, but to go against them was painful for them both.  She could see the longing in his eyes and felt an answering pain in her own heart.  Her future with John seemed even bleaker when compared to what her life with Rory might have been like.  

This time Rory waited outside while they went to church and Isobel tried to pray, but couldn’t find the words.  She was ashamed to pray for what her heart really longed for
, and she didn’t want to be false in front of her Lord.  She waited for Mary to finish, and then went back out into the cold to face Rory once again. 

They rode back in near silence, both lost in their own thoughts and feelings.  He left them before reaching the
castle and disappeared into the trees.  Mary didn’t even look up as he bade them farewell.