Dawn on a Distant Shore
Page 177
Isabel's hands had begun to twitch in her lap, and her voice seemed to fail her completely. She closed her eyes.
"Is that how you learned about your father's attachment to Jean Hope?" Elizabeth asked.
Isabel nodded. "But I dinna believe him. I couldna believe him." She had begun to perspire very heavily.
Nathaniel glanced uneasily at Elizabeth, and she leaned forward. "Flora gave me laudanum," she said. "To make you more comfortable."
"Comfort is for the grave," said Isabel shortly. "I will finish this tale, and should it be the end o' me. Unless yer afeart tae hear it?" She looked at Nathaniel as she said this, and there was a flash there of the young woman who had challenged Angus Moncrieff on the mountain road.
"Go on," said Nathaniel. "We're listening."
"Ye'll think me aye donnert tae hear me admit it, but I nivver thoucht o' Jean wi' my faither. When Jennet came intae the world I believed-- Ach, what does it matter now? I thoucht Jean was layin' wi' one o' the earl's men but that she wadna marry for my sake. What an eijit I was."
The anger was still there, in the way she raised her head as she talked, in the set of her jaw while she gathered her thoughts. Elizabeth remembered Hannah's story of her: a headstrong young woman who did not see what she did not care to see. It was hard to believe this was the same lady.
Her voice rough now with the effort, Isabel took up the story again. "I couldna think o' Jean wi' my faither, and no more could I think o' mysel' wi' Moncrieff. There he stood in the rain, sae proud o' himsel'. Mair than fifty, narrow o' shoulder and slack o' gut, a mean-spirited, cankert auld man wi' naethin' tae recommend him as a husband but the scapular he wore aroond his neck. I didna believe that my faither wad wed me tae sic a man, Catholic or no, and I laughed in his face. I said, "I'll take every Campbell in Scotland tae my bed afore I'll marry ye, Angus Moncrieff." And I saw too late what I had done."
Moncrieff's face rose before Elizabeth, contorted in rage about the Campbells. A sick knot rose in her throat. Nathaniel put his hand on hers, and she clasped it with all her strength.
"Ye can guess the rest. He threw me tae the ground. Simon screamed and screamed, but he wadna stop. I foucht him--" She paused. "I foucht him until he hit me in the heid sae hard that I saw stars. And then he finished what he had started."
She reached over and touched Elizabeth gently. "Dinna greet for me, Mrs. Bonner. It's lang syne, and tears enouch ha' been shed on account o' Angus Moncrieff. And look, the bairn is teary eyed, too. May I hold him?"
Nathaniel took Daniel and settled him on Isabel's lap. The baby looked up at her soulfully, and she ran her fingers through his curls. "What a braw laddie ye are, Daniel Bonner. Come, lay yer heid."
The baby seemed to understand her needs as well as his own, for he put his face against her thin chest, content to let her pet him. "Baith o' mine were laddies," she said, almost to herself. "But neither lived mair than a day. Walter wanted a son tae inherit my faither's title, but I wanted tae raise up a lad tae bring me Moncrieff's heart, still beatin'. The hardest thing aboot dyin' is that he goes unpunished. And perhaps that's why I'm tellin' you this tale." She met Nathaniel's gaze, and then looked away again before he could say anything.
"When I came tae masel' agin, I was alone on the road. My heid hurt and my knees were wabblin', but I feared Moncrieff had killt Simon, and sae I set aff hame as fast as I could, unsteady as I was. And I found him, too, just where I thoucht he micht be if he had got awa' frae Moncrieff. He was hidin' in the fairy wood. Feverish already, and shakin' wi' it.
"I luved Simon like a brither, though he was nane o' my bluid. And we sat taegither in the rain, shiverin' and greetin', and holdin' on tae one anither. And then I said tae him, "Come, Simon, come. We must rouse the laird and tell him that Moncrieff has lost his mind. He'll send the men oot tae find him, and they'll kill him where he stands." But the lad wadna leave aff wailin', and sae I rocked him and sang tae him quiet, there in the darkened fairy wood wi' the summer rain comin' doon. By and by he settled, and then he put his arms aroond my neck--I can feel him still, shiverin' --and he said, "Moncrieff is aye mad, but he's no' a liar."
"And that's how I came tae learn the truth aboot my faither. "Ye owe Carryck fealty," he said tae me sae many times. And the while he was preachin' at me aboot my duty tae Carryck, he was wi' Jean. He sent David Chisholm awa'--a finer man ye'll nivver ken, for aa he's a Protestant--and promised his only dauchter and heir tae Angus Moncrieff.
"And sae I left. I left Simon there feverish in the rain, and I ran back doon tae the village tae find Walter. And I asked him was it true, was he truly a Campbell o' Breadalbane? And when he said it was, I asked him tae take me awa'. Even a day earlier I wad ha' cut my own throat rather than take up wi' a Campbell, but not then. Not then. I turned my back on Carryck, and Simon.
"It didna take lang for me tae learn the truth aboot Walter. I was naethin' mair tae him than a way tae win Carryck for his faither, and gain his favor. And then word came o' Simon, deid o' the fever he took that nicht in the fairy wood, and I saw then that I had nae choice. I marrit Walter Campbell, and went tae live at Loudoun Castle when his faither made him curator. Flora was my only joy in those years, orphaned as she was and needin' me.
"Is that how you learned about your father's attachment to Jean Hope?" Elizabeth asked.
Isabel nodded. "But I dinna believe him. I couldna believe him." She had begun to perspire very heavily.
Nathaniel glanced uneasily at Elizabeth, and she leaned forward. "Flora gave me laudanum," she said. "To make you more comfortable."
"Comfort is for the grave," said Isabel shortly. "I will finish this tale, and should it be the end o' me. Unless yer afeart tae hear it?" She looked at Nathaniel as she said this, and there was a flash there of the young woman who had challenged Angus Moncrieff on the mountain road.
"Go on," said Nathaniel. "We're listening."
"Ye'll think me aye donnert tae hear me admit it, but I nivver thoucht o' Jean wi' my faither. When Jennet came intae the world I believed-- Ach, what does it matter now? I thoucht Jean was layin' wi' one o' the earl's men but that she wadna marry for my sake. What an eijit I was."
The anger was still there, in the way she raised her head as she talked, in the set of her jaw while she gathered her thoughts. Elizabeth remembered Hannah's story of her: a headstrong young woman who did not see what she did not care to see. It was hard to believe this was the same lady.
Her voice rough now with the effort, Isabel took up the story again. "I couldna think o' Jean wi' my faither, and no more could I think o' mysel' wi' Moncrieff. There he stood in the rain, sae proud o' himsel'. Mair than fifty, narrow o' shoulder and slack o' gut, a mean-spirited, cankert auld man wi' naethin' tae recommend him as a husband but the scapular he wore aroond his neck. I didna believe that my faither wad wed me tae sic a man, Catholic or no, and I laughed in his face. I said, "I'll take every Campbell in Scotland tae my bed afore I'll marry ye, Angus Moncrieff." And I saw too late what I had done."
Moncrieff's face rose before Elizabeth, contorted in rage about the Campbells. A sick knot rose in her throat. Nathaniel put his hand on hers, and she clasped it with all her strength.
"Ye can guess the rest. He threw me tae the ground. Simon screamed and screamed, but he wadna stop. I foucht him--" She paused. "I foucht him until he hit me in the heid sae hard that I saw stars. And then he finished what he had started."
She reached over and touched Elizabeth gently. "Dinna greet for me, Mrs. Bonner. It's lang syne, and tears enouch ha' been shed on account o' Angus Moncrieff. And look, the bairn is teary eyed, too. May I hold him?"
Nathaniel took Daniel and settled him on Isabel's lap. The baby looked up at her soulfully, and she ran her fingers through his curls. "What a braw laddie ye are, Daniel Bonner. Come, lay yer heid."
The baby seemed to understand her needs as well as his own, for he put his face against her thin chest, content to let her pet him. "Baith o' mine were laddies," she said, almost to herself. "But neither lived mair than a day. Walter wanted a son tae inherit my faither's title, but I wanted tae raise up a lad tae bring me Moncrieff's heart, still beatin'. The hardest thing aboot dyin' is that he goes unpunished. And perhaps that's why I'm tellin' you this tale." She met Nathaniel's gaze, and then looked away again before he could say anything.
"When I came tae masel' agin, I was alone on the road. My heid hurt and my knees were wabblin', but I feared Moncrieff had killt Simon, and sae I set aff hame as fast as I could, unsteady as I was. And I found him, too, just where I thoucht he micht be if he had got awa' frae Moncrieff. He was hidin' in the fairy wood. Feverish already, and shakin' wi' it.
"I luved Simon like a brither, though he was nane o' my bluid. And we sat taegither in the rain, shiverin' and greetin', and holdin' on tae one anither. And then I said tae him, "Come, Simon, come. We must rouse the laird and tell him that Moncrieff has lost his mind. He'll send the men oot tae find him, and they'll kill him where he stands." But the lad wadna leave aff wailin', and sae I rocked him and sang tae him quiet, there in the darkened fairy wood wi' the summer rain comin' doon. By and by he settled, and then he put his arms aroond my neck--I can feel him still, shiverin' --and he said, "Moncrieff is aye mad, but he's no' a liar."
"And that's how I came tae learn the truth aboot my faither. "Ye owe Carryck fealty," he said tae me sae many times. And the while he was preachin' at me aboot my duty tae Carryck, he was wi' Jean. He sent David Chisholm awa'--a finer man ye'll nivver ken, for aa he's a Protestant--and promised his only dauchter and heir tae Angus Moncrieff.
"And sae I left. I left Simon there feverish in the rain, and I ran back doon tae the village tae find Walter. And I asked him was it true, was he truly a Campbell o' Breadalbane? And when he said it was, I asked him tae take me awa'. Even a day earlier I wad ha' cut my own throat rather than take up wi' a Campbell, but not then. Not then. I turned my back on Carryck, and Simon.
"It didna take lang for me tae learn the truth aboot Walter. I was naethin' mair tae him than a way tae win Carryck for his faither, and gain his favor. And then word came o' Simon, deid o' the fever he took that nicht in the fairy wood, and I saw then that I had nae choice. I marrit Walter Campbell, and went tae live at Loudoun Castle when his faither made him curator. Flora was my only joy in those years, orphaned as she was and needin' me.
