A Castle of Dreams (7 page)

“I am heading for Glasgow with my crew.  Mr. Van Ashton has to deal with the insurance officials, but assures me he will purchase another motor yacht just as soon as he can.  We will wait for his instructions.”

Viola clasped her hands together.

“Oh, that is such good news!  Now, tell me, was anything salvaged from the wreck?”

Captain Howard frowned.

“A few boxes of cargo, a couple of suitcases, but most was lost.”

Viola tried to sound cheerful.

“That is sad, of course, but they are only material possessions.  No one has lost their life from that appalling accident, which is the main thing.

“I am writing to my cousin, Miss Matthews, today to tell her what has happened.  She is very elderly and I don't wish to alarm her, but it is important that she knows we are safe and well.”

The Captain's frown deepened.

He was not sure whether to confide his fears to this lovely girl, but if she was to remain in Scotland, surely she should be warned.

“Lady Viola, have you given any thought as to why the ship ran onto those rocks?”

Viola shook her head, mystified.

“I suppose I imagined it was because of the storm, the wind driving us onto the coast.”

“I think that will be the official version, but my men tell me that they steered for the shelter of the shore because they could see a bright light flashing and believed it to be the light showing the way into a harbour.”

The dark blue eyes gazing up into his grew even was implying.

“But surely – no, that just cannot be right!  That would mean – ”

Captain Howard shook his head grimly.

“Yes, my Lady.  It does mean
wreckers
!  Dastardly fiends deliberately attempting to entice us poor sailors onto the rocks so that they can steal the ship's cargo.”

Viola leapt up instantly and walked to the window, gazing out over the tangles of unpruned shrubs and towards the distant mountains.

“I simply cannot believe it.  This is 1904, Captain Howard.  In this day and age, surely such heinous crimes have long been outlawed.”

“Yes, my Lady, but on certain parts of the wilder Cornish coast it still occurs occasionally.  I have not heard of it here in Scotland, but my men are quite sure they saw a light.”

She could find no words to persuade him otherwise, although privately she was convinced that the lookout had fallen asleep at his post and had not realised how far North the storm had driven the yacht.

She also had a suspicion – because she had heard her father once discussing it with one of his friends – that if human error was discovered to be the cause of the wreck, Mr. Van Ashton would not receive the full amount of any insurance claim.

But what if the Captain was right?

Viola shuddered, feeling suddenly very cold.

That meant that someone on the Glentorran estate had deliberately set out to wreck the boat, not caring who lost their lives in that atrocious sea.

“All I am saying, my Lady, is keep your ears and eyes open while you and his Lordship are here in Scotland.

“Just be on your guard and if you see anything that might confirm my suspicions, let the authorities know of it immediately.

“And now I must take my leave of you.  I wish you good day, Lady Viola, and my respects to your brother.”

Viola watched the Captain leave.

Deep in thought she made her way upstairs.

She paused outside David's room, wondering if she should tell him what she had just learnt.

But she could hear Meg's voice coming from inside and hesitated.

If she told Meg, then she would surely inform her brother.

For some strange reason Viola did not want the Duke to know that there might be a problem on his estate.

She slipped into her own room and smiled as she found riding clothes laid out on her bed.

As she changed, she decided she was worrying over nothing.

‘After all,' she said to herself, tying back her long hair with a blue scarf, ‘the Captain has just gone through a traumatic experience.  He has lost his ship and will surely be blamed.  I expect his crew are trying to save him from the authorities – and themselves!  Yes, that is what it will be.

‘Wreckers, indeed! And in this day and age – what rubbish!'

Viola made her way out of the Castle and through a maze of overgrown pathways round to the stable block.

The Duke was waiting for her, talking to a small thin man whom Viola suspected must be his Head Groom.

Two horses were saddled and ready to ride.

The Duke turned and smiled as the tall slim figure in a dark blue riding skirt and jacket appeared.

“Viola!  You look charming.  I recognise that outfit, although Meg hardly rides at all these days.

“This is Stuart McAndrew.  Stuart used to help his father, Angus, with the gardens and now gives a hand with the few horses that remain here.

“Stuart, this is Lady Viola Northcombe, who, as I am certain you have already heard on the grapevine, was rescued from the sea with her brother, the Earl.”

“Mr. McAndrew.”

Two bright brown eyes peered at her from beneath bushy eyebrows and a gnarled hand touched an imaginary cap.

“Lady Viola.  Glad to see you are none the worse for your misadventure, my Lady.”

“Thank you.  I am well.  It all happened so quickly, there was no time to be scared.”

“Aye, these things do happen fast,” Stuart replied almost under his breath, as Viola was about to ask him what he meant when the Duke broke in,

“Here, let me help you to mount and we will be on our way.  Your horse is called Bonnie.  She's a nice little mare.  We only have three horses left now.  My old boy, Brandy here and an old pony that Meg cannot be persuaded to sell.  She lets him pull her in a little pony cart down to the village to collect fresh fish when the fleet comes in.”

Viola was very aware of the Duke's strength as she put her foot in his cupped hand and let him half-throw her into the saddle.

For a long second his lean tanned fingers lingered on hers as he sorted out the reins and made sure she was comfortable.

He looked up at her and smiled, his dark eyes warm with friendship.

Viola felt hot colour rush into her cheeks.

 Why was she feeling so on edge?

The Duke could never mean anything to her.

She watched as he swung himself effortlessly onto his mount and with a brief nod of farewell to the groom, set off down a path that led through the neglected grounds and then away from the Castle and out onto the moors.

Viola glanced around her as she rode, enjoying the sweet breeze that was blowing in from the sea.

She had no difficulty in handling Bonnie and soon urged her into a trot, so that where the path widened she could ride next to the Duke.

“Is this all Glentorran land?”

“Aye, it is.”

The Duke shook his head in despair.

“And, as you can see, it is not in good repair.  The grounds were immaculate in my grandfather's day.  Lawns swept down gracefully from the terrace and there were so many interesting trees and shrubs.

“I must admit that Stuart does seem a little on the elderly side to be gardening full time,” remarked Viola, not wishing to sound critical.

The Duke laughed, but it was not a happy sound.

“You should meet his father!  Old Angus.  He was the Head Gardener for years at Glentorran.  He has a little croft up on the moors, but he refuses to leave his cottage in the Castle grounds.”

The track was leading them upwards now, winding its way through great sheets of heather.

Somewhere overhead a lark was singing about the glorious day and bees were busy everywhere.

“I should have thought it would be marvellous to live up here amongst all this magnificent scenery.”

The Duke smiled across at the beautiful girl, whose hair had pulled free from the blue scarf and was blowing in pale blonde tendrils across her cheeks.

“Magnificent now, that is true, but in the winter the snow comes down from the mountains and these moors are cold and bleak.  Still beautiful but deadly as well.”

“Oh!  I can see sheep on the mountainside.”

The Duke nodded and pointed with his whip.

“You are right.  The estate earns most of its income from sheep – from their wool.  Luckily for the sheep, their lifestyle does not make them good to eat!  All that running about across the moors makes the meat tough.

“If you stay in Glentorran for long, you are sure to meet some of the shepherds.  They are a law to themselves, but good men.”

Viola hesitated to make any remark that could give offence, but her honesty at last forced her to say,

“Although, of course, it is none of my business, I have heard that Glentorran has fallen a little on hard times recently.”

The Duke did not reply immediately.

He was busy keeping Brandy in check.  The horse had spooked as a rabbit took off from almost under his hooves.

At last he replied,

“I am sure it is quite obvious to someone who is in the same position.  All the signs are here.  The lack of staff, the plainness of the food, how incredibly shabby the Castle has become and as for the grounds –

“Yes, Viola, you and your brother, more than most people will, I am sure, understand the plight of Glentorran.

 “My father – well, I will not speak ill of the dead!  Let me just say that there were debts that had to be settled when I inherited the title, some of which I am still paying!”

“My father – ”

Viola paused and then continued slowly,

“My father was a man who chased after dreams all his life.  And chasing dreams costs money.  David and I never went hungry or cold, but our lives could have been very much easier if Papa had stayed at home.”

The Duke sighed.

“I could even accept the situation with more grace if my father had had dreams of making Glentorran a better place – a
Castle of Dreams
.  But he hardly ever came up to Scotland.  His time was spent gambling in London.

“And it isn't just the Castle that has been neglected.  The people who live in the surrounding areas have such a hard life.

“Do you know there is not a hospital for over a hundred miles?  My people here often die before they can be treated.  Our one doctor does his very best, but the poor cannot pay him and fish or vegetables don't help him that much!

“If I had sufficient money, I would build a hospital somewhere close by.  A place where operations could be performed, broken bones set and lives saved.”

And without another word he urged his horse into a canter and Viola's mount followed.

Together they crested a steep rise and reined in to gaze down on the coastline that lay before them.

The sea this morning was like pale blue silk, hardly breaking over the rocky reef that ran parallel to the beach.  It was hard to believe that this was the very same sea that had so pounded and destroyed the Van Ashton's beautiful yacht.

The Duke pointed with his whip again.

“Over there, do you see the manse and the houses surrounding it, Viola?  Follow along a way and you will see the harbour where the fishing fleet is moored.  That is all part of the Glentorran estate.”

“Oh, was it those boats who so bravely rescued us all yesterday?”

“Aye, that it was.”

“May I be allowed to thank them?”

The Duke smiled.

“Certainly.  Although they would not expect to be thanked for performing such a service.  They are all most independent characters, these people of our fishing village.  But we can make our way down there by all means.”

Side by side they rode down the track towards the harbour.

“Who was the man who so expertly rowed David and me to shore?” enquired Viola.

He laughed.

“Oh, that was Fergus – Fergus Lyall.  I have known him all my life.  You see, when I was a bairn, I lived with my parents and wee Meg in Edinburgh.  But City life did not suit me and I was often sent up here to Glentorran to stay with my grandfather.

“He was very elderly and loved the quiet of the library.  Poor man, I was a wild rowdy boy who must have tried his patience to the limit!  I lived outdoors most of the time and soon found friends in the fishing village.  Fergus and I grew up together, until I was sent to boarding school, of course.”

Viola could picture him in her mind.

A small dark-haired boy in an old kilt and probably a dirty torn jersey, running through the long heather with a dog panting at his heels, full of the high spirits of youth, never dreaming of what lay ahead of him.

The track to the village grew stonier and cut deeply between two sides of the cliff face.

Viola needed all her horsemanship skills to keep in the saddle as Bonnie slid and slithered down the slope, her hooves sending up little sparks from the cobbles.

At last they reached the harbour, a small half-circle cut into the coastline as if it was a bite taken from a piece of bread.

A stone jetty ran out to the entrance of the harbour with all the Glentorran fishing fleet moored alongside, their paintwork gleaming red and blue, emerald and black.

Overhead seagulls screamed and dived for small tit- bits as one of the boats had just landed its catch.

Some of the women, shawls draped over their heads, were sorting out fish from crabs.

“I love all the different colours of the boats,” Viola enthused.

“Every family traditionally owns a different colour.  Never tell anyone, but I have a preference for the scarlet ones, but Fergus owns that dark blue vessel, moored right at the far end.  His father taught us both to sail when we were just lads.”

Viola admired the fleet, wondering how odd it must have felt for the Duke when he realised that he would grow up to inherit the Glentorran estate whilst his friend would stay a fisherman.

“You have remained friends?” she asked hesitantly, trying to understand.