Beyond Reason (5 page)

‘I cannot let you—’

‘We shall be out of this house as soon as I have packed our clothes. Do not come near either of us, or I shall not be responsible for my actions.’ Mary’s voice was calmer now, firm and strong. She stepped through the door and closed it, breathing deeply.

She had no idea where she would go, or what they were going to do, but she felt a surge of relief. Whatever happened she was glad. Glad she was free of the mean and evil man who had thought to take her father’s place. Only now did she recognize the fear and oppression he had brought to her, and to her daughter.

In the tiny attic bedroom, she found Janet stifling sobs as she folded their clothes. Mary took Janet’s hands in hers. She felt the ridges, some with broken skin. The dominie must have caned her daily. This time he had struck blindly, uncontrollably. Wherever the cane fell it had pleased him.

‘I-I’m s-sorry, Mama,’ Janet gulped.

‘You have nothing to be sorry for, my lassie.’ Mary folded her in her arms and brushed her lips across the small, bruised face. Then she bent and drew a plate of bread and butter and a cup of milk from beneath the bed. ‘Eat this; it will give you strength, Janet. I don’t know where we can go, or where we shall sleep.’

‘I hate him,’ Janet sobbed. ‘Why did grandfather have to die?’

‘His time had come. It was God’s will.’ Mary felt panic rising. She really was alone. But nothing would induce her to stay under the same roof as that devil.

It was very dark when Mary and Janet left the schoolhouse. Each had a pack strapped to their backs and carried another in their arms. Mary had insisted they must bring the blankets and anything they could carry from their room, as well as their clothes and spare boots.

‘Will he accuse us of stealing?’ Janet shuddered with fear. She was suffering from shock. The dominie had caned her regularly but it had always been with cold precision. Tonight there had been a demon in him. The Devil had entered his brain. The pain of her bruised body would heal but she would never forget the evil glitter in the dominie’s eyes.

‘We are not stealing.’ Mary spoke with new firmness. ‘I sold him all the contents of the schoolhouse and he paid a mere token of their worth.’

‘Even grandfather’s books? Did he buy them too?’ Janet asked wistfully.

‘Everything. He considered the house and everything in it was his. But I do not sell my soul to the Devil,’ she added, half under her breath. Janet saw her clutch her Bible closer to her breast. The big Bible which had belonged to her father’s family had been too heavy to carry; it lay in the tiny attic room.

‘Grandfather promised I could read all his books one day,’ she said sadly. ‘How shall I ever learn all the things he promised to teach me now, Mama?’

Mary was silent. Her daughter’s schooldays had ended – gone
for ever. Even if they had not quarrelled with Todd, she could not have continued to pay the school fees.

Automatically, Mary turned her steps towards the old village where she had lived with Billy in the few idyllic years of her marriage, but Janet tugged at her sleeve.

‘Couldn’t we go to Crillion Keep? Mama Baird will help us.’ Janet reverted to the name she had used for Peggy. Mary hesitated.

‘We could sleep in the stable?’ Janet pleaded. ‘Like Jesus did.’

‘We can ask, lassie,’ Mary agreed. ‘For tonight anyway. I –I’m not clear in my head. I don’t know what we shall do.’

‘But you are n-not sorry we’ve left the dominie, Mama?’ Janet asked anxiously. ‘I never want to see him again,’ she added vehemently.

‘Whatever happens we shall never go back,’ Mary promised.

It was a long walk whichever way they went and Peggy Baird’s cottage was in darkness by the time Mary and Janet dragged their weary limbs up the path. The McLauchlans’ cottage was equally dark.

‘They are all abed,’ Mary whispered. ‘I dinna like to disturb them. Do you know where the stables are, lassie?’

‘Yes, we passed them. Look, Mama, that dark shape at the other side of the track down there.’

‘Then we’ll spend the night there.’

Janet led the way, weary enough to lie down and sleep in the hedge after her earlier journey to Mr Cole’s. When they reached the stable all the stalls were occupied with horses.

‘There is a hayloft up above. Mr McLauchlan goes up the ladder.’

‘We’ll go up there, then. It should be warmer.’

Huddled together in the sweet scented hay, both Mary and Janet slept, too exhausted to think, or to plan.

Mary woke first to the sound of a stable boy starting his duties for the day. She crept down the ladder and almost frightened the lad out of his wits.

‘We arrived last night. Mr and Mrs Baird had gone to bed. I did not wish to disturb them,’ she explained, half afraid he might attack her with the fork he was holding. He lowered it and
nodded dumbly. ‘Are they awake yet?’ He nodded again and Mary squeezed past him out into the fresh morning air. She did her best to tidy her hair, aware that she must look like a vagrant.

She was astonished to see Fingal McLauchlan walking towards her. He was in serious conversation with Donald Baird, Peggy’s husband.

‘Fingal! What are you doing home? Why are you not at the university?’ A thought occurred to her. ‘Andrew? Is he with you? Has he gone to the schoolhouse?’

‘Hello, Mrs Scott!’ Fingal’s surprise equalled her own. ‘No, Andrew is not with me. My father is ill. I – I was afraid he might die without me seeing him again. As Dominie McWhan did,’ he added in a low voice. ‘I must return to Edinburgh tomorrow.’

‘I see. I – I’m sorry. I did not know your father was ill.’ She looked at Donald Baird. ‘We – we came to see Peggy. You were abed when we arrived last night. We slept in the loft. I – we must not trouble either of you further.’

‘Wait!’ It was clear to Donald Baird that Mistress Scott was distraught. ‘You must see Peggy, now that you are here.’

‘We?’ Fingal asked swiftly. ‘You are not alone?’

‘Janet is with me,’ Mary said more calmly, pulling herself together with an effort. ‘She is still asleep. In the loft. But tell me, Fingal, what news of Andrew? Is he well? The cough?’

‘It troubles him still,’ Fingal admitted reluctantly. ‘Otherwise he is – he is as always. He works at his books long into the night. Shall I give him a message, a letter perhaps?’

‘A letter….’ Despair dulled Mary’s gaze. ‘We do not even have a quill.’

‘See Peggy, now, Mistress Scott,’ Donald Baird said gently. ‘She will find you all you need.’ And learn whatever troubles you, he thought silently. He shook his head. Troubles never seemed to come alone. Fingal had done right to make the journey from Edinburgh for he was sure Jacob was dying. His father-in-law had been a good friend to him and to Peggy.

‘Perhaps I had better waken Janet and tell her where I am first….’ Mary said.

‘I will tell her,’ Fingal said quickly. ‘We are on our way to the
stables. Today I am helping Donald in place of my father.’ Mary nodded. Fingal’s father was head coachman and Donald Baird worked with him as second coachman. Fingal’s young face was anxious and Mary could guess the reason. His parents lived in a tied cottage, which went with his father’s job. True, Maggie McLauchlan also worked as cook and housekeeper but would she be allowed to stay in the coachman’s cottage?

Fingal climbed the ladder to the loft and found Janet sleeping still. Exhaustion from the two long walks of the previous day, combined with shock and pain, had taken their toll. Rays of early-morning light came through the small window near the floor of the loft. It caught the wild profusion of chestnut curls spread around Janet’s head. She was lying on her back, fully clothed and half-covered with hay but her arm was flung above her head. Along the open palm and fingers Fingal saw the wounds. Caning? Caning for Janet? He frowned. She had been the dominie’s granddaughter through and through. He recalled how bright and intelligent she had been, how far ahead of the other children. She had needed no extra help or favouritism. She had loved learning.

True, she was a child of high spirits and determination. He half smiled as he remembered how often she had followed him and Andrew on their boyish pursuits, how she had fallen in the burn when they went to gather frogspawn. She had even climbed to the top of the old tree where he and Andrew had their secret meeting place. They had told her it was a wishing tree and she had insisted on making her wish. She had refused to tell them what it was in case telling spoiled the magic of the tree.

As he gazed down at her he realized her face was paler and thinner than he remembered. Fear struck his heart. Surely Janet had not developed the same racking cough which troubled Andrew? Consumption. He would not say the word aloud. He could not bear to lose both of his friends, and Janet was closer than a friend: she was almost a sister to him. Yet as he looked down onto her sleeping face, his boy’s heart stirred with tenderness and something more than the feelings of a brother. She was so young, so innocent. Janet stirred and turned her head. Fingal
gasped. Across her cheek were two angry lines, one of them running right down her neck and disappearing beneath the neck of her dress, torn when the dominie had grabbed her. There were three more stripes across her other arm. She opened her eyes as he moved closer. He watched them widen as he came into her line of vision.

‘Fingal! Is it really you? I wished and wished you were here last night.’ Her delight and trust warmed him. He reached down to help her to her feet. As soon as she moved, the pain and the horror of the previous evening returned. Fingal saw her wince.

‘What has happened, Janet? Who has hurt you so?’

‘The – the dominie. I took a message for Mama. I was late for supper. He – he was so angry, Fingal.’

He could see the disbelief in her eyes as the memory came rushing back.

‘He even hit Mama.’ She bit back a sob.

‘Oh, Janet, my lassie.’ Fingal drew her tenderly into his arms and she clung to him, sobbing against his father’s dusty waistcoat which he had donned to help Donald in the stables. Anger flared in Fingal’s young heart.

‘I have heard of dominies who like to use the cane too freely. Some of the fellows at university tell tales of cruelty – but to beat you, a girl? And so cruelly….’

‘He – he’s horrid. I hate him. Mama says we are never going back.’

‘I see … I’m glad you are not returning to the house of such a man, but—’

‘Fingal?’ Donald Baird’s voice came from the stable below. ‘Is the wee maid all right? Have you wakened her?’

‘Yes. We’re coming down. Can you help her, Donald? She has been badly beaten.’

‘Beaten?’ Donald reached up two muscular arms and lowered Janet gently to the floor of the stable. He watched her move her stiff limbs and try to flex her shoulders. ‘Beaten?’ he repeated. ‘Who has done such a thing, lassie?’

‘The dominie,’ Fingal told his brother-in-law grimly.

‘So it’s true! Angus and Beth say he takes pleasure in using the
cane. We thought they must deserve it. They told us he caned Miss Janet every day. We did not believe them.’

‘It’s true,’ whispered Janet. ‘And I tried so hard.’

‘I’m sure you did my lamb,’ Donald’s voice was gruff. ‘No wonder our two bairns say they will walk to school through the snow rather than stay in the dominie’s house.’

‘You only have to look at Janet. See her face. She was not even in school. She had been obeying her mother’s instructions to go on an errand.’

‘The letter!’ Janet gasped in dismay. ‘I forgot to give Mama the reply from Mr Cole.’ She pulled a thick white envelope from her pinafore pocket.

‘Your mother is with Peggy, lassie. You take her up to the cottage, Fingal. We’ll be getting on with the horses.’

‘How is Andrew?’ Janet asked as they walked side by side.

‘He has the cough still, but he is working hard at his studies. Most of the students believe he will get the trophy for the best mathematics student next year. He works so hard….’ He hesitated, then added, ‘Sometimes Janet, I fear for his health. I believe he would forget to eat if I did not insist.’

‘You are a good friend to him.’ Janet stopped and seized his hand. ‘We are grateful to you, Fingal.’

‘I hope I shall always be a good friend, to both of you, Janet. You are as dear to me as my own family. You will promise to tell me if ever you are in trouble? If ever you need my help? If only I could take care of you. One day….’ He broke off and bit his lip. ‘I hate to think of the dominie caning you so,’ he said vehemently. ‘I would like to – to….’

‘No one can help with that. He – he takes pleasure in caning all of us. B-but he seemed to have a grudge against me.’

‘I would like to give him a caning….’

Janet looked up at him and he caught a glimpse of her old, impish smile.

‘I wish you could. You are certainly as big as he is now. I think you could cane him very well. Has Andrew grown as tall as you?’

‘No. He is very thin…. I do worry about him, Janet, but I don’t like to trouble your Mama, especially now when she has more
trouble than ever.’ He pushed the door of his sister’s cottage open for her to enter.

Mary and Peggy broke off their conversation.

‘Come in, lassie, and have some porridge,’ Peggy greeted Janet warmly. ‘Oh, my bairn! What has that monster done to you? Your poor face….’ Peggy turned Janet’s face to the light, and then examined her scarred hands, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘You could never have deserved such caning! You were never a bad wee bairn.’ Janet did not answer. There was nothing to say and she was ravenous for the plate of steaming porridge Peggy set before her with a bowl of cream.

‘Now, you two,’ Peggy turned to Angus and Beth, ‘it is time you were on your way or you will be late for school.’ Six-year-old Beth sidled up to Janet and put her hand in hers.

‘Can’t I stay here with Janet today? She could help me with my numbers.’

‘No, Beth, you cannot stay at home today, but it is Saturday tomorrow and you will be at home then. Now off you go.’

‘You said you had a letter for your mother, Janet,’ Fingal reminded her.

‘Oh yes! I forgot about Mr Cole’s letter last night, Mama.’

‘No wonder, lassie. So did I.’ Mary took the letter and slit open the envelope.

‘I wonder what Mr Cole means by this,’ she said aloud. ‘He says he has a proposition to put before me now that his wife is so frail. He says he will speak to me after the kirk on Sunday. He goes on about the little room at the back of the tailor’s shop being little more than a cupboard but he assumes Janet will be lodging in the schoolhouse for the winter with the other pupils.’

‘No! No, Mama.’

‘No!’ Fingal moved swiftly to put a protective arm around her shoulders, his young face filled with concern.

‘I couldn’t send you back, lassie, even if I wanted to.’ Mary spoke wearily. ‘I can’t afford to pay the dominie’s fees. I can’t make head nor tail o’ Mr Cole’s letter.’

‘Well, it’s only two days until the Sabbath, Mary,’ Peggy Baird said. ‘You could bide here until you have talked with him. I
wouldn’t be surprised if he’s wanting you to keep house for him and look after his wife.’

‘Do you think we could stay here in the stables until then?’

‘We’re pleased to help. You could share the bairns’ bed. Mother would have given you a bed but Fingal is sleeping in the bedroom. He’ll stay with her again tonight. When he is not here I stay with Father at night. Mother doesn’t want to leave Mr Saunders in the lurch. She worked at Crillion Keep before he inherited it and he kept her on as housekeeper. Mrs Mossy is a good cleaner but she is a hopeless cook.’