Beyond Reason (6 page)

‘I didn’t realize your father was so bad, Peggy. Maybe I can help while I am here? I could give your mother a rest. I’m used to nursing after – after caring for Billy.’

‘Would you do that?’ Peggy’s eyes brightened. ‘I remember Doctor Carr saying how well you cared for Billy. I don’t know when Mother last had a proper sleep. Father canna help himself and he’s a heavy man to lift.’

‘I’ll go over to the cottage, then. It will be a relief to know I can help.’

‘Eat up some breakfast first then, Mary. You look tired to death.’

Janet had already washed her hands and face in the pail of water Fingal had drawn from the well. It was stingingly cold but it banished the sleep from her eyes and made her feel alert and alive. The exhaustion of the previous evening vanished when she had eaten the large bowl of porridge.

‘It looks to me as though you’re both fading away. Did the dominie no’ feed ye well?’

‘He’s the meanest, most miserable man you could ever imagine,’ Mary declared.

‘Can I go and help Fingal at the stables now?’ Janet asked eagerly.

‘Aye, away ye go, lassie,’ Peggy said fondly. ‘He was aye pleased to have your company and ye’ll take his mind off his own worries. He’ll need to return to Edinburgh tomorrow.’

‘How will he get back?’ Mary asked.

‘Joe Nairn, the carrier, has promised to lift him to the crossroads when he takes a load o’ wood over to The Place. He said he’d
ask one o’ the carters to take Andrew as far as Moffat and maybe he’ll be lucky and get a lift or two for the rest o’ the journey.’ She sighed. ‘He’s a good laddie, but he’s worried about my stepfather and mother being in the Coachman’s Cottage. He is going to talk to Mr Saunders when he and Donald have finished the horses.’

Fingal was concerned for his mother and he made his way up to the big house to discuss the situation with Josiah Saunders.

‘I know the cottage is tied and intended for the head coachman,’ Fingal explained, ‘but Mother was born there when her father was coachman. It would upset her to move. I could train as undercoachman with Donald if you will allow us to stay in the cottage, sir?’

‘Ah, Fingal, you have only one more year to do at university. Would you throw it all away to become a coachman?’

‘If it means allowing my mother to keep her home, sir, and if you will employ me?’

‘You’re a good son, Fingal. I know how hard you have worked, and it would be a waste to throw away your education. One day I hope to offer you more than work as my coachman. I value your mother’s care of me and my household as much as I value my coachmen’s care of my horses. Donald tells me young Mark Wright is a good worker and he is careful when driving the pony and trap. He assures me the two of them should manage very well. Mark’s father is horseman at Home Farm so he is happy to live at home with his parents and walk across the field to work each morning. So you see you have no need to worry. You must continue your studies.’ He asked a few more questions about Fingal’s time at university before they parted. Fingal’s heart was lighter than he had thought possible considering the state of his father’s health.

Janet felt sad and alone when Fingal left for his journey back to Edinburgh. She struggled to hold back her tears. Fingal returned her hug, then bent his head and kissed her cheek, muttering fervently, ‘I wish we were older. I wish I could take care of you, Janet.’

As Mary and Janet entered the kirk on Sunday morning, Mr Cole caught Mary’s eye and gave a polite nod. He watched her follow
Peggy and her family into their seat, instead of taking the seat she had always occupied with her father and her husband. Dominie Todd sat there alone, his expression grim, his mouth a thin line. He knew he did not have the respect Dominie McWhan had commanded from young and old alike and he resented the dead man’s continuing influence. Gossip spread rapidly in the small community and other members of the congregation were quick to notice Mary Scott and her daughter had relinquished her family’s pew.

‘The rumours must be true,’ whispered one to another. Janet was too innocent to grasp the significance of the change of seats but she sensed that everyone was looking at them. The wheals from Dominie Todd’s cane still showed bright pink on their faces. She shivered and glanced across at him

She was pleased when she saw Molly Foster and three of her brothers. She knew there were more young Fosters who must be at home with their mother. Janet guessed the man must be their father. His stare made her feel uncomfortable. She tried to catch Molly’s eye but the older girl kept her head bowed, her eyes downcast. Janet thought she looked pale and unhappy. She raised her eyes and found Mr Foster looking at her strangely as though he was assessing her in some way. It reminded her of the way her grandfather had looked at the two pigs which he had kept in the pigsty behind the schoolhouse. He had looked that way when he was deciding whether one of them was ready for Mr McPhee, the butcher. She shuddered and lowered her own gaze.

The Reverend Peter Drummond was a good man and a fine preacher but Mary Scott kept her eyes lowered. She knew he, like everyone else, had noticed she was not in the family pew she had occupied every Sabbath since she was a small child. All the congregation would know her disagreement with the dominie was a serious matter when she would not share the same pew.

Josiah Saunders also noticed and concluded the disagreement at the schoolhouse must be as serious as Mistress McLauchlan had reported, but he had no idea how dire the situation had become for Mary Scott and twelve-year-old Janet. He was not a man who mixed in society and he abhorred the sort of idle gossip which his stepsister Eliza and her ilk relished. When Dominie McWhan had
arranged for Fingal to win the bursary to attend university, he had assured Josiah he would finance his grandson’s education himself, and his granddaughter’s too if he was spared long enough. So it did not occur to Josiah that those fees had ceased with the dominie’s death. His own concern was for his housekeeper, Maggie McLauchlan, whom he valued and respected. In spite of Fingal’s reassurance that her home was safe, she had looked exhausted and deeply troubled since her husband had suffered a stroke ten days ago.

Although he was only thirty-two, he had known since he was a boy that his own health was precarious, but he had learned to accept the old doctor’s advice to make the best of each day and he had already survived years longer than had been expected. He had been surprised when his great-uncle, on his mother’s side, had died and left him the small mansion house of Crillion Keep, along with the surrounding land. It was not a large estate, but it gave him a secure living and amply provided for his needs. In the letter his Great-Uncle Cedric had left for him, he had bade him enjoy each day which God might grant him and if it gave him satisfaction to ease the burdens of those who needed help then he must follow his heart. There was one proviso: neither Eliza Ross, nor her offspring, were to benefit from the Crillion estate. The old man had been shrewd enough to assess his stepsister’s avarice, just as he had known of his own yearning for knowledge and his ambition to pass on his learning had he not been thwarted by ill health.

Josiah understood his uncle’s wishes because they both remembered Eliza quarrelling bitterly with his father when she could no longer drain his coffers. Josiah’s own mother had died shortly after his birth. When he was four years old, his father had married a widow with a fourteen-year-old daughter, Eliza. Looking back, he realized she had been jealous of him from the first day she arrived in his home. She had resented the kindness and affection her mother had shown towards him.

As the congregation filed out of the little kirk, Mr Cole caught Mary’s eye and indicated his wish to speak with her outside. She
drew Janet to one side, reluctant to answer the questions she knew many of the parishioners were longing to ask, and she was thankful Mr Cole did not delay in seeking her out.

‘I see ’tis true, then?’ he greeted her, lifting his bowler hat politely as he reached her and Janet. ‘You’ve left your position at the schoolhouse, Mistress Scott?’

‘Ye-es,’ Mary heard her own voice quaver alarmingly.

‘Well, well,’ Mr Cole was saying, ‘I do believe God has answered my prayers, then. The dominie’s loss will be my gain. As I explained in my letter, my wife is growing increasingly frail. She needs care, help in the house and with the meals, you understand?’ He broke off, frowning at the large, ruddy-faced man who was hovering close by. He was not one of his customers but Cole had seen him in church from time to time. He had a vague recollection that the man lived at the north end of the parish, maybe even in the next parish. There had been some talk about him amongst the elders but this was not the time to dwell on gossip. The tailor turned his attention back to Mary with a questioning glance.

‘Well, would you consider a full-time situation in my home, Mistress Scott?’

‘I would be glad of it, Mr Cole but Janet—’

‘Good, good, I know how neat and correct you are with the ledgers too. I shall be glad of your help with the orders for a few hours each week. You will eat with us but unfortunately I can only offer you the small room at the back for your accommodation….’ He looked towards Janet apologetically. ‘Your daughter will be staying at the schoolhouse, no doubt, and—’

‘No!’ Janet was almost as surprised as Mr Cole when the words burst from her of their own accord. ‘No,’ Janet repeated, ‘I do not want to attend the dominie’s school.’

‘I see. But….’ A look of consternation came into the tailor’s crinkly eyes.

‘Pardon me, ma’am, for interrupting.’ They all turned. ‘I’m Foster from Braeheights Farm. Ye’ll ken ma bairns attend the school. My lads told me you had both left the schoolhouse Thursday night, without warning. They thought your bairn wouldna be going back
to school. She was a friend tae my ain lassie, so I’m offering her a wee job up at the farm. She’ll have a roof and enough to eat. Molly would like the company.’ He glanced behind him. They all looked at Molly then. She was hanging back, glowering at the ground as though her life depended on it.

‘Molly? We know Molly well,’ Mary said eagerly. ‘So you’re her father?’

‘That’s right, ma’am. Our Molly works at home now. There’s plenty to do with the bairns and the animals. Your lassie needs a place and we could use another wee maid.’

‘Why er … well yes, I suppose….’ Mary frowned uncertainly. In the dim recesses of her mind she had visualized teaching Janet herself. She had not considered them living apart, or Janet earning her living, not yet. But Andrew’s future must come first.

‘Got on well together at school, our Molly and your wee lass,’ Mr Foster went on in a jocular tone. Janet was looking at Molly, wondering why the older girl refused to meet her eyes, why she was so intent on scuffing the earth with her best Sunday boots. ‘You’d like to come and live with us, wouldn’t you, lassie?’ Janet looked past him to Molly. Just for an instant she saw Molly raise her eyes and look at her intently. She was astonished to see a swift shake of her head, before her chin sank once more onto her skinny chest. Mr Foster caught Janet’s startled glance and turned his head towards Molly, a fierce frown drawing his bushy brows together. ‘She’s having a bit o’ a sulk. She’ll be happier if she has a wee friend up at the farm for company.’ He moved close to Molly’s side, his large hand grasping her shoulder in an iron grip. She seemed to cringe. ‘Won’t you? Tell them you’d like your wee friend frae the schoolroom to keep ye company.’ His grip tightened and Molly glanced up briefly.

‘Aye, I’d like that,’ she muttered, and lowered her head.

‘Well, Mistress Scott, what do ye say? I havena all day to wait. The lads stay with their grandmother in the village on schooldays so I could take your lass back to the farm with Molly and me in the trap now. Molly can find her an apron or two. I’ll be back next week to collect her ain things.’

Mary bit her lip and looked at Janet. They only had the few
clothes they had managed to carry away the night they left the schoolhouse.

‘It would save the wee maid a long walk up to our place. It’s a fair distance, even wi’ the pony and trap. The wife was brought up in this parish, see, and she likes the bairns to come back for the school and the kirk. Ye’ll need tae make your mind up,’ he added brusquely.

Janet’s eyes filled with tears but she looked at her mother bravely. She knew in her heart there was no choice. Mr Cole had no room for her and she could not stay with Peggy Baird indefinitely. She was homeless. ‘I’ll g-go with Molly,’ she whispered.

Mary hugged her close. ‘You’re a good bairn, Janet,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll make it up to you when Andrew comes home. He’ll get a fine job and we’ll buy you all the books you want.’

‘Yes, Mama.’

‘Here, lassie.’ Mary pulled off her own cloak. ‘Take this. Ye’ll need it more than me.’

‘B-but, Mama….’ She looked up at her mother’s thin, pale face, at her shoulders already hunched and shivering in the cold air.

‘I’ll get a lift with Mr Cole in his trap,’ Mary whispered hoarsely. ‘I’ll be there long before you reach the farm. Anyway, you might need it to warm you in your bed….’

Janet nodded, unable to speak now over the hard lump in her throat. Mr Foster ushered her impatiently towards his waiting trap. Janet looked back once, but her mother had already turned to accompany the tailor to his home.

Josiah Saunders was not in the habit of lingering to gossip after the kirk as many of the congregation did but as he stared out of the window of his coach he was surprised to see Mary Scott being driven away in one direction by Mr Cole while the child, Janet, was being driven off in the opposite direction in the pony and trap belonging to the man Foster. He did not know the man personally. He frowned, trying to recall what he had heard about him. He was sure it was nothing to the man’s credit. He knew he came from one of the outlying farms near the parish boundary, maybe even from the next parish. He leaned out of the window and beckoned Donald Baird.

‘Why is Mistress Scott driving off with Mr Cole and leaving her child with that man in the pony and trap?’