By Eastern windows (33 page)

The following day Elizabeth decided that although Mrs Macquarie's house was as clean as a new pin, it was foolish for it to be bereft of the charm and colour of fresh flowers when the hills and banks were smothered in wild spring blooms.

As they ambled back from the shore to the house, she paused here and there to collect handfuls of wild blue hyacinths, mixing in a few sprigs of golden gorse.

Back in the house, without waiting to remove her hat and while Mrs Macquarie made tea, Elizabeth divided the colourful array of flowers into two bowls, placing one on the table and the other on the window ledge.

And it was then, as she sat on the window-seat arranging the flowers, Elizabeth saw a carriage on the crest of the eastern hill, slowly winding its way down the narrow road ... She peered curiously ... was the carriage coming here? Or passing on to the McLean's farm at Lagganulva?
  

‘Mrs Macquarie dear,’ she said hesitantly, ‘there seems to be a carriage coming this way.’

‘A carriage? Now who may that be? Would it be Murdoch coming from Lochbuy do ye think?’

‘I doubt it,' Elizabeth replied. ‘He usually prefers to take the short cut by horse through the hills from Lochbuy to Rossall.’

Mrs Macquarie joined Elizabeth at the window, peering until the carriage came to a halt on the road down by the wall that marked the farm's boundary.

The carriage door opened and the occupant stepped out, and the two women at the window simply gaped when they saw him … a beautifully handsome and tall young man of about eighteen years, dressed exquisitely in a suit of royal blue with pure white silk at his neck. His skin was light brown, his hair short and as black as coal. He walked up to the driver and spoke a few words to him, and every move of his body was as graceful as his clothes.

Elizabeth gasped – he was stunning – a prince straight out of the
Arabian Tales
.

Mrs Macquarie blinked at the strangest sight she had ever seen in this primitive region – a brown-skinned young man.
 
‘My God!’ she cried. ‘It's an Indian prince in English dress! He musta come looking for Lachlan! And he no' here!’

She got all in a fluster and began to shake, running to the door, then running back again ‘Will he speak English do ye think, Elizabeth?
 
Will he want to speak to me, Elizabeth?’

Elizabeth rose from the window-seat and said helpfully: ‘Shall I go out to greet him?’

‘Aye, hennie, aye!’ Mrs Macquarie was running towards the stairs to her bedroom. ‘Ye go out and keep him talking, Elizabeth, while I go up and put on my best shawl and bonnet!’

When Elizabeth stepped out of the house and walked down to the wall with a confident air, George Jarvis turned his head, surprised at the sight of her.

George had been expecting an old woman who lived alone, not this tall and attractive young lady with a long-legged stride. She wore a dark-green riding habit with yellow lace at the cuffs and throat. On her head she wore a three cornered green hat which crowned a sheen of bronze curling hair which fell around her shoulders.

Elizabeth smiled, about to hold out her hand in greeting – then stopped dead when a second occupant stepped out of the carriage, still hastily jotting down something in what appeared to be a small journal or diary, which he then closed, shoved inside an inner breast pocket of his jacket, and looked round.

Elizabeth stood mute as Lachlan's eyes met hers, lingered quizzically on her for a moment, as if wondering who she was – then at the sound of a woman's incoherent cry, looked beyond her to the house where an old woman stood at the door staring in disbelief.

George Jarvis exchanged a fixed look with Elizabeth, and she immediately understood what he was silently asking of her.

They both remained standing by the carriage as Lachlan Macquarie walked towards his mother.

Like a startled victim of the ague, Mrs Macquarie stared at her son with a tremor of shaking and blinking eyes, barely recognising him as he walked the gravel path round the sheep field.

This new Lachlan Macquarie was a strikingly elegant man, older than the son she remembered, wearing a blue cloak flaring back from his shoulders to reveal a perfectly tailored jacket of expensive navy broadcloth. And his skin – oh, she had not expected his skin to be that colour – as brown as a man who had spent too long in the sun.

She stared at the man coming towards her. Was it he? Her eyes, old and moist and blue, blinked as if she feared that either her sight or her imagination might be playing wishful tricks on her.

He was standing before her now, looking into her startled eyes and smiling. He said softly,
 
‘Hello, Mother.’

And her poor old heart nearly burst.

She collapsed into his arms and clung to him, overcome by the excess of her emotions as tears of joy coursed down her face. Aye, it was he … her youngest son … Lachlan … home to her at last.

NINETEEN

‘Ye’ll note,’ said the builder, pointing to various points around the spacious parlour, ‘that we’ve done all the repairs ye asked for, sir. I hope they’re to your satisfaction.’

Lachlan made a quick inspection, and then looked at his mother. ‘I’m satisfied, are you?’

‘Me?’ She could say no more, confused by her emotions, so she simply nodded her head a few times before shooting a quick glance at Elizabeth’s expressionless face. She had begged the girl to stay with her and keep her company while these strange workmen were in and around her home, taking no comfort from Lachlan’s assurances that all were from Mull, and all could be trusted.

‘And the rest of the alterations?’ the builder asked. ‘How soon do ye want us to start on them?’

Again Lachlan looked at his mother, who simply gazed glumly at Elizabeth, seeking her help.

‘As soon and as quickly as possible.’ Elizabeth smiled at Mrs Macquarie. ‘These things need to be done, and while the air outside is fresh and warm we can take some nice long walks and get away from the noise.’

Mrs Macquarie looked as if her best friend had just cruelly betrayed her, but again she simply nodded and said meekly, ‘Aye, that’s a grand suggestion, Elizabeth, a grand suggestion.’

In the stress of her mind, Elizabeth felt divided between pangs of great sympathy for Mrs Macquarie, as well as feeling a practical support for her son who was finally attending to all the repairs and alterations to the house that should have been done years ago.
 

Yet she could not help feeling sorry for the old lady whose quiet life was now being so disturbed. At first Mrs Macquarie had been braced and fortified by the unexpected joy of her son’s arrival, but now the strain was beginning to show. She had not been prepared, and neither had Elizabeth, for the staggering energy that Lachlan had brought with him to Scotland, and which showed no signs of abating.

Later, when Lachlan and the workman went outside, Elizabeth followed them out. She said clumsily, ‘Mr Macquarie … although I, personally, am very happy to see the work being done at last, is it necessary for
everything
to be done this summer?’

He paused, gazed at her in thought, and shrugged. ‘Yes, haste is necessary, because I have only a few months leave at the most, and that’s only if I am not recalled tomorrow or next week or next month.’ He nodded upwards. ‘And that roof won’t last another winter.’

Elizabeth turned and looked up at the roof, and saw that it was indeed in a very bad state. ‘Oh goodness, yes, a heavy rainfall and your mother would be drowned in her bed.’

‘I’m glad you understand. Perhaps you could explain that to my mother, more successfully than myself?’

Elizabeth nodded, excusing herself with a faintly shamed smile.

*

The gloom in Mrs Macquarie’s eyes always receded whenever her son came to call, replaced by a bright and eager smile. ‘I’m so thankful for him coming here,’ she said to Elizabeth one afternoon. ‘Oh, aye … thankful as can be. But, to be honest with ye, all the work he had done to my house, I did resent it, didn’t I, Elizabeth hennie?’

Elizabeth was not listening, reclining in the rocking-chair by the parlour window, unconscious of her surroundings and her mind lingering somewhere in the far distance, her blue eyes seeing something that occasionally made her mouth shape into a small smile.

‘And to be fair to him,’ Mrs Macquarie continued, ‘he
did
want me to leave here and go stay with him at the Inn at Callachally, even before the work started, to get me away from all the disorder, didn’t he, Elizabeth?’

Still no answer came; and Mrs Macquarie found herself wondering about all the new furniture and drapes and carpets that Lachlan had ordered from Edinburgh.

‘It’s no’ necessary, is it, Elizabeth hen?’

At last Mrs Macquarie realised she had been speaking to only herself.
 
She turned round in her chair by the fire and stared at the girl. ‘Elizabeth hennie?’ she said loudly. ‘Have ye dozed off?’

Like a sleeper aroused, Elizabeth looked around, recollected herself and smiled. ‘No, no, I was listening to you.’

‘And ye agree with me? Whatna way to waste money, eh?’

As Elizabeth had not heard a word and so could not grasp the significance of the question, she responded agreeably, ‘Yes, it’s foolish to waste money,’ then quickly stood and moved over to the dresser and opened a drawer to lift out the tablecloth. ‘Shall I prepare the table for tea?’

‘Tea?’ Mrs Macquarie shot a glance at the mantel clock. ‘Elizabeth, it’s only ten minutes past three! I’ve no’ even put the chicken in the pot.’

Elizabeth paused, then with a glance at the clock continued lifting plates from the shelf of the dresser. ‘I may as well get it done,’ she said mildly, ‘and then I can start mixing the flour and oats for the bannocks … it’s no trouble.’

When Lachlan arrived a short time later, he looked at the table set up for the evening meal. ‘Are we not a bit early today?’ he asked his mother curiously. ‘I have only come for five minutes, not for dinner.’

Elizabeth began to needlessly move everything around on the table until her hands suddenly lifted the beautifully ornate china teapot in the centre. ‘It’s just my excuse to take another look at this beautiful teapot,’ she said, smiling. ‘I’ve never seen one so beautiful.’

‘That’s one of the presents Lachlan brought me from India,’ Mrs Macquarie put in proudly. ‘In Bombay, ye got it, didn’t ye, son?’

The teapot had been bought for his mother by Jane in Macao, but he deflected the question by asking Elizabeth if she often cooked for his mother.

‘Oh, aye, she does,’ Mrs Macquarie answered for Elizabeth.
 
‘I keep telling her that a gentle-bred young lady like herself should no’ be doing any kind of cooking at all’

‘Nor should a gentle-bred lady like you,’ Lachlan replied.
 
‘Remember, you were brought up in Lochbuy, with servants attending to your every need. If you had been allowed to inherit – ‘

‘Och, I couldna have inherited Lochbuy, and well ye know it!’ Mrs Macquarie said impatiently. ‘I may have been the eldest, but I was still only a woman.’

‘A woman who should not be still cooking her own meals and doing household chores at seventy. Will you behave yourself, Mother, and allow me to arrange things for you.’

A short time later, after he had left, Mrs Macquarie looked apprehensively at Elizabeth. ‘What d’ye think he means – arrange things for me?’

Elizabeth smiled. ‘He is just trying to be kind.’

The following day, two local girls were employed as maids, and one of Lachlan’s cousins had agreed to give up his job as a kelper and take over complete control of the farm.

‘But, Lachlan!’ his mother cried anxiously. ‘What am
I
to do?’

‘Sit back and rest.’

When she protested he railed her teasingly. ‘It was you who brought me back from India. So you owe it to me to live for another twenty years at least, and live
comfortably
. And you could do, if you stop wearing yourself out with work and take life a little easier.’

Elizabeth voiced her agreement: ‘He’s right. You do need help, especially when you are here alone. Some times, when I arrive from Lochbuy, you’re worn so fine you look about to drop.’

Lachlan smiled in appreciation of her support. ‘There, you see? Even Miss Campbell agrees with me.’

Then he was gone again, and in the days that followed, in the company of George Jarvis, he rode over the ten thousand acres of land he now owned on Mull. He had bought the lands of Callachally, Gruline, Bentella, and Kilbeg. His Scottish home, he had decided would be built on the land at Callachally, because it was right beside the beautiful River of Mull.

He even discussed his plans with Elizabeth, and found her suggestions very helpful and intelligent.

‘Do you intend to live here on a regular basis, then?’ she asked him one day as they rode their horses over the land of Callachally.

He sat for a moment in silence, contemplating the land around him. ‘Yes, I plan to live here, one day.’

Elizabeth unaccountably found herself thinking of Maria Morley. ‘Do you have plans to marry again?’